Serious Risks

by Rachel Lee

  Jessica shook her head. “I can’t imagine that. What does Stan think about it?”

  “I think he’s just plain furious. He also said that they’re inspecting everyone’s desk.”

  “I heard they can do that, but I never saw them inspect one.”

  “Me, either.” Frank shook his head. “I guess if you’ve got any embarrassing love letters in your desk from that guy you were with yesterday, you’d better dump ’em.”

  She saw the twinkle in his eye and decided not to let the comment bother her. “Thanks, Frank. If I ever get him to write an embarrassing love letter, you’ll be the last to know.”

  “Thought so!” Laughing, he moved down the hall to his own office.

  Back at her desk, Jessica installed her hard drive, booted up and resumed her work. She thought she was doing pretty well, too, until an hour later when Arlen called.

  “Lunch at twelve?” he asked without preamble.

  She sank back in her chair and pulled off her glasses, realizing suddenly that she had a tension headache. Rubbing impatiently at her forehead, she sighed. Arlen heard it.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Not a damn thing,” she said, more sharply than she meant to. “What could possibly be wrong?” Other than espionage and an FBI agent who’d awakened her to things she was better off not knowing about. An FBI agent who called her, cool as you please, his tone the politely casual tone people used with strangers. His silence suggested to her that he was evaluating her response. Suddenly disturbed that he might draw conclusions, she said, “Sorry, Arlen. I’ve got a king-size headache.”

  “Have you taken aspirin?” It was the politely concerned question of an acquaintance.

  Damn it, Jessica thought. Damn it. Back to business as usual. Well, girl, are you going to let him get away with it? The question drew her up short, creating as it did a whole new passel of questions she wasn’t going to be able to answer without a lot of soul-searching.

  “Jess?” His tone had lost a little of its distance.

  “I’m here. Sorry. Noon is fine for lunch. I’ll be waiting out front.” If she didn’t get swallowed up in the internal earthquake she felt herself verging on. “I don’t have anything for you, though.” As soon as she said it, she wanted to kick herself. He might cancel lunch.

  But he didn’t. “I figured you wouldn’t. I’ve got a few things to talk to you about, anyway. Noon, then.”

  She took the aspirin, but it didn’t answer the questions nor did it help her concentrate on her work. She found herself pacing her office, a not very large space that allowed her to take only three steps in one direction before forcing her to turn. Here it was, only the middle of the morning, and it looked as if she was done working for the day. Well, she could call security and tell them she’d found the document. If she wasn’t going to work, anyway, there was no point in postponing it any longer.

  But first she was going to think about that surprising question she’d asked herself. Was she going to let Arlen get away with this? On the other hand, how could she prevent him? She was no femme fatale to crook a finger and bring a man to his knees. In fact, the mere notion made her want to laugh.

  Arlen had a lot of good reasons for wanting to keep matters between them on an impersonal footing, she thought. He was acting in a professional capacity when he was with her, and she supposed it wouldn’t look very good to his superiors if they heard he was fooling around on the job. And if that wasn’t enough, there was the biggest problem of all: the wedding band on his left hand.

  On the other hand, there she was. She’d never felt anything approaching the feelings he’d stirred in her with a few kisses. All the rational arguments she could muster, either for herself or for him, meant absolutely nothing against the soul-deep yearning he’d unleashed.

  So what was she going to do about it? Could she do anything about it? She had no feminine wiles that she was aware of, and even if she could have manufactured one, she would have been terrified of using it. Ten years later she could still hear the laughter of the premed student who had used her to do his homework. The scar was deep, and still very tender. Her lack of confidence in such matters had become an integral part of her nature.

  Arlen had wanted her last night, but that could have arisen from any number of circumstances that had nothing to do with her, and she was painfully aware of it. She might not have a great deal of direct experience with human sexuality, but she prided herself on being well-read. A woman was wisest not to assume a man’s response was a reaction to her in particular. Arlen might have been reacting more to protracted celibacy than to her.

  It would have been almost possible to feel pleased with the objective way she was reviewing the situation, but the bottom line wasn’t objective. She wanted—very much—to find herself in Arlen’s arms again. In fact, someplace deep inside, she wanted to weep with the longing she felt to be there again.

  Standing in the middle of her office, she wrapped her arms tightly around herself and closed her eyes, remembering what it had felt like for those few short minutes to be enveloped in a man’s strong arms.

  No, she thought, she wasn’t going to let him get away with this. But what could she possibly do to beguile him?

  There was no answer to that question. Feeling a sudden need to do something, anything, productive, she picked up the phone and dialed Security to tell them she had found the missing document. Dave Barron, the Facility Security Officer, was not in, however, and his assistant, Vicki Grier, was busy with the DIS inspectors. Having no idea who else she could discuss the matter with, Jessica decided to wait again. What was the rush, after all? This was almost like closing the barn door after the horse has gotten out.

  Shortly after she finally managed to get her attention back on her work, a knock at the door distracted her. Sure it must be Bob, she called out for him to come in. It wasn’t Bob, however. It was one of the plant security officers, and with him were two other men, one of whom Jessica remembered from the last security inspection.

  “Ms. Kilmer,” said the plant security officer, “these gentlemen are from the Defense Investigative Service, and they’re conducting a routine inspection of security procedures. Maybe you remember Brian Earl from the last inspection?”

  “Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.” She shook hands with Earl, who was either the most forgettable guy on the face of the earth or one of the most memorable she had ever met, simply because he completely lacked personality. Until she met him, she would have believed that only brain damage of some kind could make a person so utterly and completely bland.

  “And this is Dick Hartley, also with DIS,” the security officer said.

  Jessica shook the second man’s hand and thought that he looked a lot more lively than Earl. At least he attempted a pleasant smile.

  “I’ll leave you now,” the security officer said and walked out, closing the door securely behind him.

  Jessica looked from the closed door to the two inspectors. Earl perched on the corner of her desk; Hartley took the single chair. Did they know about the document? Or had they just been sent out here with no more than a vague warning that something was rotten and had to be sniffed out?

  “Isn’t this unusual?” she asked them. “I don’t remember plant security ever leaving you folks alone with me before.”

  “It is unusual, Ms. Kilmer,” Earl said in his ponderous way. Jessica invariably found herself wanting to insert words for him just to speed him up a little. “This is what we call a Cadillac inspection.” He gave her a smile that looked more practiced than natural. “Top-of-the-line.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Earl continued, just as slowly and blandly. “It’s just something we do from time to time to keep folks on their toes. Is your safe open right now? We’ll start with the document check and then move on to other things.”

  “Not before I see your ID we won’t,” Jessica said.

  “Very good,” the other agent said, nodd
ing in approval. “Very good. Most of your coworkers haven’t asked for our credentials. You’re very alert, Ms. Kilmer. Very security conscious.”

  An hour of that and she thought she was going to lose her mind. They went through her safe, checking every single document to ensure that they were properly classified and filed. They checked Document Control’s list of the documents she was supposed to have against the actual contents of her safe, and she sent a hasty prayer of thanks that the missing folder was back in place. She had a feeling these guys didn’t know what had precipitated this investigation but that they were out for blood.

  They inspected her desk, as well, which really annoyed her, because she kept a number of personal things in there, like a box of tampons and a spare pair of hose. It was silly, she told herself. These were mature men; they knew about such things. It bothered her anyway, and then she discovered that Earl wasn’t completely blank. He blushed when he saw the tampons. That, she thought wickedly, almost made it worthwhile.

  And before they left the security officer rejoined them and changed the combination of Jessica’s safe. It was such a relief to her to have that done at last that she almost forgot herself and thanked the officer. Now, for a short while at least, she wouldn’t have to come in each morning wondering if something else would be missing. No longer would she have to live with the uneasy sensation that the back door had been left open and unguarded.

  At noon she walked out of the building in the company of Bob Harrow and Carl Templeton. As soon as she saw Arlen she said goodbye to Bob and Carl and hurried forward with a smile.

  Arlen was leaning against the side of his car, patiently waiting. One of the things he liked to tell young agents when they started to get restless was that the FBI offered the world’s greatest education in patience. If you doubt it, he always said, try a stakeout. He had been on quite a few stakeouts that had lasted weeks at a stretch. Some of them had been spent outdoors in the rain and up to his neck in poison ivy. He had, eventually, learned to wait in perfect patience, particularly when the day was dry, the sky blue and the time frame set.

  As Jessica approached he straightened and returned her smile with one of equal warmth. Mindful of her two colleagues in the background, both of whom were frankly watching, he prepared to give her a kiss on the cheek as he had yesterday.

  Jessica, however, had different plans. Instead of trying to edge past him to get into the car, as she had before, she walked straight up to him. Clinging to the memory of how passionately he had kissed her last night, she screwed up every ounce of her courage. Halting mere inches from him, she tilted her head back and smiled up at him as she placed her hands on his chest.

  “Hi,” she said shyly, and slowly slid her hands up to his shoulders and thence to the back of his head. Tugging gently, she pulled his mouth down to hers.

  Years spent with the Bureau, years spent raising kids, had made Arlen nearly unshakable, but Jessica came pretty close to rattling him then. Having prepared himself only for a brief contact with her, he had no defense against the alluring pressure of her full breasts against his chest, the warm hunger of the mouth that teased his so shyly, or the sheer pleasure of a woman’s hands in his hair. Suddenly surrounded by enticing, sweet-smelling femininity, he almost forgot this was a pretense.

  Kissing Jessica while standing was not likely to become a lengthy pastime; there was too much disparity in their heights. He had to bend not only at the neck but also at the waist to reach her. Some last vestige of sanity kept him from lifting her right off her feet and bringing her up to a more comfortable height.

  Instead, wrapping both arms around her, he bent her backward, bringing her entire length into intimate contact with his hard contours. Breasts, hips, thighs, even her feminine mound, were delectably identifiable as he pressed her close.

  Jessica had one last coherent thought before she was swamped in sensation: she was playing out of her league. Then Arlen took control of the kiss, and the rhythm of his thrusting tongue became a pagan drumbeat in her blood.

  The kiss lasted no more than fifteen seconds. Though he came close, Arlen never quite forgot himself completely. Lifting his head, he looked down into Jessica’s dazed, flushed face. At the moment, severe hairstyle and glasses notwithstanding, she looked adorable.

  “Lunch, Jess?” he asked huskily.

  She managed a nod, and a moment later she was in the car with no idea how she’d gotten there.

  Arlen chose a restaurant farther from MTI this time. He wanted them out of the likely range of people they knew because he didn’t want to risk interruptions or eavesdropping. Traffic was heavy, demanding his attention. It gave Jessica time to think.

  It was, she thought, almost a reprise of the humiliating events of her freshman year. This time, however, instead of shyly blushing and accepting his kisses, she’d brazenly walked up to the man and forced him to kiss her. Admittedly, Arlen hadn’t laughed at her, but he’d obviously been unaffected, which was just as humiliating. Was it possible to die from mortification? She was beginning to hope so.

  Arlen hid it better, but he was struggling with some pretty base impulses, any one of which would, he was sure, probably cause any inexperienced lady to reel with shock. Whatever experience Jessica might have, he didn’t feel it was very much. Several miles passed before he felt that he’d clamped down on his imagination enough to be back in complete control.

  Glancing over at Jessica, he caught her staring at him. In the split second before his eyes returned to the road he read her expression with skills honed by sixteen years with the Bureau. In that flash he got a fairly accurate notion of how she was feeling, and it was like another blow to his solar plexus. He wasn’t trying to wound this woman, but it seemed as if he was bound to. Where the hell was some safe middle ground for them to deal on? And why did she have to be so damn vulnerable?

  A light ahead flashed to yellow, and Arlen braked. When the car rolled to a complete stop, he turned and looked at Jessica. There wasn’t a thing he could say that wouldn’t make the situation worse, he realized. She was sitting there staring straight ahead, cheeks as crimson as if she were standing naked in public. And maybe that was precisely how she felt. Her lips were pursed primly, her hands folded on her lap, and he supposed that if he could see them her ankles would be properly crossed. Embarrassed, she’d retreated into the old-maid schoolteacher pose that he suspected was her defense, just as her hairstyle and glasses were intended to fool men into thinking she was homely.

  Somebody, he thought, must have done a number on her sometime or other. And today she’d probably been making an attempt to step past that, and somehow he’d managed to humiliate her. Well, he certainly couldn’t have made love to her on the pavement in front of her office building. So what the devil had he done wrong?

  The light changed, and he accelerated, still wondering. Had she been embarrassed because he’d drawn her so close to him? Somehow that didn’t fit with the way she’d walked up to him and tugged his head down to hers.

  Maybe he ought to just ignore the whole thing and let it blow over on its own. The problem with that was that this lady innocently kept blowing his objectivity all to hell in the most devastating way. All his attempts to keep his distance and remind himself that he was an agent on a case just withered away when she got close. Somehow he knew, just knew, he wasn’t going to let this blow over by itself.

  “Can you be a little late back to work this afternoon?” he said abruptly.

  Jessica started and glanced nervously at him. “That’s no problem if it’s important. I can call in and say something came up, and that I need to take the afternoon off.”

  “You won’t get into trouble?”

  “No.” She looked doubtfully at him. “Is something wrong, Arlen? Has something happened?”

  “That’s the question I want to ask you.” He turned the car suddenly, leaving a little rubber on the pavement as he cornered sharply. “We’re going to my place for lunch. If you have any objections, holl
er now.”

  His place. She’d never gone alone to a man’s home before. The whole idea sounded incredibly wicked. It was also an opportunity she found herself unable to pass up. “Is there a reason why I should object?” Only after she spoke did she hear the flirtatiousness of her words. Color mounted in her face.

  “No,” Arlen said. “But if you find any reasons for objection, I expect to hear them.”

  Another turn and they were heading across town in the general direction of the residential area where Jessica’s house was.

  “I live in an apartment complex only a mile from your house,” he remarked.

  Jessica had no idea how to respond to that. The only thought that came to her head was out before she could stop it. “I don’t know why, but I imagined you living in a house.”

  “I used to. When Lucy was alive. Now I have a second bedroom for Andrew to use when he’s home on semester break. And soon I won’t even need that.”

  Jessica studied her fingers, hearing the sense of his words as much as their content. When she kissed this man, when she made her pathetic attempts to entice him, she was playing with real fire, and she might get seriously burned. In his heart he was still a married man, which meant there was no room for her. And he kept trying to tell her that. He kept trying to warn her, the way he was doing right now. When was she going to get smart and listen?

  “Where does Andrew go to school?” she asked, trying to make it real for herself.

  “The Colorado School of Mines. He wants to be a mining engineer and travel all over the world.”

  Jessica heard the pride in his voice, and her throat tightened. “Sounds exciting,” she managed to say. “And your daughter?”

  “Melanie’s a highway engineer. Right now she’s pretty busy on the improvements they’re making to the interstate up north of here.”

  “You must be awfully proud of them both.”

  “I am.” He glanced at her, long enough for her to see the truth of his words in his gray eyes.