by Cindy Gerard
“You know what? I’m not going anywhere.” Mimicking his stance, she crossed her arms beneath her breasts and stood her ground. “Not until you tell me who shoved that stick up your ass.”
• • •
Damn stubborn, bullheaded woman. Short of dragging her out of the hotel room and shoving her into the elevator, it looked as if they were going to have that talk he’d hoped to avoid for, oh, the next decade or so.
“Look. I don’t want to be here, okay?” Not lying but not exactly telling the whole truth.
She snorted. “Alert the media. I never would have guessed.”
He walked over to the window and glared out at the parking lot. “I need to be back at Langley, working on the investigation.”
“That much I figured out,” she said from behind him.
Which was a good thing, because she looked so damn hot all he could think about was the fact that they were alone together in a hotel room. With a bed.
“I want to be back there helping out, too,” she continued. “But there’s more going on with you than that.”
Oh, hell, yeah.
“You think I’m not up to the assignment? Is that what this pigheaded silence is all about?”
He shifted his attention to a jet trail in the clear blue sky. “I don’t think that, no. I think you’ll do fine.”
“Then that only leaves one thing.”
When she left it at that, he finally turned around. She looked like a runway version of an Amazon priestess. Expression hard and unbending, body lush and curvy, legs long and . . . man, oh, man, he wanted them wrapped around his waist.
“You kissed me,” she said, cutting right to the heart of the matter. “If you’re having trouble with that, then it’s on your head, not mine. So if you want to be ticked off at someone, go look in the mirror, and quit taking it out on me.”
She was right. His foul mood was about the kiss, and he was taking it out on her.
But she wasn’t finished clearing that up for him. “And grow up, while you’re at it. We were happy for Eva and Mike. We were relieved she was alive. We were relieved we were alive. It was instinctual. It didn’t mean anything.”
He stared at her, wanting to agree with everything she said. But he couldn’t. Because looking at her in all her magnificent glory, he was hit by a blinding rush of awareness.
She was dead wrong.
That kiss had meant something. It had meant a helluva lot of something, which scared him stupid. And that was why he was angry. He dragged a hand through his hair, stunned speechless.
Then he met her eyes and, with a single beat of his heart, shot from bewilderment to total clarity. She was just as afraid as he was. That was why she’d lied and said it meant nothing. That was why she’d come to him yesterday full of concern about his shrapnel wounds.
Well, he’d never run away from fear in his life before, and he wasn’t going to start now.
She wanted to be pissed? Maybe he’d give her a reason.
He stalked toward her. “So that kiss didn’t mean anything? Then this won’t, either.”
Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he banded one arm around her waist, gripped the back of her head with the other, and pulled her flush against him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I think I’m about to ruin your lipstick. But don’t worry, it doesn’t mean anything.”
Then he covered her mouth with his . . . and dived into a hundred fathoms of ocean.
And kept diving deeper.
She melted against him like hot wax, meeting the heat and intensity of his kiss with all the fury that had prompted him to go caveman and drag her into his arms.
Another first. Women pursued him; he didn’t go after them. And now he knew why.
Because they weren’t her.
Because she wasn’t just another woman.
Terrified by the track his thoughts had taken, he abruptly broke the kiss and set her away from him.
She looked dazed and unsteady, and he wasn’t so damn solid on his own feet, either.
He cupped her shoulders in his hands and walked her backward the two steps to the bed. When the backs of her knees hit the mattress, she sank right down.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk. You didn’t deserve it,” he said, meaning it. “And I’m sorry about what I just did. I was way out of line.”
She had yet to speak. It was the most unhinged he’d ever seen her.
It was the most unhinged he’d ever felt.
Before he could stop himself, he reached out and brushed the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Better touch up that lipstick.”
She blinked, a “what the hell just happened?” blink that had him backing toward the door.
“I’ll meet you in the lobby in ten.” Then he sped out of her room, feeling as if he was swimming for his life in shark-infested waters.
15
Peterson Air Force Base was located on the east side of Colorado Springs. The Air Force shared its runways with the local municipal airport, but the sharing pretty much ended there.
R&D laboratories made this air base a top security facility, which was the reason Rhonda and Cooper had been dispatched to fly out here. It was also the reason they’d flown commercial. Had they arrived via Air Force transport, they’d have been tagged as DOD watchdogs before the plane ever hit the ground, and there went the surprise element of the audit.
And speaking of surprises, Cooper was full of them.
“You all set?” he asked as they drove up to the security checkpoint in their rented Jeep Cherokee.
“I’m good.” She didn’t meet his eyes, because she still hadn’t figured out what to say to him.
After he’d left her sitting on the bed, her hair a mess, her lipstick smeared, her equilibrium shredded, she’d walked shakily to the bathroom.
And gasped when she’d seen her reflection.
She’d looked as if she’d just had sex. As if Cooper had taken her for the ride of her life—and in some ways, he had. Except that she was still all achy and hot and restless, and, dear God, her hands were still shaking half an hour later.
This was so unprofessional.
And Cooper, well . . . she didn’t know what to think.
But one thing she was sure of: she had a job to do. And right now, the only way she could do it was to focus on the work and nothing but the work, so help her God.
She’d been prepared to deliver a little speech on decorum and professionalism when she met Cooper in the lobby, but he’d outmaneuvered her again.
He’d met her with coffee and croissants to go. And his gaze had never strayed below her face. “Figured you could use an afternoon pick-me-up.” He’d looked ridiculously unsettled when he handed her the Styrofoam cup. “You like it black, right?”
“Um, yeah.”
“Took a chance on the croissants, but I figured I couldn’t be too far off with that sweet tooth of yours.”
She hadn’t known which had been more disconcerting, his polite, careful smile or the fact that he knew she had a sweet tooth. And liked her coffee black.
“The valet already brought the Jeep around. You’re going to want your sunglasses,” he’d added before she could open her mouth, and, lightly gripping her elbow, he’d ushered her outside. “Nice to get away from the deep freeze, right? There must be a forty-degree difference in temp from Virginia to here. Freaky weather, huh?”
He’d closed the car door behind her, walked around to the other side, and slipped in behind the wheel. Thirty minutes later, here they were. Stopped at the U.S. air base’s security gate, flashing their credentials.
She hadn’t said a word during the drive, but he’d talked constantly. Talk about mercurial mood shifts. He’d talked about the weather, asked if she needed more heat, remarked on th
e beauty of Pikes Peak. Asked her if the altitude affected her at all.
She’d shaken her head no, but they were six thousand feet above sea level. Maybe that was why she felt short of breath and her heartbeat revved up every time she glanced sideways at his perfect warrior-poet profile, or every time she focused on those soft lips and the steely strength of his arms, or when she thought about all that hard, toned muscle beneath his shirt.
Something was definitely wrong with her. Because she’d let him kiss her senseless, and, worse, she’d participated. Enthusiastically. Who knew how far she’d have let things go if he hadn’t suddenly pulled away, a deer-in-the-headlights look in his eyes?
She’d felt him rock-hard and ready against her—all male, all the time. And yesterday in his office, when she’d dressed his wound, she’d felt his sexual arousal as powerfully as if he’d stripped her naked and taken her right there on his desk.
Yet now he acted as if nothing had ever happened. As if the earth hadn’t tilted, and the stars hadn’t come out, and . . .
Okay. Stop.
She should be grateful. He’d apologized. He’d admitted to being out of line.
But now she knew the truth. Only one thing was going to settle things between them. Whatever this was, it wasn’t going to end until they both got it out of their systems.
• • •
Coop had made a decision. Silent and surly, which he’d thought was a surefire way to keep distance between them, hadn’t worked out so well. In fact, it hadn’t worked at all, except possibly to make her think he was psychotic.
Hell, he was starting to think he was psychotic. He’d worked with her for more than six months and kept his shit together. Yet in the past twenty-four hours, she’d shoved him so far out of his element he didn’t know up from down. Pain he was used to. He rolled his sore shoulder. Pain he could handle. But this constant state of “what the hell?” was going to be his undoing.
It could not go on.
So he was backing away from the Bombshell. From this point on, she was as dangerous as a minefield, a grenade without a pin, a block of C-4 with a live blasting cap.
And how did you treat explosives? With great concentration and care.
It was all polite, inane conversation and business from now on—and it would have been in the first place, if he hadn’t gotten his shorts in a twist and decided to prove a point.
Didn’t mean anything? Well, I’ll show her.
That strategy had backfired big-time.
Uh-uh. Not going there. He was horny; she was hot. But sex was not happening. Case closed.
They were on assignment. This was business. It was also Rhonda’s first field assignment, and success was critical to her. Hell, it was critical to him; he didn’t take his job lightly.
The faster they got their work done, the faster he’d get back to Langley.
So his head was firmly on straight again when they entered the base and were greeted by the commander of the unit. He turned them over to Master Sgt. Lowden, their contact with the staff in charge of the computer center.
Lowden walked them to the top secret command center. He seemed like a decent guy, but if Coop was in his boots, he’d have a significant problem with letting an outsider in.
Well, he amended, with a reluctant glance toward Rhonda. He’d have a problem letting him in. The Bombshell was a welcome addition anywhere the testosterone level hit the top of the charts, and despite the female techs, this place was full of it.
So far, the physical security on the base looked good, as it should. Once they were past multiple security checkpoints, Lowden led them through a maze of corridors to the main computer operations center. The large, windowless room was dimly lit; the walls were covered in monitors showing maps, graphs, and other data. Dozens of airmen, dressed in camouflage air-battle uniforms and flight suits, hunched over banks of computer terminals. Lowered voices and air-conditioning fans made the room buzz in a low hum.
As in most operations centers he’d ever been in, and the reason Coop could never do Rhonda’s job, the air was tasteless from being processed to death. Give him a dusty desert or a steamy, smelly jungle any day.
“Tight ship,” Coop said with a nod to Lowden. “Well done. If the rest of the base meets your standards, we’ll be out of everyone’s hair in short order.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“It’s all yours, Burns,” he said. “I’ll meet you outside the building at six p.m.”
She was already across the room, gathering the technicians, explaining why she was here, and attempting to make them feel comfortable, as he walked out the door to wreak some havoc back at the security gate over a couple of practices he’d seen and hadn’t been particularly impressed with.
He was already dreading six p.m., when he’d meet up with the blond bomber again. He hoped to hell she had her pins underneath her by then, because a confused and vulnerable Rhonda Burns was a damn difficult sight to resist.
One thing he knew for certain. There’d be a few technicians who’d still be picking their jaws up off the floor by the time she left them. Poor suckers. They had no idea what kind of hell she could put a man through, and that was before she even started her testing.
As for her reaction to him, he was thankful she’d pretended indifference again. That worked for him.
• • •
Rhonda was in her element. Once Cooper left, it felt as if a cloud had lifted. This was what she was paid to do, and she did it well.
“I’m not here,” she told the room in general, and got a ripple of nervous laughter. “Just go on about your business.”
Then she started the first phase of her penetration testing—or pentesting—electronically attempting to breach the IT systems. She’d work on phases two and three tomorrow. For the first time today, she smiled. None of them knew what tortures she had planned, but they all appeared eager to give their best effort.
Her first attack on the base cyber-security was simple but brutal. The “distributed denial of service” bombarded the network with thousands of attacks per second, basically body-slamming the network in an attempt to overwhelm it. If security was lax, that would cause the system to crash, leaving it wide open.
As the attack ramped up, she watched how everyone reacted, noting that they appeared calm and worked together as they assessed the threat and methodically dealt with it over the next hour.
Well done, people, but I’m not through with you yet.
She typed another command into her computer and smiled. They’d be sweating and shouting at each other before the day was over.
16
The sun had started to sink behind the Rockies when Rhonda walked out of the computer complex four hours later. Cooper was waiting for her, sunglasses covering his eyes as he leaned against the rental Jeep, arms folded over his chest, one ankle crossed over the other. His benign expression almost hid the fact that he was as dangerous as a rattlesnake. The light breeze ruffling his hair added to the illusion that he was harmless.
Only his edgy bearing suggested that he might be one of the most lethal weapons in the Department of Defense’s arsenal.
He was dangerous, all right, in more ways than one. Yet even knowing he represented the worst kind of trouble, she got that sizzling ache low in her belly when he tugged off his shades and those dark eyes met hers.
I kissed you, and you liked it.
Nothing about his expression said that, but she read the words into it anyway. Because she had liked it.
He pushed away from the Jeep and opened the door for her. “How’d it go?”
She slipped into the passenger seat. “Okay.”
With her focused one hundred percent on her testing, the four hours had flown by, and she hadn’t once—okay, maybe once, or twice—thought about him. Now she had a splitting headache and flat out didn’t have the mental o
r physical acuity even to talk to him, let alone try to figure out what his game was.
“You?” she asked, going for distant politeness.
He shifted into gear. “Good. These guys are on their game.”
A good ten minutes of silence followed, and she resisted the urge to ask him how his shoulder felt. Because she didn’t care.
She stared straight ahead.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, then finally turned to her. “I don’t want to belabor this, and I’m sure you don’t, either, but I really am sorry I’ve been such a jerk.” He actually sounded repentant.
It threw her enough that she fired before she aimed. “Amazing how you arrived at past tense so quickly.”
He wrinkled his brow. “There’s a past tense for sorry?”
She pressed her fingers to her temples and rubbed.
“Oh . . . I’m sorry I am a jerk, not that I’ve been a jerk. That the past tense you were going for?”
She wanted two extra-strength Tylenols, room service, and bed. Alone. “Something like that.” She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the headrest, feeling his gaze on her. “Watch the road.”
“You feel okay?”
“I will. As soon as I get back to the hotel and take something for this headache.”
“Tension headache?”
“Now, why would I be tense?” She pushed each word through clenched teeth.
“Damn. I really have upset you.”
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d affected her way beyond a headache. “The testing was intense, okay? That’s all it is.”
“Look, Rhonda. Before you say anything else . . . what happened in your room was a new low for me. I’ve been dishing out grief with a shovel ever since you signed on, and you haven’t deserved any of it.”
Rhonda stared at him. Now what was he up to?
• • •
Coop glanced over to see those amazing blue eyes narrowed in suspicion. He couldn’t blame her. He’d been Mr. Multiple Personality for too long now. And while he was determined to be completely professional from now on, he knew they had to clear the air.