by Madelon Smid
“You can bet the CIA and FBI will have their own guys strategically placed.”
“Back-up’s good, as long as they don’t get in the way or decide to grandstand.”
“We wouldn’t want another innocent woman shot by a hotdogger.” Sorrow muted Josh’s words. He shook his head, as if to rid himself of the thoughts and continued. “They’ll be asking me technical questions about how the Chinese broke our codes, not mine, thank heavens. Other members of the Defense Science Board will also testify, but as I did the greater part of the research they’ll want me the longest.
“Then they’ll ask me about the why and wherefore around the Department of Defense setting up the Board, try to find a cover up as the easiest answer. They’ll dig for dirt, leaks, or a scapegoat. Finally, I expect they will try to get information around new technology to prevent this happening again, more ways to fill the holes. I’ll give them just enough to reassure them, but no more. That information is classified at high levels.”
“Any chance they’ll target you?” She punched in the last of the lockdown codes and crossed to the kitchenette. Opening the door of the refrigerator, she looked aimlessly into it.
“I don’t anticipate that happening,” he said after a thoughtful moment. “Right now I’m the good guy, their hope to stay ahead in the spyware field. If they did go after me, I think the government would intervene. I don’t expect this to take much time, because too many people want me sitting in front of my laptop, not in a senatorial witness box.”
Cat released her breath in a shaky sigh she prayed he didn’t hear. The relief she felt at his reassurance bothered her. She rushed to find the solitude she needed to strengthen her defenses. “I’ll leave you to it and wait for the rest till later,” she said. “Don’t forget we have the High Ground Foundation event tonight. We’ve gone over the schematics and plan and can do a final briefing in the limo. RG is working with the foundation administrator to set up extra security. He wants it to look like you’re totally focused on me,” she tossed over her shoulder as she pushed open the door to her room.
“Wear the red dress with the strapless top. I’ll be sure to hang all over you.”
She wanted to stalk back and slap the taunting look from his face, but didn’t dare touch him. The image of his gaze stroking the exposed swell of her breasts sent her heart rate on a race to a place she didn’t want to go. In a defensive move she would regret within seconds, she taunted him, “Tomorrow morning, you’ll have to get up earlier, so we can get in a session before the hearing.”
“It isn’t going to happen.” He looked at her hard.
“If I say train, you’ll train.” She stuck out her chin.
“Enough.” He stood, towering over her, his eyes flashing, his jaw tight.
“Wow. The big giant lets go. Aren’t you the erupting Mount Vesuvius? Who would guess all that heat smouldered under those layers of ambiguity.”
“Enough.” He thundered, his eyes crucibles of molten ore, the fiery lava of his temper spilling over onto her. “I won’t work like this.”
“As you said, it’s short term.” She met him toe to toe.
“What am I?”
She looked confused.
“Why are you here? What do you call me?”
“You’re my principal.”
“Right, you get to turn me into an object, keep your distance while you do your job. I’m a puppet you’re jerking around so you get the satisfaction of controlling the situation. I gave you that power. Gave being the operative word here. In protecting me, you’ve taken my life hostage.”
When she stuck out her chin further, he grabbed her shoulders, shook her. “You’re here to save my life. It’s special circumstances, in and out, then gone. I’m responsible for my life the rest of the time. Your schedule kills me. Me. Understand? Who I am. You’ve cancelled my morning meditation, vetoed the garden and lap pool where I renew my energy, negated my climbing time. I’m stopping it now.”
She opened her mouth to argue.
His hand shot out and covered it. “Not another word. You want me to cooperate you give me something in return. From now on, I’m taking half an hour each morning for meditation, another half to swim laps. Set up whatever extra security you want, as long as it’s invisible and silent. In return, I’ll give you an hour of sparring time. I’m going back to the gym to climb at least once a week. Deal with it.”
Rebuked, feeling like she stood on ground shaken by an earthquake, her feet knocked out from under her, she retreated.
She recognized his intellectual power. She withstood the awesome energy he radiated in every gathering. Apparently, the Zen-like tranquility controlled ferocity, wild and powerful as a storm. He fought for what he valued. Meditation brought peace, preparing for his climb kept his friends safe while on it. She’d removed the things that strengthened him, replacing them with what strengthened her. His integrity wouldn’t allow him to submit any further. She recognized she’d crossed the line in the sand and would have to subtly maneuver her way back. Protecting any principal meant finding middle ground on which they both could stand she reminded herself.
She vetoed the cry of pain from her wounded heart. It did not have a vote. She didn’t care for him, so he couldn’t hurt her. Only her professional stand had been questioned, eroded, and changed.
The sound of his voice talking to Jake followed her into the bedroom, her only safe place. She no longer trusted the retreat of her mind, where thoughts of Josh dominated.
****
An expert in speed dressing, she stepped into a red thong and matching strapless bra and strapped her back-up gun onto the inside of her thigh. The dress had a tiny sequined top and a flirty skirt flared enough to cover the shape of her weapon. Spiked heels brought her height closer to Josh’s. She needed the advantage, groaned when her thoughts tumbled in his direction again. The loose fabric of a shawl could become a net to tangle movement, so she chose a cashmere coat, mid-calf with elegant lines in a cream color. It would provide warmth when the summer sky darkened and make her the more visible target.
She stepped out of the room. Josh looked over, his glance sharpened. His skin tightened over the classic bone structure of his face. The air between them thickened with awareness. You go, girl. This is vindication for the snide comment he made. His sharp gaze tracked her every movement. She expected any second he would furl the wings of pretense and plummet toward her, beak and talons rending her meager defense.
She looked at her watch to break the tension. “I’ll call your driver.”
“We’ll eat first. I ordered takeout for 7:00. The sushi should be here momentarily.” He spoke with his back to her, while he fiddled with his phone. It seemed he’d chosen not to look at her again after his first reaction to the dress.
She stifled her desire to flare up at him for making arrangements without informing her. “I thought we’d eat at the event.”
“Your chances of getting near food at this thing are nil.”
“It’s a money raiser to get the rich and famous to open their wallets.” Cat crossed to the bank of monitors displaying the main door, lobby, elevator, and small foyers for each floor of the building. “They usually have tables laden with gourmet selections.”
“The High Ground Foundation believes money donated should go toward actually helping fund scientific advancement, rather than in feeding the bigwigs who donate the money in the first place.”
“Laudable, but is it doable?” she mused. She straightened, her eyes fixed on the monitor. “Here’s the sushi. Please step into the far corner out of range of the doorway.”
He frowned. “Your precautions make me feel like a damn coward.”
She empathized with his frustration, but blocked it from her mind. She put the delivery boy through the gambit, tipped him extra, and sent him on his way. She kept Josh in his corner while she unloaded the food, checking for incendiary devices. When she gestured all clear, he stepped forward, then stopped to watch her taste each
dish.
“This is too damn embarrassing.” All male, aggressive, impatient, he strode to the counter.
“Careful, your testosterone level is kicking up,” she murmured.
“What the hell am I supposed to think if you get blown to pieces or die of poisoning? Your life is no less important than mine!”
They’d gone through the same argument the first time he’d ordered in. He’d refused to order take-out since then. Had he forgotten, thought she’d softened her stance, or was he testing her?
She set a serving of hamachi, tekkamaki, and futomaki in front of him. He picked up a piece with a small slice off the end and frowned at it. “How long do I have to wait to see if you’re going to drop dead, before I eat?” His savage mood swirled the air around them into a whirlpool of tension. “Should I be checking you for symptoms, watching for anything?”
Head down, she placed sushi pieces on her plate.
“It’s the last time I order takeout.” His mood pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees. “I know. I said that last time. Oh, sit down, for heaven’s sake.” He blessed her with his knockout smile.
She folded onto one of the stools a second before she fell on the floor.
He slipped the piece of yellowtail into his mouth, chewed appreciatively, and pointed his chopsticks in her direction. “Eat up. I can’t be late to this do.”
He floated in the periphery of her vision through the exit security and sat through her instructions in the limo with minimum of words. Because he knew the facility where the money raiser would be held, she kept her briefing short. She described their entrance and egress and outlined plan B and C, if needed. She turned on the GPS locator and checked the reading for his implanted chip.
She spoke with the limo driver several times, giving concise instructions around timing and position. They coasted up in front of the granite steps leading to an impressive building. Huge columns held up a porte cochère at the base of a wide sweep of stairs. She stepped out of the limousine first, blocking his exit. Mindful she must look like a woman smitten, she acted oblivious to his need to get out, while admiring the building. Completing her check, she bent and laughing urged him out of the limo. The driver leapt out and opened the nearside door. Josh emerged like a potentate, who expected someone to spread a scarlet runner up the steps ahead of him. Only the slate gray of his eyes hinted at the control holding back his annoyance.
She clasped his arm. Laughing into his face, she raced him up the stairs. At the top, he stared at her, not an iota of softening in his expression. She drew in a deep breath. “Get over yourself,” she hissed. “Anyone watching has to believe we’re a hot item.”
A doorman opened the heavy panelled door. Josh stepped through. Cat stayed a half pace behind covering most of his back. Once inside the lobby, he grabbed her arm, whirled her to the right and pressed her into an alcove near the door. He put his lips against her ear, whispered, “Pardon me for letting down my side of the subterfuge.”
Scorching lips pressed fire against her mouth. She gasped. He took advantage, his tongue glided inside to tangle with hers. They hit the red line on the passion thermometer in seconds. Her knees buckled. She fisted her hands in the lapels of his overcoat and kissed him back.
Kissed? A kiss shouldn’t make you uncivilized, shouldn’t strike you deaf, dumb, and blind. It shouldn’t close you into a world so small only the wet, silken feel of your tongue gliding along another’s, the warm suction of lips moulding your own existed. The taste of one man shouldn’t act like a drug, stealing your senses through your lips. The thought registered. Shocked at her weakness, she pushed against him. She’d been mindless, oblivious to any threat to him in the last minutes.
He surfaced with the same slow awareness he swam out of his work. His eyes glazed, his breaths short and sharp, gusting against her lips. He searched her eyes, read her sense of failure. He smiled to reassure her. “Well, I think we fooled anyone watching.” He stepped back, took her arm, and moved toward the crowded room beyond. “Let’s go.”
He’d kissed her out of a male need to dominate, seize control from her. She’d succumbed, and his kindness in suggesting her submission had all been part of her role, burned her face with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment. Why had he turned kind when she most needed him to be a jerk?
On high alert for the next three hours, she discovered yet another layer to his complexity. He worked a crowd like a professional politician. Popular with the wives and respected by the money men attending, he moved from group to group. He never took center stage, but always ended up there. Someone would ask him a question. His answer, clever, thoughtful, would have conversation quieting around him. Within seconds, as if an ashram of followers found their guru, he’d be surrounded ten deep. Concerned his admirers would separate her from her principal, she jostled the crowd to stay by his side. Guessing her problem with the ease he tapped secrets out of computers, he curved his arm around her waist and drew her with him everywhere. He always stayed on her left side, leaving her right hand clear. Her respect for him, already in the stratosphere headed for space.
When finally he suggested they leave ahead of the crowd, she agreed with alacrity. Standing close to his hard body, surrounded by his warmth, breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne wore on her nerves. Her awareness of his every word and move kept her strung tighter than she would be in watching for an attack. She pulled free, thankful to walk just ahead of him, topping up her lungs for the first time that evening.
“You could have told me you were the money and brain behind High Ground Foundation,” she commented as he helped her into her coat in the empty lobby.
His mouth quirked upward. “I assumed you knew.”
“No. It wasn’t in any of my briefing notes. I guess the people who run the foundation for you are the only ones RG doesn’t see as a threat.” She smiled, in turn.
“I have staff, but head up the foundation from home.” His gaze settled on her lips, rested on them like a kiss. The chemistry flowing between them was palpable. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip. His pupils expanded, leaving only a narrow ring of molten gray iris. She registered the heat in his eyes, suspected his thoughts circled around their last kiss just as hers did. He’s your principal, she castigated herself. Don’t forget it for a nanosecond or you’ll get him killed.
“I didn’t notice you doing Foundation work at the loft.” She brought them back on topic.
Josh pushed his fingers through his hair. “I haven’t. The vital need for the new software takes precedence. I’ve let the Foundation slide the last few weeks. The grant process is mired, waiting for my decisions. I’m hiring a director as a solution. I’d still have final say on the allocation of foundation funds, but someone else will do the research and interviews.”
“Sounds like a dream job.”
His gaze fixed on her again. “Any chance you’d be interested? You take to research like a badger to digging.”
“Research is my passion. I love to find the answers, discover what motivates people and connects them. When you have all the pieces the real picture emerges, and…” She tried to slow her words, hide her smile, blank out the enthusiasm soaring to the surface, stop her imagination from listing the possibilities.
“You find the truth.” He finished her sentence, demonstrating yet again the synchronicity between them. “Well, the job’s yours if you ever want to leave the security business.” With a sweep of his arm, he indicated she proceed him.
Not yet. I want to know more of what you hide behind that serene countenance, while you’re in a sharing mood. She didn’t move, turned until she faced him. “So why High Ground?”
“A euphemism for principles, a picture people lock into their mind and remember.”
“Your principles? Or theirs?” Intrigue replaced determination.
“Anyone’s involved with the foundation—me, the people who dole out my money, the people who come asking for it, the people who donate, and the ones who benefit
from the grants. It’s about personal choices.”
“So you choose to give away your money instead of living like a king.” Cat couldn’t quite believe her assessment.
“It’s not like I don’t live a more than comfortable lifestyle, have security banked for life, the money to do anything I want on a whim.” His dry tone mocked his philanthropy.
“You fund High Ground with your personal fortune, and the foundation disburses grants to worthy people looking for answers in the fields of science and technology.” She summed up the foundation’s work from the praise she’d heard in the last hours.
“It’s not just about money. High Ground gives others a chance to contribute to world change. But, worthy is the operative word. Any successful grant applicant must demonstrate an interest in bettering the world. If their work won’t benefit others in a positive way, they don’t qualify for a grant.” Again he tried to usher her to the door.
“You sound pretty passionate about it.”
He stopped. “You aren’t just making polite conversation.”
“Nothing polite about it. I’m snooping because I really want to know.”
He closed the distance between them, picked up her hand, folded her fingers into a fist, and tucked it against his chest. She could feel the fine wool of his tux jacket brush across her knuckles, felt heat from his body soaking into her skin. Remember, he’s just doing it for show. But for a moment, she relaxed, added her bit to the play, by taking something she wanted. She nestled closer.
“I didn’t have a great childhood. My parents were dopers who didn’t want a kid, especially one who came across as peculiar to them. They abandoned me. I went into foster care like a lot of other kids, fared no worse or no better. But I was gifted with the skill to use a greater capacity of my brain power, what our neuroscientists like to call genius. My intellect allowed me to lift myself out of the go-nowhere stream of the system, led me to Harvard and Jake and Sam.