Behind Frenemy Lines

by Chele Pedersen Smith

  Planting kisses down his chest, she extended her arm, trying to reach around for the paper, but the tweed coat slackened, slipping off the chair into a heap on the floor. Criminy! She tried maneuvering her foot to the left. Maybe she could step on the sheet and slide it under the desk. But the position was too awkward. She teetered, nearly skidding off and giving herself away.

  It wasn't long before their quandary presented itself, like teenagers in the backseat of a car. “We should probably call it a night before we get into trouble,” he suggested, tapping her arm.

  She dawdled, darting her tongue deep, delaying the departure. How to lift the pocket litter now?

  “Gal, I mean it, if we don't stop—” He nudged, lifting her up ASAP.

  “I guess it's my turn to apologize,” she admitted, hopping off his lap. Crap, now what? Her only hope was for him to recline, thwarted again. Surely she could snatch the goods then. She paced the room, looking for the best vantage point.

  He stretched out his long legs, rubbing his eyes. “No complaints, I enjoyed it immensely. Just give me a few to cool off.”

  Gal crawled behind his chair, delicately plucking the paper from the folded fabric. His laminated badge played piggyback, conjuring up an even better plan. He won't get far without this! Jamming them into her skirt pocket, the mint-green itinerary crumbled, catching on the sharp clip of the I.D.

  He opened his eyes. “Whatcha doing under there?”

  “I, I um…” She swept the carpet for a crinkly alibi, the only culprits being a sprinkling of fried rice and a million paperclips until she spotted a menu and two cellophane wrappers under the window, flung in the heat of the moment. “I'm claiming our fortunes,” she improvised, stretching to fetch their crunchy destinies.

  “I think we already sealed our fate.” Beckoning, he reached behind his head. Gal popped up empty-handed, letting his arm hook her waist, spooling her in. She raked her fingers across his chest, resting her lips on his forehead.

  “This won't help put out the fire,” she reminded when he tilted his chin, their lips meeting upside down. She traced the outline of his jaw, fingering the dimpled crease of his laugh line before sifting through his thick, dark hair.

  “I don't mind,” he confessed, nibbling her earlobe.

  “I think we better quit while we're ahead.” Wanting him more than anything, she couldn't risk incriminating herself. The subtle scent of his woodsy deodorant now mixed with musky masculinity didn't help her case.

  “I suppose you're right. It is getting pretty late,” he agreed, gliding upright and putting himself together. “What do you think, too macho?” He modeled, not able to close his shirt.

  “All you need is a cheesy mustache,” she giggled. “Sorry I ripped the buttons.”

  “Are you kidding? It was sexy as hell.” He couldn't resist slipping into her arms, nuzzling the space between her ear and jaw. Things were getting intense again, and Galaxy was this close to pushing him hard against the wall to complete the final act.

  “I better walk you to your car, or we'll be here all night,” he offered, not wanting to leave at all.

  “Good idea,” she murmured, then remembered her task. “Oh, wait. I have to wrap up loose ends. I appreciate your gentleman concern, but you don't have to worry about me.”

  “Nonsense, it’s almost one in the morning. Not safe to walk out alone. You’ll be protecting me! Besides, we need our sleep. We have that briefing in seven hours.”

  Well, some of us do. “Yeah, of course. All this will be glaring us in the face soon enough. Thanks for curbing my OCD.” Snapping the computer off, she gathered her purse and briefcase. Where the blazes would she shred his badge now? It would have to wait unless she found an open Kinkos.

  He escorted Gal to her car, kissing her cheek in the tepid breeze, cupping her chin and skimming her lips. “Thanks for a nice evening. Perhaps we'll have better luck next time. Sweet dreams.”

  She smiled, slipping into her mulberry Soul. She studied the rear view mirror as he strolled to the end of the lot and climbed into his classic red Mustang. “Figures,” she grinned, shaking her head. She relaxed on the headrest, delighted with her deceit. Digging into her pocket to produce his government I.D., she sighed contently, feeling a tad evil. And scoring the minutes from his secret meeting, Gal, you are on fire!

  She drove off wondering what was up with his disappearance act every Monday afternoon. Her bracelet tracked him but where he went didn't make sense or fit their case. Men think they’re so smart. Too bad they're so easily distracted. At the next light, she stopped cold, remembering Lee’s words as he bade her goodnight. Did he say better luck next time? Something told her he didn't mean research.

  Chapter Three

  S liding a tray down the chrome cafeteria counter at LINK, a little-known spin-off of the NSA, the tiers of tapioca made her stomach lurch, reminding her what nearly happened the night before. In the light of day, it seemed horrifyingly stupid. All that to pick his pocket, and it had barely been worth it. The agenda turned out to be nothing more than a softball schedule. At least she wouldn't have to face him today.

  The thought made her chuckle until guilt barged in. Maybe it was a federal offense to mess with his job. What if it got her fired? And if not, she couldn't keep him away forever. What if he got mad and requested a partner change? She realized then how much she liked his company. Not just the romantic encounter, she admired his confidence and ease too. Maybe he wasn't so arrogant after all. She felt dreamy just thinking about his good looks and those hands—how they had been all over her body. A smitten school girl with a crush, she knocked over a boat of fries while maneuvering a chocolate mousse. Alright, Universe, I hear you. She returned the splurge, reaching for a salad instead. A fit cafeteria lady in her spry seventies appeared with a mop, used to Gal's spills.

  “I'm going to start charging you,” she gruffed, eyes twinkling.

  “Sorry, Francine! It's one of those days,” she sighed, snapping out of the daydream. Fooling around was totally unprofessional, the angel on her shoulder reprimanded. What if he reported it as sexual harassment? She worried for a minute, until poked by the tiny devil's pitchfork, remembered he had come onto her first. Her nerves unclenched. Should she report it? Or did her lipstick give him the green light from the get go? Either way, he didn't seem to mind and to be honest, neither did she. She vowed not to do that again. This was business, not a dating service. Yes, it was as simple as that! She would keep her head straight and concentrate on the case.

  She relaxed, plucking a bottled water from an ice bin. Suddenly, an eclipse loomed overhead. A towering man had cut in front. Turning, he leaned on the metal surface, facing her.

  “Well played, Galaxy. Well played,” he grinned, whispering close to her ear.

  “Lee? How did—” she stumbled, then stopped. His breath near her ear tingled, and she gulped, partly because of it and partly because of getting caught.

  “How did I get into the building today?” he smiled, flipping his I.D. between his fingers. “Maybe you forgot about the ocular scan?” Arching his eyebrows, he emphasized his baby blues.

  Those again! Why does he have to be so handsome? Galaxy tried to stay strong. And just how did he manage to scrape it out of her secret drawer? She meant to shred it, but the declassified room had been busy all morning. She planned to burn bag it after lunch. His proximity, slight stubble, and light aftershave were just enough to swoon her, so she had to think fast. “I only meant that I found your badge on the floor of my office last night,” she explained, accentuating the words like a special code. It was hard to come up with a defense when all she wanted to do was kiss him.

  “Oh, is that where it was?” he asked, amused, not sure he believed her.

  She was barely able to slur, “Yes.”

  “Silly me, it must’ve fallen out of my suit after our little rendezvous. Luckily my smoldering eyes and password got me in.” He moved in tighter, although there wasn’t much room to get any cozier.
His lips brushed hers, quickening blood flow to her heart. But he stepped back suddenly and could tell she was disappointed. “Not here.”

  He tried to pay for lunch, but she wouldn’t have it. Instead, she stretched the badge around her neck while the cashier held out the scanner.

  “Just trying to be a gentleman,” he offered, leaning in. “after last night.”

  She smiled, her face growing hot as she followed Lee to his office so they could talk in private.

  When she set the tray down, she noticed she forgot utensils. “Idiot!” she scolded under her breath, more at herself for falling under his spell and not paying attention. “I guess I don't really need the dressing. I'll just eat with my hands.” Universe: 2, me: 0.

  But Lee, who had the foresight to notice, came prepared. “Wanna fork?”

  What was it about this man? His striking appearance was obvious, often hidden behind charcoal frames like a tall glass of chiseled Clark Kent. She liked the way his chestnut hair peppered gray at the temples, giving him an experienced, sort of commanding presence, especially when he wore Armani. But his quiet wit snuck in when you least expected it.

  “Thanks, I’ll take your tool,” she smiled, feeling brazen. Digging into her salad, she crossed her legs at her ankles in a proper lady-like fashion.

  He admired her toned calves in the sensible black heels, wondering how she managed to look professional yet scrumptious at the same time. “Too many people around right now, but I’d love a raincheck.” He booked a reservation into her hazel eyes.

  She stopped mid-bite, stunned, holding his gaze. “I’ll bring the umbrella.” Tucking a loose tendril behind her ear, she could feel the heat sneak up her onyx blouse, scurry across the boundaries of the Mandarin collar and splatter her cheeks.

  He looked away, taking a swig of Diet Pepsi. He didn’t want to reveal his true feelings just yet. His gut told him her heart might not be on board. He wasn’t sure what her game was or if she was just doing her job, but he liked the challenge.

  “So, what do you think about my latest theory? We never got around to discussing it in depth.” She tried navigating to safer ground.

  He chewed his sandwich, nodding before swallowing. “Yeah, we got a little off topic, didn’t we?”

  “About that, I never should have let it—”

  “No worries, I'm sure it was just the full moon. The werewolf effect.” He tried not to laugh. “Won't happen again.”

  “Oh, good,” she sighed, leaning back. Bummer…

  “Until next month.”

  She pitched a piece of produce in his direction. “We're under the gun to solve this, in case you forgot. We can't let distractions slow us down, so we better start interviewing suspects. I say we go over to there and start snooping around.”

  “Nah, it's not coming from inside. That’s too movie blockbuster.” He popped the radish into his mouth.

  “Too bad you played hooky. You'd be caught up to speed by now on the tip this morning. It backs my theory, the easiest way in.”

  “I didn't ditch! I didn't have my—” He stopped, his voice rising in frustration. What was she up to? He took a deep breath before continuing. “Regardless, we know Mr. President has made some enemies overseas. I’ve picked up some phone taps, and I can tell the conversations are Pakistani.”

  “You speak Urdu,” Gal stated in disbelief, letting a cucumber fall from her fork.

  “No, well, yeah, maybe just an inadequate amount thanks to the internet but they speak English over there. Only a small percentage still speak Urdu, which I was pretty sure I heard in the background. But wow, good spy details. I’m impressed.”

  Galaxy was now more suspicious of him than ever. Where and what could he have possibly wired to hear that? She snapped the clamshell container closed on her salad then stood. Leaning over him, she rested her hand on the arm of his chair, her lanyard dangling in his face. “Why are you so surprised, because I’m a woman? I’m trained and educated the same as you.”

  “No, don’t make it a feminine issue,” he gulped, enjoying the view from her blouse. “It's just a rare observance by anyone.” Her badge skimmed his nose. “Nice, the bra from last night.”

  “Good eye,” she cracked, stepping backward toward the door. “Good spy details.” She fought the urge to bite her lip, trying to conceal the growling hunger whetted the night before, which was more than he could hide. Eyes fixated, she backed out of the room, bumping right into their boss, Geoffrey, who was on his way in.

  “Hello, Sir,” Gal stammered. How much did he hear? He stepped forward, forcing Galaxy to retreat to her original spot. Lee quickly covered his lap with a napkin, setting the sandwich on top.

  “So, how goes the case?”

  “Following that suspicion from the inside,” Galaxy chimed in, hoping to sound more ambitious than she foolishly felt.

  “We have appointments this afternoon at the White House.”

  Gal shot a stunned glance his way. The nerve! A moment ago he didn’t even believe her angle. Now they were going over there together?

  “Good, check it out. I knew you two would make excellent partners. Oh, Lee, better be careful about losing your badge. You never know who might get their hands on it. Good day!” His lanky stature disappeared down the hall.

  “How did you know I had an appointment this afternoon?” she demanded, still miffed. “You just told me you didn’t think it was an inside job!”

  “I got a lucky hunch when I grabbed this,” he chuckled, waving the napkin at her. “If you want to be discreet and keep things from your partner, maybe a notepad would do the trick. Or use a PDA or a smartphone like a normal person.”

  Gal reddened as she read the reminder she had jotted down. “Yeah, I have to get more organized.” Stuffing it into her pocket, the crinkling only amplified her incompetence. “I made the appointment in line for lunch. I was going to ask you to join me until you were so sure of your terrorist story. I figured I’d check it out first. But now you know, so…are you coming with?”

  “Am I invited nicely?” Lee asked. “I only want to go if I’m wanted.”

  “Oh, you’re wanted all right,” Gal assured him. Probably in more ways than one.

  Chapter Four

  C licking across the checkered beige and white tile, their reflections gleamed as they strolled freely through the stanchion ropes in the East Wing entrance hall. At four o'clock, it was a safe bet school children would’ve gone home by now and they wouldn’t have to dodge field trip lines.

  “I can tap in here.” Lee's voice and Cuban heels echoed between the pillars.

  “Seriously?” Gal laughed. “I love that sound. Do you Riverdance?”

  “Not really. I went undercover with a dance troupe once, nearly blowing the operation. I was that bad,” he winked, giving the room a scan. “So, think there are any secret passages?”

  “Maybe, thinking of hiding?”

  “No, just heard rumors. Plus would be a great way to eavesdrop or set up bugs.”

  “Hmmm, good thinking. After we interview, we can look around.”

  Just then a stout woman with a dark complexion and cropped afro approached them wearing a navy power suit. “I’m Anita Pendleton, Director of Communications. Tom got pulled into a project, so I’ll be talking to you.”

  “Good, good,” Gal said, eager to get started.

  “Why, because she’s a girl?” Lee whispered close.

  Galaxy rolled her eyes, jabbing him with her elbow. He has to stop doing that, especially in the middle of an assignment!

  “Ow, very pointy.”

  “That’s the point,” Gal whispered, then turned to their interviewee, who looked a little puzzled. “We’re from LINK. I’m Galaxy, and this is Lee.”

  “Nice to meet you. That's the liaison intelligence network, right?”

  Nodding, they shook hands and other pleasantries, following Anita to her office in the West Wing. Lee swept every corner along the way, trying to spot anything that looked
remotely like a catacomb.

  “Make yourself comfortable,” she invited, as they settled into the plump upholstery. “Forgive me. I'm a little fuzzy. What does your division do, exactly?”

  “Well, we lay the groundwork, smoothing ties so all agencies can work together. Avoids a lot of toe-stomping,” Lee explained.

  “I bet it does,” she nodded.

  “So, Anita, we’ve heard inklings that the threats might be someone working here?” Gal jumped in. “I know you and Tom handle what news gets out to the public so maybe you have tips that were not yet broadcast?”

  “Well, it is a possibility. We do have a few disgruntled advisors and cabinet members. And of course, Republicans are clashing with Democrats lately, so we wonder if there are any ill plans. It’s been a very rough sea around here.”

  “I’m sure it has. Do you suspect anyone in particular?” Gal inquired.

  “Personally, I suspect them all,” she quipped, half-joking. “It could be anyone, especially after the Benghazi incident.”

  “What exactly was the threat?” Lee wanted to know. Galaxy could tell he was still skeptical.

  “Well, we received a garbled voicemail threatening to blow up Air Force One. We couldn't decipher the reason behind it, but it was right around the time President Obama attended the Olympics in Sochi to try to make amends with Putin. We think perhaps an organization was stirring up trouble so the countries couldn't unite amicably. Nonetheless, it didn't stop him from traveling, and nothing materialized. We can't help wondering if the two are related.”

  Gal squirmed, staring at her shoe. “Why wouldn’t someone want world peace? What would they gain from the U.S. having rocky ground with Russia?”