by Jo Leigh
“If you haven’t already, you should let the team know about the change of plans. Call Delilah and tell her whatever the hell you want, just don’t blow everything we’ve managed to accomplish so far.” She headed toward the bathroom. “You know what? I’ll call Delilah. You just get us out of here.”
Ryan looked her in the eyes for the first time that morning, and instead of making things better, the cool nothing she saw there made everything a hundred times worse.
* * *
DESPITE THE EXPENSE, ONCE they’d landed in Los Angeles, Ryan took a taxi to his apartment in the arts district downtown. Not that he used the place for anything to do with art. He kept meaning to tackle the bare wall situation but he’d never found sufficient motivation. Frankly, all he gave a damn about was his bed and the shower. He’d shelled out a hell of a lot on both of them, and considered it money well spent.
His place was on the fifth floor, and as always the elevator smelled like pine-scented chemicals. He’d lived with much worse. One of the reasons he’d moved into this high-tech, overpriced high-rise was the twenty-four-hour security. Also the weekly maid service. But mostly the security.
Unlocking the door relaxed his shoulders and he felt as if he could breathe for the first time since this morning. He left his suitcase by the couch, dropped his armful of mail on the counter, then headed back to his bedroom.
It was seven-thirty. He’d hoped to be back from Vegas earlier, but there’d been one mess up after another. The whole damn day had been a nightmare. He fell across his bed, the big old navy-blue comforter and the unbelievably great mattress made things somewhat better. If he thought he could sleep through the night he would have just let go, but it was too early and he was too wound up.
Being alone for a while would do him a lot of good. Christ, what an assignment. He’d better get that D.C. job, that’s all. Then he wouldn’t have to see Angie in the bullpen, in the elevators, in his head. He winced at how he’d been such a royal bastard to her. But it had been the right decision, even though it had killed him to see how hurt she was. He couldn’t afford to regret it. But he couldn’t help it. Every time he’d looked at her. Or thought about her. Or remembered how it had felt to be inside her.
His actions this morning had been in both their best interest. They were in the real world now and he had to work with Angie until he got the new job, so what was he supposed to do? Pretend he had feelings for her? That would have been much crueler. At least now, they both knew what was what, and they could return to the slightly uncomfortable but workable situation they’d had before Intimate At Last.
Ryan rolled over, spreading himself across the California King. This was precisely why he never went after a woman who was in any way connected to work. He’d broken his own rule and now he was paying the price. So he liked her. So what? He’d liked a lot of women and somehow he’d managed to separate work and pleasure.
Jeannie was going to crucify him. If she found out he’d screwed up a second time. Who was he kidding? She’d find out. Somehow. He wouldn’t tell her and he knew without any question that Angie wouldn’t, either, but Jeannie had a kind of radar with him that by rights should creep him the hell out.
If that didn’t make him want to leave the country on the first plane out, he didn’t know what would. But since he couldn’t get out of town, at least he could stop obsessing and get back to living his own life. Shower first, then go.
Zero Sum sounded right. It was the kind of club where it didn’t matter what night of the week it was or who was behind the bar. He’d find himself a friendly woman who wanted nothing more from him than a few drinks and a couple of decent orgasms.
By ten-fifteen, he had his scotch rocks in hand, and three women in sight that were contenders. There was a petite brunette with a sexy overbite. Unfortunately she was with a friend, so that could be a problem. But he set his sights, made his plan and went for it.
* * *
ANGIE SHIFTED ON HER COUCH. It should have felt fabulous to be home. It didn’t. There was nothing edible in the fridge, but she couldn’t bring herself to look through her take-out menus. Her iPad sat next to her, turned off.
Three hours she’d been home. Showered, done laundry. Put on a nightgown, not a sleep shirt. She’d meant to call Liz, but she didn’t think she could handle anything her friend had to say. Sympathy might just kill her.
The thing was, she’d done it to herself. Ryan had been nothing but Ryan. She’d known it, and she’d known the outcome, and she’d still opened herself to him. Opened her feelings. Opened her heart. Stupid. So stupid.
The only thing she’d done right all day was that she hadn’t cried. She wouldn’t. Not over him.
* * *
RYAN PAID HIS BAR TAB, NOT really surprised he hadn’t scored. He’d stepped back into the real world too abruptly, that’s all. Give him a day or two, a trip to the gym, and he’d be back to himself. He had to be back to himself because this was nuts.
The whole time he’d been talking to the short brunette, he’d been thinking about Angie. He wanted her. There was a physical ache inside him that one touch from her could cure. Or maybe that was hunger. He’d stop and get something on the way home, because his fridge was empty. Even his mustard had gone bad.
Despite it being out of the way, he stopped by a Korean place that was open late and ordered some bulgogi and cha dal with a side of kimchee then ended up eating it in his Mustang.
It wasn’t hunger.
* * *
“SO WHAT WAS IT LIKE?” Paula asked, scooting her chair over to Angie’s desk, bringing a skinny hazelnut venti latte as her bribe. “Sleeping with Ryan?”
“Awkward,” Angie said, as rehearsed. She’d stood in front of her mirror for far too long making certain her expressions gave away nothing. “Very, very awkward. The whole time was. And I owe whoever picked out my clothes a giant slap upside the head.”
“Come on. Don’t be like that. I know you guys had to kiss and stuff.”
Angie hadn’t even put her purse in her bottom drawer yet, and already she wanted the day to be over. The month to be over. She’d had a horrible night’s sleep, and coming back to the office had been almost as hard as telling her parents she wasn’t going to go to law school. Wearing her own clothes had been difficult, which pissed her off. Not thinking about Ryan had been impossible.
“He’s a good kisser, isn’t he?”
“Paula, I swear to God, you have got to let up on this. We weren’t away filming a reality show. It wasn’t at all like that. It was weird, and I’m grateful it’s over.”
“Okay, jeez, I’m sorry. I mean you guys were sharing a room. I looked up tantric massage. What was I supposed to think?” Paula had the decency to blush, for about two seconds, then she said, “Tonya Bridges isn’t going with the gang to Cancún.”
“What?” For the first time since the casino night, Angie felt herself come down to earth. “She never said a word.”
“Well, according to public records in the state of Nevada, she’s applied for a massage license in Clark County. The paperwork was registered the day before yesterday.”
“Hmm. That explains the furtive faxes. I wonder why she wants it so hush-hush? What kind of business is she planning to establish?”
“We’re working on it. Now apologize with something juicy, would you? We can’t talk about it when Jeannie gets here because she thinks we’re perverts.”
“We are perverts.” Sally who was practically running to join them, stole Brad’s chair to horn in on the prime desktop territory next to Paula. Why did all the women in this team have to come to work so early?
“She claims nothing happened,” Paula said in her second snottiest voice. “That it was awkward.”
“Because it was true, you troublemaker. I said it was awkward but we got through it. We planted all the right information, now we just have to wait for the right response. And fill out reams of paperwork.” Angie finally stowed her purse in the drawer. “So if you woul
d act like the professional, well-trained agents that you are, tell me what else has happened since I left.”
“Joanna Tighe from ERT is getting married to Ken Westerly, you know, the guy from SWAT.”
“Good for them, but I was asking about the actual work we do. In our office.”
“Boy,” Sally said, “did you have to sign up to get that stick up your ass or was it included in the workshop?”
Angie closed her eyes. It was a losing battle, and she had to either give them something or come up with a legit excuse quickly. Terrified of giving anything away, she went with an excuse.
“I’m sorry. I’m exhausted. I had a bad night after a rough week. I promise we’ll all talk another time, okay? We’ll do lunch soon, I promise.”
Sally and Paula, both looking as if she’d betrayed some unwritten but important female coworker code, moped back to their own desks and Angie took comfort from her still-hot coffee.
Too bad nothing seemed to warm her up. Not the late night shower that had turned her pink from the heat, not huddling under her thick duvet. It was as if she’d been hollowed out, left empty and confused.
The thing was, she’d been so wrong. Missed the mark by a light-year. It had felt special. Magical. Real. Where had she gotten lost? Yes, she got it that the thirty-four-minute exercise had sealed her fate, but that wouldn’t have been enough on its own.
Probably, it had begun with the very first kiss. Or maybe it had started at the Halloween party, and she hadn’t realized the depth of the problem. She never should have agreed to the assignment.
Something had told her it would be dangerous. God, if she’d only known.
She took another sip while she turned on her computer. It was still twenty minutes from the opening bell, but her team consisted of overachievers and rabid gossips, so it wasn’t at all surprising that the only two still missing were Jeannie and Ryan.
The thought that he’d truly be here, in person, in a matter of minutes, stole her breath. Tendrils of panic were snaking around her chest, and she used every trick her coaches had ever taught her about calming down.
She had to get her act together, that’s all there was to it. This was the office. She was, despite her behavior in the past few days, a professional. This would not break her.
As she logged in her user name and password, she remembered how it had been right after that stupid party. The truth of him had been so much clearer back then.
Then she’d started letting him into her fantasies, and that had been the beginning of the end. It probably wouldn’t have done lasting damage if Jeannie hadn’t been held up in court. Angie could have gotten along with him up until the day she got the job with the Deputy Director.
Now, she didn’t even deserve that job. Not after the fiasco that had been the Las Vegas sting. She just prayed that Ryan would be the chosen one, because at least he’d be across the country. Out of her sight, and eventually, out of her head. She’d gotten in bed with a viper and been shocked that she’d been bitten. Who’s fault was that?
Knowing all that, it should have been a simple thing to shake it off. Like a side stitch or shin splints. It shouldn’t make her want to curl up into a ball and hide from the world. She shouldn’t feel worse than when she’d broken up with Steve.
Her sigh was too loud, her posture slumped, and if anyone looked at her right now they’d see she was on the verge of tears. All the effort she’d put into practicing to appear cool and calm had gone down the drain even before work had officially begun.
If she had any self-preservation instincts, she’d pack up and go home before it was too late.
Turning to pick up her cup, she froze. It was already too late. Ryan had arrived, and he couldn’t have looked more carefree and happy.
16
RYAN KEPT HIS SMILE IN PLACE, made sure his movements weren’t tense and that he didn’t shy away from meeting anyone’s eyes. Especially Angie’s, although that lasted about five seconds.
On the inside, he wasn’t handling things, as well.
He masked the ache in his chest by making the rounds, going from desk to desk in the bullpen, being his typical smartass self. Slyly inappropriate innuendoes were traded with the men, completely different more politically correct innuendoes with the women. Angie was last, and by that time he’d found his rhythm. He probably should have gone into acting instead of the Bureau. The money was better and the women hotter.
Well, no one was hotter than Angie.
It was all he could do not to let his gaze sweep over her. To linger on her neck as her remembered scent blossomed in his mind, nearly as real as when he’d had his nose buried in the soft spot right behind her ear. Other recollections hit him in a jumble. How her fingers felt on his arms, the way she squeezed his hips with those strong legs, pulling him closer even though they’d been as close as two people could be. God, the way she’d tasted.
“...at four.”
Ryan blinked, a splash of panic bringing him to the present. He thought briefly about nodding, then somehow unraveling what Angie had just said, but gave that up as a losing battle. “I’m sorry. I was miles away. Could you repeat that?”
“Which part?”
He could feel heat rise to his cheeks and he wondered again what earthly good had ever come from the act of embarrassed blushing. “All of it.”
“Late night?” she asked. She didn’t look angry or particularly invested in his answer. Kind of indifferent. Which was good. So why did it sting?
He nodded, and this time the truth wasn’t at all hard to admit. He’d tossed and turned doing everything he could to think of anything but her and failing miserably. How she’d managed to completely upend his well-ordered life. He might’ve gotten three hours.
“We have to write up the week,” she said, sorting through papers on her desk, probably so she didn’t have to look at him. “Separately, then go over our conclusions together. Palmer wants the team in his office at four.”
“So much for getting out of here early.”
“Well, life is tough all over.”
Her clipped response was only slightly more obvious than the underlying weariness she was trying to hide. Before last week, he wouldn’t have noticed. Wouldn’t have cared.
Clearly, she hadn’t had a peaceful night, either, although it had taken him some time to see her as she was, rather than how he pictured her. The glow had dimmed, her skin looked pale.
“Was there something else?”
He shook his head. “Let me know when you’re ready for the wrap-up.”
She nodded then turned to her computer. In profile the tension in her shoulders was obvious, as was her desire to have him leave.
He obliged. It was only when he’d booted up his own computer that he let himself think about the past few minutes. She’d barely looked at him. Granted, they hadn’t spoken for long, but her gaze had darted all over the place, most often landing on the bridge of his nose or his right ear. He hadn’t realized how accustomed he’d become to reading her through her eyes. Sometimes they were so expressive it was as if she’d given him the key to her thoughts.
Complete avoidance said even more.
At least before when they’d danced around each other it had involved a little teasing, some heat, but always, there’d been respect.
He’d certainly managed to screw that up. She’d probably never really look at him again, and she certainly wouldn’t want to laugh with him, or ask his opinion about work. About anything.
It shouldn’t matter so much. It did, though, because he honestly liked her. Admired her. She didn’t use her looks to get ahead, to manipulate anyone, as a crutch. He knew that because he did all of those things. The statistics were there, and he’d decided early to go with them, exploit every advantage he had.
Playing the handsome card wasn’t evil or even unethical, but it was the easy way out. Also, it was something his father had done. Still did. His old man had been a model when he was younger. He still reminded people o
f Clooney, at least until he had a few. Then he got ugly. The kind of ugly that had nothing to do with mirrors. But by then, it was usually too late for whatever hapless woman had been deceived by his packaging.
The horrible thing was, Ryan was sure his own behavior wasn’t going to change anytime soon. And yet, in retrospect, he should have handled yesterday morning with more tact. But that was the only part he regretted. As for the rest? He’d done Angie a favor.
* * *
THANKFULLY ANGIE WAS sitting across from Gordon Palmer with Ryan to her right. Jeannie sat next to him, and the rest of the team fanned out around the large conference table. The pretence of normalcy was easier in a group.
The private wrap-up had been accomplished in record time, but at least they’d had the comfort of FBI-speak to hide behind, paperwork and notes to focus on. Not that she’d gotten through it scot-free. Despite her efforts, the worst kinds of memories kept breaking through. All the different ways he’d looked at her. The way he smiled as if she were someone extraordinary. Most often, what she’d seen during those thirty-four minutes.
The pitchers of water were a big clue that the meeting was going to be a long one. Angie sat up straight, prepared to focus solely on the business at hand. She hadn’t gone through that sting only to lose it when they were so close to the finish line. Now that everyone was settled, Gordon leaned forward to begin.
“We’ve received two interesting pieces of information this morning from the Vegas bureau. They’ve got hard evidence now that Ira’s bookie has been dipping his pen into illegal ink. The only thing that matters in our case is that they were able to seize the operation’s books. Ira lost well over fifty thousand dollars in the past few months. There’s sure to be more as the Vegas team digs deeper. It’s possible the amount of money he’s lost this month alone is responsible for the second piece of data. The suspects have moved their flights up. They’ll be out of the country at the end of this week.”