Code of Control, page 3
“I can kill you, dump your body in sheep-less Iowa, hit the freeway again, and never look back,” he said glumly. “Firing you would be too vanilla at this point.”
“My goodness. Did you eat sour potatoes for breakfast, Mr. Morgan?”
“I did not have any breakfast. I was a little busy with, um, other things taking up most of my morning.”
Charlotte shook off the mental image of Nolan nude, as quickly as possible. She knew what he meant so the head to toe assessment of her was so unnecessary. Sex was very time consuming if with the right partner.
“Well, there you go. You’re a man working on an empty stomach. You should have eaten breakfast,” she ruled.
“No. I am a man working on thin patience, not an empty stomach,” he countered.
She scoffed at this. “I would say you’re cranky because you’re tired, but what do I know.”
His mouth opened and closed. His eyes grew wide.
She waited for the explosion.
“I would not be tired if someone hadn’t needed a body to buy her drinks all of last night, and then take her to a cheap hotel to fuck her brains out.”
Her gasp easily heard, she turned fully on her seat.
“Down to the real problem, are we? I’m a big girl. I can take it. I know you could not say anything in your office without your employees hearing, so tell me exactly how you feel. Then, when we get to wherever it is we are supposedly going, I never want to hear another word about what happened between us. Understood?”
“Oh, I’m gonna get it out of my system, believe me.” He paused with calculated undertones, drawing out the strangling silence inside the vehicle.
“Well?”
“Give me a sec, would ya?” he smarted.
“Why?”
“Because I have a hard-on that won’t quit, I fucking can’t use it, and you’re driving me insane!”
“Well, if that’s all,” she supplied rudely.
Without warning, he grabbed the back of her head, pressed his mouth against hers, kissed her, and not a tiny kiss, but a soul melting, toe tingling, get-ready-for-sex kind of kiss before she could react. He then drew back, glaring at her face.
“Would you stop glaring at me?” she said. “It’s getting a little old.”
“I can’t help it,” he muttered. “You’re the kind of woman to piss off a man just because she can get away with it.”
“How romantic,” she said, licking her lips. “Tell all your victims this?”
“Nope, only one, and if you wanted romance, sweetheart, you would not have allowed what happened last night to happen with me.”
“Why not? Double standards because I’m a woman?”
“Hell yes!”
She took a deep breath, held it, and uttered, “Get off your high horse, Mr. Morgan. We had sex. I told you it wasn’t going to happen again, and I do believe we are going to be late for maneuvers if you do not get this vehicle back onto the freeway, pronto.”
“I will get this vehicle back on the freeway when I am damn well good and ready to get this vehicle back on the freeway.”
Glare for glare, neither backed down. They remained this way for agonizing minutes.
“Are you sure you want to play this game?” he suddenly asked her.
“Oh? And what game is that?” She plucked imaginary lint from her sleeve, a stall tactic she’d worked to perfection over the years.
“The game that says you don’t care what happened between us last night.”
Even if his tone glum, she felt thoroughly scolded, her actions of last night not the norm for her.
“I do care, for what it’s worth.” She’d had a hell of a day, and desperate for any fuel to cause reckless behavior she would not have to remember had urged her toward making enormous mistakes.
“And?”
“I can’t care too much about it, or it’ll eat me alive. You and I are going to be working together—as you said, close quarters. This is going to be awkward enough. Don’t make it excruciatingly complicated, to boot,” she said.
“It’s already excruciatingly complicated.” His eyes lowered to the obvious bulge in his pants.
Charlotte looked that way, too. “What am I supposed to do about that? Make it less complicated for you?”
Nolan turned in his seat, slamming his fist onto the steering wheel. Charlotte jumped out of her skin.
“God help me if you tried.” He quickly calmed, but not enough to settle her nerves, adding, “No, dammit!”
“Then please, let’s get this vehicle back on the freeway and pretend we don’t know each other in that way.”
“I can’t do that,” he said, lowering his tone.
“Why not?’
His eyes reached hers, locking on. “I don’t want to pretend I don’t know you in that way. I enjoyed every minute of last night. I’d love to do it again, but I can’t. Happy now?”
Charlotte’s eyes went saucer wide the moment he added a glare.
“No, I am not happy.” Her tone shaky, she blinked back the tears.
“Good, because I’m not happy either.”
“Your happiness is not my problem, Mr. Morgan.”
“Didn’t think it was, Ms. Raven.”
Chapter Four
Complicated could not begin to describe how Nolan felt while watching Charlotte squirm under his stare. He hadn’t meant to unsettle her, or have her turn combative, but that’s what the last five minutes worked themselves into, Charlotte Raven combating every syllable out of his mouth.
He slipped the gearshift into drive, and then tore away from the road’s shoulder. Expecting reprimand for ruining perfectly good gravel, he was mildly surprised she did not say a word. Instead, she sat in her seat, her eyes glued to the pavement ahead, looking as if fuming over the fact he had a hard on that would not quit and consequently blamed her for it.
Dammit. God made a beautiful woman, and he’d had that woman under him most of last night, writhing in ecstasy to his masterful seduction. Heading the Outgoing Securities Tactical team took a lot out of a man. He’d wanted recharging of the batteries last night…and yes, again this morning. What man in his right mind would be able to do what he did, day after day, and not desire a little recreational fun to ward off the nightmares? He could not ward off one in particular; the one that nearly cost him a limb, but such was life.
All of a sudden, the scar on his shoulder hurt like fireballs from the bottom of Hell. Nolan rolled both shoulders, hoping to ease the pain. Nothing worked, and since he’d been driving for the better part of four hours, unless he gave over the wheel to his new recruit he was going to be one hurting unit by the time they made it to their destination and started working out the kinks with this partnership.
He reached over, tipped up the screen to his laptop, pressing his thumb to the pad. Quick entry into the system, he kept his eyes on the road and practically felt his way around the keyboard.
“Do you want me to do that for you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“I can, if you want me to.”
“I don’t want you to.” His attention riveted toward her then back to the road. “I got this.”
“Well, I don’t want to get into an accident, so either I type what you need typed, or you get your hand off that keyboard, both hands of the wheel, and your eyes firmly ahead.” She jerked her head toward the open laptop.
“Two seconds, tops,” he muttered.
“You get a half second, and then I’m closing the connection on you, whether done or not.”
Nolan smiled. He was already into the system, typing one-handed OSHIT’s password. “Only need a half second more, sweetheart.” That promised half-second later, he put in the information to his contact, telling him he was almost at the maneuvers site. He was going to be a little late, a small detour causing riff between them, but again…such was life. He exited the system then closed the laptop. “No accidents, no near misses, nor a splattered gopher,” he admitted.
“Don’t fucking care. The next time you want to use your computer while driving…pull fucking over!”
“Bossy much?”
“No. It’s just that I would prefer to see the end of every day still in one piece.”
“So would I,” he said.
“Then why take the risk?”
“I take risks because it keeps me on my toes. I do things most men would never dream of doing to get the adrenaline high, same as you likely do to get your highs.”
“I don’t do things to make myself feel better, or have highs, Mr. Morgan. I do what needs doing to save humanity from itself.” She sat back in her seat, arms crossed, mutiny shielded by her lowered lashes.
Nolan wasn’t fooled. He could smell her anger a mile away, all of it directed at him.
“Are we going to be in this vehicle much longer?” she suddenly asked, trying to pry out of him what he refused to supply her.
“Not much.”
“How much is not much?”
“Twenty minutes. Thirty, maybe.”
“That’s a lot of not much, Mr. Morgan.”
“Why? You can’t wait twenty minutes longer? Impatient?”
“I need to use the restroom. Not once in four hours of driving through depleted land, abandoned farms, missing sex-starved sheep, and open highways now lacking gravel, have you even offered or asked.”
Turning to catch the look on her face, he now felt her anger as just. He sent her a wry smile, hoping she understood. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a partner. Protocol must have taken a back seat. Will not happen again. Promise.”
She jumped on only part of the excuse. “Partner?”
Nolan drew in a deep breath. With the cat out of the bag, he might as well tell her now, or it was going to be a very long twenty minutes to their destination.
“Yes, partner. You’re not my recruit, you’re my new partner. When we get to where we are going, you and I will be partners in every sense of the word. Is that going to be a problem for you?”
Her blue eyes lit up like the Fourth of July, Charlotte now facing him. “That would depend,” she said.
“On what?”
“On what this partnership entails.”
“Secrecy.”
“I can do secrecy,” she said brightly.
“Trust.”
“I trust you not to shoot me, same as you should trust me not to shoot you,” she said laughingly. “I can’t promise anything about smothering you with a pillow in your sleep, however.”
Amusement to this was a harsh disappointment. He made it known, his tone clipped. “Ms. Raven, I would hope you never shoot me, same as I would hope that it was only a joke you’d kill a man in his sleep.”
“It was.”
“It’s the reason for my scar,” he openly said.
Her soft gasp reached into his gut, squeezing tight. “The scar on your shoulder?”
“The very one.”
Charlotte’s smile fell. “Did your partner try to kill you in your sleep?”
He held up his hand before she could ask more. “Hold off on the twenty questions. Once we get to maneuvers you can ask what you like, same as I will ask you everything there is to know about you…everything that was not in your interview packet marked confidential.”
“This sounds more as if you’re taking me to couple’s therapy in the middle of fucking nowhere.”
“Iowa is not the middle of nowhere, Charlotte.”
“Could have fooled me,” she said glibly.
“Have you ever been to couple’s therapy?” Expectant of the answer, he could not wrap his head around the fact she likely had many lovers and would need psychological counseling because of them.
She nodded, almost reluctantly. “Yes, a long time ago.”
The breath drawn from his lungs, his recovery was slow. “You’re not old enough for anything to be a long time ago.”
“I’m twenty-four, as you well know. That’s a lot of years to account for in a girl’s life.”
“A lot of years with other men, or just a few? And I’m thirty-five, in case you wanted to know.”
“How many men I’ve had in my life is none of your business, Nolan Morgan. And really, only thirty-five?”
He nodded. “Only thirty-five. Why? Do I look older?”
She made a head to toe sweep of him then smiled. “No. Not older, just distinguished, of which makes you seem older.”
“How old did you think I was?” he asked, both brows arched.
“Forty-two, forty-seven tops.”
“Couldn’t put even a moment’s pause in that answer, could you?” he asked teasingly.
“If you want trust and truthfulness, you’re going to get it from me as open honesty. I hope the same is returned.”
“Haven’t I been open and honest with you?” Only his left brow had arched this time, while pressing his tongue against the roof of his mouth to hold back a smile.
“Not exactly.”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
“First off, you still have not told me where it is we are going.”
Nolan chuckled. “Can’t let that one go, can you?”
“Nope.”
His upper lip tipped, he had to swallow the sudden lump in his throat. When looking at her now, it was all he could do to keep his hands to himself. He could not imagine what the next two weeks was going to do to his psyche or physical well-being. He would need therapy, or detox, neither looking beneficial to the rest of his career.
“Don’t need to tell you…because here we are,” he said, turning down a dirt road clearly marked as Dead End.
Charlotte reverted her attention forward. “Here, where? There’s no road sign other than that one.” She even pointed to it.
Nolan smiled. “Maneuvers.”
She stared at the passing scenery. “This looks like a working farm to me, not a place for maneuvers.”
“It is.”
“It is? Whose?”
He drew in a deep breath, held it, and then smiled, expelling the air slowly. “Mine.”
“Yours’?”
“Yep. All mine. Every last cow and unplanted corn field.”
“What are we supposed to do here? Plant the corn?”
Nolan chuckled, driving the Hummer up to the farmhouse. “I was hoping you’d milk the cows and I took care of the fields.”
“Are you serious?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I mean…you’re joking, right? This is a huge prank on the newbie, right?”
He parked the Hummer under the old elm tree then shut down the engine, turning in his seat. “No joke, sweetheart. We are going to spend the next two weeks here, getting to know each other. As partners, we will need to trust each other beyond anything you could possibly imagine. I paid the price for an untrustworthy partner. I will not make that mistake again. I’m going to do things differently and this is how it’s going to be, whether you like it or not, and if you don’t like it, I can’t keep you on as one of the Team and you will have to leave.”
Charlotte turned and stared at the old farmhouse, pursing her lips. “I’ve never milked a cow a day in my life.” She then turned to face him. “Am I off the team if I do it wrong?” she whispered.
Without thinking, he picked up her hand and held it. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know about milking a cow, Ms. Raven…among other things you still need to learn.”
“Charlotte,” she said.
“I know,” he rasped out, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, mesmerized by the way the color of her eyes changed with her moods.
“Mr. Morgan?”
“Nolan, please?”
“Nolan,” she whispered.
Dammit. He could not control what was going to happen, even if facing the possibility of explosion. He put it aside for far too long and it was now do or die. He reached behind her head, grabbed her soft nape, drew her close and kissed her. Charlotte’s hand released from his grasp, she set both on his chest, the warmth of her fingers seeping into his muscle.
Their kiss four hours overdue, they gave it everything they had. Fifteen seconds later, it was over, both breathless.
“You can’t…” she said, wide eyes darting across his face to settle on his mouth.
“I know,” he rasped out. “But saying I should not doesn’t mean I can’t.”
“You should not…we shouldn’t…,” she helplessly sputtered.
“Charlotte, honey?”
“Yes?”
His hand still on her nape, he kneaded her tense neck muscles. She relaxed under this touch. “Shut up and kiss me,” he said.
“Shut up and…” She sounded flabbergasted.
“It won’t hurt you in the least. I promise.”
She balked. “It may not hurt me, but it’s wrong, and you know it is.”
“Yes, I do know it’s wrong, but I don’t care anymore.”
“Well…you should. If I have to stay here with you, you need to control your urges. You can’t keep kissing me whenever the mood overrides your sanity.”
He drew back, her icy tone filling his marrow. “My sanity has been in question for four fucking hours.” When she did not comment, he added, “Fine, I’ll make you a deal. Two weeks: no touching, kissing, or looking at each other in the wrong way. How’s that sound?”
She scoffed at this. “You’ll never make it even one week.”
“Me? What about you? Eyes glassy, licking her lips in anticipation, fluttering heartbeat in her neck, tense and expectant. It’s all there, so don’t call the kettle black when the pot is just as dark, and that pot is lying through her teeth about wanting to have sex with me again.”
“I can make it two weeks. No doubts. It’s you who needs a code of control.”
“A what?”
“A code of control. You know, an escape code for when things get too unsettled or too hard to handle.”
“Don’t you mean too hot to handle?” he asked shamelessly, lowering his gaze to her lap.
Charlotte shook her head. “No. I meant too hard to handle.” Her eyes then lowered to his lap, just to spite his resolve.
Nolan dragged in a deep breath, held it, and smiled. “Fine, you win. Two weeks, no touching, no thinking about touching, no contemplations on why touching would even be set on the table, nada.” He held out his hand, expecting Charlotte to shake on this deal. “The worst two weeks of maneuvers in my entire life.”
