Читать книгу Undercover Pursuit - Susan May Warren - Страница 10

“I don’t know, Chet, there’s something about Scarlett—er, Stacey. I don’t think she likes me, for one. I clearly offended her.”

“I think she thought that I expected a sort of, well, more realistic relationship. But the woman has more than a ‘Keep Away’ sign around her neck. She’s wired with a thousand volts of don’t-touch-me. And talk about cold. I think the Sanchez family is going to see right through us,” he said into his international cell phone.

Luke sat on the edge of the king-size bed, watching the surf pound the reef, spit froth into the air and break on the coral outside his Lost Breezes cottage. He had taken off his shoes, letting the tile cool his feet, and in a second, he fully planned on jumping in the shower and washing off the sweat of the sun, the saline of the ocean and the still-stinging reception of Miss Hot-Around-the-Collar.

Scarlett had barely spoken to him the rest of the ferry ride, or even as they’d hailed another cab to the far end of Isla Mujeres, the Isle of Women, where the resort of Lost Breezes sat on the northern tip. He picked up a towel folded in the shape of a swan sitting on his bed, shook it out and rubbed it over his forehead.

“Stacey is from the private sector, but she came highly recommended by my pal David Curtiss. He mentioned that she was a lone wolf, but she said she was very capable and knows what she’s doing.”

Luke pictured Chet in his office in the Czech Republic, staring out at the snow along the Charles Bridge in Prague.

“So, you’ve never met her?”

“Just on the phone. But I’m confident she can handle herself. She probably is used to working alone, but this is a couple’s job, so you need to get her to warm up to you.”

“Believe me, no matter what I said, it was the wrong thing. It felt pretty chilly over on the port side of the ferry.”

“Listen, Luke. If Sanchez’s men think you’re anything other than Lucia’s special guests for her wedding, they’ll take you out into the middle of the ocean and leave you for the sharks. Lucia has been working too hard and too long for this mission to go south.”

“Scarlett’s probably right. I could get the job done better solo, too.”

“No, you couldn’t. You need Stacey to act as Lucia’s bridesmaid and your fiancée, otherwise you won’t be able to stay close enough to Lucia to get her out of there when the CIA moves in on the Sanchez family. This mission all hinges on Lucia walking down the aisle on Saturday night. Augusto Sanchez will come out of hiding, and the CIA will finally get their hands on one of Panama’s biggest crime bosses. We need you on-site, watching Lucia, or she could get killed. And she needs someone there to remind her that she’s not in this alone. That’s Stacey’s job. Lucia’s already had one scare.”

“I thought you told me the accident in the market wasn’t an attempted assassination.”

“The CIA said it wasn’t. But that’s why she called for help. She’s scared, Luke, and you gotta keep her calm. Focused.”

Everyone just needs to calm down. Scarlett’s words made a little sense now.

Luke stood up and leaned against the doorjamb that led out to the balcony. The salt weighed the air, layered his skin in grit. “And why, exactly, did Lucia call you?”

He heard Chet sigh. “We met in D.C. We’re old friends.”

Old friends. Luke didn’t want to explore that meaning too far, but it was no wonder Chet didn’t want to take this job. After all, Chet was recently married and he didn’t need any reminders of past liaisons. Luke knew what ghosts could do to a guy—suck him back to the past, into his mistakes. No, Chet deserved a fresh start with his bride, Stryker International pilot Mae Lund. Luke’s silence pushed Chet into confession.

“We may have had some sparks, Luke, but mostly, we were just friends. She was just a young law student, and I was in and out of the country with Delta Force. It wouldn’t have worked. However, I also know Benito—her fiancé—from my Delta days, and if I showed up, he’d know Lucia had been betraying him, romantically and possibly otherwise.”

“Chet, is Lucia expecting you?” Perfect, just perfect. At least he now knew what not to say.

“No. She’s expecting one of my men. My capable, get-the-job-done-despite-personal-feelings men. That’s you, Luke. But you might have to do more than just your job here, Luke. The Sanchez family has to believe that you and Stacey—”

“Scarlett.”

“—are a couple, at least in public. So turn on some charm or something. You’re good with the ladies—or at least you were. Dig deep and find that old lady-killer.”

Luke walked through the bedroom to the tiny cement bathroom, turned on the faucet then stared into the mirror. He needed a shave. “I’m not that good, Chet. And besides, I’m not the guy I was.”

He hadn’t been that guy since he woke up one day to angry pounding on his hotel room door, looked at the woman on the other side of the bed and realized he’d turned into his lying, cheating father. Only Luke’s lying and cheating hadn’t exactly been his fault. Not that it mattered, in the end.

Chet’s voice softened. “No, you’re not. I know that.”

“Besides, this girl isn’t going to be charmed. She’s a straight shooter, and she’s not into playing games.”

“So be the new guy—the gentleman.”

The gentleman. He hadn’t had much practice in that arena, either. Last time he had a date, the previous president had been in office.

“Most of all, get the job done. Keep Lucia—and Stacey, for that matter—alive. No matter what it takes.”

“Okay, boss.” Luke said goodbye and hung up. Then he picked up the note left for him at the check-in desk. His “fiancée” hadn’t stuck around long enough to read it with him, and of course, she’d booked her own solo accommodations.

Not that he expected to share. But in today’s world, it might make convincing the Sanchez clan they were a couple just a smidge easier.

But perhaps this was for the best, because, just for a second, sitting beside her on the boat, watching her purse those unpainted lips that made her appear more innocent girl than hired muscle, well, he’d felt something shift inside. Add that to the way, for a second, she seemed even hurt, and yes, she’d unglued him long enough for him to wish he could take back his words in the cab—the ones that had put the pain in her eyes.

He went to the sink, washed his hands, pressed a towel to his face.

Stared at the familiar villain in the mirror.

Yes, he would turn on the charm, but only for the sake of the mission.

Three days was going to feel like eternity.

He opened the note and found a hand-scrawled script. “Meet us on the boat by five for drinks and dinner. Lucia.”

Unfortunately, by the time they’d arrived, the cocktail hour had come and gone. Thankfully, he’d found out Scarlett’s room number after greasing the palm of a valet in the lobby, one who had seen them enter the hotel together. It never hurt to make friends with the staff, and Raoul looked like a guy Luke might need later, so he added a retainer to his information gratuity.

And, with the twilight already hovering over the sea, Raoul had found a boat willing to skipper them out to the yacht.

Yes, the fun was about to begin.

Now these were the accommodations she’d hoped for—an ocean view, the sound of the seabirds, the briny redolence of the ocean. She loved it all, just as she knew she would. Not that she’d ever been to the sea before, but she’d read about it plenty of times in the romance novels that lined her shelves. And everything she’d read about Mexico and Isla Mujeres had told her she’d love it.

And to think she’d nearly missed all this.

Never again, champagne.

And while she was at it, she should probably calm down about her sister fixing her up again. Luke certainly wasn’t a cretin. It could be much, much worse. Her sister might have found her a mechanic from Des Moines. Yes, it was possible that she’d ever so slightly overreacted to being paired with one of her sister’s cast-offs. She wished he hadn’t mentioned that he’d been “around the block” a few times, however. What, was that supposed to remind her that he was slumming with her?

For a second, the image of him leaning over a plate of sushi with her sister in some high-rise restaurant, the lights of New York City twinkling like starlight, shot into her brain.

Yes, perhaps he was simply reminding himself that normally his dates had a tan and wore less on their trips to Mexico.

She didn’t want to know.

I really do know what I’m doing.

She just bet he did. But not with her, thanks.

I’m not just here to watch.

She’d nearly run from the cab, screaming. Really, she didn’t even know where to start with her shakedown of Bridgett when she found her.

So much for calming down.

I’m here to do a job, same as you. A job? As if she was some sort of mission? Befriend the bride’s lumpy sister—someone has to do it.

It hurt more than she’d imagined, and frankly, he could have started out with a little charm, even if he’d had to fake it.

In fact, if he had led with something sweet, she might not have been so militant about going stag.

She shook Luke’s arrogant words away. It seemed she’d set him straight after her comments on the ferry, however. He’d behaved himself after that.

Still, a girl didn’t have to have it pointed out to her that Luke, her nondate, might have been a good catch in other circumstances, with his wind-tousled golden-brown hair, brown eyes, the hint of fresh sun bronzing his skin as he considered her this afternoon.

I don’t want to walk into any surprises. Is there anything you need to know about me?

Just what had Bridgett told him? My pitiful sister—she’s a temp, you know, has been for nearly ten years—needs a date for the wedding. Do you know she actually thought my fiancé was in love with her?

Scarlett winced as she imagined Bridgett’s voice. Nope, she didn’t care how dedicated the man was, didn’t care that Bridgett had flown him in. A girl had to stand up for herself, be her own hero. She didn’t need Mr. Plus-One, thank you very much.

In fact, given the chance, she might have just found a plus-one on her own.

But when Luke had said something about looking like an “actual couple,” it hit her.

It would be easier for everyone if she had a date. Her standing alone on the edge of the dance floor would only make everyone feel bad. If only her parents were alive, maybe it would be easier to be in Bridgett’s shadow again. But it was just her standing at the sidelines. And, she didn’t know what history Luke had, but he seemed to need to be her date.

Maybe he’d been in love with Bridgett. Wouldn’t that be fun? She and Luke could stand together in the shadows and watch the bride and groom dance.

Maybe he was just what she needed. A guy who didn’t expect anything, who just needed someone to stand next to when the lights dimmed. Yes, they could work together.

And she didn’t want to make trouble, not again. So yes, she would pretend, for Bridgett’s sake.

She’d simply ignore the fact that for a second—a long second—after he’d picked up her bag and carried it all the way to the top deck, after he’d settled on the bench beside her and the sea breeze had carried his strong and spicy scent, after he’d spoken to her in soft, almost gentle tones, she’d wanted him to really be her date.

Thankfully, she wasn’t so foolish to think he was actually interested.

After all, she had learned her lesson with Duncan. A smart girl would have realized that in the two years Duncan spent being her friend, meeting her for coffee and learning to ballroom dance with her, he’d never once looked at her the way he looked at Bridgett, her beautiful sister, when she walked through the doors of the church.

Fresh off the runways of Milan, burnt out and needing a vacation.

In fact, no one ever looked at Scarlett the way they looked at Bridgett—not even their parents—but she thought she’d become used to that.

Until Duncan did it.

Yes, she knew what it felt like to be an afterthought, to disappear. So maybe she’d even enjoy having a man as handsome as Luke on her arm, even if it wasn’t for real. Bridgett would be thrilled if Scarlett showed up on Luke’s arm, her smile tucked into place. And this weekend was all about Bridgett, right? Besides, she could enjoy pretending, as long as she knew it was just a game. She’d been a theater major, after all.

Thankfully, the charade didn’t have to start until tomorrow, according to the note her sister had left in her room inviting her to the dinner cruise, which she’d already missed. Scarlett left her a voice mail message in case her absence worried Bridgett.

She wouldn’t hold her breath.

She stood on the balcony of her cottage, watching the sea hit the reef, break into a thousand shimmering pieces and crash onto the rocks.

She knew how that felt, to shatter into so many pieces you couldn’t find them all. It happened the day Bridgett showed up on Duncan’s arm to the church singles group. And the day she told Scarlett that she “just might stick around Rochester.”

Duncan is a dentist! Scarlett wanted to scream as Bridgett climbed into her BMW, leaving her standing in the parking lot beside her rusty Sunbird. But Bridgett probably already knew that, because she introduced him to their Aunt Gretchen as Dr. Browne.

And then came the day when Bridgett moved off Scarlett’s sofa and found her own condo.

Just over six months later, she and Duncan announced their engagement.

A seagull cried, dipping into the ocean for a morsel.

Scarlett should probably breathe in these few moments of peace before Bridgett and her bridal party—the ones who the bride really wanted to attend—returned.

If she’d had Bridgett’s wedding dress in her possession, she might be tempted to simply hang it on her sister’s door and take the midnight ferry back to the mainland. Bridgett didn’t really want her anyway—just her organizational services. Scarlett replayed the voice mail in her mind. Scarlett, my new maid of honor broke her leg in Vail. She can’t attend the wedding. Is there any way you could fill in?

Her new maid of honor. Scarlett had been the old maid of honor—with the big mouth.

There is so much left to do—organize the bachelorette day and bring my dress and the maid-of-honor dress, not to mention work with the wedding planner at the resort. Besides, I’m sorry. Really, I want you there. Please come.

Really. Scarlett must have been some sort of chump to call her back for details, let alone say yes.

Sure, Bridgett, I’ll be glad to help. Let me just board my cat, take a leave of absence, drive to Minneapolis in a blizzard to pick up your dress and while I’m at it, maybe I can also plan your honeymoon—

Everyone just needs to calm down. Her own words. She breathed them in as she stood at her balcony in the warm air. She could get used to the ocean, so many shades of blue. On the ferry, she’d watched the mainland shrink, turning her gaze to the ocean floor as it slid by. The coral reefs, ledges and ripples seemed so close she wanted to dip her feet in. She’d pushed up her sleeves, letting her white skin see the sun for the first time in months.

She’d get a tan here, no matter what it took.

Sitting on the bed, she toed off her Uggs. The tile floor cooled her boiling feet. She probably needed a nap.

Or a shower.

She picked up the cute towel swan on her bed, holding it in her hand. She could get used to this place. Maybe she could find a job here—after all, after ten years of temping, she knew how to fit in, make things happen quickly.

A skill, apparently, that had netted her this fun-filled weekend.

And no matter what anyone else said, she wouldn’t call her reluctance to get a “real” job an inability to commit. She just liked change, that was all. And, well, she’d never found the one thing that she truly loved to do.

The shower cleaned from her the grime of the last sixteen hours. She found a blue sundress, one she’d worn maybe once and grabbed in a hurry, crumpled at the bottom of her carry-on. Maybe she could order room service. Or better, she’d venture out, under the glow of the stars, to the all-inclusive seafood dinner at the cabana. Then she’d park herself under one of those grass-covered umbrellas by the shore, under a tiki lamp, and lose herself in a book. Again.

She didn’t even want to think about what Luke, her overachieving plus-one, might be doing.

Off her balcony, twilight had just begun to darken the ocean to an inky blue. Unseen seagulls cried against the surf. The smell of the sea drifted inside.

A night made for romance. Of course, her novel was the only romance she could count on. Not that she really wanted romance, but wouldn’t it be nice if she could have a happily-ever-after? With a real-life hero, the kind she might find in her novel? Someone charming and strong, who saw her for the girl she wanted to be—if she could ever figure who that was?

The sultry air had clearly overheated her brain.

She put on a little makeup and was tying up her still-damp hair when she heard the knock.

Maybe Bridgett had returned and gotten her message.

As she opened the door her breath stopped, right there, caught in her chest.

So. Luke didn’t play fair.

He stood under the glow of her porch light, looking freshly showered, his burnished golden-brown hair still wet, clean shaven and wearing a pair of black dress pants and a white silk shirt open at the neck. And he even smelled good.

“What?” Oh, she had a nicer side, really. She softened her tone. “Sorry. I mean, can I help you?”

He grinned, as if she should be expecting him. “Hey. I know you probably thought we weren’t on for tonight, but I got a note from the bride. She wants us to meet her on the boat.”

“She does? I called and left her a message—the cruise already left.”

“I know, but I found us a ride out to the yacht.” He held out his arm. “Would you be so kind as to accompany me to dinner, Miss Scarlett?”