by Jo Leigh
“I’m already in Vegas,” Angie said, keeping her voice low. She didn’t want Ryan to hear, God no. “With Ryan Vail.”
“Holy crap, Angie. Did you not have a choice?”
“Yes and no. I mean, how could I tell Palmer I didn’t want to step in? The whole case would’ve gone down the drain.”
“What are you going to do?”
“The job.”
“But...”
“I know!” Angie said. “God, why weren’t you around yesterday? I have to sleep in the same bed with him.”
“Oh, sweetie, that is the least of your worries. Do you know what tantric massages are like?”
Angie closed her eyes. “Stop it. That’s not helpful.”
“Well, I’m not sure what I can do from here.” Liz lifted the iPad and brought it up until her face almost filled the screen. “You can do this. I know you can do this, because you are fierce and you are a woman to be reckoned with. Besides, Ryan isn’t about to cross any lines with you. In fact, I’d bet a million he’s going to go overboard to make sure nothing hinky could even be implied.”
“I wish I could fit in a run,” Angie said. “I’m exhausted, but I’m wired.”
“Find time later. What do you have to do right now?”
Taking a deep breath, Angie let her friend’s steady voice calm her down. “Shower. Dress like Angie Ebsen. Coordinate our stories so we don’t contradict each other. Go to the first session. Introductions, filling in forms. Then lunch, and after that, there’s some kind of bonding ritual. God, Liz, a bonding ritual.”
“Don’t think about anything past lunch. Introductions are a piece of cake. You know the backstory, you’re expected to be nervous. You’ll be fantastic.” Liz smiled broadly, and damn if that didn’t help, as well.
“Now go get clean, then put on your disguise. Break it down like your training schedule. I’ll be in the field, but you can call me during the day. I shouldn’t be late, though, so we can Skype tonight, okay?”
“Sounds good. Thanks.”
“No problemo. Later.”
The screen went dark, Angie clicked off the tablet and stepped into the shower in no time. She’d already solved her first problem. No way she could have lasted the week with people calling her Jeannie. Thankfully Brian had thought of a way out of that little mess. Angie would be her middle name, the one she preferred. The computer guys had woven it into all the paperwork and background references.
The story of the Ebsens would remain intact. Unfortunately the team had used a lot of Jeannie’s personal history for Mrs. Ebsen’s childhood, and because Jeannie and Ryan had known each other so long, no time had been wasted filling in all those details.
Now those blanks would, by necessity, have to be replaced with Angie’s past. And Ryan needed to give her the Cliff’s Notes version of his history, as well.
With the shower running, she stripped, grabbed her toiletries and used her time to visualize herself as Angie Ebsen. She imagined the way she’d carry herself as someone wealthy, who had high-level expectations about service and general conversation. She could see herself playing the part, she really could, up until the point where she had to act as though she was in love with Ryan.
God, this was going to be tricky. Even in her own head, all she could picture was the humiliation of that single horrifying moment if, no, not if...when Ryan figured out that she still wanted him. How he’d been the man in her fantasies for more nights than she cared to admit.
She stared down at the unbelievably expensive engagement and wedding rings on the third finger of her left hand. She was so screwed.
* * *
RYAN REALIZED HE’D BEEN staring at the bathroom door for a while and that he might want to move before Angie finished with her shower. He shook his head as he turned back to the dresser to get ready for their first day of marriage.
He supposed they’d have to talk about it now. It being the distance they’d been maintaining for over a year. The polite nods without eye contact, the apologies that followed accidental touches. Walking on eggshells like that at work had been bad enough, even though their jobs required minimal interaction. But behaving that way here would ruin the mission.
What they needed was to be all over each other. Just shy of obsessively on his part, a little less so on hers. Jeannie and he had been A-OK with that plan. They’d practiced until they’d been able to stop cracking up with each vaguely sexual touch. But with Angie he faced the opposite problem.
Every touch was sexual with nothing vague about it. Hell, the slightest brush of Angie’s skin had caused a chain reaction that left him unsettled and heading toward hard. Thank God he wasn’t a teenager anymore, or he’d have had to walk around the office with a textbook handy to cover himself. As it was, he always managed to make a quick exit or distract himself long enough to settle down, but that wouldn’t be a viable option when they were in public here.
He pulled out a pair of khakis and a striped polo shirt, selected, along with the rest of his wardrobe, by a personal shopper who specialized in outfitting guys who made fifty times Ryan’s yearly salary. Even his boxer briefs and socks were ridiculously expensive, and he paid attention to his clothes.
The sound of the shower registered and, of course, his brain went straight to a very detailed picture of Angie naked with water running down her chest, a drop hesitating on the edge of her rigid nipple, streaking down her stomach only to get caught in the trimmed thatch of dark hair that signaled the approach to his happy place. Never mind that he hadn’t actually seen her naked. He had a good eye and could connect the dots.
And right there was the crux of the problem. The big, elephant-size problem.
In order to make the sting operation a success, they would have to break every boundary they’d very carefully set in place, consciously or not, at the risk of his libido overtaking his good sense.
Angie was not the kind of woman who would make exceptions for special circumstances. Even if they hadn’t been colleagues, she wasn’t his type of woman at all.
Physically? No question. She was a wet dream even when she wasn’t in the shower. But he suspected she wanted someone she could count on. Someone who would be there for the long haul. A man who would be an excellent husband and father. A stand-up kind of guy to share her life with.
He wanted a woman who didn’t particularly care who he was, as long as there was a bed and he could keep up his end of the bargain.
So not only were he and Angie required to mix business with pleasure for an entire week, they already knew that getting too close was playing with fire. Hell, all they’d done was consider, for like five minutes, hooking up, and they’d both backed off so fast they’d left skid marks.
This arrangement did not bode well. For either of them.
As soon as he was finished dressing, he speed-dialed Jeannie.
“I was going to call you.”
Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. “How is this gonna work?”
“She can do it,” Jeannie said, in her I’m being serious voice. “We spoke last night and she’s completely committed to getting the job done. Just spend as much time as you can this morning going over your personal histories. Between the two of you, you’ll make it happen. I doubt there’s going to be anything heavy on the first day.”
“We can still postpone this. A family emergency or something. Before they meet her.”
Jeannie’s silence had him wishing he’d kept that last thought to himself. She didn’t know about the thing between him and Angie. Didn’t need to. No one did.
“What’s wrong with you?” Jeannie said finally. “Delaying could blow the whole sting. We’ve all worked too hard to get this far. Sometimes we’ve just got to roll with the punches. I figured you better than anyone could deal with that.”
“I know, I know. You’re right.”
Again she hesitated. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Nope. Nothing. I’m good.�
�
“Okay. You two look great together. You’re the perfect bait. Hey, get the evidence we need to proceed and you can come on home. Easy as pie.”
“Jeannie?”
“What?”
“You can shove that pie where the sun don’t shine.”
“Why, Ryan Vail, I never.”
“Yes, you have.”
Her laugh made him even sorrier she wasn’t here. But their conversation told him he’d better get his act together fast. “The trial going okay?”
“Same crap, different day. I’m really sorry, kiddo. I would have been there if I could.”
“I know.”
“Call me tonight, let me know what I’m missing.”
“If I can, I will.” He disconnected, shoved his phone in his pocket, hoping like hell there would be nothing to tell. Ever. That he and Angie would pull this sting off with no hiccups, and then he’d be on his way to D.C. to a new job before he had to give her another thought.
A minute later he still hadn’t moved and room service was at the door.
* * *
THE COFFEE WAS ALL SET OUT on the patio when Angie left the bathroom. Two laptops were open, one on the table which Ryan was staring at, the other on the dresser. That laptop had to be Ryan Ebsen’s because the screen saver consisted of revolving pictures of Ferraris.
She debated unpacking, but she needed the caffeine too desperately to wait.
Outside, it was surprisingly warm for February in the high desert, and the view of the mountains was beautiful. Ryan had a large cheese Danish on his plate, but in front of her seat at the round glass table was a yogurt-and-fruit parfait with a bran muffin on the side. She stared at the breakfast, then looked up to meet Ryan’s gaze, but only for a second. “What’s this?”
“Sustenance.” He poured her a cup of coffee, then put the carafe down.
“Thank you.” Interesting that it was the exact breakfast she would have ordered for herself.
“You’re welcome. Look,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I believe what’s required here is to barrel through all notions of propriety and just get down to how the hell we’re going to pull this off.”
Angie knew she was blushing, she could feel the heat rise on her cheeks. “Can I at least have a cup of coffee first?”
“Yeah,” he said, easing up, at least somewhat. His posture was still stiff and he could only hold her gaze for a few seconds at a time.
She proceeded to put the cream in her coffee, to take a few moments as she sipped to catch the view and try to relax. Ryan looked different in his Ebsen clothes. She’d never imagined him in khakis and a too-tailored-to-be-off-the-rack polo shirt. The suede bucks were the perfect touch to put him on the Street Style map on GQ. He’d always dressed sharply, but this change made him look rugged and elegant at the same time, and she’d better stop thinking about him in or out of clothes and get down to work.
After another big sip of almost hot enough coffee, she gave him a nod.
“Okay,” he said. “Starting with registration, we’re going to be the Ebsens to everyone at the hotel, so from this moment forward, we’re in character. We won’t be able to pull it off 24/7, but the more we practice, the easier it will get. Your part shouldn’t be too tough. I’m playing a ruthless bastard, so you won’t have to act much, at least not to start.”
She flinched at his words until she saw the way his mouth quirked up. Joking, just joking. Everyone in the unit, including Ryan, kidded around, often with really black humor, and as of yesterday afternoon, it had never made her blink. Now, though... Pulling out a smile, she said, “I don’t think you’re a bastard. I think you’re going to be very good at this.”
After a questioning look he cleared his throat as he reached down beside his chair and brought up a thick file folder.
“All right, then,” she said. “You want to go first?”
“Go first?”
“I need you to tell me as much as you can about the parts of your real life you used to fill in your cover background. We let you and Jeannie handle that aspect because she knows things about you that the rest of us on the team don’t.”
“Right.” He paused, obviously thinking over what he wanted to make public and frowning as if he wanted to be anywhere but sitting across from her. “I, uh. Huh. Maybe we should... How about you tell me what you know about me and I’ll confirm, deny, fill in.”
Bad idea. Really, really bad. It would be just like her to say some idiotic thing she’d made up in her head about him. Or ask a question that had nothing to do with the sting. “That seems more complicated than it has to be. And frankly, confusing.”
He looked out at the distant mountains. “I’m not trying to be evasive, but what Jeannie knows, she’s learned over the last three years.”
“I understand. She’s your partner. Kind of like a wife in a way.”
“A wife?” He laughed. “We’re not that close.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, saw the fleeting panic in his face and considered that maybe he didn’t. “Have you ever lived with a woman?”
“No.” He seemed affronted. “No,” he repeated, this time drawing out the word and meeting her eyes. “You?”
She started to shake her head but stopped herself. “Nope, never have lived with a woman. I was trying to get you to think in terms of what you’d expect a wife should know about you.”
He rubbed his eyes, and murmured, “Maybe you should go first.”
Dammit. Angie was going to have to take the lead on this and she’d been counting on following his example. “Okay,” she said finally, reminding herself to be cool and act her age. “We have one shot at these people, so when I’m finished, you can ask me any questions you like. And then we’ll discuss exactly how far we’re willing to go to see this through to the end.”
3
“I KNOW YOU BUILT Jeannie’s tennis playing into the cover story, but I’m just okay at tennis so we’ll have to be careful there. Running is my thing,” Angie said, and Ryan nodded because he already knew that. “In fact, I run every morning and I plan to stick to my schedule while we’re here.” She paused. “Do you want to write some of this down?”
He shrugged. “I will when I need to. But I already knew you were a runner.”
“Really?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head.
“Yeah, you know, that 10k you did in August?”
The head tilt was now accompanied by narrowed eyes. “I don’t recall talking about that at work.”
Ryan stared at her. Damn. There was a risk of getting too close to the line if he spoke to her about her runner’s body. Hell, it was obvious that she was dedicated to the sport. He flashed back to the picture he’d envisioned of her in the shower and he grabbed a pen, then ducked inside the room for a moment to grab a blank piece of paper and cool himself down. By the time he returned to the table, he was fine. “I must’ve heard someone mention it, but yeah, I’ll write it down.”
She seemed to buy that answer and turned to gaze thoughtfully through the sliding-glass door. “I’m not exactly sure what kind of subjects are going to come up during the intimacy exercises, so I’m gonna cover a broad spectrum. Um, I don’t like roses. Of any color. If a man were to—” Her gaze shot back to him. “You’d send me a simple fresh-cut mixed bouquet if you were to do that sort of thing. Nothing fancy and prearranged.”
He took notes. Flowers. Shit, he wouldn’t have thought of that, though he’d seen Jeannie buy carnations on the
corner after work. He liked that Angie didn’t care for fancy arrangements, although he couldn’t imagine why it made any difference.
“Good Lord, how much can you write about flowers?”
He looked up. “Which one is your favorite?”
“Tulips, lilies, no, lilies remind me of funerals. Anything but roses and lilies.”
“Got it.”
“I don’t drink much, because of the running. But I don’t mind sour apple martinis or white Russians. I
can’t see Mrs. Ebsen throwing back a Miller.”
Ryan smiled. “I don’t think I’d marry anyone who didn’t like beer.”
“I didn’t think you’d marry anyone for any reason.”
“That’s true,” he admitted, returning his eyes to the paper. “Back to Mr. and Mrs. Ebsen. I know you like sports in general so let’s get that squared away.”
She nodded. “I cross train in mixed martial arts, a beach volleyball league and ballet, but I watch basketball. I’m not into football at all, or hockey, sorry. Baseball bores me to tears, so let’s just stick with basketball. You do like basketball, right?”
“Not as much as hockey, but yeah, I’m a Lakers man.” He’d bet his official Gretzky jersey that she already knew that. He’d won the office pool several times. Just like she’d known he was into hockey. He remembered a disagreement they’d had about Larry Bird that had taken place before the Halloween incident.
“Good,” she said. “We met at a sports event, then. A championship game.”
He pulled out his own phone and started punching keys. “The 2010 Finals, there was a fund-raiser in one of the owner’s
suites. How does that sound?”
She nodded and scribbled on the margin of her report. “Perfect.”
“Why don’t we make that our safety topic, then. I don’t think anyone would question it. We’re pretty athletic looking. Meanwhile, what are you going to do about your name?”
“Tell them I go by my middle name, Angie.”
“That’ll work.” He looked up from his phone.
Angie rose and stretched over to reach the coffee carafe. After topping off his cup, she tended to her own. It was interesting seeing her dressed as Angie Ebsen. Her blouse was red with big sleeves but snug around the waist. Nice, but not nearly as great as the slim, black pants. Completely unlike anything she wore to the office.
He’d never thought much about how she neutralized her looks by the clothes she wore. As far as he could recall, she completely avoided anything that hugged her figure, which was a damn shame.