Page 29 of Between Love and Honor

He didn’t know.

For once in his life, his agile brain couldn’t compute the correct answer. Fortunately for him, his phone was buzzing with a text from the one woman who could help.

Assuming the Secretary of Homeland didn’t serve up his balls in a paper bag for allowing a copy of VOYEUR to slip into the wrong hands.

“I’ve got to run out for a little bit.”

“Seriously, dude?” Griffin stood along with Ben. “What are we supposed to do with your runaway prom date in the meantime?”

Ben looked between his best friends. “Didn’t Marin mention something about wedding cakes? Every woman loves wedding cake.”

Adam snarled something profane.

“Look, she’s probably going to sleep until noon. I’ll be back well before then.”

“Actually, she’s already awake,” the head housekeeper said from the hallway. “In fact, she’s taking a shower right now. I was just going to round her up some clothing.”

Shit. His buddies were shooting him death glares. No way could he escape without confronting Quinn first. He needed to let her know she wasn’t leaving the Crown just yet. Not until he had the full story.

“Just get me a robe or something,” he said. “I’ll take it to her.”

Terrie arched an eyebrow at him. “The White House is not a fraternity house, Agent Segar.”

Adam snickered behind him. Terrie smiled at him indulgently. “You’re not one to talk, Agent Lockett.”

Griffin wisely kept his gaze trained on the floor. Both men had seen action in the Queen’s bedroom a time or two. But Ben’s situation was different. He was just trying to keep Quinn safe from herself. To do that, he needed to keep her secluded on the third floor until he could make alternative arrangements.

“I’m sure Josslyn has something she can borrow.” He decided to shoot straight with the housekeeper. “But I do need to speak with her right away. It’s a matter of national security.”

Thankfully, his buddies remained stoic behind him.

For her part, Terrie narrowed her eyes and scrutinized him as if he was a scuff on the marble floor in the Cross Hall.

“Of the three of you, I had you pegged as the most responsible,” she finally said. “Don’t let me down.”

She turned on her heel and headed toward the kitchen.

Griffin snorted as soon as her footsteps faded on the marble. “You brought a damn stranger with questionable connections into the Crown and spent the night in bed with her. How does that make you more responsible than us?”

“Because she was unconscious?” Adam quipped.

Ben ignored them. “Look, can you just keep an eye on her while I check out a lead?”

Both men reluctantly agreed. He made his way to the stairs and jogged up the three flights to the top floor of the residence. As he rounded the corner into the Center Hall, he was greeted by the frantic yipping of Fergus, the Scottish terrier belonging to the First Lady’s ailing father. The little dog made a beeline for the laces of Ben’s boat shoes.

“Don’t even think about it, you little monster.”

He scooped up a knotted sock and tossed it across the room. Fergus took the bait and dashed down the hall. Before the dog could return, Ben hurried into the room where he’d left Quinn sleeping a couple of hours ago.

“Hey! Have you ever heard of knocking?” Christine chided him.

But he didn’t hear a word the other agent said. All of his attention was instantly laser-focused on the second woman in the room. The one wrapped in nothing but a fluffy white towel; her cheeks rosy from the warm water. The long, tan legs he’d dreamt of having wrapped around him again were still slick with moisture. Just like that, the erotic image she posed had him hard as a rock.

As if she was aware of the potency of her allure, she raised her chin a notch, meeting his stare with a challenging one of her own. Suddenly, it was all he could do to keep from reaching beneath the turban on her head and tangling his fingers in silky strands of her hair. Or, better yet, sliding his tongue along the soft skin covering her collarbone.

Damn it. This would never do. He needed to get his head— the one housing his brain—in the game and get some answers.

“Christine, can you give us a minute?” He didn’t bother breaking eye contact with Quinn.

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