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left the door open a crack. The idea flashed into his head that if he hung out he might get another glimpse of her—oh, how that tempted him.
    But this was work—they had a job. Heading over to the TV, he changed it to a rock music station. He headed out, keeping his eyes straight ahead, but that didn’t help him keep his mind on the job. He was seeing Keira, naked in a tub, dressed only in bubbles, those endless legs of hers stretched up and out.
    Throat dry, he stepped out of her room and shut the door firmly behind him. This was going to be one helluva long assignment.

Chapter 7
    The evening passed without any excitement. Keira soaked for a half hour, got out, dressed in loose, dark sweats, and caught a half hour nap. She didn’t want jet lag hitting at a bad time. The music outside changed from upbeat numbers to ballads and slow tunes. The party wound down and the crowd thinned. Brock came back after the moon had set. He’d changed as well, into dark sweats. He gave her a nod and they slipped out of her room.
    It took four hours to cover the house and the grounds. They worked in silence, and Keira thought it was odd that they could do this—hand signals and reading each other’s body language. It was like they’d been a team for years.
    She tried to keep in mind that this was her operation, but Brock was so smooth, so expert at what he did. He knew just when to melt into the shadows whenever anyone neared. He checked the locks, the positions of the guards inside and out. The only thing that stumped them both was how that veiled woman had gotten out of the room.
    Or had she? Keira was starting to think there had to be hidden rooms in the palace. She started a mental checklist. She’d need to see blueprints—if there were any. The building seemed modern, but in looking over the grounds, she could see it was really an older structure that had been updated and modernized. She was willing to bet there were secrets in the older part of the palace that dated back to the days when a sheikh ruled by force—and kept an army around him.
    Just before dawn, Brock pulled her back to her room. Once inside, he headed for her bed and pulled back the covers. He came over to her and whispered, “Need to make it look good.” Pulling her with him, he fell into the bed. He rolled her in the sheets, and she had to giggle. “Hey, serious work here.”
    “Sorry. It’s just...” She put her hands on his shoulders. This was crazy. Here they were in boots and sweats, bundled up against the chill of the night, dawn just starting to lighten the sky. He lay over her, and his weight should feel overpowering. Instead, she liked it. She liked the way he held her—like she mattered. She liked the way he balanced over her, pressing her down, but not smothering her. For a moment, she wanted to grab the back of his neck and pull his mouth down to hers.
    But this was Brock—Mr. Cool himself. He put the job first, and that’s what she was here to do.
    Pushing on his chest, she pushed him off. She got up and stared at him. “We need to make this look good.” Heading to the bathroom, she put on lipstick. She came back and smeared a kiss on his cheek and on his neck. He gave a shiver. “What?” she asked.
    He shook his head.
    Reaching over, she dragged off his sweat top. “You need to look like you’re sneaking back to your room.”
    “What’s next—a hickey?” he asked.
    “Like I’d be that obvious,” she said. She glanced at the muscles on display—hard abs, strong biceps. There was no doubt that Brock was built. Her mouth watered at the idea of putting her lips on his skin. He had a light dusting of hair on his chest and she wondered if it would be soft or springy. She wanted to find out—but that was way too dangerous. Once she started touching, she might not want to stop.
    He stood up. Her breath caught in her throat. Was he going to kiss her again?
    Instead, he put his hands into her hair. “You need to look like you’ve