by Karen Foley
“Don’t you worry about that,” Mike soothed. “We have five members who sit on the Promotion Selection Board. All we have to do is give them a name. You just bring back proof of the affair.” He smirked. “If you can.”
Sedona drew herself up and raked the group of men with what she hoped was a scathing look. “Despite what you think, I’m just as capable of a little on-the-road romance as the rest of you.” She looked at Mike. “So, that’s it, then? I just bring back some kind of proof? Like a pair of men’s underwear?”
Mike laughed. “Oh, no. It’s not that easy. Just ask Bob.”
Bob mumbled something under his breath.
“What was that?” Sedona took a step closer. “I didn’t quite catch that.” On my tape recorder.
“I said you need to bring back photos.” His tone was almost defiant.
“Photos,” Sedona repeated. “Photos of what?”
“Sedona…forget it, okay?” It was Ken Larson, stepping forward. His face was still red with embarrassment, but his eyes met hers squarely. “Don’t get mixed up in this. It’s—it’s not worth it.”
“Photos of the significant other,” Mike continued, interrupting Ken and impaling the other man with a hard stare. “Preferably in a position that leaves no doubt as to the nature of the relationship.”
Seeing Mike’s censure, Ken ducked his head and retreated to the far wall. Despite her determination to see this operation through, Sedona nearly ran for the door. She’d never been so completely mortified in her entire life. Drawing in a deep breath, she nodded. “Got it. What else?”
Mike laughed. “Okay, then. The picture has to contain something that will clearly indicate the time and location of the event. Like a newspaper and a room key, prominently displayed. You get the idea.”
“Fine. The next time I go on business travel, I’ll bring back the proof you need. Okay?” Sedona had no intention of bringing back proof of anything. She already had the proof she needed to put an end to this “club.”
Ken looked at the other men, and although some of them looked away or down at their feet, Mike nodded his approval. “Okay, it’s a deal. Oh, and Sedona?”
She looked at him questioningly.
“The picture can’t be staged. You can’t get your brother, or your cousin, or your good friend to pose for it, just to fake us out.”
“Great. So that’s it? Okay, then. I, uh, should probably get back to work,” Sedona muttered, suddenly anxious to get out of there. The sordidness of the entire scheme made her feel ill. “I’ll let you know when I have what you need.”
Without waiting for a reply, she bolted for the door. She walked quickly through the deserted corridors of the East Wing until she reached the main part of the building. Only then did she place her hand over the slight bulge in her waistband, reassuring herself that the small recorder was still there. She had it all on tape.
* * *
IN THE PRIVACY of her office, Sedona pulled the tape player from beneath her blouse. She stared in dismay at the small device.
The Record button was off.
Maybe she had inadvertently hit the Power button on her way back to the office. Please, let that be the case. With trembling fingers, she pushed Play. There was nothing but the soft whirring of the tape as it wound from one reel to the next. There was no recorded conversation. There was nothing but silence. She rewound the tape and played it again. Still nothing.
With a groan of self-disgust, she tossed the tape player onto her desk, sank into her chair and buried her face in her hands. She had neglected to hit the Record button. She’d been so busy making sure the tape player was hidden, and then so nervous about confronting the men, that she hadn’t even turned the damn thing on.
She had absolutely no proof, not a shred of incriminating evidence against the members. It would be her word against theirs. Worse, she had lowered herself to their level by agreeing to have a sordid affair of her own in order to gain access to their disgusting club. Though she had only been pretending, she felt cheapened and dirty.
She picked up the phone and punched in Agent Denton’s number, dreading the inevitable.
“DCIS, Agent Denton.”
Reluctantly, Sedona identified herself and let the story tumble out.
“So you see,” she concluded, “I have absolutely no evidence. I blew it.”
“Not necessarily,” Agent Denton replied. “You agreed to join the club, to become a member based on the same conditions imposed upon the others. That’s definitely something we can work with.”
Sedona floundered in disbelief. “I wasn’t serious—I mean, I never… I don’t think…”
“Miss Stewart,” Denton interrupted. “I’m not suggesting you do anything you’re not completely comfortable with. I’m merely saying this could be a way for us to get the evidence we need to really nail these guys.”
“Agent Denton,” she protested, “I could never do what these guys do. I couldn’t live with myself. In fact, I haven’t told my supervisor yet, but I submitted my resignation to the Human Resources office earlier today.”
There was a brief silence. “I understand. Of course, this doesn’t change my intent to conduct a full investigation into your allegations. However, if you should change your mind about assisting us, you have my number.”
Sedona replaced the receiver in the cradle, completely drained by the day’s events. She scrubbed her hands over her eyes.
She sat there, her mind replaying the scene in the men’s bathroom. When somebody knocked on her office door she started guiltily, fearful that someone had discovered her clandestine meeting with the Membership, and was coming to confront her.
The door opened, and she found herself staring at Joe Clemons, the director of Engineering.
Her boss.
Her heart sank as for one instant she envisioned herself being fired before she had the chance to tell her boss she quit. Then her gaze traveled to the man standing just behind Joe.
It was Angel Torres, and from the taut expression on his face and the dangerous glint in his black eyes, she knew the reason for their visit went way beyond the Membership and its dirty little secrets.
She stood up. “Joe, come in. What’s going on?”
Joe’s face was pinched with concern as he entered her office. He didn’t say anything, merely placed a memo on her desk. Sedona couldn’t prevent herself from glancing at Angel before she picked it up. He was rigid with suppressed anger. Or frustration. She wasn’t sure which, but she could sense the coiled tension in his lean, hard body. He dominated her small office with his presence. He was all dark, simmering power held under tight control.
Sedona shivered.
She forced herself to concentrate on the memo, but it was a moment before the words on the page shifted into focus and became legible. She quickly scanned the page, and her stomach tightened in dread. It was an electronic memo, issued by the Secretary of the Navy, and the words urgent and investigation leaped off the page at her.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed.
Three F/A-44 Coyote fighter jets had crashed into the Pacific Ocean in three separate training incidents over a twenty-four-hour period, resulting in pilot ejections. Two additional jets had experienced problems when their throttle-levers had locked up, but the pilots had been able to activate in-flight emergency shutdown procedures and conduct single-engine landings.
The Secretary of the Navy was demanding an immediate investigation into the crashes, as well as an inspection of all remaining Coyotes. Until the problem was resolved, all jets were grounded.
“What does this mean?” Sedona wasn’t sure if she was asking Joe or Angel.
“¡Maldita!” growled Angel. “It means we have one hell of a problem on our hands. There’s a war going on, and with our fighter jets grounded, we can’t provide the air power our troops need to stay alive.” He looked at Joe. “I’d like to fly out to Lemoore as soon as I can. Tomorrow, if possible.”
Sedona frowned. Lemoore was t
he location of a naval air station in California. It was just her luck that he had finally come back, and now he was leaving. Again. Her hopes of seeing him during the remaining two weeks of her employment were dashed.
Joe sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I agree. The Aircraft Mishap Board is scrambling to get their folks out to the three crash sites. The other two jets are en route to a hangar at Lemoore for inspection. We’ll have a full team ready to head out there first thing tomorrow.”
Sedona held her breath, hardly daring to anticipate his next words.
Joe looked at her. “Sedona, I want you to head up a team to inspect the engines. You’ll be gone for a couple of weeks, so take the rest of the afternoon to make whatever personal arrangements you need to. The other divisions are putting together their own teams to analyze the power-level control and the hydraulics systems.” He glanced over at Angel. “Lieutenant Commander Torres will conduct flight tests of the grounded jets and put together baseline evaluations. You’ll be working together pretty closely, so I’ll reserve a block of rooms for the teams at the same hotel. That way, you can spend the evenings going over your findings.”
Angel turned his gaze on Sedona, and she felt her breath hitch as she stared into the fathomless darkness of his eyes. For an instant, she wondered what it would be like to have that gaze heated with passion. To have it directed toward her.
“I think that’s a good suggestion,” he said, and his eyes drifted over Sedona’s features.
Was it only her imagination, or did they linger for a moment on her mouth? Nervously, she ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.
“I’ll be making my own travel arrangements just as soon as I get back to my office,” Angel continued, his eyes still on her. “If it’s okay with you, ma’am, I’ll reserve us seats next to each other on the plane. It’s a long flight from Boston, so we might as well use the time to go over the Coyote incident reports.”
Sedona stared back at Angel. Sit with him on the plane? A couple of weeks in the same hotel together? Working closely with him, and perhaps getting together in the evenings? Holy Coyote, there really was a God!
She looked swiftly down at the navy memo and pretended to reread it in order to compose her features and hide the fluttering excitement she was feeling. Excitement she had no right to feel, not in the face of such a blow to the navy flight program.
When, after a brief moment, she glanced back up at Angel, she prayed her expression didn’t reveal her feelings. “That, um, sounds fine.” She tried to sound cool, but her voice quavered ever so slightly. She cleared her throat. “Just give me a call to let me know what flight we’re on. I’ll meet you at the airport.”
Angel smiled then, his teeth strong and white in his tanned face. Sedona’s heart rate kicked up a notch and her stomach did a slow roll.
“Since it looks like we’re going to be partners,” he said easily, “I’ll do you one better. If you give me your address, I’ll pick you up in the morning and give you a lift to the airport.”
Sedona knew right then that she had been wrong.
She had thought she could never engage in an affair while on business travel. Up until that moment, she couldn’t envision herself having an affair, period. But when Angel Torres looked at her like that, she knew she would gladly toss every one of her old-fashioned ideals and morals out the window for just one night—one amazing, never-to-be-forgotten night—in his arms.
4
TUCKED INTO A window seat of the commercial airliner, Sedona tried not to stare as Angel stowed their carry-on luggage in the overhead compartment. She had never seen him wear anything other than his military flight suit, and the sight of him clad in a black T-shirt and jeans was entirely too appealing. From her vantage point beneath him, it was difficult not to admire the impressive bulge of his biceps as he secured their belongings. Apparently, she wasn’t alone in that regard.
A trio of pretty young women sat in the row of seats across from them, and Sedona had heard their collective sigh of longing when Angel made his way down the narrow aisle, ducking his head to avoid contact with the ceiling. His dark good looks, combined with his rugged build, were guaranteed to capture the attention of every female on board. But when he smiled at the three women and inclined his head politely in greeting, Sedona thought they might actually swoon with delight. Even now, she could hear them tittering as they ogled his backside. To his credit, Angel appeared oblivious to the attention he attracted.
Satisfied their gear was safely stowed, he bent down and eased his large frame into the seat next to Sedona. His sheer size dwarfed her. He had managed to secure seats next to the emergency exit, which afforded them a little extra legroom. Even so, the space barely accommodated his long legs, and his knee brushed against hers in the close confines.
He quirked a rueful grin at her. “Well, this is cozy.”
When he looked over at her and flashed those incredible dimples, Sedona’s brain just about shut down. She pressed tighter against the window to accommodate his wide shoulders. She hadn’t counted on being in such proximity with him and was glad she’d taken extra care that morning with her appearance.
Still, she couldn’t help but feel completely self-conscious by his nearness. God, the guy even smelled great. An intoxicating blend of clean cotton, soap and something mildly spicy that might have been aftershave, made her want to inhale deeply. She watched as he buckled the seat belt across his lean hips. He had strong hands, with long, tapered fingers and neat nails. And, thankfully, no rings.
One of the airline attendants, a pretty woman with blond hair and large brown eyes, stopped by their seats. Although she smiled politely at Sedona, her eyes barely left Angel.
“I’m required to tell you that you’re sitting in an emergency-exit aisle,” she said, dimpling down at him. “Do you have any physical…restrictions that might prevent you from opening the emergency door and assisting other passengers in the event of an emergency?”
Angel looked up at her, and his lips curved in the barest hint of a smile. “Uh, no, I don’t believe so.”
The woman was practically eating him alive with her eyes.
“Well,” she purred, “I didn’t think that was the case, but regulations require me to ask. Oh!” She lurched forward into Angel’s lap, thrusting her breasts into his face in the process, as a passenger squeezed past her in the aisle.
Angel caught her by the upper arms and steadied her as she braced herself against him with both hands on his broad shoulders. Sedona barely contained her indelicate snort of disgust.
“Oh, my,” the attendant said, breathless and laughing. “I am so sorry!”
Yeah, right, Sedona thought. Like that wasn’t completely planned.
“No problem,” Angel assured the woman, and set her firmly back on her feet.
“Well,” she said, practically preening in the aisle, “if there’s anything you need, just let me know.” She indicated her name tag with one pink-tipped finger. “I’m Taffy.”
Sedona turned toward the window, rolling her eyes. Angel murmured something vague in response, and she turned back in time to see the woman waggle her fingers at him before sauntering away.
“That was helpful,” she muttered darkly, “considering I’m the one sitting next to the emergency door.” She turned to Angel. “So just what is it I’m supposed to do in the event of an actual emergency?”
Angel’s black eyes danced with devilish amusement as he looked at her, and a lazy smile creased his features. “The only thing you have to do, mina,” he drawled, “is get the hell out of my way, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Sedona’s eyes widened in surprise, and she had a vivid image of him bodily lifting her out of the way before assuming the manly duty of controlling the emergency door. Part of her was taken aback by his sheer cockiness. But another part was secretly thrilled by that same arrogance. He was supremely confident, capable of anything. He made her feel both fragile and safe.
“Hey, Se
dona,” interrupted a masculine voice. “Looks like we’ll be working together.”
She dragged her gaze away from Angel and nearly groaned aloud in disbelief. It was Ken Larson, making his way down the aisle. He paused near their seats and smiled almost shyly at Sedona. She stared back at him in utter horror.
“I’m, uh, really looking forward to it,” he continued. Was it just her imagination, or did his eyes sweep over her in a proprietary way? “It’ll be, you know, a real team-building experience. Who knows? There might even be a promotion in it for some of us.” Noticing Angel for the first time, he extended a hand toward the other man. “Aren’t you Lieutenant Torres? Good to see you back, sir. I’m Ken Larson. I’ll be part of Sedona’s team of engineers.” He smiled again at Sedona. “Like I said, I’m really looking forward to working with you again. Maybe this time…” He let his words trail off, then laughed self-consciously and shrugged. “Who knows, right?”
He moved past their seats, but his words echoed in Sedona’s head. Her heart sank. Ken Larson believed she was interested in joining the Membership. He’d expect her to take advantage of this opportunity to acquire the proof she’d need to claim the next promotion.
She swore silently.
As soon as they reached the hotel, she’d pull him aside and disclaim any interest in joining their club. What he decided to do was his own business, but no way would she have him believing she would sink to the same level.
“You work with that guy?”
Sedona glanced guiltily at Angel. “Yes,” she muttered. “We’ve worked together on investigations before.”
There was a momentary silence.
“Oh, yeah? So…you’re just coworkers? Nothing more?”
Sedona stared at him in disbelief. “No! I mean, yes! I mean—” She was spluttering in indignation, acutely aware that Angel watched her with amused interest. “We are definitely just coworkers. God.” She recalled Ken’s expression as he’d swept his gaze over her, and shuddered in revulsion. “Please tell me you didn’t think—”
Angel laughed and held up one hand to forestall her. “I’m sorry, it’s just that there seemed to be…something between the two of you. I just thought…”