Actual Stop

by Kara A. McLeod

  I suffered a brief stab of remorse at Stacey’s forlorn expression. Like I needed that on top of everything else. I sighed and roughly removed the hair tie keeping my tresses pulled back, twisting it around and around my index finger until it hurt.

  Allison terminated her call and returned the phone to its place on her belt, turning to study me intently. Silence reigned, and my face grew hotter the longer she stared at me. I resolutely kept my eyes on the doors in front of me and wrenched the rubber band around my finger so hard I had to bite the inside of my lip to keep from crying out.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m good.” I didn’t meet her stare, preferring instead to step off the elevator the second the doors opened and stride with purpose down the hall to her room. I released my now-purple fingertip from the hair tie and shoved it in my pocket.

  Allison kept pace with me. “Did that woman say something to you?”

  “Nah.” I kept my attention focused on the room numbers as we passed.

  “You sure?” She sounded skeptical.

  I glanced at her and decided to change the subject. “You know what I am sure about?” Allison shook her head, and I threw one arm companionably around her shoulders. “I’m sure someone promised me a whole lot of beer.” I gave her a final squeeze and let her go as we stopped in front of her door.

  Allison chuckled and slid her key card into the lock, shaking her head, and a few stray locks of her thick black hair tumbled across her forehead and into her eyes. The longing to brush them back was almost painful, and I thrust my hand into my pocket to finger its contents in an effort to have something else to occupy me.

  “You Irish girls are so easy.” She gave me a sly grin as she opened the door and led the way into her hotel room. “Give you a beer, and you’re thrilled.”

  “Hey, that’s not always true. Sometimes we require whiskey.”

  Allison laughed again and deposited her bag on the floor in the corner. She shrugged out of her suit jacket and hung it carelessly over the back of the chair at the desk. I started to set up my computer while she methodically removed her equipment and laid it out neatly across the dresser.

  “You don’t mind if I take a shower, do you?”

  I glanced up at the question. She’d turned to face me, and her fingers were poised over the buttons of her dress shirt as though she were awaiting my permission to take it off. I ducked my head to continue scrutinizing the diagram I’d sketched for the LZ site while I waited for my laptop to boot up.

  “Knock yourself out,” I managed to say, pleased that I didn’t sound too shaky. Peripherally, I could see her unbuttoning her blouse. She was clearly trying to kill me. I took a shuddering breath and deliberately concentrated elsewhere, although, admittedly, I wasn’t really seeing anything at all.

  Once Allison finally tired of trying to incite an aneurysm by prancing around the room in her underwear, she disappeared into the bathroom, and I could finally breathe somewhat normally and use my scrambled brain.

  Sure, occasionally my thoughts strayed back to Allison and what I knew her lean, taut body looked like as she stood under the scalding hot spray, rivulets of water running down her silky smooth skin. And, okay, maybe I entertained a few images of joining her and licking all those stray droplets off, making her moan with pleasure. But mostly I just concentrated on work. More or less.

  “Hungry?” Allison asked softly from behind me.

  I jumped and hastily shot to my feet, then spun around. For the briefest second, we stood face to face. Our eyes were locked, and our lips were far too close to touching for my comfort. The clean scent of her shampoo intoxicated me, and I had to fight not to lean into her.

  Fortunately, a knock sounded at the door before I could fall too far into her midnight gaze. I could only hope my jumbled emotions hadn’t been too clearly on display for the length of time she’d held me prisoner. Fat chance. But at least I hadn’t made an idiot of myself. That was something.

  “Stay here.” My voice was barely louder than a whisper. I was aware of how breathy and desire-laden I sounded but was unable to disguise my tone. I ran one hand over the soft skin of Allison’s bare upper arm as I went to answer the door, marveling at the tingles along my own skin.

  A quick peek confirmed it was the room service I’d ordered, so I paid for the meal and assured the puzzled waiter I could take the cart in by myself. That was probably best, considering Allison’s state of undress.

  My heart started to thud within the suddenly-too-small confines of my chest. I took a deep breath and quickly swiped my hand across the side of the ice bucket, then rubbed the moisture onto my hot cheeks. Stop acting like a complete dolt.

  While I was at the door, Allison had donned her pajamas. She was now wearing a light-gray T-shirt we’re all issued in the academy with the initials of our training center—JJRTC—stenciled across the left breast and a pair of faded red flannel pants with tiny, white lips printed all over them. The vision of how sexy she was in her casual nighttime attire, her dark hair carelessly finger combed back off her forehead and leaving wet spots on the shoulders of her shirt, struck me dumb.

  Allison didn’t lift her head from the sheaf of papers resting in her lap as she sat cross-legged in the middle of the king-sized bed, but she did shift her gaze toward me. When she noticed the cart, her expression became contemplative.

  “What’s this?”

  “Dinner.” I snagged a beer from the silver ice bucket and used the strike plate nestled in the jamb of the bathroom door to pop the cap off. I grinned, sauntered over to the bed, and held out the bottle. “And the beer someone promised. I got tired of waiting for you to provide for me.”

  Now Allison’s head did come up, and she smiled at me as she accepted the beer. She took a long swallow and then offered it to me, so I could have a gulp of my own. I accepted the bottle and tried like hell not to dwell on the fact that my lips were touching the place where hers had just rested. If the painful clench of desire low in my gut was any indication, the attempt didn’t go as planned.

  Allison waved a familiar-looking manila folder at me. “I can see that it’s dinner. I meant what’s this.”

  My eyes flicked to exhibit A. The folder with the stuff for the Akbari interview. “Oh, that’s a case folder. It’s nothing. It must’ve gotten mixed up with the rest of my things when I packed up this morning.”

  Allison flipped through it casually. “It’s a counterfeit case.”

  I held my hand out for the folder and its contents, and she handed them over without comment. “Yup. I was checking on something for a friend.” I tossed the folder onto the chair I’d been occupying earlier.

  “Since when do you work counterfeit?”

  “I don’t. Not anymore.”

  “You used to? When was that?”

  “Not long after you went to D.C.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know that. Did you like it?”

  I shrugged. “You know me. I’m pretty content wherever I am.”

  Allison eyed me with skepticism. I was certain she’d push that issue, but then she picked up another piece of paper lying off to the side of the pile of diagrams she’d been perusing.

  “And what’s this?” She waved it at me, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

  “I dunno. What is it?”

  “Looks like a bingo board to me.”

  Oops. Busted! I checked my BlackBerry for nonexistent emails. “Really? Huh. That’s weird.”

  “Mmm-hmm. Weird. Right.” She raised her eyebrows and began to read aloud what was written in the little squares. “Tip of the spear. The beast. Terrain feature. Plenty of relief built in. Game day. Crickets. The jackal. Marry up. Clicks. Grip and grin. Nobody’s gonna get hurt.”

  “Yup. That’s what it says.”

  “What is this?”

  “Uh…PPD Briefing Bingo?”

  “What?”

  “PPD Briefing Bingo,” I repeated more firmly.

  “You’ve made a game of our brief
ings?” I couldn’t determine the exact nature of her tone.

  “Just the ridiculous parts.”

  “Ridiculous?!”

  “I’m sorry. Would you prefer another description?”

  Her eyes flashed in anger. “How would you like us to impart important information, then?”

  “Beats me. But it’d probably sound a lot less stupid if you all at least used the terminology correctly. A person is not a ‘terrain feature.’”

  “I’ve never once uttered the words ‘terrain feature.’”

  “I never said it was you.”

  Allison glared at me, and I took a deep breath, caught somewhere between shame and amusement.

  “Look, it’s a campaign year, which means POTUS is up here on average once every two to three weeks. We barely get a break from you people, and you’re back. It’s exhausting. And every single time he comes into district, we have to sit through one of those briefings. And we get it. We do. We all need to hear how the visit is laid out because you can’t take the chance on what might go wrong if we skip it even once. We appreciate that. But every single briefing is always exactly the same as every other one before it. And having so many so close together, it gets kind of hard to focus.” I made a helpless little gesture with my hands, almost begging for her understanding. “Making a game of listening for those particular phrases seemed like a good way to keep from falling asleep. It was never meant to be disrespectful.”

  “You do this every time we come up?”

  “Um…Maybe?”

  Allison’s eyes narrowed at me, glinting with suspicion. “Was this your idea?”

  “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  “Right.” She appeared to consider this, and I changed the subject. No good could come of this line of questioning. I certainly didn’t need for the bosses to find out we played this game. I couldn’t imagine they’d have a sense of humor about it.

  “So, are you hungry? Because I’m ravenous.”

  Allison regarded me silently for a long moment, and I had a flash of fear that she wouldn’t let me divert her attention. Thank goodness she opted to chug the remainder of her beer and hold out the empty bottle to me.

  Sighing quietly, I took it and automatically prepared two more, one for her and one for me. “Burger?” I asked, lifting the lid off one dish and carefully setting it upside down on the edge of the dresser, out of the way.

  When no answer came, I looked back over my shoulder to find Allison staring at me. I gestured toward the steaming plate with one hand as I took a small sip of the beer nestled in the other.

  “What if I wanted pasta?”

  Smugly, I lifted the metal cover off the other dish and set it inside of the first. I took a step to the side to reveal the plate of fettuccini Alfredo topped with grilled chicken. “Then I’ll eat the burger. But I’m not sharing my fries.”

  I placed the plate of pasta with its garlic bread on the desk, then removed the cling wrap from one of the two glasses of water that’d come with the meals and set that down to the right of the plate, just above where I’d laid the still-wrapped silverware. The small vase with its single rosebud joined the place setting, and I pulled the chair out for Allison and waited for her to take a seat.

  The odd expression on her face as I finally turned to look at her was difficult to interpret, so I didn’t even try. I merely held out my hand to her.

  Allison pushed the papers off her lap with no regard for order or destination and slid off the bed, the beer bottle dangling loosely from her fingers. Her eyes held mine as she took the offered chair, and I slid it in for her, helping her get comfortable. Once she was settled, I gathered the papers and my laptop off the ottoman and deposited them on the floor where they’d be out of the way while I ate.

  The room was silent but not uncomfortably so, though I did wonder what she was thinking about a couple of times. Once I’d inhaled my burger, I went back to studying my scribbly diagrams and making more notes as I worked on my fries.

  “The text message.” Allison’s voice was hushed and tinged with realization and something else I couldn’t identify.

  I was completely absorbed by my work, and perhaps that’s why Allison’s statement surprised me. It took a few seconds for her words to penetrate, and I frowned as I dragged my eyes from my papers to look up at her.

  “Huh?” I was trying to shift gears and catch up with her, I really was. But nothing was sticking.

  “The text message you sent in the car.”

  “What about it?”

  “That’s how dinner got here so fast, isn’t it?” Her gaze was sharp as she studied me. “You texted ahead and asked them to have dinner waiting.” Her dark eyes clouded. “That blond woman from the lobby,” she murmured quietly, almost to herself. Her attention shifted from the cart to the plate in front of her to the flower back to my face.

  “Stacey,” I supplied with a nod, popping a ketchup-covered fry into my mouth.

  Allison’s eyes now cleared as the pieces fell into place, and something not unlike affection flooded her features as she looked at me. I tried hard not to blush. “Thank you,” she said finally.

  I smiled at her, secretly thrilled that she was pleased. “No problem.” I quickly shifted my focus back to the papers in my lap, anxious to dispel the intimacy of the moment.

  “That was very thoughtful.”

  “Well, I know how you get when you’re hungry.” I deliberately kept my voice light, falling back on one of my most relied-upon tools: using humor to gloss over a situation I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “Frankly, I don’t have the energy to deal with you when you’re like that.”

  “Ha, ha. Think of that all by yourself, smart-ass?”

  “Yes, I did. I’m unbelievably clever.”

  “Oh, you’re something all right,” Allison mumbled.

  I ducked my head to avoid further eye contact and made a show of working. While I may’ve actually been getting some things accomplished, my underlying thoughts were distracting me.

  Coming up to Allison’s hotel room had been a terrible idea. A small part of me had recognized that when she’d first suggested it, then worried when we’d been so close to kissing in the car. And now that she was sitting just a few feet away from me engaging me in witty banter like she used to and looking at me with that special smile as if not a day had passed, I was certain. Worst idea ever. What had I been thinking?

  I wanted to resent her but was having a tough time justifying that emotion. This wasn’t her fault. I was the one having a problem keeping this encounter strictly friendly. I was also apparently the only one who still felt the attraction that’d once flared between us. I mean, aside from the flash of desire on her face in the car, she hadn’t indicated that she had any feelings for me not rooted in professional respect or nostalgia for what we’d once shared.

  I dug my knuckles into the edge of my eyebrow hard and forced myself not to frown. I didn’t want to still be attracted to Allison. She’d hurt me. Badly. And while a small part of me was still angry, she’d somehow managed not only to quietly overcome my ire but also to reawaken emotions I’d kept buried for a long time.

  I glared at the diagrams in front of me, upset with myself and now inanely with her for making me this tied up in knots. I wanted to be over her. But I had to accept that I wasn’t, that I’d barely made any strides toward that end, and the realization was killing me.

  Of course, I was seeing someone, which was also contributing heavily to my dismay. I didn’t want to hurt Lucia. She was such a wonderful person, and I really did like her. She deserved so much better than someone who clearly had trouble letting go of the past. She was worthy of someone who would offer her a fairy-tale future. My heart was breaking slowly and painfully as I questioned for the second time that day whether that someone was me.

  I crumpled one of the diagrams roughly in my fist and then smoothed it out against my thigh. When it was as unwrinkled as it was going to get, I placed it back on the otto
man. Then I clenched my hands together in my lap, pushing my palms against one another hard as though I could compress the guilt that was threatening to tear me apart.

  I chanced a quick glance at Allison, relieved to see that she was intently focused on her own work. I didn’t want her to catch even a vague hint of my turmoil, didn’t want her to question it. I don’t think I could’ve articulated to her exactly why I was so vexed even if I’d wanted to. Not only did I not want to get into it with her, but I also wanted to save face. We weren’t together anymore. Hell, we weren’t even friends. Not really. I hadn’t heard from her once since she’d left. I definitely didn’t owe her any kind of explanation for my moods.

  What I did owe her was complete and undivided attention to this job. We had a mission to accomplish and not a lot of time. I took a long drink of water and cleared my throat.

  “What have you got?” If Allison noticed that something was bothering me, she was polite enough not to mention it. Either that or I’d done a bang-up job of hiding it.

  I turned the copy of one of the uncrumpled diagrams around so she could see it and laid it flat on top of the ottoman. When she leaned over to study it, I began to explain what post-standers we usually used and what I’d changed and why, gesturing to key points on the schematic with my pen.

  Allison nodded and asked the occasional question or interjected a comment, but mostly she was silent. When I’d finished, she remained quiet for a long moment, obviously thinking.

  “Can you get these changes inserted and have a working copy sketched out by tomorrow afternoon for the walkthrough with the boss and the site guys?”

  A fissure of relief skittered through me. Without realizing it, Allison was offering me a perfect excuse to flee the scene. I tried to keep my expression from suggesting I was thrilled at the prospect of running away from her and handed her the other diagrams to look over, praying she wouldn’t ask about the one I’d mangled.

  “Tell me if these are okay, and I’ll go take care of it now.”

  “Ryan, it’s almost nine o’clock. We can stop at the office tomorrow morning and do it.”

  “I know. But the more we get finished today, the less rushed we’ll feel as the visit approaches. If I can make the majority of the changes now, the site guys will have less work to do after the supervisor walkthroughs.”