Secret Fantasies Page 6

  Even now as she fiddled one last time with her hair, she could see in her mind the dark blue eyes, burning in the almost-light of predawn.

  So too, could she so clearly see warm, soft, passion-swollen lips edging closer to her own, so smooth she simply couldn’t help but kiss them again and again.

  Phoebe could feel her skin itch, the worksuit chafing her now-sensitive skin.

  Phoebe straightened her uniform and patted her braided hair one last time. Determined to push Michael out of her mind, she mentally began to prepare the dossier she would need to type as soon as The Man and his new civvy client allowed her back at her desk.

  Satisfied she was once again under control, Phoebe nodded once at her image.

  Go get ‘em, she chided herself.

  Phoebe turned on her heel and left the room, shutting off the ambience on her way out so the following woman wouldn’t be stuck with her own personal, soothing atmosphere.

  Getting her stride up, Phoebe enjoyed the soft sound of her heeled boots as she strode confidently through the main working area. She hastily crossed past all the smaller work cubicles and headed directly into the side office of what outwardly appeared to be the head of the division.

  Phoebe idly wondered what new task The Man would have for her.

  Brownridge knew the intimacies of most main systems and galaxies and thus was in high demand, as it was well known he only worked with and accepted the best. Brownridge also knew the key to much of his success was not just keeping a low profile, but also keeping his hand in. While people often assumed there were more command chains above him, internally, the group knew the buck stopped with him.

  Brownridge might be accepted by many as being an “old dog”, but Phoebe knew firsthand he was the best of the best, and even with his busted leg she would happily walk into practically any fight with him at her back.

  More important than all his experience, his knowledge, his power and the force behind the company, John Brownridge was a man you could trust. And to Phoebe, that was worth its weight in gold.

  Many of the recruits were out fighting, part of a team instead of individuals as many mercs were forced to work. Yet part of the appeal Brownridge’s company held for Phoebe was that there was far more to it than simply fighting the wars. Phoebe herself had spied many a time, collecting data and information from one side, to sell it to another, only to turn around and perform the same thing for yet another group.

  Her connections and her easy acceptance practically anywhere had worked wonders for Brownridge’s company. Phoebe smiled when she recalled how thrilled she had been to be accepted so easily into the company, naïve and still innocent enough to not even realize Brownridge had recognized her from the moment she had entered his office.

  Another service the company performed, though Phoebe personally rarely did so, was acting as guides for those traveling to less safe parts, or less traveled planets and areas. From what Rai had said, Phoebe wondered why a civvy would specifically request her, and more confusing, why the five hells Brownridge would accept such a bizarre request.

  Brownridge was nobody’s fool, and more importantly, not a man used to blindly following orders. He had been his own man for more years than one could count, and had always danced to his own tune.

  Phoebe frowned as she halted outside the door to the office. Either the civvy held some sort of power over Brownridge, something she didn’t think likely but still possible, or he had shown compelling reasons that had swayed Brownridge. That scenario was another Phoebe wouldn’t have thought likely to occur, but was easily the more believable of the two.

  Even if a civvy had attempted to bribe, coerce or blackmail The Man, he would likely find his ass being dumped outside the quarters, not meekly followed.

  Taking a deep breath and holding her head high, Phoebe stepped into The Man’s office and closed the door behind her. She had a query and genuinely cheerful greeting on her lips before her mind registered the man sitting opposite John.

  A head full of brown hair with blond highlights scattered throughout turned so the handsome face could watch and assess her warily. Phoebe stopped still, wryly admitting the man’s wariness was rightly placed.

  How the bloody hell had he found her? And so quickly too?

  A light sprinkling of dark whiskers covered his chin and jaw, a jawline she clearly recalled stroking delicately with her fingers the night before. She had scattered kisses across his face, enjoying the tiny faint roughness of the stubble before it had fully come through.

  Indeed, Phoebe was honest enough to freely admit the scrubby stubble made Michael appear far more handsome and dangerous than he had appeared almost clean-shaven the evening before. Not like the seedy bum she had always felt it made most other men appear.

  Piercing eyes ate her up hungrily. Phoebe swallowed, feeling cornered and ensnared in that hungry, sexy stare. The depth of the blue seemed even more devastating in the clear light of day. Phoebe’s stomach turned with raw lust. Something about Michael drew her to him, more than just his sheer physical beauty. She had spent many years surrounded by the most beautiful of them all—it was something else about him which dispelled her peace of mind.

  Shockingly, surprising the shit out of her, for the first time in a very long time, Phoebe felt her heart beat faster simply because of a man’s beauty. She admitted it wasn’t just the beauty of his face and body she felt drawn to. Strangely enough, it was his soul which seemed to call out to her, strike a chord with her. Phoebe could feel her own soul trying to resonate with his, almost as if the deepest, innermost pieces of herself recognized the inner pieces of his own soul.

  Which was pure and utter fantasy, she tried to convince herself, not doing a very good job of it.

  Phoebe hesitated there in the doorway to Brownridge’s office, not knowing or even really caring how long she had been standing there like an idiot, pinned in Michael’s stare.

  When she felt the dampness in her panties and felt the flush covering her cheeks, she knew she had been caught unawares by her own rampant attraction to the man. Phoebe smiled slightly, not needing to be psychic to see the reprimand in those gorgeous eyes.

  Obviously waking up alone had not amused Michael. Phoebe smothered the nervous laughter she felt welling up in her throat. She could practically “hear” his thoughts chiding her for leaving him as she had at dawn.

  Almost hearing the lecture in her head, even though she knew it shouldn’t be possible from the mere look he sent her, Phoebe felt herself struggle to overcome the completely insane urge to laugh aloud.

  Even so, Michael chastised her thoroughly and effectively without showing a flicker of emotion on his face, or a single word being uttered from his mouth.

  She could just imagine him shaking a finger at her like a naughty five-year-old caught pilfering cookies. How could she leave without waking him? Did she really think she could run away and not have him find her?

  For the first time in more years than she cared to count, Phoebe felt all of four again, and being chastised gently by her aunts. Thankfully, there was no anger and no self-righteous proclamations, either of which would have annoyed her and sparked her temper. Instead, she felt just a gentle, easy chiding as if he weren’t truly mad, but merely informing her that her behavior just wouldn’t wash.

  This time or the next, she felt as she shivered. There would be a next time?

  Phoebe couldn’t recall all of the sensual, lust-drugged words she had spoken to Michael, but obviously she had given more away of herself than she recalled, otherwise he wouldn’t have been so easily able to follow and track her.

  Phoebe snapped back to attention as John stood up and introduced them to each other. She knew John was savvy and smart enough to know something was between them, yet merely by introducing them allowed them to play their little game.

  “Phoebe Blenti, this is Michael Montague. Michael seems to want an escort out to Klampor, and has heard enough about your stellar reputation to request you persona
lly.”

  Phoebe smiled wryly, crossed over to Michael Montague as he stood up and they shook hands like the calm professionals they pretended to be. Only Phoebe was able to tell Michael had exerted a tiny amount of pressure on the hand he shook. Nowhere near enough to hurt, but certainly enough for him to communicate for her to play along.

  Phoebe shrugged to herself, knowing Michael would explain whatever was going on later, and if he knew what was healthy for himself, he would answer any questions she had by then.

  Phoebe flashed Michael her brightest, I-am-a-professional-and-happy-to-help-you smile as she eased her hand back. Spending years in the modeling world, smiling sweetly and serenely no matter her own personal circumstances had stood her in good stead many a time, but none more important than now.

  “Mr. Montague,” she said softly in what she classified as her work voice, “so lovely to meet you.” She was about to open the conversation, find out what exactly Michael wanted and why she was being dragged into it all, but he cut in gently.

  “Please, Miss Blenti, call me Michael.”

  Michael’s dark, liquid voice rolled over her, proving that, at least, hadn’t merely been a figment of her tired imagination the evening before. His voice did indeed resemble liquid sex. Phoebe continued to smile at him even as her pussy dampened more and her legs felt a tad wobbly.

  Even with her instant and slightly embarrassing sexual response to him, she knew her eyes blazed hotly at his, demanding he explain this game he played with her. Sexual games were one thing, but she never, ever let them enter or interfere with her work.

  “Michael, then,” she said calmly. “And please, call me Phoebe. Klampor,” she continued, looking to John for direction. “An ancient civilization, mostly desert region I believe, in the outer Crann System. Inhabited almost exclusively, even in this day and age, by female priestesses. The priestesses were, or are, interested in purification of the body, mind and soul. That’s all I know off the top of my head without doing a bit of refresher research, but that shouldn’t take more than fifteen or twenty minutes at my work console.”

  She returned Brownridge’s smile as John beamed at her, his pride obvious. He had been the first, and to date only male who instinctively assumed she would use her head and her work skills, and not her body and beauty. She had been proud the first day they recognized that about each other, and happy to have never let him down.

  “I told you, Montague,” John said, his confidence in her easy to hear. “Phoebe is one of my best.”

  Phoebe kept her smile firmly planted and unchanging as Michael replied in a casual tone, “Oh, I had no doubt about it at all. It was, after all, why I requested her.”

  Phoebe shifted slightly on her seat as he turned those blue eyes to her, speaking to her directly instead of to Brownridge.

  “My brothers and I believe our father has headed to Klampor, and I want some fast research on any space passes, insurrections, interplanetary wars and such going on at the moment.”

  Phoebe merely raised an eyebrow at this. And The Man hadn’t been skeptical at Michael’s specifically requesting her? Such “research” could be performed by the lowliest techie, or even a novice who was allowed to borrow their files and servers. It didn’t need a seasoned merc and traveler like herself.

  Then again, it did take a seasoned merc like her to escort a “civvy” around to somewhere as far-flung as Klampor, and many people would expect an escort. The fact Phoebe had a strong suspicion Michael was merely turning a genuine situation to his own advantage didn’t really mean a lot.

  Particularly since The Man likely knew Montague was using the situation for his own reasons as well. As if to prove his genuine “good-ol’-boy“ routine, Michael continued with a smile at both her as well as Brownridge.

  “I’m supposed to be meeting and talking to my brothers very soon, but since they both have partners to take care of it will likely be delegated to me to head out and follow our father. The thing is, previous to this morning, I had never even heard of Klampor, let alone know the intricacies of heading out there.”

  Phoebe nodded, amazed at Michael’s resourcefulness. She didn’t doubt his story, it was far too easy to check out. Also, if they did head out to Klampor and they didn’t search up Michael’s father, then he likely knew she would be too severely tempted to turn around and leave him there to risk lying about such a thing.

  “So that’s where I come in,” she added gently. She felt a grudging admiration for Michael. He had to be awarded full points for finding the perfect situation to drag her into.

  “You two better head out, seeing as you need to do all that research before you decide how you’re going to approach the situation,” Brownridge said. Even though Phoebe couldn’t see even a hint of smirk on her boss’ face, she knew from many years of learning different techniques from him that it was hidden very carefully under his pleasant, smiling features.

  She sighed as The Man continued, ignoring her crossed arms and slightly annoyed body language.

  “Phoebe, pass the report you’re currently working on to Florg. He can cope with the extra load. Montague will need your full support.”

  Phoebe barely suppressed her snort, and nodded. The mere fact her boss had insisted Michael needed her full support meant she knew he was cautioning her not to blow Montague off because of personal feelings.

  Phoebe insisted to herself she didn’t inform Brownridge of her sexual liaison with Michael because she wanted to spend time with him, but rather because she didn’t want to create any trouble.

  Obviously Brownridge liked Michael enough to go along with his requests. Yet deep inside herself, Phoebe knew curiosity lurked. Hidden deep, there was a tiny part of herself who wanted to get to know a lot more about Michael Montague, and if he needed help, which she knew on some levels he did, then she couldn’t turn him away simply because the fierce level of her lust and slowly budding love for him made her feel uncomfortable.

  Besides, she knew without a doubt if Michael got out of hand, John would back her all the way, even if she did blow him off and leave him behind on a true hole like Klampor. If Michael pushed her that far, Brownridge would know he had it coming to him.

  Phoebe nodded to The Man, acknowledging his hidden comments. Casting a glance at Michael, she waited while he stood up gracefully from the chair, all lean and lithe muscles and delectable body. Phoebe pressed her lips together, not wanting to drool in front of Brownridge. Instead, she turned around and led Michael out of the office and into the main cubicle area.

  Phoebe kept her eyes staring straight ahead of her as they crossed back to her cubicle. She paid no attention to the small amount of attention the two of them received as they crossed the room.

  Partly it was because she knew once she caught people’s eyes, they would ask questions—it was incredibly rare for her alone to deal with a client. Usually it was The Man, a secretary or more rarely a group of mercs who would deal face-to-face with a given client. More than just that, however, Phoebe had plenty of her own thoughts and questions burning up her mind.

  Mainly, what the hell had she said to give herself away and made it so easy for Michael to catch up with her so quickly? Her working for Brownridge was no secret, but since her years as a model she had always been careful about how much of her personal information could be easily accessed.

  Problem was, she didn’t feel she could ask him outright, as she didn’t want half the room privy to the conversation that would result from her questions.

  And so she kept her mouth shut, her eyes focused straight ahead, and walked briskly to her cubicle. She noticed Lanos, the man who usually worked in the cubicle next to her, was not there, and so she snagged his chair for Michael, dragging it into her cubicle as they both entered the small area.

  She pulled her own chair up, sat down with a rush of breath and immediately began to log back in to her console, an automatic gesture, as she tried to work out the chances of being overheard in the cubicle if they spoke car
efully.

  Michael sat beside her, not teasing, talking or asking awkward questions. As Phoebe felt her fingers click over the keys to the console with only half her mind focused on what she did, she realized with not a little surprise that both of them had fallen silent in an astonishingly comfortable manner.

  Phoebe smiled, and decided to indulge herself and ogle Mr. Montague while she performed the rudimentary task of searching the available, and less available, databases for information on Klampor.

  “I’ll begin by just plotting our course. The database will check all the air spaces we’ll need to travel through, so anything dangerous or in the middle of a fight should come up as flagged straightaway,” she said as her fingers continued to type quickly.

  Phoebe felt grateful for once that her eyes were on the holo-screen, as she could feel the heat of Michael’s gaze on her. She felt a faint tinge of blush cross her face as she wondered what he looked at and what he thought about what he could see.

  Interestingly enough, even though she felt warm under his gaze, she didn’t feel uncomfortable in any way. She felt aware, energized and rather sensitive, but not uncomfortably so. The faint blush stayed on her cheeks, even after she felt her blood slowly return to normal, and so she continued to concentrate hard on the holo-screen in front of her.

  “I recognized Miss July,” he said under his breath, practically in her ear so no one else would be able to hear.

  Phoebe froze for a moment. Surprising, she thought wryly to herself, how something so very many people never forgot could so easily slip her mind. Phoebe didn’t say anything, but smiled sarcastically at the holo-screen and nodded, the rest fairly easy to figure out. Since he knew her full, true name and not the half alias she usually used for privacy, as well as knowing she worked as a mercenary, the rest of her details would not have been exceedingly hard to come by.

  So, Mr. Michael Montague has seen the infamous pinup. The agent said I would be famous, my face and body known throughout the entire galaxy for decades to come.

  Phoebe snorted to herself. It had been many years since anyone had even remotely recognized her from her modeling days—it was getting close to twenty years ago after all. Trust it to come back and bite her on the ass now.