Free For Her Eyes Only by Shannon Curtis Page B

rose-scented bubbles that were tempting her to drop everything and soak. She loved baths. Long, hot, steamy, relaxing baths, with a glass of wine and a good book. Or a good body. Ryan had a good body. Crap .
    “There are listening devices planted all over that room,” Ryan said quietly, his gaze direct.
    Vicky sat down on the edge of the bath. She’d figured. “Can we get rid of them?”
    Ryan shrugged. “Sure. But that means that whoever planted the bugs would know that we know. It might be better for us to let them think we don’t know.”
    Vicky traced a golden vein in the marble floor with her boot toe as she thought on his comments.
    “There are four other couples staying here this week. Neil mentioned that we were the last to arrive. Do you think the Maxwells are on to us already?”
    She looked up at him.
    Ryan pursed his lips, and she stared at his mouth. She’d kissed that mouth just a couple of hours ago. And it had been magic—and oh, so wrong. Ryan was her friend. That’s all he saw her as, a friend. She knew that. In all the times he’d visited her home, he’d never once tried to take their relationship further. All those movies they’d watched on her sofa, never once had his arm stretched along the back of the lounge to “accidentally” brush her shoulders. In all the times they’d watched the games on TV while swilling some beers, he’d never once let the alcohol lower his inhibitions and make a move on her.
    Jerk .
    With the exception of last year’s Christmas party, there had been no intimate contact between them, and even then, it was as though Christmas hadn’t really happened. But it had, and she still daydreamed about it. And didn’t that make her the biggest idiot? He’d made it abundantly clear that he wasn’t interested in her as anything more than a friend. Now he was her partner undercover, and she had to stop daydreaming about something that would never happen, and get her act together.
    “We don’t know if it’s the Maxwells, or maybe something that the resort does to monitor the counseling, or if there is something entirely different going on here.” Ryan stated after a moment of thought.
    “So, what do we do, then?”
    He looked at the door. “We have to assume that either someone is listening, or recording, constantly. I’ll get Drew to do a sweep. The bugs I saw would need to have a receiver within a certain range. Maybe he can locate the receiver, and we could get more answers.” He looked back at her. “Until then, we’ll have to treat our room as public space. Anyone could be listening.”
    “You mean we’ll have to act like we’re married, even in here.” She ignored the little hitch in her stomach at the thought. Crap . What about the sleeping arrangements? They were in a luxurious resort, but there was only one, massive play-on-me bed in their suite.
    Ryan nodded his expression relaxing into a grin. “Yep.” He rose from his seat and crossed to the door. “So, I guess we’re going to have to get used to being in each other’s space, so to speak.” He grinned. “For the sake of the mission, of course. Think you can handle it?”
    He was enjoying this way too much. They were at a motivational retreat, where the intimate, romantic surrounds were designed to bring estranged couples together to form a stronger bond. She smiled sweetly and sidled up to him.
    “Oh, I know I can,” she breathed as her hand joined his on the door handle, and his easy grin was quickly replaced with a considering look as she opened the door. She pulled him into the bedroom, and his eyes went smoke gray as he willingly followed her.
    Crack . Her palm hit his cheek. “You can be such a jerk! Is it any wonder we need counseling?” she intentionally raised her voice at his stunned expression. “And if you think we’re sharing a bed again, you can think again, buster! Not until we’ve dealt with some issues. Hope you’re comfortable on the couch, because that’s where