by Stone, Lyn
“No, but he probably thinks so. People are more generous to those they know or who know them. Imagine the thousands of people that locals in a tourist area meet. Impossible to remember them all, right? Like Giacomo. He’d probably swear that we’d had dealings before, and so he gave us the star treatment. I knew to speak Italian because of his name. I gave the impression we shared a sexual orientation because that added to his belief that we’d met before.”
“So that wasn’t practice, just a game or an attempt to shock me,” she said.
“It was practice, but with a purpose. I rarely play games just for fun. Remember that,” he advised.
She thought about that while he ordered for them in Italian. It was unlike her to surrender that much control, but he obviously knew the menu, since he hadn’t even looked at it. Besides, she was too busy thinking about what he’d just told her to concentrate on the food. Games. Was he playing games with her? And if he was, what was his purpose?
“Now then,” he said. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to offer you a few pointers on how to approach our mark when we locate him.” He kept his voice low and confidential even though there were few other people in the restaurant and no one was seated close by or paying them the slightest bit of attention.
Tess found she was eager to listen. She had misjudged him. Cameron was all business, did everything for a reason and knew a heck of a lot more about undercover work than she could have learned at the academy. “Sure. I’m listening,” she said, leaning forward, elbows on the table, chin propped on her hands.
“First, your expression. You don’t want to dazzle him with that smile immediately, but you shouldn’t frown, either. Here’s a great exercise for that. Relax your body,” he said, copying her position. “Wiggle around until you’re perfectly comfortable. Totally relaxed. Let the tension go, consciously, muscle by muscle. Good. Now I want you to think about smelling a rose, a sweet, beautiful pink rose. Let your facial muscles go lax and just breathe in. Ah, that’s perfect. Keep doing that.” His voice was dreamy with that slow Southern drawl. “Inhale the scent…Count the petals…soft and gently curling…”
Tess thought she actually smelled roses.
He hummed with approval. “Deeper breaths now. Close your eyes and inhale slowly. Release your breath. Again. You’re getting it now. Dreamy. The rose opens, and you think only of the dazzling scent, filling your senses, sweet and light. You can’t get enough….”
Cameron smiled at the easiness with which she went under. He gave her some posthypnotic suggestions and brought her slowly out of her relaxed state to full awareness. “You’ll be wonderful at this,” he told her. “Your expression is perfect for a first meeting. Intriguing and promising, but not overzealous. You’re a good student, Tess.”
She blinked several times and looked around. “You really think so?”
“Know so,” he declared and raised a hand to motion to the waiter that it was all right to deliver their food now. He would owe the guy a big tip for delaying until signaled, but it was worth it.
Replete with lasagna and wine, they walked back to the marina with their purchases. Cameron watched with amusement as she stepped onto the deck and began looking around at several large yachts moored nearby. “Wow. They make this one look puny, don’t they! I wonder who owns them. Celebrities, I bet.”
Cameron inclined his head and followed her line of sight. “That one, La Libra, belongs to Preston Mc-Elvoy, one of the Fortune Five Hundred. Read about it somewhere.”
“This truly is a beautiful place. I’d love to come here on vacation sometime if I can ever afford it.”
“Maybe take a slow cruise along the Côte d’Azur?” he asked lazily.
“That would be great, wouldn’t it?” She sounded like a child planning Christmas.
So much for her boat phobia. She hadn’t turned that ghastly shade of white she usually did the minute she stepped aboard. His trick was working.
“You’d better call Mercier and see what he has for us. They are monitoring any transmissions and might have a more distinct location by now. Also, we need that photo of Selim so you’ll recognize him.”
She frowned. “You said there’s no action in Saint-Tropez. What if he’s right here in Nice?”
Cameron shrugged. “Or Monaco. The thing is, we need his computer, and to do that, we need to know where he actually lives. We’ll look for him in Saint-Tropez first. If we don’t find him there, we’ll try the casinos here and in Monaco. But it’s really important we locate that computer.”
“After we get him, Jack could arrange to have the computer picked up.”
“That could be a problem. Even if he’s allowed to order the locals, their primary allegiance will be to the Sûreté. We need to get it ourselves. And you know, it might be better if we have it before we question him.” He tried to think of a way to do that.
“I could keep him busy while you retrieve it,” she said, looking a little worried.
“We’ll see how it goes. Maybe I can think of something else. Anyway, let’s go below. You’ve had enough sun today. That fake tan won’t protect you against sunburn.”
She held out one arm and smoothed a palm over it. “I’ve never had one before. Does it wash off?”
“It’ll last about a week before it starts to fade noticeably. That should be time enough to do what we came to do.” He touched the arm they were observing. “You like it well enough to keep it up?”
She shook her head. “No, but it’s fun to see what I look like this way. You like it?”
He shouldn’t touch that question with a ten-foot pole, but what the hell. “Not as much as I like your fairness. You have great skin.”
She beamed. “Thanks. So do you!” Then the beam dimmed as she realized the compliment had just popped out. “I mean, a tan looks good on you. Natural, you know. Like you earned it.”
“The hard way. But it’s too hot to cover up when you’re out in the sun every day.”
She touched his hand. “I hope you use sunscreen.”
“Ah, you care! Better watch that, or I might take it personally.” He loved to tease her. She blushed so easily, and he hadn’t known many women who blushed at anything at all.
He watched her hurry below and go to the fridge for a drink. She liked diet soda, he noted, and wondered whether she had to watch her weight. Judging by the way she had consumed that lasagna, he doubted it.
Watching her move was a treat. Some women calculated every motion they made around a man and affected a studied presentation. Tess’s moves were as natural as a child’s, sometimes hesitant, often quick and efficient, but always perfectly natural. Cameron loved her lack of pretense, even though it would be a definite drawback to her femme fatale persona. He’d have to work on that, but he wished he didn’t have to.
He might have added it to the posthypnotic suggestions he’d given her, but those would be lasting, and he did want her to be Tess again. Only minus her fear of boats.
He hadn’t even disturbed her inhibitions. If he had, it might have added to her appeal to Selim. But Cameron liked her modesty and valued her too much the way she really was.
“Why don’t you take a nap?” he suggested. “I’ll call Mercier, get what he has for us and check out some things by phone. We’ll hit the beaches later and start looking for Selim.”
She touched her hair. “What if I mess this up? You warned me not to.”
“I’ll help you fix it. You have had a big morning and will have a bigger night, so get some rest while you can.”
“Roger! Isn’t that what they say on boats?” she asked with a grin.
“Aye, aye, Captain,” he returned.
“So you’re appointing me captain?”
“No, I was correcting you. I run this tub, and don’t you forget it.”
She laughed and tossed her soda can into the trash. “No sense of humor on board, I see.” Then she sashayed into the master cabin and closed the door.
Cameron could see that bein
g in disguise had already loosened her up a little. Professionally, he was glad. Personally? Well, if he was honest about it, he didn’t really want her to change.
He fished out his phone and called her boss who transmitted the photo of Selim.
“We’re upping the urgency, Cochran,” Mercier said. “We had another message, followed by a two-hour blackout, a definite warning. This guy is good.”
Chapter 6
Tess felt like a different person. She fluffed up her curls, twisted one around her finger to restore its bounce and reapplied some lipstick after brushing her teeth.
She not only looked like a stranger but felt like one, too. And this one seemed to be lacking the case of nerves that had caused her seasickness. Thank God for that! In fact, she rather liked the Jezebel now that she was used to being aboard.
“Got your sea legs, I see,” Cameron observed when she joined him in the saloon. He had called it that, though she’d have named it a lounge. Lovely room, anyway, and outfitted at great expense. The galley at one end had stainless appliances and, in a nook on the opposite side, what looked like a state-of-the-art computer system. Cameron already had it on and had been working.
Mercier arranged for the best. As she had learned on her two former ops, he never overlooked the details. Everything she would need, including the expert.
“Learn anything new?” she asked, glancing at the screen.
Cameron nodded and leaned back in the computer chair. “There’s been a blackout, which lasted two hours. He’s expected to make contact soon and attempt to hurry payment. The NSA has tracked the former transmissions to an account registered to a John Eversham.”
“An alias with no address,” she replied, guessing.
She noted a light of excitement in his eyes. “Of course, but it’s a pretty good bet he’s around here, and I’ll bet he’s not holing up in a room between calls. Saint-Tropez’s not that large, and we’re lucky it’s the off-season. Otherwise we’d be looking at about thirty thousand people. As it is, we can count on around a third of that. We’ll go trolling. If we locate him, you can make contact.”
“And if we don’t find him?” she asked.
“We have to find him and soon. He’ll think he’s safe, so there’s no real reason he’d take an alias except for his Internet account. Mercier’s got people running checks to see if he’s registered anywhere under either name. Meanwhile, we search,” he replied, taking a paper from the desk and handing it to her. “Here’s what he looks like, or at least what he looked like two years ago.”
She took the transmitted photo and studied it. “He’s just a kid. Doesn’t even look twenty yet.” The hacker had short, curly hair, large dark eyes and full, sensual lips. She couldn’t see what he was wearing, because he was holding the identifying sign up to his chest for the picture taken when he’d been arrested. “He’s almost too pretty to be a guy.”
“He’s twenty-six, and don’t let his looks fool you. Selim’s smart. He’s slightly built, five-eight, works out, and he’s slippery as an eel. Almost lost him a couple of times when I was tailing him in London. He sensed he was being followed, or maybe he was just paranoid. He never made me, though. I’m sure of that.”
“So he wouldn’t suspect anything if I just wandered over, a total stranger, and struck up a conversation?”
Cameron smiled. “You won’t have to. Just make eye contact, give him that half smile of yours and look away. He’ll bite.”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “What if he’s already hooked up with someone? There must be scads of beautiful women in Saint-Tropez, certainly better looking than I’ll ever be.”
“Now that, I doubt. Even if he’s involved, give him that look and he’ll find a way.”
Tess’s face grew hot. “You’re putting too much faith in a layer of makeup and this silly updo.”
He shook his head and grinned. “It’s more than that, Tess. You have a certain quality about you. Not sure what to call it, but it’s like an aura of combined come-hither and hands off. A real challenge.”
“For someone like him, you mean.” She wasn’t really fishing for compliments and hated that it sounded that way.
He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips, rocking a little in the swivel chair. After a pregnant pause, he answered. “Yeah, someone like him.”
Tess forced her attention back to the photo of their mark, thinking about what Cameron had just revealed. Did she really have that quality? Come-hither? She couldn’t help but smile. Did Cameron truly see her that way? Her gaze slid back to him.
“That’s the look,” he said immediately, pointing at her for emphasis. “Give him that, play him for a bit, and then reel him in.”
She sighed. Well, that answered her question. Apparently it didn’t work on Cameron. “So, do we wait for tonight?”
“No. We’ll hit the beaches and search. It’s too beautiful a day to stay inside. Maybe he’ll think so, too.” With that announcement, he got up and headed out on deck.
Beaches. She wasn’t one for parading around nearly naked, the way she had heard they did there. The only swimming she’d ever done was at an indoor pool at the Y for lessons and in training at the academy when it was required. Her one-piece tank suit was too revealing, as far as she was concerned. And she had not purchased that bikini Mercier had suggested.
Her stomach quivered a little. She grabbed a striped silk pillow off the lounge and clutched it to her middle. Oddly enough, she didn’t feel her insides lurch. She hugged the pillow tighter and took a deep breath. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe if she didn’t go topside, she wouldn’t be sick.
It took a few more moments to realize the motion was actually soothing, not disturbing at all. Tentatively, she stood, rocking slightly from one foot to the other. Sea legs. For real, she had sea legs! If she had been just a tad more confident in them, she’d have run up to the deck and announced it to the captain! But maybe she’d just wait awhile and see if this was only a momentary respite.
Instead, she made her way to the galley end of the cabin and found ginger ale, just in case.
Cameron anchored the yacht within sight of the beach and went below to find Tess on the phone with Mercier. She rang off when he appeared and smiled up at him. “No further e-mails since you spoke with him. He’s arranged a car for us, a new Mercedes. Can you believe it?”
“Good. Appearance counts as everything here. I guess he realizes that. We might not even need the car if we find him on the beaches. Can’t cover them all, but we’ll try the most likely ones before dark. After that, we’ll start on the clubs.”
“Jack said we might need reservations and offered to pull some strings if we need it. Or maybe we could use bribes.”
Cameron smiled. “Not the way it works. You don’t look great, you don’t get in. That simple. So go put on your bikini and the filmy little wrap while I change.”
She looked confused. “I don’t own a bikini, and I didn’t bring a cover-up. I can just throw something on over my tank suit.”
“I figured as much.” He headed for his cabin, tugging off his shirt as he went. “Look in the blue bag. I got some things for you when you were trying on dresses. Wear them, and that’s an order. A tank suit would get you laughed off the entire coast.” He closed his door before she could argue.
“I don’t care what beach we go to, I’m not going topless!” she called out, making him laugh out loud.
He quickly changed into the brief little suit he had kept since the op he’d had in Australia a few years ago. Talk about getting laughed outta town! He could only imagine the hoots he’d get wearing it on the Tybee beach. The damn thing barely covered his essentials. He sympathized with Tess having to don a tiny bikini. But he couldn’t wait to see her in it all the same.
He was waiting in the saloon when she came out. The cover-up was nearly transparent and revealed her knockout figure. He’d known she had a body, of course, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Wow. That ought to get us a ticke
t anywhere we want to go. You look smashing.”
She blushed beneath the tan and ducked her head. A curl tumbled over one eye. “I feel ridiculous.”
Her suit was bronze, nearly the color of her skin. She wore the large gold earrings he’d bought her, as well as the shiny little sandals that matched her suit. The thigh-length shirt was golden gauze with a subtle satin stripe.
“You look…rich. Try to feel that way. Move like a star and they’ll think you are one. Head back, chin and chest out. Think bored indolence, too sexy for your clothes.”
She was too busy looking at him. He had left his white, collarless shirt open over his suit. “What’s the matter?” he asked, wondering if he’d forgotten something.
“Uh…towels.” Blushing again. The red glowed right through her tan. He loved it.
He grinned. “Surely you don’t think we’re going to get wet. And take off your watch.”
“Why? You’re wearing yours.”
“Because it’s a statement,” he explained. “Our cachet. The Rolex is as necessary as having money. Maybe more. I should have picked you up a knockoff in Nice.”
She wrestled off the Timex impatiently and laid it on the table. “There.”
“Good girl. Now we’re in business. Remember your persona. Rich bitch out to show off.”
“And you?” she demanded.
“Boy toy slash bodyguard. Don’t you love it?” He struck a pose, laughed and ushered her up on deck. “Let go and enjoy this, Tess. It’s part of the package. If you don’t love what you do, you might as well quit and let somebody else do it, right?”
She huffed. “I think you’re entirely too into all this.”
“Done it before, that’s all. Liked it then, too.” It sure beat tailing somebody through the dark side of London or Paris. And it was a damn sight better than trolling for fish off Tybee with a couple of fat guys on vacation.
“When are we landing the boat?” she asked as she looked out over the three-mile stretch of beach.
“Docking? We’ll do that later tonight.” He headed for the bridge to blow the boat’s horn. “A water taxi will be out to pick us up. This is faster than docking and then driving out from town.”