The Agent's Proposition

by Stone, Lyn

  All those stories her mom had told about the evils of free love and rampant sex in the commune hadn’t helped Tess develop well socially. They had created yet another fear to be conquered. Next time she would be the one to initiate contact. She would do the touching, she decided, and she wouldn’t let it shake her, either. Not one little bit.

  It could work with guys. It could work with boats. It was only a matter of employing systematic desensitization and cognitive restructuring of thoughts and misconceptions. She knew how to get over these things.

  He returned to his seat half an hour later. Transformed. Tess was speechless. And more rattled than ever. His suit was a tropical beige, jet-set expensive, as were his Italian loafers and the dark brown V-necked pullover. Cashmere, she was certain. The Rolex watch, signet ring and diamond ear stud must have set him back a fortune, too.

  “What’s the matter? Did I miss a spot?” He stroked his chin with two fingers.

  “N-no. You look…fine.” Oh, man. Too fine, she thought with a sigh.

  He raked her with an assessing look. “Your turn. Did you bring anything less…austere? I’m afraid you look just like an agent should, and we can’t have that.”

  His southern accent had disappeared, and his speech sounded more like that of a newscaster. How’d he do that?

  Tess was still trying to come to grips with the change in his appearance as she shook her head. All she could think of were her plain, low-heeled pumps—in beige, which went with everything—and her neat little suits from JC Penney. She frowned down at the Timex ticking away on her wrist. She felt…positively plebeian.

  “Well, don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can fix that after we land.”

  “Fix what?” she muttered.

  “You,” he said, then shrugged. “Your wardrobe. The hair. Makeup. You’ll need to get in step for when we hit the clubs, maybe even the casinos.”

  “Casinos?”

  “Yeah, we’ll check the clubs in Saint-Tropez first, but the casinos are where we’re probably going to find him.”

  “How would you know that?”

  Cochran smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Because I know who we’re after, and he loves to gamble.”

  Tess thought he was blowing smoke. Yet he radiated confidence like a space heater. Her doubt must be showing, because he continued without waiting for her to comment.

  “Mercier related the message letter for letter when I asked, and I recognized the signature misspellings. There’s also a cadence and tone to it that are familiar. This guy’s wordy. And English is not his first language. This is the same man they used before to hack in. Now the brains behind the operation has him making the demands, so he’s not running the show. I intercepted some of the messages last time. This all but proves we’re also working against the original mastermind. That’s the guy we want, so we have to get junior first.”

  Tess was impressed in spite of herself. “Fine. Now if we only had a name, we’d be in business.”

  “Oh, I have that. I’ll also know him when I see him. Zahi Selim, an Egyptian ex-patriot. Young, around twenty-five or twenty-six. His family cut him loose when his behavior got too extreme, even for them. His father’s in the export business, textiles, and owns a number of European properties in major cities. Sort of like Fayed. You know, the father of Princess Di’s boyfriend?”

  “The one killed in the crash with her? You mean, this Selim guy we’re looking for is a playboy?”

  “And was working it big-time until Daddy cut him off and he ran out of money. Hopefully he’ll be returning to his former habits if he got an advance on this job. I almost had enough on him in London and reported what I had. My superior ordered him arrested without giving me prior notice. I had argued against it, but he didn’t listen.”

  “Ah,” Tess said. “And they had to let him go. Not enough proof to hold him. Now he’s at it again.”

  Cochran sighed and relaxed in his seat, tapping his long fingers on the armrests. Nerves or controlled anger? “My objections to his arrest were misconstrued.”

  Tess regarded his expression, a mixture of disgust and resignation. “But you know him by sight? What if he recognizes you?”

  “He won’t. I tracked him down and kept tabs on him, hoping for rock-solid proof of his involvement, but we never actually met. Mercier said he’d send a photo taken when Selim was in custody in London so you can see what he looks like.” Cochran frowned. “He’s a ballsy little son of a bitch. I’ll give him that. Smart, too, in some ways.”

  “So how do we approach him?” Tess asked, getting excited now about a quick resolution to the op.

  “We don’t. You do. He’s a sucker for fast women. Rich women willing to finance his habit. I want you to befriend him and entice him to come on board the yacht for a ride up the coast, supposedly to Monaco, where you two can gamble. Maybe offer him a little private action on the way.”

  “Seems like a lot of trouble. Why don’t we just grab him? That would be simpler, wouldn’t it?”

  “Risky. If he put up a fight, our grab might be misconstrued as an assault, or worse. If we render him unconscious, how would that look at the marina?”

  “We could take him to the airport and back on the jet,” she suggested.

  He shrugged. “Same thing. How would we get him out on the tarmac and onto the plane without being observed? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I want an arrest for kidnapping added to my less than stellar record. Mercier could straighten it out eventually, I know, but our boy would be out of our hands for the duration. Better if he comes along willingly.”

  “I see your point,” she agreed.

  “Fine. We’ll need to get the location of his computer first. You’ll get him to take you home with him if you can, and you’ll pinpoint where it is. Then we’ll have located our proof. Next, once you’ve enticed him onto the yacht and we’re out to sea, we’ll get some answers.” He looked over at her with a smile. “Then maybe I’ll dump the little bastard overboard and see how the sharks like garbage.”

  Tess smiled and shook her head. “You’d never do that.”

  “Don’t think so?” He looked entirely too serious.

  “Would you?”

  He shrugged. “Depends on how cooperative he is and how I feel at the time.”

  “Stop yanking my chain, Cochran. You’re treating me like a trainee agent, and I’m definitely not that. I’ve been around the block a time or two.”

  “Fine, so take your hair down, show a little cleavage and let’s see your sexy look.”

  Tess jerked upright in her seat and glared. “What?”

  “So I can see if you have what it takes to persuade our boy to ride the seas with you. Looks like you might need a little work.”

  “Go straight to hell!” she gasped, clutching her chest with one hand and the armrest with the other.

  He closed his eyes and blew out a deep breath. “Well. A lotta work.”

  Tess had never wanted to slap a man so badly before in her life. Instead, she stood up and marched to the back of the plane, into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

  She leaned against the tiny sink and tried to calm down. When she could breathe normally, she raised her eyes to look in the mirror, attempting to assess her features objectively.

  Could she entice with these looks? Would any man in his right mind follow her onto a boat?

  Not unless she stole his wallet. Cochran was right. She needed a lotta work.

  She let down her hair and fluffed it, letting a slightly wavy lock fall over one eye. Sexy? Maybe a little if she ditched the outfit and went back in there stark naked. Or maybe not.

  Cochran was seriously impacting her self-image. Her image frowned back at her.

  “I can do this!” she said in a desperate whisper.

  Half an hour later she pranced back into the main cabin, copying the exaggerated runway strut of models she’d seen on television, and posed, hand on her hip, to get his reaction.

  His
lips pursed and his left eyebrow quirked up as he looked her over. His gaze traveled over her like a laser, burning her confidence to ashes as it tracked from her hair, over her skimpiest, half-buttoned sweater, over her straight-leg Kleins, right down to her strappy little sandals and back again. Then he looked away without so much as a comment.

  What was he thinking?

  “Well?” she demanded, resting both hands on her hips.

  He smiled up at her. “The look is adequate, but I think the attitude will have to change. Sit down.”

  She plopped into the seat across the aisle from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Face it. I’m no femme fatale. Not in my genes.”

  “Hey, the jeans are great. Could be a little tighter, but the cut is right and the color’s good. The sweater’s way too cutesy, though, even left open like that. And you’ll need a push-up.”

  “Bra? You’re telling me what kind of bra to wear?” Tess was incensed. And red. She could feel her face burning. “So I’m a thirty-four B. Sue me!”

  “Look,” he began with a studied blink and a sigh that screamed impatience. “Don’t take this personally. I’m trying to be helpful here. Sexy is in the attitude, and yours is too…uptight.”

  She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “As opposed to down and loose?”

  He grinned and nodded. “Finally the aha! moment. See, you’re halfway there, just knowing that. Now all you have to do is loosen up.”

  Loosen up? Damn, if he said that again, she’d smack him!

  She jumped up, paced down the aisle, turned and paced back, fists clenched. He made her feel like a weird old prude with ice water in her veins! And she wasn’t! She was not!

  Furious beyond words, Tess leaned over, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth. She could be sexy. She’d show him just how sexy she could be when she put her mind to it.

  But her mind strayed dangerously when her lips met his, and her fury was the last thing on it.

  Chapter 3

  Cameron almost jumped back in shock, but the feel and taste of her lips registered quickly enough to prevent that. Instead, he leaned into the kiss and deepened it immediately.

  Damn, the girl must have been around the block to kiss this way. He grasped her waist, pulled her down on his lap and let the good times roll.

  He had kissed a lot of women, but even in her anger, this one had a sweetness, a freshness and an eagerness he had seldom enjoyed. Yeah, he could work with her, with this. Man, oh, man.

  As suddenly as that she jerked her head back and stared at him, wide-eyed. With shock?

  “Hey, you kissed me,” he reminded her, adding a quizzical smile to put her at ease.

  She jumped off his lap as if he’d bitten her. “Well, it won’t happen again!” she announced as she backed into the seat across the aisle and sat down with a plop. “That was just…just to…well, show you.”

  “Well, you sure got my attention, I’ll give you that.” He crossed his legs to hide his erection. If the kiss had scared her that much, he didn’t want her to run and lock herself in the back cabin.

  “I can be sexy,” she declared, crossing her arms over her chest and slinging one jeans-clad leg over the other.

  Cameron nodded. “Yes, you can. I’m convinced.”

  “Don’t you patronize me! I hate it when men patronize me,” she snapped.

  Damn. “Okay, make me some ground rules here. I’m just a guy, and we pretty much take things at face value unless we’re told otherwise. So, you can kiss me, but I can’t kiss you back?”

  “Exactly,” she said with a firm nod, still keeping her eyes averted. Then she shook her head. “No. There won’t be any more kissing. Understand? No kissing. At all.”

  “Okay, got it. Then I’m guessing sex is out of the question?”

  “This is not funny!”

  He shook his head. “And I’m not laughing. Not one giggle. Any more rules I should know about?” He thought he heard her laugh, looked over and saw that she was shaking with laughter, biting her lips shut and shaking. “Oh, so you can laugh, but I can’t. Okay, I’ll write that down.”

  “Shut up!” she said, letting go and laughing out loud. “This is so absurd. I honestly don’t know why I kissed you. I apologize.”

  “As well you should,” he said, straight-faced. “I hate being harassed, and you should know better.”

  Her laugh calmed to a smile, an apologetic one. “I shouldn’t have reacted to your merely pointing out the obvious. I’m just a little sensitive about my shortcomings. From now on, I promise to take whatever advice you have for me.”

  “Shortcomings?” he asked, seeing that, despite the smile, she was dead serious about how she saw herself. “Not being a sexpot is no shortcoming, Tess. Mind if I call you Tess?”

  “No, but I thought…”

  “None of what I said was intended as criticism. You have a natural appeal that’s fantastic.”

  She blushed again. “Thanks for saying that, but—”

  “But we need blatant, in-your-face sexy, though, to hook this guy, because that’s the type he goes for.”

  She looked thoughtful. “And if I can manage that?”

  Good. She was on board, being reasonable. “As I said, I want you to find out where he’s based so we can retrieve his computers for evidence later. Flatter him. Get him to show you where he lives. Or maybe just tell you where he lives. In either case, do whatever you need to do to have him go with you on the boat.”

  “Whatever I need to do? I’m not having sex with him,” she declared. “That’s out of the question.”

  “No,” he agreed, “but you can sort of promise it if that’s what it takes.” Cameron watched her frown. “Can’t you?”

  She nodded but shifted uncomfortably in her seat, arms crossed over her breasts, an attitude of self-protection. “I guess so.”

  “Nobody expects the ultimate sacrifice, Tess,” he assured her. “I’ll be close by. If he gets too frisky for comfort, you can always deck him and we’ll go to Plan B.”

  She granted him a sidewise glare. “But it would be better if I simply wriggled away and played it coy.”

  “Exactly. Undercover work requires acting ability. Just consider this a role,” he suggested.

  She shook her head. “If this is what it takes, why on earth didn’t Mercier send one of the others? Look at me!” She gave herself an impatient wave and sighed.

  Cameron knew instinctively that flattery wouldn’t work with Tess. She would see right through that, so he opted for honesty. “I’m sure he sent you because you’re a solid, no-nonsense agent with good credentials and he figured you’d get the job done.”

  She scoffed. “Little did he know…”

  Cameron smiled. “Hey, you got me on board, so he was right about that. The next part is to catch the guy, and we’ll do that, too. However, the method of apprehending him is all my idea, not Mercier’s. I do believe it will work, Tess. I know you can do it.”

  “Wish I had your confidence,” she replied, but he could see she was a little more willing, considering it possible. She lifted her hands in a small gesture of resignation. “Okay, so I’ll give it my best shot, whatever that’s worth.” She relaxed a little, uncrossed her arms and turned sideways in her seat to face him. “So, fake promise, push-up bra, flashier clothes. What else?”

  “Killer heels. A little bling. Clingy dress. Heavy on the makeup. We’ll practice your expressions after the makeover.”

  “Sleepy eyes, pouty lips, shoulders back, chest out,” she mused, deepening her voice to a throaty growl.

  Cameron grinned when she made an exaggerated pout. “By jove, I think she’s got it!”

  “Henry Higgins, you ain’t,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a snort.

  Good. She was loosening up at last, giving him a little trust, acknowledging that he had experience in adopting a fake persona to get a job done. Maybe he was underestimating her ability to adapt. “You’ll be great,�
�� he promised.

  “And just what will you be doing during my great performance?”

  “Bodyguarding. No beautiful, wealthy woman in her right mind would go trolling in Saint-Tropez without protection. You’ll convince him I’m only a hireling. Soon as you get him on board, I’ll hop on to captain your little yacht while you two party. You keep him busy drinking, gambling or whatever while I take us well down the coast. Then we pounce, get the info we need and that’s that.”

  “Then what do we do with him?” she asked as she got up and went forward to the small fridge. “And don’t say ‘Toss him over the side.’” She returned with two sodas and handed him one.

  “I’ll arrange with your boss to have someone meet us at sea and transport him back to the States. You and I will return to Saint-Tropez, or wherever he’s based, and collect his computer and whatever other evidence we find.” He popped the top on his can and offered her a toast. “Here’s to a faultless bust.”

  She clinked his can with hers. “Without incident.”

  They fell silent then, each lost in thought. Cameron felt they had a pretty good shot at nabbing this guy and at least delaying the threatened blackout. But what about the stateside conspirator, undoubtedly the brains of the enterprise? If the pip-squeak didn’t give him up, they’d still have the problem, probably sooner than later.

  He cast a look over at Tess and saw her worried expression. Was she thinking the same thing, or were her concerns still centered on her ability to seduce? He remembered the kiss and smiled. She had it in her, all right.

  Cameron stood and looked down at her. “Hey, you’re not beating yourself up over kissing me, are you?”

  She glanced up and shrugged. “Yes, well, I am sorry about that. Really.”

  He leaned down and caught her lips with his, his hand clasping her neck as he deepened the kiss. Then, reluctantly, he released her. “There. Now we’re even.”

  Tess kept stealing looks at him that next hour. After blowing her mind with that kiss, he had calmly walked up front and rifled through the cabinet for something to eat. Obviously it hadn’t meant anything. To him, anyway.