The Agent's Proposition

by Stone, Lyn

  When Tess had plenty of time to recover and still hadn’t joined him, he went back below deck to see about her. She was sound asleep, curled in the middle of the king-size berth in her cabin. He gently closed the door and went back to admiring their new digs. Morning would arrive in a few hours, and he had slept a little on the plane.

  Right now he wanted to familiarize himself with the controls and marvel over everything. Tess was right. He had fallen in love. He liked that she understood his passion, even if she did think it was ridiculous. He wondered if she had a passion herself and what that might be.

  By the time the sun was up, gilding the Côte d’Azur, he found he was thinking more about Tess’s attributes than those of the Jezebel. Not a good sign.

  “Up and at ’em, Miz Bradshaw! We’re doing the girl thing this morning and shopping till we drop!”

  He saw she was right where he’d left her, still dressed and in the same position. “You alive?” he asked, reaching down to shake one of her feet. She had great legs. He let go of her quickly, before it seemed like a caress.

  She groaned and pushed up on one elbow. “Are there any sodas in the bar?”

  “Coffee’s made,” he said. “But if you want something cold, name your poison.”

  “Ginger ale,” she said, sliding off the bed. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

  She was as good as her word, appearing on unsteady legs and plopping down on the banquette cushions. “I’m better,” she assured him. “I’ll get used to it.”

  “Here. Drink this and don’t look out the windows. Forget you’re on the water.”

  “Ha!” She grunted and kept her eyes on her drink. “So, what’s the plan for today? We go to Saint-Tropez after we buy me a dress?”

  “Buy you a dress and shoes, get you a tan and have your hair and makeup done.”

  “I hope my expense account can stand all that,” she grumbled.

  “Spare no expense. That’s what the man said.”

  “Jack said that? Is he nuts? This boat must be costing a fortune, and our funding can’t be that generous.”

  Cameron loved her practical nature, but she simply didn’t get it. “The yacht’s a repo now owned by the French government and on loan to us as a courtesy. As for your expensive do-over, we have to get this guy on board willingly whatever the cost. You can see how my carrying him aboard unconscious would look. We’d never get out of the bay without somebody reporting it.”

  “So I’ll get him on board,” she said dully, sipping her ginger ale slowly and rubbing the cold can against the side of her face.

  “I told Mercier we’d zip down the coast of Spain and out into open waters. After that, I figure a maximum of sixteen hours to Conda Isle, where Mercier will have someone waiting to take charge of the prisoner and fly him back to the States.”

  “Sixteen hours?” she exclaimed, wide-eyed. “On open water?”

  He sat down beside her and took her hand. “Tess. You can do this. I’ll help you. We’ll get some tranquilizers, and after we interrogate Selim, I’ll lock him up and you can sleep the entire trip if you want to.”

  She sighed and let her head fall back on the cushion behind her. “Kill me now.”

  “Forget the boat for now. Let’s go into town and buy you something pretty. Think how much fun you’ll have undercover.”

  “I’m not in this for the fun of it,” she stated. “And you shouldn’t be, either.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying what you do for a living. Trust me, it’s the best time you can have standing up.”

  Not really, but he needed to distract her, and the truth wouldn’t do it.

  “I have to shower and change,” she said, her voice sounding awfully weak.

  Yeah, he’d just been thinking that standing up in the shower with him would be the best time. However, that was not an appropriate thought, and not one to be shared out loud.

  Cameron stood and tugged her upright. Her hair was a mess, her skin pale as milk, and her clothes were full of creases. She looked tumbled and lovely. And pretty damned hot. “Don’t bother changing. You’re fine just the way you are.”

  She must have been desperate to get off the boat, because she went with him, just as she was.

  Tess wished she’d had another hour’s sleep, and time to shampoo her hair, shower and change, but she had so needed to get her feet on solid land. This op was going to prove a lot harder than she’d imagined.

  “I don’t even take my trash out looking like this,” she muttered as they strode along the quay.

  He smiled down at her. “You look cute a little rumpled. Don’t worry about it. I promise you, we won’t see a soul you know.”

  “I’m not really vain,” she explained, sticking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “It’s just that I feel so much better facing the world behind a little makeup. Most women do, you know. Being a guy, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Oh, I get it,” he stated. He was silent for a moment, then added, “Really. You’ve heard that adage ‘Clothes make the man’? Well, clothes can make the woman, too. Not in the sense it was probably said in the first place, but the way you’re decked out really can change your whole attitude, how you walk, how you talk, how you interact with other people. Since you’re a body-language expert, I tell you this for future reference. You can take on a new persona and pretend much more easily to be someone you’re not when you’re dressed for it. You’ll see.”

  “Thanks for the info. You’ve done a lot of undercover work, I take it.”

  He sighed, shook his head and gave a wry little chuckle. “So much that I sometimes wondered who I really was.”

  “Ah, but you found your true self on a fishing boat.” She lengthened her strides to keep up with him and shot him a half smile. “You looked pretty immersed in the role when I found you, anyway.”

  “Bloom where you’re planted, I always say.”

  That made her wonder if that, too, was only a role he’d assumed. Maybe he hadn’t had much choice. The Company had banned him from any kind of law enforcement work. Not by any formal directive, but with that shadow on his record, he wouldn’t have been able to get a job in a two-man police station.

  She recalled the photo of him in his file. Sharp dresser, clean-cut and as professional looking as any agent she knew. So he had done an about-face.

  That made a strange sort of sense when she thought about it. Cameron had cut all ties and made a complete change.

  They walked in silence for a while. She took in the beauty of the place, with its tall, gently swaying palms and carefully landscaped terrain. The sea air was salty, fresh and bracing, banishing her jet lag by degrees. By the time they reached the shops, she felt rejuvenated.

  “You wouldn’t be female if you didn’t look forward to this a little bit,” he said, his tone teasing. “Confess now. You can’t wait, can you?”

  “All right, maybe a little anticipation,” she said. Trepidation, too, however. What if she couldn’t pull it off?

  No woman appreciated being told she was dowdy, even if she was and liked it. Well, he hadn’t said that exactly, but he’d probably thought it.

  Now he looked like a million bucks. Like he had a million, anyway.

  There was the two-day growth of beard, which some thought looked so cool. His hair was sun streaked and in casual disarray, which stylists worked so hard to arrange. His nails were neatly trimmed and buffed. The diamond stud in his left ear added a rakish touch.

  He carried himself with such confidence, she envied it. Hers was sorely lacking at the moment, but she could act as if it wasn’t. Surely she had that much acting ability.

  They soon reached the main shopping area of Nice. Classy shops, famous brand names, tourists and locals spending big. Tess tried to look cool and not stare.

  “There,” he said, pointing to a salon with a tasteful swirl that spelled out Paolo. “That’s the place. Now then, you’re my project. Go along with whatever I say, and don’t look surprised.�
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  “Nothing you do would surprise me at this point,” she said testily.

  But she found she was wrong. He swept the door open and ushered her inside with a gushing spate of Italian. She had no idea what he was saying, because she didn’t speak the language. Since this was actually the French Riviera, he must have taken his cue from the name of the place. Maybe he’d chosen it because of that.

  She looked up at him and nodded, which seemed to be what he wanted her to do. His wide smile of approval and one-armed hug said so, anyway.

  The place was amazing. Tess had never indulged in a spa/salon. The entry was done in muted silver with swaths of bright gold lettering on the walls and a fountain with a gold-leafed statue of a nude pouring water into the shell that surrounded her feet.

  Cameron greeted the pretty receptionist in Italian, flirting outrageously. Tess didn’t need to understand the words to get that. The girl gave as good as she got, too, before punching an intercom with an inch-long silver fingernail and announcing them.

  Seconds later a young man with long, silky hair and a deep tan appeared. Was he wearing mascara? Cameron greeted him like an old friend and introduced Tess, almost as an afterthought.

  Then the young man spoke to her in English with a heavy Italian accent. “Come, Giacomo is to make you beautiful. Mama will not know you when he has finished!”

  “Your mama or mine?” she muttered drily, aping his accent.

  “Smile, my sweet girl. I geev you the chance to change your world!”

  “Oh, thank you, Fabio,” she replied under her breath.

  She saw him stifle a laugh, but he kept up the act.

  Giacomo the Pretty showed her to a room, where a female assistant indicated she should undress. Curious about what would happen next, Tess followed instructions. Then she was immersed in mud, washed, massaged, steamed, spray tanned and air-dried.

  Cloaked in a warm terry robe, she followed the assistant to another private room where she was manicured and pedicured, polished, shampooed and conditioned.

  When she rejoined Cameron and Giacomo, old pals for sure now, Cameron eagerly asked her how she felt after her treatment.

  “Like I’ve been through an automatic car wash,” she replied sweetly.

  He laughed uproariously, as did Giacomo, though she doubted the little Italian had understood a word she’d said. Giacomo motioned her to the chair in front of the mirror, and she took a seat.

  Cameron looked on anxiously, offering suggestions as Giacomo combed out her hair, trimmed it and brushed in highlights, which he wrapped in foil.

  “Now I’m an alien,” she commented, rolling her eyes at the sight in the mirror. “And I thought I looked bad when I came in here.”

  They paid no attention to anything she said. She became an object to decorate, and the two of them had a high old time arguing, gesturing wildly and apparently compromising as Giacomo worked his magic.

  He had swiveled her chair after he’d twisted her hair into rolls. She wouldn’t be able to see what they did to her next.

  Then another guy arrived, long faced and thin, already assessing her as his new project. Tess stared back pointedly, asserting herself, but he didn’t seem to get or perhaps didn’t care that she was copying his expression.

  Giacomo almost bowed to the man, while Cameron treated him with great deference. No arguing with this artist. He had game.

  She abandoned herself to the long-fingered hands with the featherlight touch and hoped to heck he knew what he was doing. At any rate, if he didn’t, she could always wash her face.

  “Voilà!” he said finally, a pleased exclamation. So maybe that was why Cameron and Giacomo hadn’t put in their two cents’ worth. He must be French.

  “Merci,” she ventured.

  As if just realizing she was a real person, not a mannequin, he smiled at her, tapped her once under the chin and left.

  Giacomo went to work with his blow-dryer and fingers, lost in the act of creating her new hairstyle. She felt him pin up loops and spring down curls.

  Her excitement grew in spite of her will to remain aloof. So did the gut-wrenching concern. What if no amount of disguising her could make her sexy enough to entice the man they were after? And even if they gave her the looks, could she act well enough to pull it off?

  The whole mission could hinge on it.

  Chapter 5

  At length, the little stylist stood back from Tess and held his hands out, signaling that he had finished his creation. She watched him and Cameron exchange a look. Both nodded and smiled.

  Then Cameron stepped behind her chair, dragged the robe off her shoulders, baring them and half her breasts. She grabbed it for modesty’s sake as he turned her around.

  When she looked up, a stranger in the mirror stared back. “My God!”

  “Bellissima!” Cameron said in a reverent whisper.

  “Si!” Giacomo beamed at her reflection.

  Cameron continued to stare for a moment, then spoke quietly to Giacomo. In the mirror, she thought she saw money change hands behind her.

  Moments later she and Cameron were alone. “What do you think?” he asked, his look now assessing, rather than admiring. The man changed moods on a dime.

  She shrugged. “You were absolutely right. I’m somebody else now.”

  “Not quite, but you’re getting there. Go get dressed. We aren’t through yet.”

  The jeans and top she had worn looked ridiculous with her new look, as if she’d put a different head on her body. She vaguely recalled doing that with her Barbie dolls years ago. It had seemed simpler than changing their clothes.

  An hour later they exited the second shop with a too short, formfitting, low-cut cocktail dress in electric blue. It seemed to have been constructed for the new underwear they had purchased for her at the first store. Thank goodness, he hadn’t insisted on fitting her push-up bra!

  He directed her into a shoe shop and immediately chose killer high-heeled sandals that were transparent. “You have beautiful feet. And these will make your legs look longer, giving you height.”

  “I’ll be four inches taller, and that’s a fact.” She hated them. “Crippled, maybe, but taller. I’m sure a man who hates women designed these.”

  “You’re probably right about that.” He shook his head in wonder. “It always amazes me how much women will suffer to look great.”

  “Hey, this was your idea! All of it! I was perfectly satisfied to look the way I did before, and now you’re blaming me for having stuff you picked out?”

  He hailed a taxi. “You’ll be perfect for the part you need to play if you’ll just smile and quit fighting it. Attitude is everything and can make or kill a disguise. We’ll work on that this afternoon.”

  He opened the taxi’s door and stood back for her to get in. “Careful with your hairdo, and don’t mess it up.”

  Tess wanted to slug him. His adoring look in the mirror had been so damn fake. He didn’t like her this way. He didn’t like her before. What the hell did she care whether he liked her or not? But she did, against all reason. All of this was just too confusing.

  What she needed to do was forget his opinions altogether and concentrate on the mission at hand, on becoming someone who would intrigue a man she didn’t even know yet. It would be nice if she knew where her charm switch was.

  “Tess?” Cameron’s voice was soft, and she turned to look at him. “Don’t worry that this will change who you really are. Like I said, just think of yourself as an actress in a role. When the play’s over, you can be Tess again, exactly as you were.”

  She wondered if she would. Or if she even wanted to. “The roles you played changed you, didn’t they?”

  He inclined his head, as if thinking about that. “Well, on a few ops I got too immersed for too long. Sometimes it was fun and games, like today at the salon. Other times, not so much.”

  “Yeah, that wasn’t even necessary, the byplay with Giacomo and the girl at the desk. What was with that?”r />
  He smiled. “Just practice. Showing off a little for you, I guess.”

  “Who are you really, Cameron?” she asked, genuinely interested.

  “Just a guy trying to get by, mostly.”

  “A loner.”

  He nodded.

  She wondered if that was by choice or the result of what had happened on his last mission. Choice, most likely, since he’d been an operative for years before his fall from grace. Certainly a loner, then.

  “Me, too. Always have been,” she admitted. “You need to show me how to be a convincing extrovert. It won’t come naturally, but I’ll give it all I’ve got.”

  “That’s the spirit,” he said with little enthusiasm. “But first, I have to get you over the motion sickness.”

  Oh, Lord, she had forgotten they had to go back to the boat! “How do you plan to do that?”

  “Hypnosis.”

  “Oh, no!” she said, shaking her head so vehemently, a curl tumbled out of its pinning. Let him probe her brain and dig out all the secrets of her life? “That’s been tried. I can’t be hypnotized.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t like that smile he was wearing, one that said he was really looking forward to the treatment and would try it, anyway. Not a chance in hell.

  “Let’s have lunch before we go back, since we skipped breakfast,” he suggested. “I’m starving.”

  Sweet relief. She would do just about anything to delay getting back on the boat. She didn’t even offer a token objection when he had the taxi stop and let them out.

  “I know a great place,” he said. “You like Italian? I seem to be on an Italian kick today.”

  Tess nodded and followed him back down the block to a small trattoria. They entered, and he greeted the host as if he knew him. Either he had spent a lot of time in Nice and had met a lot of the locals, or he got off on being overly gregarious. He was really good at it, too.

  “Do you know him?” she asked after they’d been seated at a small table in the darkest corner.