by Dee Davis
"Unfortunately, not much. I've only just started to dig. Which means the best I can do at the moment is tell you who isn't involved." She opened the small gold purse she carried and produced a folded piece of paper.
"I've divided it into people I've cleared, people I still have questions about, and people I haven't had a chance to investigate. Everyone listed here has access in some way to the various Peacekeeping shipments around the globe. Logistics and transportation seemed the obvious starting point. But of course there are also people at high levels within the Secretariat with the clearance to accomplish whatever they put their minds to."
"What tipped the CIA off to begin with?" Nigel leaned back against a desk, crossing one leg over the other, wishing he had a cigarette. Unfortunately, New York was currently on a smoke-free binge, which had left Nigel practically forced into cold-turkey withdrawal.
"A contact in Africa noticed some discrepancies with shipment documentations. Crates that were listed on the manifest but never arrived at the final destination. Further investigation showed similar situations in Southeast Asia and Bosnia."
"What was the explanation?"
"In Africa it was blamed on a military attack by opposing forces. In Cambodia it was simply noted as lost."
"And in Bosnia?" He tried to keep from staring at her mouth.
"It apparently suffered severe water damage and was abandoned at port of entry."
"Reasonable explanations."
"On the surface, yes. But at least one of the crates, Bosnia's, went missing about the same time that several large munitions were stolen from a facility in northern Russia. Add that to some of the intel that's been gathered, and talk of an insider at UN Peacekeeping began to take on credibility. Enough at least for me to start an investigation."
She held out the folded list, and Nigel reached to take it, careful not to let his fingers touch hers. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to get more, but I didn't know I was meeting with you until just before the party. This was all I could manage on such short notice."
"This will help tremendously. We're trying to keep this from going public as long as possible. For all we know, the stolen nerve agent is headed for somewhere else entirely. Until we have more definitive information we're trying to keep things close to the vest."
"I can understand that." She smiled, the gesture lightening her expression and making Nigel's heart twist. "I've spent almost my entire adult life hiding something from someone."
"Well, obviously you do it very well."
She flinched, and he regretted his words. They'd been meant as a flippant reply, but the remark had hit a nerve for them both, her lies to cover her work as much a part of their past as they were a part of the present. "It wasn't anything to do with us."
"There was no us." He sounded harsher than he'd intended, but it was the truth. "Not in the sense you mean, anyway. We always knew it was temporary, and pretending differently now is only going to make it harder when we have to walk away."
"And we have to do that?" She didn't sound convinced.
"You know that we do. Being seen with me would only compromise your position. More so now than fifteen years ago."
She nodded, her eyes looking suspiciously bright, but Nigel didn't allow himself to dwell on the fact. It was difficult enough to see her again, and to think that their meeting was causing her pain was more than he could bear.
He twisted around to the desk behind him, grabbing a notepad and a pen. Scribbling hastily, he jotted down his phone numbers and the hotel where he was staying, then thrust it into her hand. "If you find out anything more—or if you need me—this is how to reach me." He wasn't entirely certain why he'd mentioned need. Maybe it was his overworked libido, or maybe he just wanted her to know that he still cared. Either way the words hung heavy in the air.
Melissa stood up and closed the distance between them, lifting her hand to stroke the side of his face, the contact setting off small explosions inside every nerve. "You look wonderful, Nigel. And for what it's worth, there was an us. Impossible maybe, but it was there. And I, for one, will cherish the memory forever."
He opened his mouth to answer her, to try and formulate something that resembled a coherent sentence, but she was gone.
ALL SHE NEEDED was to catch her breath, to ease the band of steel that seemed to have lodged itself permanently around her rib cage.
Forcing air in and out of her lungs, Melissa pressed her back against the cool paneling of the alcove under the stairs. She told herself it was only the surprise, the past reopened after all these years, but she knew it was more than that. It was Nigel. Pure and simple. He'd always affected her this way, robbing her of coherent speech and thought, pulling the very breath from her body.
It was a ridiculous notion, but one that was nevertheless absolutely true.
Damn the man.
She pushed off of the wall and straightened the narrow straps of her gown. She'd waited in the shadows until she'd seen him return to the party, looking devastatingly handsome in his tuxedo. She preferred him in jeans—or the altogether— but he certainly managed to fill out Armani nicely.
She shook her head, dispelling the image. She was a free agent. Her job required it and she preferred it that way. The decision had been made long ago.
Sighing, she walked down the hallway; her breathing, thank goodness, almost back to normal. The good news was that she'd most likely not see him after tonight. New York was a big city, and there was really no reason for their paths to cross again. Even if their investigations should intersect in future, she could always have someone else meet with him.
It was a cop-out and she knew it, but sometimes self-preservation was the name of the game. All that considered, they'd still have to share the same space for at least the next couple of hours. Fortunately, the room was a big one. But standing in the doorway, looking at the glittering throng, she felt as if it was just the two of them.
He was talking to a tall dark man and an equally stunning blonde, the three of them looking like something from the society pages—definitely not her world. In an odd way, the thought was comforting.
She stepped into the room, and as if he had some sort of radar, his eyes lifted to hers, his mouth curling slightly at the corners. It was a mocking salute, but there was an undercurrent she couldn't ignore, even with the distance between them.
"Melissa?" A soft hand touched her arm, and she jumped, the sound of her sister's voice breaking the spell. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. I just got a little hot, so I went outside for some air." As excuses went, it was pretty lame, but Melissa had learned through experience that the simpler the lie the better.
Alicia's frown deepened. "It's freezing outside."
"Bracing, actually." Melissa widened her smile, linking her arm through her sister's. "I was only out there for a minute. And now I'm feeling much better. What do you say we mingle a bit? You haven't introduced me to a soul." She actually had no desire to meet anyone. Hell, all she really wanted was to grab a taxi and put this night behind her. But that wasn't the drill. She needed to play the game, make certain that no one questioned her presence at the party.
Alicia, seemingly satisfied about her sister's well-being, steered Melissa over to a group of dignitaries. She sent a prayer heavenward that it wasn't Nigel's group. She'd work hard to play the game, but she'd be damned if she'd set herself up for more heartache. And at the moment, just being in the same room with the man was about the limit of what her overwrought nerves could endure.
"May I present out host, Jacques Ormond," Alicia was saying, and Melissa forced her thoughts back to the here and now.
Ormond nodded once, his smile perfunctory Melissa returned the gesture, wishing she were better at small talk Fortunately, she was spared the endeavor as Aaron joined the group, his arm encircling his wife, his attention centered on Ormond as they began a spirited discussion of foreign policy. Despite her secondary occupation, Melissa wasn't much interested in political phi
losophy. By her reckoning, it was politics that caused most of the problems in the world.
And she'd seen firsthand the atrocities that had been committed in the name of a political ideal Seen the havoc wreaked on ordinary people and their lives. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, and stepped away from the group, relieved to be on her own again.
Nigel had moved across the room and was now talking to an elegantly clad elderly woman. She'd most likely been a beauty in her day, and she wore the remnants of her youth well. Despite the age difference between the two of them, Melissa felt the familiar tug of jealousy and wondered how it was that a man she hadn't laid eyes on in over fifteen years could manage to upset her simply by talking to an octogenarian.
Strange world.
"You have been abandoned by your friends?"
The voice was deep and foreign. Melissa turned to find the dark brown eyes of a distinguished-looking man. "No. Actually I'm afraid you've got it backward." She forced a polite smile. "I'm the one who abandoned them."
"It is their loss then." His smile showed a row of evenly shaped white teeth. Not even Colgate Whitening would achieve that kind of gleam. Either he was wearing dentures, or he'd had his teeth capped.
She smiled at the ridiculous direction of her thoughts, and he mistook the gesture for an invitation. Reaching for her hand, he bowed slightly, his dry lips lingering a bit too long against her skin. "I am Hakan Celik." He straightened, his manners courtly, his dark hair and complexion making him seem exotic and slightly menacing, despite the smile.
Perhaps it was the fact that he was staring at her cleavage— what there was of it—or maybe it was just the night in general; either way, Melissa suddenly wanted nothing more than to escape.
"There is dancing." Celik smiled. "Perhaps you will allow me?" The question was obviously only a formality, his hand tightening on her arm as he led her over to the dance floor. Short of starting an international incident, she really didn't see any way out of it. At least she'd be concentrating on fending off his roaming hands rather than on the Englishman across the room. Her mother had been right—there was a silver lining to every situation, you just had to find it.
The orchestra was playing something Sinatra and she allowed herself to be twirled around the room. Actually Celik wasn't half-bad as a dancer, if she overlooked his palm warm against her butt.
"You work in New York?" As conversation went it wasn't exactly sparkling, but then Melissa had always found it difficult to be charming and dance at the same time.
"Yes." Celik smiled, the white teeth highlighted against his dark skin. "I am with the Turkish Consulate." He said it as if he expected her to be impressed, and so she nodded with what she hoped was an engaging smile. "And you?"
"I'm just a photographer." Definitely an understatement, but then she wasn't really a toot-your-own-horn kind of girl.
"Ah," Celik said dismissively, twirling her around, his hand massaging now.
Indignant, Melissa started to pull away, but then she saw Nigel dancing with the blonde, his smile warm and intimate. Gritting her teeth, Melissa tipped back her head, laughing as if Celik was the most charming man on the planet.
Two could play at that game.
The couples passed on a glide and Melissa shot Nigel a saccharine smile before batting her eyes at Celik in what she hoped looked like complete adoration.
The man, to his credit, looked a bit nonplussed but countered immediately with a slow and somewhat lecherous grin. "You are very beautiful, Ms. Pope."
"You know my name?" Flirtation vanished, as alarm flared.
"Of course. I make it my business to know the names of all beautiful women." His smile was slick. And although he was handsome in an Omar Sharif way, he was a little too polished for her tastes. Not to mention amorous.
She realized too late that he'd maneuvered them into a darkened corner of the room separated from the rest of the dancers by a row of potted palms. She shivered and tried to move from his embrace.
"I really should be getting back to my sister."
"Not quite yet, surely?" Celik's hands tightened on her shoulders, and he pulled her close, his teeth flashing in the shadows as he smiled. "We've only just been acquainted, and I am certain there is much for us to learn yet."
The sentence had a decidedly sexual overtone. Melissa wasn't fond of making scenes, but she'd happily knee the man in the groin before allowing him to take advantage.
She cursed her own stupidity in letting herself be set up. Normally she'd have gone to all extremes to avoid someone like Celik, but she'd allowed her fractured feelings for Nigel to color her judgment, a stupid game of adolescent one-upmanship taking precedence over good sense.
Celik's breath was hot against her cheek, and with a sigh, she gave one last try for diplomacy. "I really do need to go."
"Not without a kiss." He bent closer, and she could smell brandy on his breath. Great, a lothario and a lush.
"Hopefully, this is going to hurt you more than it will me." Twisting to the right, she lifted her knee, and was just short of contact when Nigel's voice interrupted the action.
"Darling," he said, his cultured voice washing over her like a tonic, "I've been searching everywhere." His tone was proprietary as he slipped an arm around her, Celik's surprise giving way to anger.
The diplomat's eyes narrowed to slits, as he glared at the two of them.
"I'm sure you'll excuse us?" Nigel didn't wait for an answer, leading her away from the palms, back onto the dance floor, pulling her closer than absolutely necessary.
It seemed she'd fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire.
The music was slow, sort of undulating, and Melissa let her body lean into his, the contact too exquisite for words. They danced in silence for what seemed like hours, but was, of course, only minutes, and then he leaned close, his breath stirring the loose tendrils of her hair.
"You haven't thanked me yet."
His words broke through the languorous fog and she stiffened. "That's because I didn't need your help."
"Right." There was laughter in his voice, and the sound of it scratched along her nerve endings like a cat on tin. "You definitely had everything in control. One more minute and the man would have been howling bloody murder as he clutched the Turkish jewels. Not exactly discreet behavior."
Despite herself, she smiled. "Sometimes it takes a knee to get the point across."
"You should have known better anyway. Surely your radar is more finely tuned than that?"
"I was a bit distracted." She spoke slowly through clenched teeth; the man, as usual, caused equal measures of exasperation and exultation.
Nigel smiled, his eyes knowing, and pulled her closer.
"I thought we were supposed to be staying away from each other? Professional distance and all that."
"Well, I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I'd allowed that man to get his hands on you."
"I'm not sure that gentleman is a word I'd have chosen to describe you."
"You wound me," Nigel said, the words belied by the laughter still crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Besides, you know as well as I do that sometimes being together is the best way to prove that there's nothing suspicious going on. And unless someone is onto you, I hardly think this is the place for prying eyes."
He was right, of course. But that didn't make contact between them any easier to bear. The music slowed, and they stopped moving, merely swaying in place, Melissa's breathing coming in short gasps. He bent his head, and she closed her eyes, knowing she was going to regret contact but completely unable to do anything about it.
Fortunately, fate had other things in mind, the shrill sound of her cell phone shattering the moment. She fumbled for her purse with shaking fingers, holding the flip phone to her ear.
"Melissa." Ed's voice was tinny sounding, cell-phone reception in the city an iffy thing at best. "I need to meet with you."
"Now?" she squeaked, Nigel's hand warm on her elbow.
"Yes." He was fading out. "It's imperative." He rattled off an address, and said he'd meet her in an hour. Melissa clicked off the phone.
"Something important, I take it?"
Too much had happened too fast, and Melissa, quite frankly, was having a hard time sorting through it. But whatever else was going on, there had been no mistaking the urgency in Ed's voice. "I've got to go," she said with a nod.
"This very moment?" Nigel frowned, as if he didn't quite believe her.
"Yes." She forced a smile she certainly didn't feel. "Duty calls. It was wonderful seeing you again. But if you'll excuse me, I really do have to go. I need to find my sister and tell her I'm leaving." Now that was a recitation worthy of Miss Manners.
Nigel tightened his hand on her elbow, his eyes searching hers. "You're sure everything is all right?"
The man of her proverbial dreams had just come crashing back into her life and once again, she was going to walk out the door without looking back. Nothing was okay—but she wasn't going to share the fact. "It's fine. Just part of being a photographer. They say jump—"
"And you say how high," he finished for her, still looking unconvinced.
"Exactly." They stood for a moment, their bodies revealing things their tongues weren't interested in verbalizing. Then with a resolute sigh, Melissa broke contact. "I really do have to go."
Turning away from him, she blindly pushed her way through the crowd, intent only on escaping the room before she lost it completely. The air outside was freezing, but it was nearly a half block from the consulate before she realized she'd not only forgotten her coat, she'd forgotten to tell her sister she was leaving.
She turned around, then stopped herself. She'd call Alicia from the taxi. Ed was waiting, and besides, if she'd learned nothing else tonight, it was the incontrovertible fact that as far as Nigel Ferris was concerned, she hadn't the slightest hope of controlling her emotions. And so, like Cinderella, she'd run from the ball. Only she wasn't interested in having the prince find her. No, far better to simply disappear into the night.
CHAPTER FIVE