The Wrong Kind of Compatible

by Kadie Scott

  The target of his undercover assignment stepped closer, and the scent of jasmine drifted his way. Of course she smelled like flowers. The kind that grew in his mom’s backyard, no less. The scent suited her—both fragile and seductive.

  She was also tiny, he noted. Five-foot-nothing, according to his records, more than a foot shorter than him. And what on earth was she wearing? The black dress thing she had on did nothing for her petite figure, but the way it skimmed her body told him that underneath she had perfectly proportioned curves in all the right places.

  Which you shouldn’t be noticing, dumbass.

  He had the strangest urge to slip her glasses from her face and loosen the large knot of pale blond hair held on top of her head by, of all things, three different pencils. He idly wondered where she hid the rest of the pack.

  Focus on your mission.

  Despite the size difference, she showed zero sign of being intimidated in any way. Instead, she glared up at him, chin jutted forward, stubborn written all over her. “Are you sure they said you’d be assisting with qualitative analysis? Not something else?”

  Yeah. He was sure.

  When he just stared back, saying nothing, she glanced away. “You don’t look like a data analyst,” she commented, more to herself than him.

  A bout of untimely amusement tugged at his lips for the second time in as many minutes. “What, exactly, am I supposed to look like?”

  Again, her wide-eyed stare tried to suck him into some kind of vortex. “Huh?” she asked.

  Was she playing dumb, or did she really not know she’d said the last bit aloud? “You said I didn’t look like a data analyst,” he clarified.

  “Oh,” she mumbled. She dropped her arms to her sides with a sigh. “Sorry about that. I have an unintentional tendency to speak my thoughts out loud.”

  “She does it all the time,” a female voice chimed in from the other side of the partition.

  “Constantly,” a male voice confirmed from off to the right.

  A glance around revealed several interested gazes directed their way.

  Cassie rolled her eyes. “Thanks, guys.”

  Drew ignored them, crossed his arms, and waited.

  After a long pause, she took the hint that he still wanted an answer, and huffed another sigh. “You must know how ho— Er…” She glanced around, and lowered her voice. “How good-looking you are. Data analysts don’t look like you.” She gestured to his person. “Ever.”

  Drew blinked. He hadn’t expected her to be quite so…honest. His investigation indicated she was scary smart, a bit of a loner, and maybe a bit backward. Translation, socially inept. Something he could relate to in his own way. And sure, her comment fit the backward part to a T, but given the communication skills she had to possess for this position—reporting to all sorts of important clients on the data she’d assessed—no way could she be that quirky. Could she? Again, the suspicion she was putting on a front struck him as the only logical explanation, but her open expression appeared genuine.

  She pushed her glasses up her nose, reminding him to adjust his own glasses.

  Fake, of course, with regular nonprescription lenses. The technical specialist on his investigative team had provided the prop that sported a tiny hidden camera to allow him to record his investigation.

  Cassie suddenly smiled, her blue eyes lightening to turquoise, and a pair of dimples teased him, giving her air of innocence a mischievous charm. His body stirred in what was becoming an expected, and yet still damn inconvenient, response.

  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you. I’ve been told I can be…” She paused, searching for the word.

  Drew dragged his uncooperative body back into submission, and focused on the conversation. “Candid?”

  “Blunt?” the female voice piped up again.

  “Disconcerting?” the male voice interjected.

  “Quit helping,” Cassie called back over her shoulder. Her smile widened, but she shook her head. “Forthright,” she finally supplied.

  Drew considered that statement. “I find you refreshing.”

  After giving him a cockeyed glance, she actually laughed, a husky chuckle that went straight to parts of him he wished would stop responding to her. She waved away the comment like she was shooing a fly. “I’m sure it’ll wear off, but you’ll get used to me.”

  “Nope,” their audience chimed in.

  Someone else snorted. “Not even a little bit.”

  Cassie practically stomped her foot. “Do you guys want to be in charge of the interns this summer? You know I’ll do it.”

  Smothered sniggering reached them, but otherwise their cubicle neighbors went silent. Drew smiled at the playful interaction, comparing it to the tone set in his own office where the humor tended to go down a more warped road, probably thanks to the stress that came with the job. At the same time, he took a mental step back as realization struck.

  He’d meant what he said. He did find her refreshing.

  Mercurial, peculiar, and, yes, blunt, but that also made her easier to read. Which would make his job of uncovering what was going on at Data Minds easier. His reaction to her, however…that was a complication he didn’t need.

  “Would you like to grab a coffee?” Drew gritted his teeth. He’d blurted out the question before consciously planning to do so. He never did anything without a plan. And data to back up said plan. Damn it.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He again found her candor more a challenge than an insult. No pretense with Cassie Howard. “To get to know each other, since we’ll be working together.”

  “Oh.” She glanced at the mug on her desk. “I was just in the break room.”

  He followed her gaze and frowned at the cup that was still mostly full. “Oh… Maybe later?”

  She puckered her full, pink lips as she debated, and he struggled with the dumbest urge to reach out and brush his thumb over her lower lip, discovering for himself if she felt as soft as she looked.

  He also got the distinct impression she didn’t trust him. He’d have to work harder. “Or lunch? Unless your boyfriend would object.”

  She glanced away, a blush creeping up into her cheeks. Double damn. He knew from the investigation she didn’t date much, and he’d gone and made her uncomfortable anyway. His team, watching from their field office, had to be laughing their asses off by now.

  Cassie recovered and lifted her chin. “Maybe I don’t like coffee…or lunch.”

  “Maybe I could change your mind.”

  Her eyebrows winged up. “Are you flirting with me?”

  He hid a wince that she had to ask. “Would it help me get in your good graces?”

  Rather than reply, she peered at him through her clunky glasses with a combination of curiosity and suspicion. Drew felt like a bug under a microscope. Yep. The FBI would be documenting his technique for training purposes: What Not to Do with Women, A Study in Three Parts.

  She cocked her head. “I bet you’re one of those guys who doesn’t quit until he gets what he wants.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Hardly.” Lie.

  She ignored the comment and seemed to pick up steam. “I can picture it clearly. Only child?”

  Now was his turn to eye her warily. “Maybe.”

  “But not popular. Computer nerd? Maybe even a bit antisocial?”

  He crossed his arms and said nothing.

  Her eyes twinkled, and he could practically see the computer chip in her brain calculating. “I’m guessing you didn’t go to a single football game or dance. Super smart, but too brilliant to actually focus on school.”

  He shifted on his feet, and she nodded, almost to herself. “When you graduated from high school, I bet you had no idea what to do next.”

  He narrowed his eyes. How the hell had she known that?

  “College would’ve been more of the same boring stuff,” she continued. “You could’ve gone full hacker, but didn’t.” She looked him over clinically. “Instead you went for
a different kind of challenge. Some kind of government work maybe?”

  Drew went stone cold at those words. Had she been investigating him, too? Had he left a trail when hacking the Data Minds systems? What else did she know?

  Before he could formulate a semblance of an answer, she moved on. “Doesn’t matter. I bet you advanced quickly. Put that brain to use?” Finally, she seemed to pull herself out of her bout of insta-analytics and focused on his expression. Then laughed. “I’m right. Aren’t I?”

  Too damn close for comfort. “I plead the fifth.”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Still want that coffee?”

  Drew’s arms dropped to his sides. Had she done her little analysis demonstration deliberately? To get rid of him? Clever girl. He was going to have to up his game if he was going to trap this particular data thief. “Sure.”

  She did a double blink. “Really?”

  This woman was priceless. “Really.”

  “Well…” Cassie glanced at her watch. “Oh! I can’t. I have a meeting in five minutes.”

  She glared up at him like her nearly missing the meeting was his fault. In a rush, she snatched her laptop off her desk along with a spiral notebook and a pencil. Had she forgotten she had three in her hair already?

  “I’ll take a rain check on that coffee,” she said as she hurried past him. She stopped after a few steps and turned to spear him with a sunny smile. “Welcome to Data Minds.”

  Halfway down the hall she spun about again, walking backward, quite a feat in the overlong skirt she wore. “I still plan to ask my boss about you.”

  Warning delivered, she turned back forward and hustled off to her meeting. As he watched her march away, Drew tried to keep his mind on the job at hand and not the taut backside outlined by the softly clinging material, or the natural grace with which she walked, her hips swaying to her own rhythm.

  She’s an assignment, Kerrigan. A means to an end, and quite probably the bad guy in this scenario.

  …

  Going undercover meant his already long days at work were a hell of a lot longer. Not only did he have to put in his hours at Data Minds, but in the evenings, he had to meet with his team, followed by hours of hacking from the solitary comfort of his apartment.

  Flopping onto his nicely worn leather couch, he yanked off his glasses and tossed them onto the coffee table. He wouldn’t be wearing those again. As predicted, he’d endured endless jokes at his expense from his team when he’d met with them earlier.

  He definitely didn’t need an audience during his exchanges with Cassie. One thing he did need, however, was to figure out how to communicate with her without stepping all over his dick. His people skills were in need of fine-tuning to say the least.

  When in need of new skills, consult the experts, right? Grabbing his computer, he logged on and pulled up an internet search.

  An hour later, he walked out of his apartment with a list of possible books and the address of a bookstore open until midnight. Not wanting to waste time, he hailed a cab for the ride over.

  Thankfully, the store was silent and completely dead. Other than a few college kids studying in nooks and crannies here and there, and the one or two workers on the late shift, he was the only one in here. Definitely the only one actually looking through the books.

  Good. He didn’t feel like having an audience as he scanned through self-help books on communicating with women. He’d debated ordering the book over the internet to save himself any embarrassment, but he needed help with Cassie tomorrow. After the potential disaster of his start with her, a crash course in how to communicate with women was critical. He was also a traditionalist, preferring to read paperback copies. You couldn’t take notes in the margins of ebooks. Not the way he preferred, at least.

  Checking his list against the books lined up on the shelf in the “How To” section of the store, he pulled out one.

  How to Communicate with Women: 92 Tried and True Techniques

  More ideas had to be better than only a few, right? He leaned against the arm of a nearby chair and leafed through the pages, noting the descriptions.

  “Use smell to your advantage. When you invite a woman over, a pleasant aroma is key to successful seduction.”

  Drew snorted. Any man who regularly bathed and used deodorant shouldn’t need that advice. And he had zero plans to take her to his apartment, which was neat and tidy regardless. Maybe the rest of the book’s suggestions were better. He flipped some more.

  “Maintaining eye contact during a conversation can be a powerful tool of seduction, especially if you can pull off a sexy smirk or a raised eyebrow.”

  A sexy smirk? Really? No way could he pull that off. Not on purpose at least. The raised eyebrow maybe, although he could also come off like he had a facial tick if he tried it. Willing to give the book one last chance, he flipped some more.

  “Making her think you’re not remotely interested because you’ve ‘disqualified’ her from the types of women you would take to bed will make her work to gain your interest.”

  Drew closed the book with a snap and shoved it back on the shelf. Not what he was looking for. That book was definitely more about getting women into bed than involving them in a friendly, work-related relationship. His goal was to befriend her, not sleep with her, no matter how much his dick disagreed.

  Twenty books later—everything running the gamut from learning how to make friends (a book aimed at toddlers) to that first book about getting a woman into bed—he finally had an option in hand that he thought might work.

  Now to check out, go home, and bone up on his communication skills.

  It wouldn’t be easy. She was sharp. He made a mental note that everything he said to Cassie had better be 100 percent accurate. He suspected her ability to get to the truth behind the data had as much to do with innate perception as it did with her analytical skills and computer savvy.

  Data Minds had won the government contract over bigger, more experienced firms with a bid that screamed insider information. The only explanation Drew could come up with was Cassie had to be feeding the executives that data.

  Hacking their systems had been easy enough. Now he just had to hack the one person in the company most likely to see through his ruse.

  Chapter Three

  Black coffee. Black pants. White shirt. Cassie would bet her PhD that Drew Kerrigan saw the world in black and white. At least he’d lost the tie.

  Not that a black and white outlook was unusual for a computer-minded person. Ones and zeroes—that’s how many of them viewed the world. It’s how she viewed the world much of the time. However, as an analyst focused on the qualitative data—the stories and words that made up information that didn’t fit neatly in a spreadsheet—she had to see the grays, too. And even a splash of color now and then.

  Which made her curious about Drew’s qualifications. Would he be able to do this work to her standards?

  “Now that Drew is set up on our systems, I want you to walk him through things, Cassie.”

  She blinked at the sound of her name, pulling herself out of her thoughts only to realize she had been sitting in the team meeting staring at Drew like he was the last piece of chocolate on the planet. From across the table, he watched her in that intent, slightly disconcerting way of his. What was the guy thinking?

  She forced her gaze over to Kevin at the end of the long conference table as he continued talking. “This week, I want him to shadow you. Next week, he’ll start taking on part of the big government job,” he said.

  The government job was her job. One she’d earned. However, Kevin had been clear when she discussed it with him that Drew was her new right-hand man. Message to shut the truck up and get on board received. “Fine.”

  Drew was still watching her closely. Was that a smirk? Hard to tell when the man showed zero emotion, but that’d better not be a smirk.

  The meeting droned on as they went over progress, expectations, and next steps for each project in the works before
finally breaking up to do the actual work part of their jobs. Cassie eagerly gathered her stuff, glad it was over.

  “Ready for your own personal spy?”

  She jumped and spun, heart doing a fantastic pinball machine imitation inside her chest. Drew was standing close. A little too close. Reach out and touch close.

  She took a step back. How had he got around the table to her side without her noticing? The man was like a jungle cat—silent, deadly…sexy.

  Nope, not sexy. Not anything, she reminded herself for the umpteenth time since yesterday. Then his words sank in. Spy? That didn’t sit well, even if he was joking. She eyed him closely. Was he joking? After a second, his poker face cracked.

  She gave him a wary benefit of the doubt and chuckled. “Bet you get all the girls with lines like that.”

  His lips quirked up in what she guessed was his version of a smile. “That’s me. Casanova.”

  But she wasn’t paying attention to his words, because she’d just realized something. “Where are your glasses?”

  He blinked. “What?”

  “You wore glasses yesterday. Are you wearing contacts now?”

  “Oh.” He blinked a couple times, and she swore she could hear the mouse in its wheel running as fast as it could as he took his time coming up with an answer. Why’d he have to think so hard about it? This was a simple question.

  “Lasik.”

  Wrong answer. “You had Lasik surgery overnight? My, that’s a fast recovery.”

  Drew’s lips twitched, pulling her gaze to them. What would he do if she just…

  “I do have a fast recovery time.” He delivered the line in his deadpan way.

  She decided not to touch that comment. Don’t get off topic, she firmly instructed herself.

  His eyebrows winged high. “I’m not off topic.”

  Son of a nutcracker. Her brain-to-mouth filter had failed her again.

  Rather than address the blurted comment, she focused on the incongruous statement about his glasses. “When did you have Lasik?”

  “Oh…” That mouse was working overtime to earn its cheese—squeak, squeakety, squeaking away in his head as the wheels turned. “A few weeks ago. I needed the glasses while my eyes adjusted, but I got the all clear to stop using them, starting today.”