Above Temptation

by Karin Kallmaker

  The entire transaction took nearly two hours, with Kip expecting standard-issue sedans bristling with lights and men in blue suits to arrive any minute. But they drove away unhindered, and stopped in a deserted lot long enough to transfer everything from Kip’s car to the serviceable six-year-old beige Cherokee Tam had bought. Then she followed Tam into the Tacoma business district, where she parked her car in a generic parking lot. If the FBI seriously looked for her, they’d find it using the LoJack codes, so trying to hide it more than that wasn’t productive. She walked around the corner to where Tam was waiting and scrambled into the passenger seat.

  A glance at her watch told her that any other workday right about now she’d have been having a fourth cup of coffee and figuring out how to skip dinner.

  She decided it wasn’t a good time to report to the CEO that someone else was going to have to finish numbering the exhibits for the Wyndham trial. Right then, watching Tam’s hands on the steering wheel, she really didn’t care. Emilio would find someone else to do it.

  They grabbed a quick drive through meal in Olympia, then Tam followed her directions north on 101 toward Shelton. The bright afternoon had yielded to low, heavy clouds. By sunset a steady rain made the road more challenging. The car was filled with darkness and their conversation lagged.

  Kip couldn’t tell what Tam was thinking. It was a long drive to Duckabush. Long enough for her to second-guess everything she’d done. In the dark, with all her anxiety surrounding her and telling her she could end up bitter and tainted, she knew she might well regret where she ended up. Only time would tell if it the journey was worth it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Tam stretched as they got out of the car. Kip was already in the door of the little diner, making tracks for the restroom. The rain had turned into a light, dusting snow, unusual for the time of year. She hoped it wasn’t an omen.

  A young woman was wiping the counter. She smiled at Tam and said, “Kip says you’re buying.”

  Tamara found herself smiling back. “Buying what?”

  “Pecan pie and coffee. She said you were in a hurry to beat the weather.” She poured a cup of coffee into a plain white mug, then watched as Tam sipped it.

  “This hits the spot,” she said, raising her cup in salute. The waitress continued to stare at her. “Do I have food on my face or something?”

  “Sorry. Just curious. Kip’s cool. I’ll be back with your pie in just a minute.” She drifted down the counter to pour coffee for another customer.

  Kip reappeared and hopped up onto the stool next to her. “I figured we could afford fifteen minutes. You could change, too, if you wanted to get out of the suit.”

  “There’s a welcome thought. I’ll do that after we eat. I’ve heard we’re having pecan pie. I don’t know if I should have that much cholesterol,” Tam said, her expression as serious as she could make it.

  Kip gaped at her, then laughed. “Yeah right. This from a woman who ate a Big Mac in two bites. I didn’t even see you chew the Hershey bar.”

  “It didn’t take you too long to eat either, you know.”

  “It’s not every day I run from the law,” she whispered.

  “Me neither,” Tam whispered back.

  Kip plucked a menu from the holder and turned it over to the back. A local map showed access to hunting and fishing areas off Highway 101. “We’re going to continue north along here, then turn.” She traced the path with her fingertip.

  With Kip’s head bent over the map, Tam caught the subtle scent of her shampoo. She bit back the gasp that nearly escaped her as she was flooded with the same breathless need for Kip’s touch that she’d had on the gangplank, the same head-spinning desire she’d said no to the night before when Kip had kissed her. She didn’t know how she’d find no again. But she had to. Their disappearing together to work on the case was suspicious enough. They would be asked if they were having an affair. No one would want to believe them if they said no, but at least it would be the truth.

  When this was all over, she would be going back to running SFI, and she would expect her employees to live by the rules that had made their reputation. How would they respect her if she had an affair with a subordinate, with a colleague working on a case with her? And what respect would be left for Kip if she slept with a suspect?

  No was the only possible answer.

  Every nerve in her body was screaming yes.

  It’s not like she’s asking. No, Kip wasn’t flirting with her and hadn’t in the least during the long drive. She’d just been Kip.

  It worked, telling herself that, until Kip looked up. Their gazes locked. Kip’s jaw went slack. Neither of them was breathing. She shivered with an ache for Kip to peel back the layers, all of them. Kip would see the truth of her, all the things that had shaped her, left their mark, that she’d found strength in. And for the first time ever in her life, the prospect didn’t frighten her.

  The waitress delivered their slices of pie, breaking their attention on each other. Tam hoped she wasn’t blushing. It didn’t help her composure to see that Kip’s hands were trembling.

  * * *

  Several hours later, their progress slowed by snow flurries in their headlights, Kip turned off the highway onto a narrow gravel road that cut between fine-fingered aspens dusted with snow. For another twenty minutes they carefully navigated a steady climb. The Cherokee had no trouble with traction.

  “Where the heck are we?”

  Kip glanced across the dark car at Tam. She’d been quiet since leaving the diner. “About a mile from the boundary of the Olympic National Forest. The cabin’s not much farther. This road’s used mostly by Forest Service and loggers.”

  Kip slowed and turned left—it was a good thing she was driving. She almost missed it and she knew the way. After a few hundred feet, the A-frame came into sight of the Cherokee’s high beams.

  “First things first,” she said. “Let’s get some heat going. You bring in some wood and I’ll start the stove.”

  Tam followed her gesture toward the woodpile, looking equal to the task in the clothes she’d changed into at the diner. Kip shook her head at herself. Since when had she begun ordering around her boss’s boss’s boss? Since when had the thought of flannel made her moist and weak?

  She was glad to see she’d left the cabin in pristine order. As she busied herself with the kitchen stove, she tried to ignore the question that had been plaguing her for the last half hour. Where was Tam going to expect to sleep? Her objectivity was already compromised. She knew where she wanted Tam, but that wasn’t going to happen. But she wouldn’t have any resolve at all if Tam followed up on that naked, honest look they’d shared in the diner. Her clothes still felt too small and there wasn’t enough blood in her head to power higher brain functions. Her body had plans that didn’t include tracing employee financial dealings.

  “Is that enough?” Tamara dropped her third armload of wood into the large crate next to the stove. Kip averted her eyes. Tam in jeans, with a white tee covered by a blue and green flannel shirt was a devastating image, made all the more worse by how easily she could picture Tam in nothing but the shirt. Was it a newfound flannel fetish? That wasn’t so bad. But she suspected that wasn’t the truth at all. It wasn’t about the flannel.

  “That’ll do,” she said. She’d left the stove ready to light and within minutes a hot fire blazed. It wouldn’t take long to get toasty warm up in the loft, where the only bed was. She went about unpacking the groceries and heating water for coffee, then wiping out the already clean sink.

  Tam was watching her from the other side of the counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the open room. The watching made her nervous. When asked, “What’s wrong?” Kip dropped the sponge.

  “I—” She sighed. “I don’t do this every day,” she said. She wasn’t used to sharing her cabin, and she felt such a fool, because it wasn’t as if Tam was even asking for more than blankets and the couch.

  Tam smiled slightly. �
��I thought you seemed fairly practiced.”

  “Practiced,” she echoed, stunned.

  “You showed a lot of aplomb.” She smiled more broadly.

  “That’s a funny kind of compliment,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever aspired to being practiced at it.”

  “Neither have I.” Tamara’s smile turned wry.

  Kip wiped at imaginary dust to avoid meeting Tam’s gaze.

  “Are we talking about the same thing?”

  Kip glanced up. Tam was staring at her with a half-amused, half-puzzled expression. “What are you talking about?”

  “Being a fugitive,” she said. “Your turn.”

  A hot blush swept up Kip’s neck and she felt her ears burn with a red too hot for her olive skin to hide. She struggled for something nonchalant to say, but her voice failed her.

  “You’re blushing,” Tam said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” she finally managed. “I—at the moment I’m not thinking of anything but where you’re going to sleep. There’s only one bed. It’s awkward.”

  “I was looking forward to the sofa.”

  Kip didn’t dare look at her. “I think it’s dangerous to ignore the elephant in the room.”

  There was amusement in Tam’s voice. “It’s a pretty big elephant, isn’t it?”

  “For me, yes it is. I haven’t behaved typically.” She risked looking up.

  For a moment, it was the CEO of Sterling Fraud Investigations who was staring back at her, and in spite of the flannel, she was every inch the woman who had given her a job to do and expected exceptional results. If Tam would only look at her like that all the time Kip knew she could keep to her own resolve.

  Then that look eased to something else entirely. It wasn’t the same sizzling desire that had been so palpable in the diner. There was innocence, wistfulness and a passive acceptance that what was wanted could never be hers. The resignation in Tam’s eyes was disquieting, and revealed a fragility that Kip hadn’t known existed. Kip wanted to hold her, but not for kisses, instead to murmur, “It’ll be okay.”

  I really don’t know who she is—or was. And I may never know, Kip told herself. Even as she searched for something to say Tam turned to the table.

  “I would love to read the full reports you gathered.”

  Kip cleared her tight throat. “I have them all, I think. There might be one or two things I’ll wish I had that are sitting at home with the boxes you gave me, but I’m not sure. Why don’t I heat up some soup and we’ll sort ourselves out.”

  When in doubt, Kip thought, let work bury the personal stuff until it goes away. It had always worked before. That she suspected it would not work this time was no reason not to give it a try anyway.

  * * *

  Kip stirred in the downy warmth of the loft bed. She stretched and then sniffed. The aroma of something delectable was wafting up from the kitchen.

  Her eyes were gritty from reading through pages and pages of computer code, highlighting strings of data for Tam. It didn’t help that the fire made the air inside the cabin dry. She buried her head under the pillow. She’d made it one night without tearing that flannel shirt off Tam, so she could do it again.

  The fantasy that had kept her awake last night came back in 3D splendor. She was straddling Tam’s lap, naked, wet, aching, and slipping that shirt off Tam’s shoulders as they kissed. Their skin was hot from the fire as her fingertips pushed the fabric down, then Tam captured her wrists, held both behind her back with one hand while the other…

  There was no way her trembling legs were going to carry her safely down the ladder from the loft.

  She was finally coaxed out of her warm bed by the persistent smell of bacon and eggs and an urgent need for the bathroom. Biological imperative trumped fantasy-inspired wobbles.

  She wrapped herself in her grandfather’s old robe and shoved her feet into thick boot socks. She didn’t fall off the ladder, no thanks to her weak arms. Only one part of her body seemed to have anything like a sufficient blood supply. She’d always scoffed at people who’d claimed an uncontrollable urge was why they’d ended up in a bed they shouldn’t have.

  She gazed at herself in the bathroom mirror, thoroughly disgusted with her vivid imagination. “You look like you’re going to die from lust,” she muttered. “You’re not a politician. Show some backbone.”

  Resolved to find Kip Barrett, one-time candidate for the Secret Service, she padded her way to the kitchen to find Tamara sliding fried eggs onto plates next to crisp bacon and toast.

  “I was going to bring you breakfast in bed,” she said, looking disappointed.

  Kip slid into a chair at the table. She wanted to ask, On what planet did you think that was a good idea? Maybe Tam wasn’t feeling it the same way. She looked the picture of calm. Instead she asked, “How were you going to get a plate up the ladder?”

  Tamara set Kip’s plate in front of her. “Oh. Then it’s a good thing you came down here.”

  “We’ve really got to stop eating like this,” Kip said.

  “Speak for yourself. I’m ravenous.” Tamara finished a slice of bacon in two bites, then spread olallieberry jam on her toast.

  “Mountain air. Is it still snowing?” Kip glanced out the window, but the shutters were angled so she couldn’t tell.

  “The forecast says light snow all day, but little accumulation.”

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  “Yes. But I also copied out more code, if you’re up to more sifting. Not a lot more, because I finally found what I was looking for.”

  Kip realized she was wolfing down her food. Apparently anxiety and an overactive sex drive made a person hungry. “That’s good news. I want to poke around and see what I can learn about Wren Cantu. This has all been too clever for the choice of her to be random. The report I already have on her isn’t all that interesting, though, so I’m going dig some more. And then I’ll start sorting through the key card users looking for payoffs in their bank records. That is, if you’ll give me that login again.” Now she knew where Buck got his data.

  “Sure. We’ll keep going at this from all directions.”

  The ground felt more solid under Kip after she’d eaten. Tam seemed so normal, so focused that her own wayward yearnings were easier to set aside. She decided a shower and comfortable clothes were a must, and they would manage a productive day of work. Finally, answers.

  * * *

  The moment the bathroom door closed behind Kip, Tam shuddered and put her head in her hands. Good Lord, what kind of cruel demon of sexual temptation could make an old cotton men’s robe—too big and totally shapeless—so unearthly sexy? The world could keep their supermodels and stilettos. Kip was absolutely delectable in socks and hair mussed from sleep.

  Watching her eat a piece of bacon with finger-licking relish had been torture.

  The reason she hadn’t slept much wasn’t because she was working—she hadn’t slept because every time she closed her eyes, Kip was there. Last night she would have given nearly anything just to sleep next to her, warm and close. This morning sleep was nowhere in her thoughts. Nothing gentle or cuddly either. She wanted to do sweat-dripping-down-the-back, still illegal in most states sorts of things with Kip, until neither of them could walk. Then start over.

  It was just sexual chemistry, that’s all. She’d never felt anything like it before. None of her minor entanglements could even compare. She had thought she knew what desire was and she had been wrong.

  She forced herself to tidy the kitchen and return to the keyboard of the little computer. So far, its range and satellite connection were all that she needed, and she’d taken precautions to mask her IP address as she pinged from one backdoor login to another. She had to hand it to the real hacker—it hadn’t been easy getting into a couple of the bank mainframes. She wasn’t sure it was wise, but after copying out the code she needed, she left an intrusion marker. If she was lucky, that would trigger an automatic copy of the code as it ex
isted and an independent copy would be available for the Feds, one that the hacker didn’t know had been made. It would also shut down the other hacker’s current access point.

  When Kip emerged, pink-skinned and hair pulled back in her usual ponytail, Tam told her, “Copying code as soon as possible was the right priority. I just checked the last bank, and the transaction record is gone. So I went back to the first bank I checked last night, and the record is gone from there now. Someone is wrapping things up. Maybe they’ve played all their cards and are going to head out with the money now.”

  “You said you thought you knew who it was.” Kip resumed her seat at the table as Tam tried not to look as if she was inhaling the clean, fresh scent of her.

  “North American trained, but has some of the tools popular with the Russian programmers, which I think could mean he’s a preferred contractor with the kinds of people Vernon Markoff knows and might want to help him avoid trial. It’s the same fingerprints on every site.”

  “The kinds of stuff I’m highlighting on these printouts?”

  “That’s it. I’m going to look for those fingerprints in SFI’s code for the key card access records and the security tests that control who can get where in our offices using their key cards.”

  They worked in the same companionable silence they had last night, with Kip using a ruler to scan down pages of code, marking particular strings with pink, green and yellow highlights. Getting into SFI’s software protocols was easy since Tam had left herself a backdoor. A few relatively simple searches later she found the fingerprint code.

  “Pretty clumsy. Basically, right now, anyone with a key card can get into the accounting file areas.”