Читать книгу The Cinderella Mission - Catherine Mann - Страница 11

Couple?

Ethan dropped back into his chair. “A couple?”

Just as he chose his women with their eyes wide open, he preferred his partners with more experience. Kelly sat across from him, her peaches-and-cream complexion shouting innocence. She studied him with those doe eyes for three seconds before her head fell forward. All that sable hair glided onto the open file in front of her.

Hatch couldn’t really expect to throw her into a Code Delta with only her entry-level training. Ethan’s instincts screamed a red alert. A missing agent linked to missing jewels? Something didn’t add up.

The ARIES director cupped his mug with both hands. “The couple cover is common, but effective. Hopefully you’ll be able to avert a heist attempt prior to the gala. If not, I need you both in place. Taylor’s facility in European languages will prove invaluable.”

Fan-freaking-tastic.

He would get to spend the next two weeks exchanging language-of-love quips with her.

Kelly looked up. “Sounds like a practical application of my specialty.”

Her do-me-honey tones wrapped around languages with as much power as they twined through a man’s libido.

His libido.

Ethan reminded himself to stare squarely at her innocent face for his reminder that the voice was a red herring.

Except her warm brown eyes deepened to onyx with excitement over the impending assignment, and he couldn’t help but wonder if sex would bring the same heat to her eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, I can handle this one alone.”

The spark in Kelly’s eyes muted to muddy brown. Ethan refused to let her wounded-puppy look sway him. He was just thinking of her safety.

Yeah, right. “I don’t need backup. Kelly can perform any language analysis from here without the risk of putting her in the field.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” The director’s restless feet tracked the room, taking him past a line of mementos down one wall that included diplomas from his scientific background. The man had been a grassroots planner in everything from missile programs to genetic testing. “I’m not willing to risk it. Davidson and Juarez will be at your disposal to coordinate anything you need back here at headquarters. Anything.”

Finally the director stopped by a four-drawer safe. Reaching toward the back, he pulled out a bottle of vodka. “Do you know what this is?”

Ethan worked to follow the director’s train of conversation. “Aside from the obvious? No, sir.”

He turned to Kelly. “Taylor?”

She shook her head, staunchly avoiding Ethan.

Hatch held the bottle up to light. “There’s an old tradition in the agency and the military. Many leaders keep a bottle similar to this. Whenever an agent or soldier dies, a toast is lifted in honor. The weight of responsibility is as strong as if a family member has been lost.” He traced his finger along the empty space a quarter way down the bottle as if remembering a face with every shot glass. “I don’t want a drink with Alex Morrow’s name attached.”

Ethan watched remorse flicker through his mentor’s eyes and surrendered to the inevitable reality of two weeks with Kelly. Aside from being honor-bound to protect his fellow operative like family, he owed Hatch for giving him a reason to live after Celia died.

If Hatch needed a kidney, Ethan would start cutting. “Consider Morrow found.”

Hatch nodded. He replaced the bottle with cradling care before turning back to face them, all traces of emotion long gone. The director had returned. “Taylor, this will be your testing ground. Succeed and I’ll expedite your request for upgrade to full operational status.”

She sat straighter, her hair sliding back over her shoulders, swinging along her bulky sweater. “I’m ready for the challenge.”

“Take the afternoon to review the directives uploaded to your computers and let me know if there are any questions.” Hatch stepped behind his desk in tacit dismissal.

Kelly stood, swiping wrinkles from her ankle-length skirt. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Ethan gave himself a three-second window to avoid bumping into her outside the door and rose slowly.

“Ethan?”

Hatch’s voice stalled his steps. Ethan pivoted. “Sir?”

The director pinned him with a calculated look that made Ethan want to check his back for an ambush.

“I realize you’re going above and beyond coming in off R and R. I consider this a personal favor that deserves to be rewarded. I pulled something for you from the CIA archives.” He nudged a battered-looking file forward. “The file on your parents’ deaths.”

The file’s ragged state declared it to be original, copies no doubt scanned and stored. All the same, those dog-eared documents from a time so close to his parents’ deaths brought phantom whispers of deep laughter and lilac cologne. Muddled memories quickly followed of the kidnapping attempt gone wrong that had left his parents dead and Ethan alone except for his father’s sister. He ached to know every detail his mind hadn’t been able to absorb at five years old.

Hatch’s words slowly filtered through the memories. Why would a simple kidnapping attempt on a Fortune 500 offspring warrant CIA classified status?

“Finish this for me, and it’s yours.”

To some it might seem cruel for Hatch to hold that file just out of Ethan’s reach. But he knew the rules of the office and that included nixing emotions to get the job done. He respected the man’s use of all weapons at his disposal, even as he longed to wrestle the file from the director’s desk.

Ethan’s elusive edge returned with a full burn. “I see now how you rose to your position.”

Hatch’s hand fell to rest on the edge of a potted plant beside his desk. “Family is everything.”

Kelly charged toward her cubicle, tears and anger battling for domination. Anger won by a long shot.

How dare Ethan try to ruin her chance with his poorly disguised—hell, blatant—disdain at the prospect of working with her?

She wanted to kick him right in his overblown ego. Instead, she took out her frustrations on her office furniture. She yanked her chair away from her government-issue metal desk and flopped down. A wall calendar grinned back at her with a dimple-butted angel.

Kelly ripped a Post-it Note off a pad and slapped it over Cupid’s face so hard the divider walls shook.

“Problems, sugar?”

Kelly inched her chair back to look at the woman in the next cubicle. “Not really, Carla. Thanks for asking, though.”

No one would suspect the willowy brunette punching away on the keyboard had once been a field operative—until a bullet to the back during dark ops in eastern Europe had left her in a wheelchair. Now she worked with Kelly in the operational support division, developing high-tech toys for the agents she used to stand alongside.

Carla always insisted she enjoyed her new position since operational support had direct contact with field agents, a fact that had soothed Kelly through two years of waiting for her chance. Hundreds of agency workers never knew the identity of a single agent. In fact, many agents never knew other agents.

All the same, Kelly knew that hadn’t stopped the yearning in Carla to step into the field any more than it had in her. Suddenly Kelly felt damned small for being angry when she had the very thing Carla wanted. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Men can be a real pain.”

“Men?”

“I couldn’t help but notice Ethan Williams joined your meeting. I assume he’s the reason you’re out of sorts.”

Carla Juarez’s pitying look stoked Kelly’s temper back to life. This ridiculous crush had gone on long enough.

With impeccable timing, Ethan rounded the corner. Of course, he would choose now to make his appearance.

And walk toward her.

There’d been a day when she’d waited for him to lounge on the corner of her desk. She’d lived for the occasional invitation to join him for a sandwich in the cafeteria where they would discuss his latest overseas jaunt. Not today.

Not anymore.

Ethan cruised to a stop beside her. The spicy mix of aftershave and masculine sweat wafted her way. Her heart pitched. Damn.

“Kelly, I guess we should get together and review before meeting with Director Hatch later.” He sat on the corner of her desk like countless times before.

“Whatever you say.” She scraped stray paper clips into her hand and dumped them into the magnetic holder as if cleaning her desk might somehow restore her chaotic emotions to order. “You’re the hotshot agent. I’m just a desk jockey.”

Confusion flashed in those sapphire eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The docu-binder suddenly looked like a not-so-shabby weapon after all if she used it to clock him upside his thick head. She spun her chair to meet him face on—and came a little too close to his knees for her comfort level. “Could you have been any more obvious in there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Quit being dense.” She inched her chair back. “You know exactly what I mean.”

His face blanked. “Help me out here.”

She forged ahead. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me?”

Still he didn’t move or speak. No emotion showed at all, darn his strong, stubborn chin. He was going to make her spell it out.

“That you don’t want to work with me.”

He scooped up her Eiffel Tower paperweight, studying it as if the snowglobe held answers. “You’re a top-notch informations agent, but you’re still operational support. You’re a rookie in field craft. If you can’t pull your own load, it puts me in danger.”

That gave her pause. The story of the mythological Aries teased through her mind, how the ram was sacrificed after his mission to save the Greek twins. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Ethan died or ended up with a bullet in his back because of her. Old insecurities marched over her.

Careful, Kelly. You know how easily you break things.

Watch your step, Kelly. Don’t trample Mama’s flowers.

After a litany of warnings, the dance had left her feet altogether until she found her sedentary refuge in books, the one place she never stumbled.

Cubicle walls threatened to close in on her with a familiar loneliness. Something she refused to let happen again. She wasn’t thirteen anymore, and no one would ever steal the dance from her steps again.

Kelly snatched the paperweight from Ethan and slammed it on her desk. Did he even remember he’d bought it for her? Was he laughing inside over her keeping it?

She launched to her feet. “Director Hatch wouldn’t have put me on the assignment if he didn’t have faith in my abilities.”

The cubicle closed in on them both now in a totally different way. She tried to inch away from the insistent heat of him radiating toward her belly.

Kelly backed farther until she bumped the wall. A picture on the other side rattled, then thumped. Kelly winced at her clumsiness. She would apologize to Carla later.

Ethan rose from the desk, brows pinched and his eyes filled with concern or sympathy. She didn’t know which but couldn’t bear either.

She’d had enough of that from Carla and everyone else in the office. No more hiding behind her hair and her fears. Kelly flipped the too-convenient camouflage of her brown mane over one shoulder and met him nose-to-nose.

Well, nose-to-neck actually, given their height difference. “Can’t you at least be honest with me?”

“About what?”

Damn him, always the agent on the job answering a question with a question. She would give him some answers guaranteed to knock him on his fine butt. “About why you don’t want to work with me.”

His jaw flexed with his gritted teeth for a few telling seconds too long.

Fine. She wanted it out there and acknowledged so they could sweep it away. “It’s because of that ridiculous moment before you left for Gastonia.”

His head angled toward her, his voice lowering. “Kelly, there’s no need to—”

“My work is the most important thing in my life.” This assignment offered hope for finding her voice. She refused to give ground, even though the scent and heat of him swirled through her until she could have sworn she’d pirouetted herself dizzy. “There’s no great risk in saying you feel the same about your position here. That being the case, there certainly is a need to discuss anything that interferes with job performance.”

He glanced down the length of twenty cubicles, then grabbed her elbow. “Okay, you want to talk, we’ll talk. But not here.”

She jerked free. “Why not here?”

“Geez, Kelly.” The force of his whisper caressed over her. “Do you really want to unroll this for everyone to overhear? Even if they’re polite enough to slap on their dicta-phones, every word spoken in this building is taped.”

“So what?” She rubbed her tingling elbow.

“Kel, I’m just thinking of your feelings here.” He reached toward her hair, then stopped midair.

That ripped it.

There was only so much pity a woman could be expected to take in one day, even a woman well-versed in submerging her feelings. First Ethan in Hatch’s office. Then Carla. Even Cupid in his fuzzy felt heart, mocking her from behind his Post-it Note mask.

She hated the way her body reacted to Ethan almost as much as she hated the new awkwardness between them. She wanted this dead-end infatuation gone so she could move on with her life and her dreams.

Kelly cursed Cupid yet again for threatening to ruin what should be an incredible day. Nothing, especially not Ethan Williams, would stand in her way. She wasn’t the studious mouse any longer, afraid to leave her room for fear of causing ripples in her mother’s perfect world. She wasn’t the shy student afraid to report a pervert professor to the dean. Time to take charge of her future.

Kelly climbed up onto her chair and filled her lungs for a proper roar.

Ethan watched Kelly climb up on the chair and wondered what he’d missed. He liked to think he understood women, but this had him stumped.

Other than the fact he’d somehow managed to piss her off. A lot.

Fiery resolve crackled from Kelly in surprise heat waves that had Ethan taking a second look to verify what he saw. Back straight, she smoothed her skirt, tugged the hem of her sweater—outlining the most perfect pair of breasts Ethan had ever seen.

Well, damn. His mouth dried right up. She definitely had his attention.

“Hey, gang,” Kelly projected down the line of cubicles.

He tore his gaze back up to her face where it belonged.

“You all know Ethan Williams, right?”

Heads popped over the cubicle walls, prairie-dog style. Carla Juarez rolled back six inches.

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t know that I have the hots for him?”

Ethan choked on his tongue.

All eyes zeroed in on him. Silence reigned supreme. Ethan resisted the urge to squirm like a spider pinned to a science-project board.

“No? Nobody?” Kelly turned on her chair, her skirt swirling around her scrunched socks and tennis shoes as she checked for the consensus. “That’s what I thought. Can you believe he only just figured it out? Doesn’t say much for his operational skills, if you ask me.”

He had to stop this train wreck in the making. “Kelly, you don’t want to do this.”

She peered down at him with eyes full of steely black resolve. “Since when are you an expert on what I want, Agent Doesn’t-Have-a-Clue?” She returned her attention to her captivated audience. “Now, I suspect I’m not the only one who’s appreciated his fine bod. I’m just not too sly about checking out a man.”

She jumped down from her chair and planted her hands in the small of Ethan’s back. Her shove propelled him into the aisle with surprising strength.

Ethan shot a frown over his shoulder. “Kelly—”

“Of course, what’s not to drool over? Killer-blue eyes. And all that hair.” She whistled long and soft. “Man, I’ll be sorry to see it go.” Arms crossed over her chest, she circled him in a slow perusal. “Hmmm, let’s talk body specifics.”

“Let’s not.”

“He’s got nice legs. Runner’s legs. And those washboard abs—” She pivoted to the woman in the cubicle beside her. “What do you think, Carla?”

The woman’s gaze raked him with bold appreciation before she gave Kelly a wink and a nod. Heat burned over him. Damn it, he absolutely was not blushing.

“Time to go.” Ethan grabbed Kelly’s arm and started hauling her toward the hall, all the while trying to ignore the soft give of womanly flesh beneath his hand.

He may have been dragging her, but her straight back made it clear she was walking tall at her own pace. She called over her shoulder, “What’s the verdict on his butt, Carla? Pretty fine, huh?”

The low rumble of laughs swallowed any answer, laughs from everybody including one from Robert Davidson, who lounged just inside the door. Kelly’s eyes turned razor-sharp again in a warning Ethan picked up two seconds too late.

She jerked loose and stood her ground. “But of course we all know his butt’s great…since he shows it often enough.”

Uh-oh. Ethan jammed his hands in his pockets and prepared to weather the storm.

“As a matter of fact, he was showing that awesome ass of his about four minutes ago. You see, the thing is, now that he finally figured out I’m attracted to him, he assumes his hot body is so appealing it will render me incapable of working with him. Now silly little ole me thinks I’ve managed to do my job quite well for two years with him around. Somehow he must have forgotten that.”

Kelly advanced to stand toe-to-toe with Ethan. “Just so everyone’s clear, you’re a good-looking guy. No question. But you know what else? Big deal. Get over yourself.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder in a tidal wave of silk that caught him square in the libido before she whipped around him and out the door.

Her tennis shoes thudded all the way down the corridor.

Davidson applauded. “Well done.”

Low chuckles echoed as everyone ducked back into cubicles.

Davidson shoved a hand through his damp hair. “Nice to see a woman have you on the run for a change.”

Kelly? Have him on the run? Ethan didn’t like the sound of that at all. And he wasn’t on the run, damn it, just off his game today. “I was only protecting her feelings.”

“And instead you hurt them.”

That stung more than it should have. “Looks that way.”

His fellow operative nodded toward an open meeting room and gestured for Ethan to follow. “So you’re going to be working with her?”

Ethan paused, then closed the door to the windowless room. Davidson would be briefed soon enough anyway—and probably laugh himself sore.

“The couple-cover deal.” Ethan paced around the room, restless energy fueling his feet.

Davidson tugged a chair from the conference table and dropped into it. “Tough gig, working with a woman you’re attracted to.”

Weary eyes said Davidson had already taken that walk.

Stopping beside a Power Point projector, Ethan readjusted the cord with too much attention. “Who says I’m attracted to her?”

“You’re not?”

Ethan blocked the image of her breasts straining against her sweater, the memory of her voice flowing over him in the car while he dressed. “She’s a friend. Or at least she was.”

“Whatever.” Davidson worked a hand along his left thigh where he’d been hit two years ago. “Sure will kill that playboy image of yours to be seen with her.”

Defensiveness crept through Ethan. He’d never thought of Davidson as shallow. Couldn’t the guy see the patrician cheekbones Kelly almost managed to hide under all that magnificent hair? And she could layer on enough clothes for an ice storm and it wouldn’t disguise the curve of those breasts he suspected were as incredibly generous as the woman.

He opened his mouth to set Davidson straight.

Then stopped.

Rumor had it the man was still reeling from some kind of relationship on his near-fatal assignment in Rebelia. The last thing Ethan wanted was for this guy to go seeking some of Kelly’s sweet, gentle warmth.

Not that she’d been particularly sweet three minutes ago when discussing his butt with a room full of co-workers.

If she channeled half that fire into watching his back, they’d be fine. He had to admire the spark of her rampage. The office would talk for years over that one.

She sure knew how to make her point. A smile slid over his face.

“Just a friend, huh?” A smirk twitched Davidson’s mouth.

Ethan’s smile fell away. “Why do you want to know?”

“Back off, rich boy.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I had enough of you on the basketball court this morning. I’ve got a point here if you’ll quit thinking with your libido long enough to listen.”

“Then spit it out in plain English so us slow folks can understand.”

“She’s not your usual type. No one outside this office knows you two have even met, so the couple deal is going to stir questions when you need to keep a low profile.”

Why the hell hadn’t he thought of all that back in Hatch’s office when he needed to persuade his boss to ditch this plan of action? Because it never crossed his mind people wouldn’t believe he could be attracted to her.

Damn. He was in serious trouble here. “We’ll just have to be convincing.”

“She’s still going to need some polish if you expect to pull this off.”

Fine in theory, if it wouldn’t bring the fires of hell down on his head. Or worse yet, some kind of wounded-doe look to her eyes.

He’d been around enough women to know that while a man might appreciate individual assets, women had the unerring knack for zeroing in on the least perceived imperfection. Heaven help the man who failed the how does this dress look? test.

As much as he wanted to protect Kelly, Ethan knew Davidson had a point. Other less-discerning eyes might not appreciate her allure. “How the hell am I supposed to take care of that without hurting her feelings? The last thing I need is for her to climb on the roof with a bullhorn to discuss my ass again.”

“That’s your problem, pal, not mine. Good luck.” Davidson stood and rolled the chair back under the table. He headed out the door, laughing under his breath. “Washboard abs…”

Not a reassuring farewell salute to a man with a missing mojo.

ARIES could provide Kelly with all the guns and explosives imaginable. But the social world he cruised would chew her alive if he didn’t give her a whole different set of “tools” to protect herself.

His world.

Suddenly Ethan knew the one person he could trust to help Kelly without hurting her.

He just wished he could say the same for himself.

Kelly hunched over her desk, ignoring the persistent ache in her back. Her computer screen hummed in the late-night air, her only company the whir of a janitor’s vacuum and a lone light from under Hatch’s office door.

Nuances of verb tenses swirled through her head, soothing her with the familiar oblivion of work. She was in control here, with her languages and academics. If only she could find the same control away from her books.

She’d made a fool of herself this afternoon, proving full well she didn’t deserve this assignment. Not that Director Hatch had listened when she’d tried to bow out later.

Kelly whipped away the grit in her eyes and reached for her mug of herbal tea. She blew into the steamy heat, hints of raspberry steaming from the mug. She stared at the glowing words on the screen from an intercepted missive. The rural Rebelian dialect, a mix of German and Russian, seemed to be discussing some kind of sapphire. A jewel? Or the color itself?

The color of Ethan’s eyes.

She screeched those thoughts to a complete halt. Just a crush, she reminded herself.

Her nose itched with the phantom scent of masculine cologne and sweat mingling with her raspberry tea. A shiver tingled through her and her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled the memory of Ethan.

So real.

Too real.

Her eyes snapped open.

A shadow fell across her desk. She didn’t look up.

“So you really like my butt?” Ethan’s rumbling voice filled her workspace.

Mortification seared her. She scrolled through the text on her computer screen as if he hadn’t even spoken.

He sat on the edge of her desk as he’d done at least a hundred times before. “Well, I like your smile. And I’m mad as hell at myself for having done something to take it away.”

Damn, he was good. Already she could feel her anger melting like a bowl of her favorite rocky road ice cream left in the sun.

“You’ve earned this assignment, Kelly. I had no right to tamper with that.”

She studied her still fingers on the keyboard and mumbled, “As if you could.”

“Ah, that’s right. I need to ‘get over myself.’”

His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more appealing and she could almost hate him for that. Sure he showed that fine butt of his on occasion, but once her anger had cooled she knew he’d been trying to protect her feelings—in his own man-dense kind of way.

Sort of sweet, actually. And gorgeous. And smelling so good she wanted to crawl over the desk to bury her face in his jacket.

Ethan hitched his knee farther on her desk and moved closer. “I looked over the data on Morrow’s disappearance this afternoon and came to a conclusion.”

He might as well have dangled a carrot in front of her. No way could she resist. “And?”

“Hatch was right about us as a team.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“I’m okay with foreign languages conversationally.” Ethan scooped up her paperweight again. “Written translations, however, are not my strong suit. And I sure as hell don’t speak as many languages as you do.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you need me.”

Ethan went still. His eyes fell from her face, lower. He couldn’t be looking at her breasts?

He glanced away, replacing the paperweight. “A good field operative needs to know his or her limitations. Which means you have to accept I have something you need, too.”

“You do?” she asked, her breasts suddenly warm and heavy beneath her crossed arms.

He swallowed, long and slow, before his eyes locked firmly on her face. “Things could turn ugly at that summit ball. You have to be able to defend yourself. I need to know you can defend yourself or I won’t be able to concentrate on my end of the operation.”

“Okay.” Feet planted, she heeled her office chair back for distance from the draw of those sapphire eyes. “I’ll log in extra training hours.”

“Not good enough. If you’re going to be ready in two weeks, it’ll take more than a few extra agency courses. I require a personal reassurance my partner can protect herself, and even watch my back, too. I’ll only have that if I take part in the training 24/7.”

Kelly scrambled to follow the conversational thread with the scent of him filling her tiny cubicle. She needed air. She needed space.

She needed another partner.

Ethan canted forward. “I think we should live together.”