by Stone, Lyn
To her, it meant she was in serious danger of risking the entire mission. How the devil was she supposed to concentrate on what she was hired to do? The man was a walking sex bomb, causing a buzz in her brain and body that seriously interfered with her thought processes.
Why on earth didn’t she react to his touch the way she always had with others? With Brian, she had practically forced herself to respond, to keep from shying away from him. Her ready response to this man actually scared her a little, because it came so naturally.
She watched furtively as he returned to his seat, opened a bag of chips and settled down to work on his computer. Way too cool. No, make that way too hot, she thought with a sigh.
It wasn’t that she had anything against sex, but she truly believed it ought to mean something other than pure gratification. He was making her want that very thing. She felt no better than all those licentious free-love advocates her mom had described. These impulses were something to fight, not embrace. Especially given what she’d been sent to do.
“You ought to get some sleep,” he said as he plinked away on the keys of his laptop and studied the screen.
Yeah, right. Her nerves were tingling like crazy, and her thoughts were all over the place. “I can’t sleep. What are you doing?”
“Reviewing the case notes I saved.”
“Weren’t they classified?” she asked.
“They’re not the official report, just my personal observations. You might want to read through these before you meet him.”
“If you need to go online, my laptop is on satellite.”
“Mine, too, but thanks,” he said, still not looking at her. “We’re flying into Nice, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“I wonder why he’s based in Tropez, where there’s not much action. Not in the way of gambling, anyway. Nice or Monaco, where the big casinos are, would make more sense.”
She shrugged. “Maybe he’s kicked his habit. It’s been a couple of years.”
“He would need money for it and probably got an advance on this job. Let’s hope so, anyway. He’ll be easier to find if he’s still gambling.”
“So you don’t think his motive is political?”
Cameron smiled and shook his head. “Not a chance. Gaming is his first love, testing his smarts. Maybe he’s an addict, maybe not, but he loves it. He wouldn’t do it online, at least not exclusively, because he also loves the casino scene and the flashy women he meets there. All that takes money, a lot of it.”
“And he knew where to get it.”
“That’s why he’s in this, then and now. You can bet he has a state-of-the-art computer set up somewhere to play with. The hacking is also a game to him, and he thrives on games.”
She toyed with a strand of her hair, twisting it around her finger. “With women, too, you think?”
“Of course. He likes to believe he’s God’s gift to the female gender, handsome, charming and clever as all get out.”
“Is he?” she asked with a worried little frown.
“Pretty much. You’ll see. So don’t underestimate him.”
“Did you?” She actually smiled, a not-so-subtle taunt.
Cameron shrugged. “Maybe, but I’d have had him if I could have gone in alone and caught him before he erased the evidence. He was fast, I’ll give him that. Less than three minutes’ warning as they busted down his door. Before they got to him, his computers were clean as a school library system.”
“They thought you warned him?”
“Yes, well, to be fair, sometimes operatives do get sympathetic feelings for the subjects when they delve that deeply into their lives and see the reasons behind the behavior.”
“You like this guy?” Her look accused.
“I know him. I get why he does it. He’s young, kind of clueless in some respects, and I think he was used, but no, I don’t like him.” Cameron sighed. “He’s a spoiled, selfish brat who resents anyone in authority, and he believes he’s a genius.”
“So you don’t think he’s a hardened terrorist out to destroy a country.”
“Not my call. I reel ’em in. Somebody else guts them.”
She sighed and sat back, patting the armrests with her palms. “Well, he’s a pretty big fish, and I’m not familiar with the fishing gear.”
“Don’t worry. I’m the gear. You’re the bait.” Cameron smiled at the analogy. “Trust me, sweetie, you’ll be the juciest worm on the hook.”
She let it go at that and began studying the notes on his computer. Cameron busied himself working out the details of transforming her. He looked forward to seeing her reactions and instructing her in what to do. She was a lot less predictable than he’d first imagined. His thoughts kept returning to her kiss. And his.
If they ever got to the point of equal involvement, he wondered what would happen next. He knew it would lead to sex if she let it, but what then? It had been a long time since he’d been interested in what then.
The girl was unique, not his type and definitely out of bounds. He knew he’d better keep things on a professional level. There was too much at stake not to do that. A little slap and tickle between temporary partners wasn’t all that unusual, but it was typically only stress relief or just plain fun. Tess was so far above that, he couldn’t even imagine her approving, much less participating. It would have to mean something a whole lot deeper, and he didn’t do deeper. Not after that struggle getting over Brenda.
Resignation replaced his anticipation. Business only, then. No more kissing, one-sided or not. That sure lent a boatload of urgency to the mission. He’d do what he needed to do, get it over with and go home. Forget her and the job. Fish. Drink beer. Shoot the breeze at the bar and fish some more.
Maybe he ought to get to know her better, though. It only made sense to get a firm grasp on who he was working with and how she thought. Right?
He did understand her enough to know she’d expect tit for tat, so he turned to her. “Since we’ve teamed up for this, do you have any questions about me you’d like to ask?”
“Like what?” She looked wary.
“Oh, I dunno.” Cameron leaned on the armrest and cocked his head to one side. “Personal stuff. For instance, how did you get into this business, anyway?”
She smiled. “Okay, how did you get into this business, anyway?”
“Majored in international studies and minored in criminal justice at Georgia. Joined the army and did three years. When I got out, Savannah seemed too small town. I applied to the Company and moved to D.C. How about you? I heard that those special teams are formed by invitation only.”
She looked thoughtful. “They are. I was recruited.”
“Because you had some kind of special talent? I heard that each of your agents is required to have something unique, an edge that would be useful in counterintelligence beyond the obvious skills required.”
“You heard all that, did you?” Her smile was provocative.
“You know how the intel grapevine works. The CIA had a big study going on for years that involved paranormal activities. Rumor has it that didn’t stop when the funding did. So what’s your trick?”
Her gaze met his, and she said nothing for a full minute. Then she answered. “I read people fairly well, that’s all.”
“Minds, that sort of thing?” he asked, pressing her.
“Mostly I pick up visual clues, expressions, body language and so forth.”
“Fascinating. How did you study for that?”
She frowned and looked away. “That’s getting really personal.”
“Hey, working together as closely as we will is personal. Trust is necessary. It pays to know your partner as well as you can.”
“I suppose you have a point. As long as you reciprocate, I guess it won’t matter. After all, we’ll probably never even see one another when the mission’s over. Unless you go to work for us.” She had leaned back against the headrest and spoke as if she were talking to herself. “And if yo
u do, we’ll need to be…acquainted. All right then.”
Cameron realized how hard it must be for her to share information about herself, but she was doing it, anyway, because she thought he was right.
Her voice was totally unemotional. “During my early childhood, I began to acquire the knack for it, mostly out of self-preservation. When my mom crossed her arms over her chest and her lips tightened so much they almost disappeared and her eyes narrowed, that meant Dad had it coming. When he’d pace like a caged tiger, stopping only to throw back his head and grit his teeth, I ran to hide.”
“They were abusive?” he asked, guessing.
“Oh, no, not at all. My parents never struck me or unleashed their anger directly at me, but I watched their arguments from a place of safety. Under the dining-room table was my favorite place. Anyway, that was the beginning of my fascination with physical clues to what people were thinking and planning to do.”
Cameron sighed. “I guess we take inspiration wherever we find it.”
She offered a little lopsided smile to that but still didn’t look at him as she continued. “Later, when I could choose my own books from the library, I studied everything I could find on the subject. Nuances of behavior became things to watch for. So did breathing patterns and variations in facial muscles. By the time I reached high school, I was convinced I’d become an expert.”
“Had all those teachers pegged, did you?”
“Absolutely. Excelled on the debate team, too. Knew when I had ’em on the run. I began to concentrate on eyes in particular and grew amazed at what you could glean from a person’s actual thoughts, some as clear as if they spoke them out loud.”
He felt a little uneasy. Could she read his thoughts? “Can you read me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light and conversational, afraid she wouldn’t answer truthfully.
She shook her head. “No, so don’t worry. Some is the key word. Very few, in fact, and then only some of the time.”
“I see. Well, every little bit helps on the job, I bet.”
“You’re up,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “And I am a very good lie detector when I switch it on.”
“I’m guessing you just did. What would you like to know?”
“Your parents, are they deceased?”
He laughed and sat back, aping her former position and looking straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of him. “Nope. They’re still kicking around Savannah. Don’t see much of them, though. They weren’t too thrilled with my choice of occupations. Dad wanted me to go into business with him. Mom wanted me to marry and settle down on the next block and give her grandbabies.”
“No wife, no kids, no siblings,” she said. And she knew that because she’d read his record. He wished he had the same advantage.
“Just me, the black sheep who strayed from the fold and is too proud to listen to any more ‘I told you sos’ than I have to. Our family get-togethers are usually brief and real predictable.”
“Same here. My mom and dad grew up in an isolated commune left over from the seventies. Genuine California hippies, protests, free love, drugs, you name it. They ran away from that, all the way across the country, when they were seventeen and expecting me. They thought they’d invented monogamy.”
“Joined the good ol’ establishment, huh?”
She huffed a wry little laugh. “Not exactly. They didn’t know how. I give them an A for effort, though. They had trouble holding down jobs for any length of time but they stayed off dope and were faithful to each other, as far as I know. Home schooling in the commune was hit or miss, so they said, but they did manage to get their GEDs and Dad went to trade school.”
“That’s remarkable, don’t you think?”
“They certainly are remarkable, all right. Don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“What do they do now?” he asked, astounded that she had opened up to him this way and fearing he’d have to keep doing the same. She had a way about her that made it too easy to share, and before he knew it, she’d learn more about him than anybody else in the world knew.
He felt he’d already told her more than he was comfortable with. But the more he learned about Tess’s life, the more he wanted to know.
“Dad’s an electrician, and Mom works for a florist.”
“I bet they’re proud of you,” Cameron said, feeling proud of her himself for all she had accomplished. He knew she had to have put herself through college.
“I don’t know if they are or not. They don’t get what I’m all about, that’s for sure. My mom calls me a changeling.”
“Stranger in the nest. I guess we have something in common, then. That’s good, don’t you think?”
“It’s a little weird,” she said, nodding. “Do you miss what you used to do?”
“I like what I do now. Work for myself. Stress free. Great location,” he replied, wondering if she realized he hadn’t really answered the question.
She looked at him and smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you take a nap, Cochran? You don’t want to talk anymore.”
Good guess. That’s what that was. Or maybe she was adept at mind reading. There were those rumors about the SEXTANT and COMPASS teams. He’d have to watch himself if he didn’t want her to really know him.
Chapter 4
Cameron followed Tess’s lead as they retrieved their bags from the back of the plane and made their way down to the tarmac. He stopped for a moment and drew in a deep draught of the night air after leaving the stuffiness of the plane’s cabin.
He loved the Riviera. Everything was close to the water, and every town, burg and beach was usually teeming with people there to have a good time. The entire coastline had a laid-back party atmosphere.
The level of sophistication was like no other, though a great deal of it was pretense. Everybody liked to think they were rich whether they were or not, and this was certainly a prime place to do that. He found the people watching great entertainment.
They hopped a shuttle to the main terminal and whisked through customs, belongings intact, as soon as they identified themselves. Mercier had cleared the way.
“We’ll get started in the morning, when the shops open,” he said as he headed for the bank on the upper level to exchange their funds for euros.
“I hope we’ll be able to get a car at this hour,” she said as he waited for the exchange to be completed.
“We’ll taxi. It’s not far to the marina. We’ll shop in the morning, then sail on down to Saint-Tropez.”
He noted how she paled at the mention of sailing. This could be a problem, he realized. He didn’t relish the idea of her barfing every few minutes and being miserable the whole time. Maybe he could fix that.
In short order, they were on their way to the marina and the Jezebel, a sixty-footer with a fifteen foot beam and a top speed of thirty-two knots. Mercier had promised it was air-conditioned and roomy enough to impress. Cameron got excited just thinking about it and couldn’t wait to board her.
The marina was lit up like Times Square at Christmas, he noticed as the taxi dropped them off at the boardwalk. He had to exhibit a little false cool to keep from rushing to slip twenty-two.
Tess was busy gaping at the surrounding scenery while he was zeroed in on the boats. And there she was! He stopped just to take her in. She was long and lean as a spearhead honed out of white granite. “What a beauty!” he exclaimed in an almost reverent whisper.
“What did you say? What? The boat? Which one is it?” Tess asked.
“Which one is she?” he corrected. “There she is,” he said, pointing. “Just look at her!”
“Humph. You sound like you’re in love, Cochran. It’s only a boat.”
“But what a boat! Man, I’d give my eyeteeth to own her. C’mon, let’s go.” He didn’t wait. Couldn’t.
He lifted his bag and Tess’s over the rail and stepped onto the aft deck, loving the feel of it beneath his feet. He went up to check the fuel level first, then vi
ewed the controls to make certain the boat was adequate for their needs. “Who am I kidding?” he asked himself. “This baby has everything. State of the art.”
“Good grief. You sound like a kid who just got his first bike,” she said. When he turned, he saw her exploring the saloon.
“Look at this. It even has a bar. This is a party boat,” she announced, bouncing down on the cushy banquette seat, then leaning back. “Comfy enough for royalty.”
The seating was set diagonally in a reversed S-form curved around a table at one end. The bar looked well stocked.
“Let’s see the cabins,” he suggested, walking toward the bow, where he knew the smaller of the two would be. The forward cabin was nearly wall-to-wall berth, but beautifully outfitted. He knew the master cabin would dwarf it. “I’ll take this one. You’ll need room to entertain.”
“Get real. That man will never see my bed,” she promised.
Cameron laughed. “Go check it out. Will you let me see it?”
She marched aft and opened the door to the master cabin. “Okay, you can look. I know you’ve fallen head over heels for this tub and want the full tour.”
When she stepped back to let him pass, his chest brushed hers. For a moment, he stopped and had eyes only for the woman who was bravely facing what was probably her worst nightmare.
Only then did he realize how clipped her words had been and how stiffly she walked. He had forgotten her fear in his delirium over the most expensive vessel he’d ever been aboard, much less captained.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “We’re sitting still in the water, you know. The waves are barely lapping tonight, but you look a little green around the gills.”
“I’m perfectly fine,” she declared and moved away from him. “Where…where’s the bathroom?”
“The head,” he said, correcting her automatically. “In there.”
She ran, hand over her mouth. Well, damn. Cameron went topside, as much to give her privacy to be sick as to check out what other wonders the Jezebel possessed. He admitted he was in awe. Not too cool of him, but he couldn’t help it.