Undercover Agent

by Slade, Heather

  “Emerson,” I murmured, loving that name so much more than the nickname the man known to me as Irish had just used.

  “Yes?” she asked with wide eyes and a furrowed brow.

  “Do you need a few moments before our meeting?”

  “Um…sure,” she answered. “How did you know my…never mind. I’m sure it was in Dr. Benjamin’s notes.”

  I nodded, waiting to see if my slip let on I’d recognized her like I guessed she had me.

  “I’ll show our guest to the conference room,” Irish offered.

  “Wait. Were you aware we were meeting with Mr. Edgemon instead of Dr. Benjamin?”

  “I was.”

  As I watched her face go from puzzled to pensive, I wondered why Irish wasn’t handling this better.

  “I received an email. I assumed you did too,” he said, but it seemed too little, too late.

  “Hmm,” she murmured, picking up her bags. “I’ll just be a moment.” She walked away, leaving me alone with the undercover agent the CIA had put in place when MI6 brought Saint in.

  “Follow me,” he said when she disappeared down the hallway. “Coffee? No, wait. You’re a tea drinker.”

  “Neither, thanks. Water would be nice, though.”

  Irish led me into what looked like more of a war room than a place to meet. “I’ll forewarn you that Emme—Dr. Charles—can be…quirky, and that’s an understatement. But she’s a brilliant analyst.”

  “As well as strategist.” And so much more than that. She was the woman I’d never been able to forget, and the one I never thought I’d see again.

  Irish murmured his agreement, grabbed an envelope from the other side of the table, and slid it in front of me. “Beautiful too.”

  Him saying so set me on edge, just like it had remembering that Saint told me they’d been seeing each other. “How close are the two of you?”

  “Not as close as I’d like, but after this mission is over, who knows?”

  My jaw tightened. Not if I had anything to say about it. And I planned to. Irish was out of his league. Way out. If I wanted Emerson—and I did—I’d have her. He and Saint could both be damned.

  “She hasn’t let on that she knows anything about Saint’s disappearance,” he said quietly when he returned with my glass of water. “Or Dr. Benjamin’s,” he added as an afterthought.

  “That was evident.”

  “How so?”

  “We crossed paths at their apartment building.”

  “What did she say?”

  I explained that I’d encountered Emme exiting Saint’s building earlier as I was going in. “There wasn’t anything specific, only that her demeanor when I mentioned knowing Niven was one of curiosity rather than concern.”

  “Serendipitous, meeting her,” he commented.

  “Or not.” I would’ve preferred to keep my association with Saint a secret longer than I had.

  “Have a seat.” Irish motioned to a chair.

  “I’ll wait for Dr. Charles. In fact, I’d prefer to meet with her alone.”

  “Why?”

  I was beginning to think a talk with Irish’s boss was in order. In the hierarchy of either of our agencies, I was several ranks above the man. I raised a brow.

  “She expects me to be in the meeting.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

  He appeared annoyed, but that wasn’t my problem.

  “Let me know when you’d like to debrief,” he said before he walked out of the room.

  A few minutes later, Emerson joined me. “I apologize about Mr. Warrick…Paxon…my assistant. Apparently, he had another appointment.”

  “As he mentioned.”

  “Oh. Huh. Well…shall we get started?” she asked without preamble of further small talk, which I found surprisingly disappointing. I usually abhorred mindless chatter, but in this case, I wanted to hear more of the beautiful lilt to her voice.

  Her scent wafted in the air, and the desirability the woman exuded made my ability to keep my head on business nearly impossible. I adjusted my trousers and took a seat where she indicated I should.

  “After his last visit, Dr. Benjamin sent over key points he wanted to cover when he returned.” As she reached around me to pick up the envelope that Irish had slid my way, her elbow knocked over the glass of water, the entirety of its contents emptying all over my lap. Simultaneously, the papers contained in the envelope spilled out and scattered on the floor at my feet.

  “Oh, dear, I’m such a klutz,” she mumbled, dropping to her knees in front of me to clean up the mess before I could stand to do the same. As it was, she was between my legs, head slightly bowed.

  Without stepping over her, I was powerless to do anything to help. “Emerson?”

  “Yes?” When she looked up, it was obvious she realized where, exactly, her head was in correlation to my cock. Her cheeks flushed, and she tried to scoot away, only to bang into the chair behind her. When she grasped it in an attempt to stand and it slid away, I watched as her head smacked into the table before I could prevent it from happening.

  “Fuck, that hurt,” she muttered, pushing the offending chair back, landing on her bottom, and rubbing her head.

  I stood and held my hand out to help her do the same. When she grasped it with hers, we both noticed blood on her fingers.

  “Stay where you are and let me take a look.”

  “That’s okay, I can—”

  “I said, stay where you are.” Putting my hand on her shoulder, I held her in place; I could see dark red blood seeping into her lighter red hair. “You’ve got a laceration. Stitches will likely be necessary.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she snapped, swatting my hand away. “And you’re kind of bossy.” Refusing to look me in the eye, she grabbed the offending table’s edge and pulled herself up.

  “Take this and press it to your scalp,” I told her, placing my handkerchief in her palm and then guiding her hand to where she was bleeding.

  I saw her start to sway and caught her before she toppled over. She was facing me, her free hand on my arm.

  I told myself I was looking into her eyes for signs of a concussion, but the truth was, I was mesmerized by the swirling shades of ocean blue. Her pupils were dilated, but when my gaze drifted lower, the hardened nipples I could see through her thin blouse indicated her visceral reaction was more likely caused by our close proximity than the bump on her head. My cock was certainly reacting in a way I had little control of.

  Was she remembering the same thing I was? How we’d spent one night having the best sex I’d had in my life? And that was saying something. While the pretty redhead wasn’t the most experienced lover I’d ever been with, there was something about her, about the way our bodies came together, like two perfect circles entwined, that I’d never been able to forget.

  “You can let go now,” she murmured, taking her hand off my arm.

  Reluctantly, I did as she asked, and she took a step toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Um, my office. I have some…first aid supplies.”

  “I’ll go with you.” I held my arm out, but she didn’t take it, so instead, I kept my hand on the small of her back.

  She peeked over her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she repeated.

  I wasn’t certain she would be once she saw the amount of blood that had seeped into her hair and my handkerchief. Head wounds tended to bleed a lot, but at the rate hers was, she had no choice but to see a physician to get it closed up.

  “Wait here,” I said, eyeing a roll of paper towels on the counter in what looked like a small kitchen. Grabbing a few in one hand, I gently removed the blood-soaked cloth and then folded another few into a square. I took her right hand and brought it up to hold it in place. “You really need to see a physician,” I said again.

  “Right,” she murmured, continuing down the hallway into an office that I would have immediately known was hers, even without her in it. I couldn’t pinpoint
exactly why; it was just a feeling I got when I crossed the threshold.

  “Sorry for the mess, I’m…reorganizing,” she muttered as she opened a desk drawer and pointed to a large red case with a white cross on the top. “Could you please help me with this?”

  “Of course.” The box looked big enough to supply a mobile critical care unit and as though it weighed a metric ton. I hoisted it onto the desk. “Are you the paramedic on staff for all of MIT?”

  Ignoring my remark, she opened the lid and rummaged through the contents. Evidently, the first aid kit was also slated for reorganization.

  “Here it is,” she said, pulling a smaller box from the case. “Would you mind?” she asked, handing it to me.

  I stared at her, incredulous. “What am I doing with that?”

  Emerson pulled out a small vial and stopper. “It’s a liquid bandage. It should work fine.”

  “Are you suggesting that I put this on your laceration as opposed to seeking medical attention?”

  “Never mind,” she said, grabbing the items from my hand and stalking out of her office. Once again, I was on her heels.

  “You can either wait in my office, or we can reschedule for another time,” she said when she realized I was behind her.

  “No,” I said at the same time Irish walked into the lobby from the other direction.

  “What happened?” He gasped with a horrified expression when he saw the bloody towels Emerson held to her head. Then, his gaze landed on my drenched trousers.

  “A little accident. I spilled water, and then things just got…worse,” she said, trying to get around him.

  When he grabbed her arm and led her over to a chair in the lobby, it was all I could do not to throttle him.

  “Sit there and don’t move,” he barked and then turned to me. “She has a first aid kit in her office.”

  “Yes,” I said, pointing to the vial of liquid she held tight in her hand.

  “What’s that?” he asked, looking from me to her.

  “It’s a liquid bandage. If you’d just put some on my cut, it will stop the bleeding.”

  “Is she kidding?”

  “I’m afraid she’s somewhat intransigent.” While my irritation with the undercover agent posing as her assistant was reaching an epic proportion, I found Emerson’s stubbornness absolutely adorable.

  “Let me have a look.” Irish moved her hand and lifted the sopping paper towels. “It’s bleeding a lot and looks to be about five centimeters. I’m sorry, Emme, but you’re going to have to go to the emergency room.”

  “No!” she shrieked, startling us both. “No hospitals.”

  I nudged Irish out of the way and knelt in front of her. I put my hand on her knee, but what I really wanted to do was scoop her into my arms.

  “The laceration is this long,” I said, holding my thumb and index finger apart. “Your desired treatment won’t stop the bleeding. You need to see a doctor.”

  Emerson’s eyes bored into mine as though she was pleading with me to understand, and I did, or at least, I thought I did. It wasn’t about seeing a doctor; there was something about going to a hospital that set her off.

  “Medical services is closed until two,” Irish said, looking at his watch. “What about Cambridge Urgent Care?”

  Emerson’s eyes opened wide like they had when he mentioned the emergency room.

  “I’ve another idea. Give me a moment?”

  She nodded.

  I stepped several paces away, pulled out my mobile, and sent a text. Moments later, the device rang.

  “Lennox, how are you? Have you arrived in Boston?”

  “I’m well, Simon, thanks. I’m in Cambridge.”

  “As am I. I’m attending a conference at MIT.” I knew he was. “We’re on a break presently.”

  “How much longer is your break?”

  “Let’s see…another fifteen minutes.”

  “Where are you specifically?”

  “Building 14—”

  “One moment,” I said to Simon. “Emerson, where is building 14?”

  Irish answered for her, pointing. “Right behind that building there.”

  “Is it where the medical services are located?”

  “Yes, but—”

  I held up my hand and raised the mobile to my ear. “Wait there. I need you to take a look at a head injury.”

  3

  Emerson

  “What’s going on?” I asked when Lennox put his phone in his pocket and walked back over to where Paxon held a fresh set of paper towels against my head.

  He knelt in front of me like he had a few minutes earlier, and my heart rate increased tenfold—as it had right after I humiliated myself by spilling water on him. I studied him studying me. How was it possible that he didn’t recognize me after staring into my eyes like he was?

  “My cousin Simon is a physician, who happens to be here at MIT for a medical conference. Will you allow him to take a look at your cut?”

  I was almost disappointed that he didn’t say laceration again. It flowed so smoothly off his English-accented tongue in that swoon-worthy James Bondy way. This was the voice I remembered, not the one he’d used earlier that made me feel like a forgettable nuisance.

  “Yes,” I said when I realized he was waiting for an answer.

  “Will you be okay?” Paxon squeezed my shoulder.

  “I’ll be with her,” Lynx snapped at him.

  “Right. Well, I’ll be in the office later if you need anything.”

  “I need to get my purse…and my phone.” I rushed away from the two men in the lobby, who oddly, appeared as though they were about to come to blows, and went to my office to grab my things. When I looked up from my desk, Lynx stood in the doorway, just as handsome as I remembered.

  He had to be well over six feet, with hair so dark it almost looked black. His green eyes were piercing as they stared into mine. I let my gaze drift down the length of him. He wore a pale blue dress shirt with black trousers and brown wingtips. The way his clothes fit his body, I doubted he was any less fit than he had been three years ago. Even without closing my eyes—which I refused to allow myself to do—I could feel his powerful arms around me and the way his steely pecs and abs felt when I ran my hands over them.

  “Ahem.” Did his lip twitch right before he cleared his throat, startling me out of admiring him? “Ready?” he asked, with a full smirk now on display.

  I nodded and swept past him, beyond irritated that he saw me doing what so many other women obviously did.

  He caught up and kept his hand on the small of my back as he led me over to the elevator. His fingertips alone sent an electrical current straight through my body. When it settled between my legs, I shuddered.

  The door to the elevator opened, and I couldn’t say whether I was relieved or troubled that it was empty. Standing less than a foot from me was the only man I’d ever let myself get so carried away with that it didn’t matter we’d just met in the bar of the hotel where my conference was being held. My attraction to him was immediate, then and now. Our bodies spoke to one another that night as though we were already lovers. That he had no recollection of me, nearly broke my heart.

  The elevator dinged again, and we stepped out into the lobby. Before we exited the building, he took my hand in his. What I should find comforting, only increased my irritation.

  “This way,” I said when we walked past the building across from mine. As we rounded the corner, a man standing in front of the medical services building raised his hand; Lynx did the same.

  “What happened to you?” the man smirked and asked when we got closer.

  “Spilled-water incident, which resulted in Dr. Charles hitting her head quite hard.”

  “Come with me. I made arrangements for someone to open the clinic,” the man said.

  He was as gorgeous and captivating as Lynx, but in an entirely different way. Where Lynx was a high-handed, arrogant, no-nonsense know-it-all, his cousin…doctor…doctor-cousin…
had a glint in his eye that gave me the impression that under different circumstances, he might be a mischievous tease.

  We followed him inside, past the unmanned check-in desk, and into an exam room. “Let’s have a look, shall we?”

  I let go of the paper towels that I was holding against the cut. As soon as I did, Lynx took them and threw them in the waste can; the other man donned gloves.

  “I’m Simon,” he said as he parted my hair and took a look. “I’m Lennox’s cousin as well as a doctor.”

  “Emerson,” I said, cringing when his fingers touched my scalp. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You don’t have to fib. You won’t hurt my feelings considering I’m hurting you far more. I should’ve asked before, but any allergies? To latex, for example?”

  “No. None.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want you breaking out in a wretched rash on top of bleeding profusely from the nasty gash in your head.” He winked and leaned closer to me. “Tell me, did my evil cousin do this to you? I seem to remember an incident where Lennox convinced me to get on our grandfather’s Penny-farthing, which I promptly fell from. That was a right mess.” The entire time he chattered, he pressed a gauze pad filled with antiseptic on and around the cut.

  “I did nothing of the kind.”

  As opposed to Lynx’s scowl, Simon’s smile was infectious. He tossed the gauze into the garbage, took off his gloves, and turned around to face me. “The laceration on your scalp is ghastly, but I assure you, you won’t bleed to death. I do need to close it up.”

  “Okay,” I murmured when he appeared to be waiting for an answer from me.

  “Be right back,” he said to me and then turned to Lynx. “Try not to do anything to further injure my patient in my absence.”

  Lynx rolled his eyes and stood in front of me when we were alone.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Embarrassed.”

  He smiled. “Are you dizzy? Feeling nauseous?”

  I was, but I doubted either had to do with me cutting my head. He made me dizzy—lust-filled vertigo. And the nausea? That related to how humiliated I was both by my over-the-top clumsiness and the fact he had no recollection that we spent an entire night naked in one another’s arms.