Code Name: Bundle!

by Christina Skye

  “You don’t spend much time here, do you? No posters. No photos. No knickknacks. It’s strictly a place to sleep.”

  He was right, and for some reason his dead-accurate assessment made her uncomfortable. “Sleeping is all I have time for besides work.”

  Trace walked around a big black duffel bag in the corner of her cabin. “Not entirely. I see you’ve got a fully equipped gym bag in the corner.”

  “Not for the gym. That’s for Thursday-night poker.” She smiled a little. “It’s become our little institution aboard the ship.”

  “Glad to hear it, because I love poker. What’s your buyin?”

  “Uh—that depends. Tobias usually sets the figure.”

  Trace looked thoughtful. “How about you wrangle me a seat at the table?”

  “No can do, Kemosabe. It’s invitation only and strictly for staff. Tobias rules the proceedings with an iron fist.”

  “Maybe he’d make an exception in my case.” Trace toyed with the zipper of her duffel, and Gina bumped away his hand.

  “Back off, Ace. Go find your own poker game.”

  Trace shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “Because you look for secrets everywhere,” Gina muttered. When he didn’t answer, she frowned at him. “What now?”

  “Things don’t match up. You just don’t strike me as a cook. You seem comfortable with handling authority, and you know how to read people quickly. Were you always a pastry chef?”

  She laughed dryly. “When I was twelve, I woke up and said, ‘Gee, why don’t I make a mango chocolate cheese-cake today.”

  Not.

  But the truth wasn’t any of his business. That meant flippant was best. She changed topics adeptly, waving a stack of papers as she walked back to the door. “Three of my e-mails are missing.”

  He stood outside the door, legs apart, body relaxed but alert. In full bodyguard mode, she realized.

  For some reason the thought was very comforting. But Gina wasn’t looking for a protector, and she certainly didn’t need to lose her head over a handsome stranger who’d be gone in a week. She would handle Blaine perfectly on her own.

  She closed the door to her cabin and took a deep breath. “I’ll have to reconstruct all those messages.”

  “Tobias is right,” Trace said quietly. “Stay prepared. Things will get nastier before this is over. So what started your little war?”

  She gave a hollow laugh. “Chocolate ganache.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Chocolate and cream, melted together slowly and blended perfectly. It’s amazing stuff.” She rubbed her eyes gently, the way her doctor had shown her. “I made a ganache cake on a cruise to Honduras last year. Turns out the passenger was a TV bigwig. His wife loved the cake, which I constructed to look just like his favorite car—a silver Porsche GT2. When he saw it, he refused to eat it. It’s still wrapped in plastic, frozen in his freezer. Terrible waste of varietal chocolate, if you ask me.” Gina cleared her throat, feeling Trace’s body too close.

  Too strong.

  And his scent, a faint mix of citrus and leather, made her want to lean close, pull off that shirt and run her hands over hot, sculpted muscles.

  She cleared her throat. “Where was I?”

  “Porsche. Waste of good chocolate.”

  “Right. The next thing I knew, he wanted photos of my other cakes, which are always super-realistic. I did a red Prada cake in the shape of his wife’s favorite ostrich handbag, and I made a pair of shoes to match. There were e-mails and a few phone calls, and one morning I found out I was up for a series. Chocolate Rules is the working title.”

  “This chef is gunning for you because of jealousy?”

  “Not a chef, the head of beverage services. I should try to keep an open mind, but she’s made threats and done some shoving.” Gina took a long breath. “When will we know for sure who’s behind this?”

  “An hour after my guy has the materials. He has skills that haven’t even been named yet. He’ll pull a print somewhere. Maybe even a fabric sample.”

  “A print would be enough. All the crew is fingerprinted when they’re hired.” Gina started walking, her expression fierce. “So what do I do next? Because I’m not giving up.”

  “Simple. You watch your back and trust no one.”

  Gina shook her head in disgust. “Defensive paranoia. Gee, there’s a positive life philosophy.” She stopped walking so suddenly that Trace almost ran into her. “We’re all up for performance assessment. That’s why she’s doing this now, so she can hurt me and everyone who works with me.” Anger twisted deep in Gina’s chest. “Never mind who ends up hurt as long as Blaine gets exactly what she wants. Maybe it’s time I kicked her skinny size-two butt.”

  She took a deep breath and leaned against the wall, her fingers twisting back and forth. “Okay, so how do I really stop her?”

  “Increase your surveillance activity. Then update your base of operations and security. Work on field of fire and enemy reconnaissance.”

  “Field of fire? That may be a little dramatic.”

  “Symbolic but very real. Protect your back always. Keep records, lock your computers, hide your backup copies and send them to several dummy e-mail accounts for good measure. Watch kitchen access at all times.”

  That made sense, Gina thought. Why hadn’t she started sooner? “Go on. You’ve got my attention.”

  “Harassment and interdiction. Use random fire to demoralize the enemy and disrupt their troop movements.”

  “Okay, this is getting weird.” She held up a hand, shaking her head. “I can’t live this way, out on the edge suspecting everyone.”

  “You are out on the edge. Someone’s targeting you, remember? Do you roll over and play dead or fight back?”

  “You know how this stuff works, don’t you?” He was good, Gina realized. Field of fire and base of operations were second nature to him, and he could apply the concepts to vastly different settings.

  “It’s what I am. What I do,” he said flatly. “And since you asked for suggestions, I’ll give you the rest.” Trace’s eyes narrowed. “This is the part you won’t want to hear. I’d say someone close to you is passing information to your competition. I doubt this Blaine person is acting alone.”

  “Impossible,” Gina said angrily. She’d worked and sweated and laughed with the dozen people in her kitchen. None of them would betray that trust.

  Or would they?

  “Better start making a list of who had access and opportunity,” Trace said. “Then think about who your real friends are, because someone around you is not who you think they are.”

  TOBIAS WAS STILL TINKERING with Gina’s computer when they returned to the kitchen. He studied her list of missing e-mail messages, noting dates and times. Then he slid the sheet into his pocket. “This should help. Meanwhile, Andreas has everything on track here. There’s no reason for you to stay.”

  “I’m not leaving,” Gina said stubbornly. “There’s still work—”

  “All the early-seating desserts are plated,” Andreas cut in. “And we’ll be watching tonight.” His voice dropped. “There will be two people here at all times. Nobody will get past.”

  Gina straightened a pile of folded aprons. “I can’t leave. Not after what happened.”

  “Sure you can.” Andreas smiled thinly. “It will make Blaine crazy to think she screwed up and you’re not concerned.”

  All warfare is based on deception, Gina remembered. “I really, really hate this.”

  Tobias finished typing at her computer and then shut down the program. “Hate it or not, Andreas is right. Let Blaine simmer. Go away and forget about this. Have some dinner and let everyone see you calm and happy—especially Blaine. We want her angry enough to make a slip.” Tobias eyed Trace. “And since you’re here, make yourself useful. Keep an eye on her. Just don’t keep her out too late. I want you both in my office tomorrow morning so we can work
on some new tactics.”

  SOMETHING WAS WRONG.

  Blaine glared at her PDA, networked to the ship’s main computer. She repeated the string of letters that had always worked perfectly for codeword entry before.

  Nothing happened. For some reason she was locked out of Gina’s computer.

  “The little bitch.”

  She tried again, this time aiming to enter the general pastry kitchen computer. None of the old codes worked, which meant that someone had changed them in the past hour. Her covert contact had triggered a response on Gina’s computer an hour earlier.

  Damn. Blaine stared down at the PDA. Now Gina would know that someone had tried to breach her network.

  Weeks of patient work down the drain.

  Blaine kicked the side of her bed. She wasn’t going to lose. Gina would become a laughingstock and be fired for personal and professional misconduct. When the producers were desperate for a replacement project, Blaine would step in to offer her services. The history and lore of fine wines was a hot subject right now, and the commercial side of wine investment was growing in popularity. With her experience she could handle both superbly.

  “Something wrong?” The voice was low and lazy, but Blaine knew the sound was deceptive. This was a very dangerous man. That thought excited her immensely—but not when she had work to do.

  “Don’t bother me. I’m busy here.”

  “I told you I’d handle it.” Behind her the sheets rustled. A hard arm slid up, covering her breasts. “Come back to bed.”

  “In a minute.” Blaine had to work to bite back a snarl. He was superbly athletic, and his air of barely contained violence made him a perfect lover. But not even world-class sex was going to interfere with all her careful plans.

  There was good money to be made on a ship. It flowed effortlessly if you knew the right people and had the right network in place. Wine could go missing or be replaced, if you were skillful enough, and Blaine was definitely skillful. No bitch with a pastry degree was going to jeopardize her careful investment of time and contacts.

  The man’s arm encircled her waist, pulling her down until she straddled hard thighs. “Relax. I told you I had everything in motion. It’s my game now, too.”

  “I’m almost done here, love.” And if you keep interrupting me, I’ll see that you never get between my legs again.

  After a third try with the same code failures, Blaine powered off her Palm device and tossed it across the room.

  “The bitch has locked me out of every computer,” she snapped.

  “Has she now?” The man on her bed held Blaine still, his eyes intent. “Every computer?”

  “That’s what I just said, isn’t it?”

  “That would require serious security protection. Not exactly what you’d expect in a pastry kitchen.” His fingers tightened on Blaine’s waist. “Maybe something else is going on.”

  “Like what?”

  His scar looked dangerous in the semidarkness. Blaine felt a little shiver of fear. Who was he really? He had refused to tell her anything personal, while he knew everything about her. If the man hadn’t been so adept at computer skills and acquiring buried information, she wouldn’t have given him the time of day.

  Don’t forget how amazing he is in bed, a smug voice whispered.

  No, she couldn’t possibly forget that.

  She reached between his legs, finding him hard and ready.

  But his face showed absolutely no expression. How did he have such complete control? Sometimes it frightened her.

  Here in the darkness it only left her aroused and reckless. But she wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

  Besides, she had work to do. Her eyes narrowed. “I need you to do something for me tonight.” Her voice was smooth, confiding. “It’s very important.”

  The man laughed. “Everything about your job is important to you. For a woman, you’ve got big balls, honey.”

  The description made Blaine smile, and she pressed her lips slowly against the erection that was impossible to ignore. “Do you have a problem with my body?” She made a show of pulling away. “In that case maybe I should—”

  He yanked her back onto the bed and tossed her onto her back, then studied her naked body. “There’s nothing wrong with you, and you damn well know it.”

  Blaine’s lips curved. She traced his thigh, enjoying the play of powerful, conditioned muscles beneath her fingers. “How do you stay in shape? You haven’t worked out once.”

  His eyes darkened. “Must be good genes.”

  “Did you bring your laptop? I need to—”

  “It’s in my cabin, ready to network everything, just the way we discussed.” He knelt, gripped her shoulders. “Any other questions you’re dying to ask?”

  There was a warning in the words.

  Blaine heard it clearly. The tiny hairs stirred along her neck as she felt the force of his odd, gunmetal cool eyes. Who was he?

  But his secrets didn’t matter to her. All that counted was results. “No questions that can’t wait. I’ll give you whatever you want.”

  She was already planning how soon she could get rid of him. It would be tricky because men with the skills she needed weren’t easy to find. And this man wouldn’t dance to her tune.

  Which only made him more fascinating.

  His fingers cupped her face. “You know what I want.”

  Blaine smiled. She certainly did know.

  Luckily, she wanted the same thing, with just the same edge of violence. She closed her eyes, her plans forgotten minutes later as her first breathless cry of release echoed in the dark cabin.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE SUN HUNG BLOODRED to the west, suspended over the restless horizon. Gina felt just as restless, just as volatile. It was a night to throw caution to the wind, to do things she might regret. But somehow she’d never felt more alive.

  Torn between work and pleasure, she stood on the promenade deck, surrounded by the salty tang of the sea, while birds wheeled overhead and the deck rocked gently beneath her feet.

  She closed her eyes, feeling the wind play through her hair. She’d forgotten how good it felt on her face. How the last bars of sunlight melted liquid against her shoulders.

  Now there was a new factor in the equation. A man who stood at her side demanding nothing, yet supporting her even when she told him not to. She didn’t want support, didn’t need a guardian, but somehow she had one.

  Awareness stirred and came alive inside her. A silent promise took shape, hovering between them.

  But Gina didn’t trust promises and she didn’t want romance. Emotion like this fueled impossible dreams and mad indiscretions, making people throw morals and logic out the window.

  No way she was falling down that rabbit hole.

  She took a deep breath. “Humans are a lousy species. Give us something beautiful and after a week we take it for granted, even something as amazing as this.”

  “Gotta admit, that’s some view you have on your commute home,” Trace said wryly. “And your rush-hour traffic is about as beautiful as it gets. Good reason to work on a cruise ship.”

  Gina leaned over the aft railing. “Some people go their whole lives without seeing this. That makes me sad.”

  “People always have choices. No need to feel sad for them.”

  “Stupid, but I’ve always felt responsible for things.”

  “Even when they’re beyond your control?”

  Gina nodded.

  “Congratulations. That makes you an excellent leader.” Trace leaned against the rail beside her. “And a messed-up human being. For that reason, I agree with Tobias. Take the night off and forget about everything. Your staff is a cohesive unit, so give them their heads and let them perform. It’s obvious they’re dying to take care of you for a change, and a good field officer knows when to step back, watch and advise without interfering. It boosts morale.”

  “More military tactics.” She turned up her collar against a brisk w
estern wind. “Cooking isn’t a war.”

  “Honey, all business is war. Ask any Fortune 500 CEO.”

  Gina was almost certain he was right, but she didn’t want to think about it. After all, she had become a chef to get away from the harsher realities of her life.

  Look how well that turned out, a dry voice whispered.

  “You okay?” Trace brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. His fingers lingered, touching her cheek. “No reason to look so bleak. We’ll get your security problem handled.”

  She looked away, suddenly aware of his warm body close enough to touch. She fought an urge to lean in closer and find out how that hard mouth tasted all over again.

  A shipboard fling?

  No way. Gina refused to become a cliché. She didn’t fall into bed with strangers, and she wasn’t looking for Mr. Right.

  Mr. Right had never been born.

  But this man was…different. His keen eyes missed nothing. They probed deep, made swift conclusions, assessed risks and then shot ahead to the next challenge.

  He had made it clear that he was interested in her, but then said he wouldn’t crowd her. So why did she suddenly want to be crowded, just a little?

  Too many questions.

  Confused, she ran her hands through her hair and decided to do exactly what Tobias had suggested.

  She would go with the flow.

  What was the big deal about taking one evening off?

  Tension made her stiffen and she walked into the edge of a deck chair. Pain streaked up her ankle. So much for go with the flow.

  Trace took her arm, steadied her, then stepped back. “Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Not.

  She was tied up in knots and that made her angry.

  She took a deep breath and forced Blaine out of her mind. As she shoved her hands in her pockets, something rattled and smooth plastic brushed her knuckles. Gina realized it was past time for her medicine. In her surprise over the computer break-in, she’d forgotten.

  She gripped the bottle of pills that Andreas had found beneath her desk.