Читать книгу One Sizzling Night - Jo Leigh - Страница 11

2

“YOU’RE GOING TO miss your flight, and you’ll feel horrible and probably do something self-destructive like flirt with someone wildly unsuitable who’ll end up stealing your wallet.”

“That happened one time.” Logan McCabe frowned at his sister. His advice to anyone who wanted a nice, sane life? Don’t have a sister. Actually, it should be don’t have his sister. Lisa was newly engaged and particularly chipper these days. He couldn’t wait to get to Boston. “Would you stop interrupting? I just want to make sure I’ve crossed all the t’s.”

“Now you’re blaming me for your jitters? What happened to the old nerves of steel? Mr. Former CIA Covert Ops—”

He looked up from his business proposal to catch her gaze. “Lisa, you know better.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, wincing. “I won’t do that again. I swear.”

No one else was in the office. He knew she hadn’t meant anything by what she said. But he worried that some day she’d kid around in front of the wrong person and they’d both be in serious trouble. The blame fell on him. He and Lisa were close, but he’d had no business telling her about his work for the CIA. He hadn’t told her anything specific, but he should have kept his mouth shut, period.

She rose from one of the visitors’ chairs in his Lower East Side office. The furniture was fine, if you didn’t care about comfort. But then anyone sitting across from him in this office wouldn’t give a damn about comfort or style or anything so trivial. He met clients elsewhere. The office was reserved for veterans like himself. The hardcore, superbly trained members of the Navy SEALs, Green Berets, Delta Force, Twenty-fourth Special Tactics, or Army Rangers. Some of whom, like him, had been recruited by the CIA to take on high-risk missions the military couldn’t perform. But the guys he helped, the ones who were just returning from active duty, all shared the monumental task of learning how to live among civilians. Becoming a civilian was, as far as Logan was concerned, impossible.

It had taken a long time, but finally he’d realized he could utilize his experience to make a difference. For himself. And for the others who had the best training in the world, but no place to put their skills to work. “I wish you were coming with me,” he told Lisa, mostly to let her know he wasn’t pissed. “Each time I talk to Sam it seems she’s leaped ahead another ten years. Her equipment is so advanced it would blow your mind. And she’s one of the best when it comes to spyware.”

“I’m more interested in that apartment of hers. It sounds very sci-fi.”

“It’s still a prototype, but yeah, it should be interesting. Hey, what time is it?”

“Too tired to turn your wrist? You’ve got an hour before you have to be at the airport.”

Rolling his eyes wasn’t something he did with his sister. He’d never get anything else done if he started. But the urge never died.

“You want to rehearse your presentation again?” she asked. “Or go over your pitch for Holstrom?”

Logan had agreed to give a talk so that he could get the word out about his model for staffing, but now he was sorry. It was critical to win the security contract from Ian Holstrom. The rest could wait. “If I lost my PowerPoint tomorrow, I’d be able to give the spiel in my sleep.”

“Does that mean you’re worried about Holstrom?”

He nodded. “There are two other top outfits gunning for the contract, and both of them are established in the field.”

“You’re established,” she said. “You’ve overseen three major operations already, and you’ve only been doing this for two years.”

Logan leaned back until he felt the lumbar support on his big leather chair settle into the sweet spot. “Two years versus ten?”

“Didn’t you tell me Holstrom wants new blood?”

“That’s what he said. I have no idea if he meant it.”

“Presuming he didn’t, what would you do?”

He gave her question some thought, but didn’t share his suspicion that Holstrom might be blowing smoke about the competition. Yeah, the two other companies had great track records but they didn’t have the kind of field experience Logan had, nor did they have his insight into the type of man with the skills of a special-ops soldier. Holstrom had been clear that he wanted only the best for the most critical jobs. Not just a bunch of mercenaries. But he didn’t blame Holstrom for using the threat of competitors. That was just business. But in case it wasn’t a ploy, Logan was determined not to get too smug. Too many people were depending on him.

“Nothing very different,” he said in answer to Lisa. “I’d put more emphasis on the fact that I only recruit spec-ops vets for critical assignments. That everyone on the team has mandatory counseling and ongoing training in tactics, advanced firearms and physical fitness.”

“Okay, then. You’ve thought of everything, and you’ll blow his socks off,” she said. “Now, listen up. You’ll be in Boston for six days. You’re going to want to change your ticket to come back early, but please don’t. The last time you took some real time off was...wait a minute. I’ll remember soon. Oh, yeah, freshman year at MIT? When you and your friends went to Cozumel?”

“Yes. Okay. I get it.”

“No,” she said, and now she was standing in front of him, her hands planted above his big desk calendar, her face too close for comfort. “I don’t think you do,” she said. “Dr. Price told you to take some time off. I’d bet all your money that he meant more than two lousy days. You need to take care of yourself if you’re going to take care of your veterans, Logan. Be an example, not a cautionary tale. Remember what you told me when I was getting back on my feet? You gave me the very touching brotherly advice to get laid once in a while.”

Logan smiled. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“Oh, please. You wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass if you were.” She gave him that soft look of sisterly concern that made him want to go to the airport early. “Besides, how is Mike ever going to learn how to take over operations if you never leave him alone to run things?”

“Fine.” He rubbed a hand over his face. Mike, a former army ranger, had been with them a year now and was adjusting exceptionally well.

“Give me your word you won’t find a reason to come back early.”

“I can’t do that. But I promise I’ll do my best to get some R & R.”

“All right. As long as you’re serious about making the effort.”

He knew she was right. Working nonstop for as long as he had wasn’t in his best interest. But, truth be told, he hadn’t figured out how to turn off in the way she meant. It wasn’t that simple. Years of covert work where there were no days off—no seconds off—had instilled in him pathways of thinking, of being. Going to the supermarket could be an ordeal. The first year back he hadn’t been able to make it through a quick shop without wanting to pull his weapon or call for backup. Things were much better now, but not easy.

Lisa understood, though. She was a former cop and had difficulty in the same arena. But now that she was with Daniel, she seemed more at ease.

“I know you love me to pieces,” she said. “We’ll be fine here. And you’ll do great. Oh, and by the way, please tell the famous Sam that I’m going with you next time to stay in that smart apartment of hers.”

“Neither of us could afford to stay there after this beta test phase is finished.”

“Way to burst every balloon in the world, Logan.”

“I’m valued for my ability to ruin people’s day.”

“You’re valued because you’re amazing,” she said.

He had no idea where his kid sister got her ideas. He wasn’t amazing. He was simply good at his work. Because he remembered what it had been like to have no purpose. No use for his skills. It was like being in solitary confinement without hope of parole.

* * *

BY THE TIME Logan reached Boston, he couldn’t wait to grab a hot shower and drink a nice cold beer. Even so, after he got out of the cab he paused to take in his surroundings. The street itself consisted of old brownstone row houses, except for Sam’s place. Her building was set back, with a brick walkway and heavy trees that lowered the June warmth by at least ten degrees. Sam was lucky to have found it.

He’d heard from his college buddy Rick that the apartment was fully intuitive, and damn, Logan needed something to help him relax. The short flight from New York had made him grumpy as hell. He hated commercial flying. Everything was too crowded, too expensive, too noisy.

And while he’d tried the mindfulness exercises the company’s shrink had taught him, the kid behind him kicking his seat the entire flight had turned his meditation into a long list of reasons why he should never have children.

As soon as he opened Sam’s front door, perfectly placed lights came on in the apartment. The temperature was a few degrees cooler than outside, without a trace of humidity. He immediately liked the open floor plan with the foyer spilling into a room that was both modern and welcoming, with expensive-looking artwork on the walls. But the art couldn’t compete with the magic happening inside the walls—they changed color as he walked through the sleekly furnished living room.

Just to make sure he hadn’t lost his mind, which was a legitimate concern, he went back to the marble foyer. Sure enough, the wall colors shifted from a pale blue to a paler blue, then a faint green and finally beige. When he returned to the living room, it was different again. This time the walls turned from pale pink to violet.

It wasn’t just a gimmick, either. Sam had explained that the walls contained body sensors, and Logan really did feel calmer as he walked into the open kitchen. It was high-end in every way, and when he opened the pantry door, he realized he could stay there for a month without missing a single meal.

Sam was going to make a fortune with this place. He found the master suite at the end of a short hallway. It was huge and the bed was a California king. Man, it just kept getting better. He dumped his duffel bag on the bed and put his computer case on the floor.

Goddamn, one look at the shower insured he’d be taking his time. No door to speak of, a boatload of sparkly tile, and more jets than La Guardia. All that was missing was an ice-cold beer...which was probably in that industrial-sized refrigerator in the kitchen. He’d have to go grab that first.

Yep, he found the beer. His favorite brand, too. There was a lot of delicious-looking food in the fridge, but there was only one thing he cared about at the moment. He popped the top and took a drink, a burst of hops hitting his nose. When he lowered the can, he froze.

A woman stood in the living room staring back at him.

Tall. Blonde. Gorgeous.

And naked. Almost.

A white towel covered most of her breasts, but if she bent in pretty much any direction...

Looking away would be the right thing to do. Only, he didn’t know who she was or why she was there.

Logan wiped his mouth. “I think you might be in the wrong apartment.”

“No,” she said, weirdly calm for a woman wearing only a towel and facing a strange man. “I’m sure I’m just where I’m supposed to be.”

“Well, hell, you’d better be a hologram.” Logan nearly choked at the crazy thought. “Although Sam did say the apartment came with everything.”

“Excuse me?” The woman narrowed her eyes. They looked green but he had to get closer to be sure.

“Are you...real?” He moved a step toward her. With all of Sam’s tech voodoo he honestly couldn’t tell. “Can I touch you?”

“Not if you want to live to finish that beer.”

Logan smiled. “Sam knows I like feisty women.”

“I wish she’d warned me that you’re delusional.”

Okay, so she knew Sam or at least that Sam was a she. “What am I supposed to think with you greeting me in a towel?” He checked out her legs. Man, they were long. “For the record, no towel would’ve been better,” he said and took a pull of beer. Then swallowed quickly. “Wait. It was Lisa. She sent you, didn’t she?”

“No one sent me.” She inched back, daring him with a glare. “I’m beginning to seriously hope you aren’t Logan.”

“Guilty as charged.” He didn’t know what to think at the moment. Except that since she knew Sam and who he was, she probably wasn’t trespassing. “What’s your name?”

“Kensey. I’m here for the conference but I couldn’t find a room anywhere in the city,” she said, shifting slightly to her right. “You’re early.”

If she moved another centimeter, he’d be seeing her religion. It was bad enough that the image of her shapely legs was now burned into his brain, and all of his conversational abilities had been overtaken by the potential movement of that small towel.

He needed that shower ASAP. Or ten minutes of privacy. Either one would do.

“Who’s Lisa?”

“My kid sister.”

“And you think she sent you a hooker?” The woman raised an eyebrow. A lovely eyebrow. All the parts of her that he could see were lovely. He doubted he’d ever used or thought that particular word before, but this gorgeous blonde in the tiny towel brought out the poet in him. Among other things. “Interesting family,” she said, with a look that didn’t just dismiss him. It dismissed him with prejudice.

“I don’t have to play nice with you,” he said. “I have no idea who you are. Until I speak to the owner of this apartment, I get to assume anything that makes sense to me.” He moved a few inches to the right and said, “Call Sam.”

Just like that, a screen appeared on the wall behind her. It looked like a large computer monitor with Sam’s company logo in the center. He could hear a phone ringing, the call signal created by the Skype program.

Seconds later, Sam herself was in the center of the screen. Her eyes widened as she got a load of Kensey. “Damn it, Logan. I’ve been trying to reach you. What the hell’s wrong with your cell phone?”

“Nothing.”

“Look again.”

He retrieved his phone from his jacket. It was off. He’d switched it off on the plane in a vain attempt to get some sleep, and had forgotten to turn it back on. That was worrisome on several levels. He turned the damn thing on. “Why were you trying to reach me?”

His cell phone beeped five times in a row. He slid it into his pocket while avoiding looking at the seminaked woman beside him.

“To tell you that you’d have company for the week. I assume you’ve introduced yourselves?”

“Not exactly.”

“Look, Logan, she’s one of the good guys. I know I promised you the place to yourself, but this is kind of an emergency, so please be okay with it.”

He hadn’t decided if he was happy or not, but if Sam said Kensey was good people, he believed her. “You gonna be around?”

Sam frowned. “Aren’t I always?”

Sam wasn’t her usual cheerful self. Normally, she never left a conversation before filling him in on what she was up to. In detail. He rarely understood what she was talking about because Sam was in a class by herself. He wrote her mood off to the security conference. She had a lot of spyware—not just for computers, but for equipment that men like him needed if they wanted to stay alive. She must be up to her neck in clients. “I’ll call you later. And Sam? The place is unreal.”

That made her smile. The definition on the wall monitor was so incredible that he could count the freckles on her nose.

She turned her attention to Kensey. “Sorry about this,” she said. “Yesterday and today have been nuts. I’m normally completely on top of things.”

“I understand. No problem.”

“You’ll get along great with Logan. He’s interesting. And funny.” She glanced at something behind her. “Sorry, I’ve got to run.”

With that, she vanished from the monitor. And the monitor went with her.

“Satisfied?” his guest asked.

“So you know Sam. And you’re here for the conference?”

“Yes.”

“Who do you work for?”

“Neil—” She pushed the hair off her right shoulder, making her appear even more naked. “My boss and I have parted ways. I’m currently freelancing. I understand you’re military?”

“I was, but we’ve also parted ways.”

“Do tell,” she said, moving her hips half a millimeter to the right. “I can’t wait to see if this is the part where you get interesting and/or funny.”

Good thing he’d had a lifetime of training with his sister so he was able to sidestep that comment like a crack on the sidewalk. “Sure you’re not chilly in that outfit?”

Her lips lifted a fraction of a second before settling back into a straight line. “If it bothers you, I’ll go change right now.”

“No. Nope. Doesn’t bother me at all.” He smiled. Tried to remember what she’d asked him about. And wondered how he could move over to where he’d be covered from the erection down without making it obvious that was what he was doing.

“How was your breakup with the military?” she asked.

“Amicable. For the most part.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to the conference because you’re in the security business?”

He nodded. “Cliché as that is. Even civilians need protection.”

“That’s very noble of you.”

“It keeps bread on the table and beer in the fridge. What about you? I think you would make one hell of a personal guard.”

She laughed, her eyes bright with surprise. Green. Definitely green. “I’d be terrible at it. I’ve got no training at all.”

He couldn’t help shaking his head. With those looks and that insane calm in a situation that would make anyone else run for cover, he imagined she’d do just fine. “What do you have training in?”

“You know what? I’m getting chilly. So, we’ll talk again, Logan...?”

“McCabe.”

“Nice to meet you,” she said. “But the reason I came out here was to get a snack. However, I’m reasonably certain that my derriere is not completely covered. I’d appreciate it if you turned away and closed your eyes.”

He let out a deep breath. “Depends. Have you ever heard of Pliny the Elder?”

“Ancient Roman big shot?” The way she looked at him, as if he were a complete wacko made him relax completely. “Wrote the first encyclopedia?”

“Yes. And if you see any bottles in the fridge that look like this—” he turned his beer so she could see the name “—they’re for me.”

She sighed and added a little head shake. “Awesome. A guy who doesn’t like to share. Fine. I won’t touch your beer.”

Walking casually toward the fridge, as if she went to work five days a week wearing a towel and nothing else, she passed him, close and slow. He got a whiff of something dark, sweet and hot. Then she twirled her finger for him to turn his back.

Sadly, he did as she asked. “I’m serious about that beer.”

The pantry door swung open behind him. Something rustled, the door closed and then the fridge opened and closed in quick succession. Kensey walked by him again, leaving her scent in her wake.

Damn, if he didn’t want to lick her like a popsicle.

“I’m serious about you keeping your eyes shut,” she said.

“They’re shut tight. Just slam your bedroom door so I’ll know the coast is clear.”

He didn’t hear any footsteps, so he followed the sound of what he thought might be her munching on potato chips.

Then in the next moment, a door slammed, and if he wasn’t mistaken, the lock was slipped into place.

He needed to have a private talk with Sam. But not before he did something about the burgeoning problem in his jeans.