by Debra Webb
“Coffee?”
Alex about jumped out of her skin as she entered the kitchen. Blake stood there, just as he had yesterday, looking not quite put together and with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.
Why had she ever started letting him sleep on her couch?
The moment her eyes bumped into his, the memory of that one kiss had her pulse reacting. Dumb. Dumb. Dumb.
“Morning.” Stepping around him, she poured herself a mug of coffee. She was going to need it.
She had to close her eyes just being this near to him. Something about him pulled at her, made her want to lean against those broad shoulders.
When this was over, she would get her life back on track. She hadn’t gone to the gym a single night this week. Her diet had sucked. She’d barely slept since Henson’s accident. And she couldn’t keep her mind on business because of the stranger sleeping on her couch.
She wasn’t even going to start on the other issues Henson’s death and her mother’s revelations had raised.
This was not a typical week for her. She never failed to work out. She ate right at least seventy-five percent of the time, and she generally slept like a baby. And she usually enjoyed the men she was attracted to. The difference was, she always steered wide around those in dangerous occupations.
What was wrong with her lately? She knew better than this.
“Gotta get going.” She finished off her coffee, grimacing at the burn as it flowed over her tongue and down her throat.
He switched off the coffeemaker. “I guess you’ll be riding with me.”
Oh damn. She’d forgotten about her SUV. She’d have to call and check on it.
As if riding to work in that fancy car of his wasn’t disconcerting enough, this morning her shadow strolled into the offices of Never Happened right behind her. Her blood pressure moved into the stroke zone. How the hell was she supposed to give him the slip if he stayed this close?
Mentally groping for a plan, she headed straight for her office without bothering with formal introductions. Shannon and the Professor stared at her, bemused or befuddled, she couldn’t tell, just ignored their questioning looks. “Shannon, I’ll need you for a few minutes.”
Her friend came into Alex’s office and closed the door behind her. “Who’s the guy?”
Alex rolled her eyes. “It’s Blake. Remember I told you he was following me around?”
Her mouth formed one of those Os of acknowledgement. “He’s the guy Marg said was sleeping on your couch.”
Did no one respect her privacy? “I haven’t had a chance to tell you any of this,” Alex said in her defense. Admittedly she and Shannon usually shared most things. “Brown is missing this morning.”
Worry drew Shannon’s brow into a frown. “What do you mean missing? I just assumed he was at the Ms. Miami registration.”
Alex glanced at the door and licked her dry lips. “Last night before I went to bed I got a call from some guy who said if I didn’t meet him in DeSoto Park, at the fountain, at ten this morning with the lens, Henson wouldn’t be my only dead friend.”
“Oh, my God. What’re you going to do?”
“Call and delay our first assignment. The Professor and I are going to go in the back and inventory supplies.”
“But you did that last week,” Shannon argued, confused. “What about Brown? Shouldn’t we call the police?”
“I can’t call the police, Shannon. It’s too risky. Too many things could go wrong. While we’re pretending to inventory,” she said pointedly, “the Professor and I are going to slip out the side entrance. You keep Blake busy for as long as possible.”
Shannon’s eyes widened. “But how?”
Alex shoved her cell phone into the back pocket of her jeans. “Just do it. And send the Professor back to give me a hand.” She retrieved the tampon holding the lens from her bag and stuffed it into her bra.
A look of sympathy overtook Shannon’s expression. “Gosh, all this and on your period, too.”
Alex didn’t bother explaining.
Once in the privacy of the storeroom, she gave the Professor the details. Alex listened at the door leading back into the small corridor outside her office. She could hear Shannon talking to Blake. She just hoped her friend could keep him distracted long enough.
She and the Professor slipped out the side entrance. Alex rushed into Patsy’s Clip Joint and borrowed the keys to her Bug. She knew Blake would be watching the traffic; they needed a vehicle he wouldn’t recognize.
“You’re sure you want to do this?” The Professor asked as she eased into traffic, taking a right so she wouldn’t have to pass in front of her office. “Blake could probably have helped.”
Alex cleared her throat of the fear tightening there. “I can’t risk Brown’s life like that. The guy said come alone. Even if he figures out you’re with me, you won’t represent the threat Blake would. This is my fault, Professor, I have to make it right.”
“Alexis,” the Professor said gently, “in most cases like this, the hostage doesn’t survive.”
“I know. That’s the part that scares me the most.”
The drive to Coral Gables had more than tension mounting. Second thoughts piled on. Alex was smart and tough and street savvy but she was no cop or spy. This was not the kind of thing she was familiar with or had any idea how to handle. She’d just have to wing it. Of that, she was not afraid. Of getting Brown killed, she was scared to death.
As she passed Coral Gables City Hall in all its Spanish Renaissance glory, she thought of all the times she’d driven through here, always amazed at the beauty of the thriving community. But today was different. She saw the things she’d always admired, like the exotic Venetian Pool that had once been a coral quarry, and the elegant DeSoto Plaza, but none of it registered as anything other than landmarks leading to her destination.
They were early. She parked Patsy’s Bug and she and the Professor got out.
Their first order of business was to find a place for the Professor to hang out while she got into position. Then they talked possible scenarios, none of which had a happy ending.
“Be very careful, Alex,” he warned before she left to hang out at the fountain.
At 10:00 a.m., the Professor was in position near the Biltmore Hotel, not far from where Alex was. He’d camouflaged himself amid the gathering crowd of shoppers. Thank God the caller had said ten and not nine. At least now they had the crowd as a cushion for whatever was going down.
She waited by the popular fountain, kept her eyes peeled for anyone looking her way.
At 10:04 a man approached her. Like Avery and Crane, he looked to be about sixty. Distinguished. What was it with all these old guys? Did they have nothing better to do than get into trouble by stealing secret technology and killing her friends?
“You have the lens?”
This one had an accent that sounded British. “Where’s my friend?”
“Mr. Brown is waiting in my car just over there.” He pointed toward the same parking area where she’d left Patsy’s Bug. “When I give the order, he’ll be released. Do you have the lens?”
The reality that this man did, indeed, have Brown with him made her knees go weak and her heart skip a beat. She’d told herself over and over that maybe Brown was just out of reach somehow.
She had to stop being afraid. She had to do this.
“You’ll never know if I don’t see Brown ASAP. He could be dead already for all I know.” She said this with all the indifference she could muster.
She tensed as the old guy removed a phone from his jacket pocket and made a call. “Have Mr. Brown stand up outside the car for a moment. If he makes any sudden moves, kill him.”
A chill raced along Alex’s skin. How the hell had she gotten herself into this mess?
She looked toward the parking area. A rear door on a sedan opened and Brown got out. He looked in Alex’s direction. Her heart fluttered with equal measures of fear and anger. A half laugh, half sob c
aught in her throat. Brown looked as mad as hell. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry.
“Let him go.” The guttural sound of her voice startled even her.
The man scoffed. “Do you really think it’s going to be that easy?”
She stared straight into his eyes. “Do you really want your lens back?”
“Let me see it and I’ll have your friend released.”
“You bring him over here, and we’ll do an even trade. No tricks.”
“You’re in no position to make demands, Miss Jackson.”
A smile slid across her lips. How dare this bastard think he could hurt a friend right in front of her. “Oh, but you’re wrong. I hold the only card that matters to you.”
His face set in furious lines, the man made the call. Brown, escorted by another sixty-something man, made the journey to the fountain.
The Professor had warned her that unless the whole business was done out in the open she or Brown or both could end up dead.
“The lens, Miss Jackson.” The one in charge held out his hand.
Brown wasn’t restrained, but his escort was evidently armed; he kept his right hand in his jacket pocket, obviously ready with a weapon. As furious as Brown looked, he wouldn’t be so docile, she was certain, unless he knew he had no other choice.
This was the moment. Her gaze met Brown’s and he gave her one of those tapered, cynical looks that said he’d about had enough of these jerks.
“Are we going to stand here all day, or are we going to do this?” he demanded, sounding like a bored Antonio Banderas. “As you know, I have someplace to be.”
Damn him. If he made her cry in front of these assholes…
“The lens, Miss Jackson,” the number-one asshole demanded.
She reached into her bra and fished out the tampon. “Here you go,” she said, passing it to him.
He glared at the tampon, then at her. “Don’t play games with me. If you think we won’t kill the both of you just because we’re in public, you’re mistaken. Remember, I’m the one who chose the place.”
“I hid the lens inside.” She gave him a smart-ass look. “I knew you wouldn’t look there when you searched my house.”
He started to open the tampon and she tried her level best not to shake. If he didn’t let them go after this they were screwed.
“Nobody move!”
Alex’s gaze jerked right. Blake? What in the name of God was he doing here?
And he wasn’t alone.
The whole fountain was suddenly surrounded by guys in suits just like the one Blake wore. Must be the CIA uniform.
The man who’d escorted Brown to the fountain made a move, but someone warned him to freeze and, thankfully, he obeyed.
The next few minutes were pretty much a blur of activity. Brown’s captors were arrested. Blake took charge of the tampon. The Professor admitted that he’d called the office and informed Blake of the situation as soon as he’d gotten into position where Alex wouldn’t hear him. The Professor had known she was in over her head. Thank God for his wisdom.
Blake didn’t say much, except thank you to Alex before having her, Brown and the Professor escorted back to her office for debriefing. Shannon and Marg had been beside themselves with worry. But all was well now…they were all safe.
The CIA handled the situation and then they all disappeared, including Blake. No real explanation of who the geriatric gang was or why they’d stolen the technology or where it would go from there. Alex had overheard something about China and treason. It was an easy leap from that to the idea that Avery’s people had been selling our technology to China. The whole thing was over.
Which was, she realized, a good thing. She didn’t need any more trouble in her life and Austin Blake was definitely trouble.
Saturday evening, Alex, Shannon and Marg celebrated with Michelob—wine for Shannon—and popcorn while they watched a movie. Bobby and the Professor chose to play a round of chess up at Marg’s place. Shannon hadn’t even realized her husband could play. Alex didn’t care as long as they gave the women some space.
Alex lifted her glass. “Let’s toast,” she said. “To Brown.” Marg and Shannon echoed her words. “The best damned Ms. Miami this town has ever seen.” They clinked glasses and drank deeply.
Despite being late for registration, Brown had walked away with the crown. The whole Never Happened staff had been there cheering him on. Who cared if he was a guy? He was one hell of a good-looking broad on that runway. If the judges ever suspected a thing no one knew.
“Alex,” Marg said, “is it okay if I use your living room for a meeting of my support group next week?”
Alex resisted the urge to groan. She couldn’t believe her mother was sticking with anything. But, hey, she was glad. This was great. “Sure. Just give me advance warning so I can go hang out with Shannon.”
“Give me warning, too,” Shannon put in. “No offense,” she said to Alex, “but I have to make sure Bobby and I don’t have plans.”
Damn. There was that too-familiar little ache of loneliness. Okay, enough was enough with the whole I-have-no-one-to-worry-about-scheduling-my-life-around crap. Alex was single and she loved it. Sure she got lonely but, dammit, who didn’t? Even married people had their lonely moments, when they were fighting or something.
Alex Jackson was perfectly happy just as she was.
She drained her glass and set it aside. Anyone who said differently was full of it.
She did not need a man in her life every minute of every day to feel complete. She had her home, her business, her friends. ’Nuff said.
She waited for the resounding echo of damn straight but it didn’t come. The only thing that popped into her head was the image of Blake.
Just as Henson’s death had, Blake’s presence had screwed with her perfect balance. Knowing that he’d slept on this very sofa for two nights had her itching to move.
Maybe that wasn’t true. She’d been doing some real thinking recently. She could try a mini relationship. See where it went. Maybe she was missing something.
But first she had to find the right man.
Not a problem, she knew plenty. The streets of Miami were full of good-looking, stable men. She’d have her 4Runner back on Monday and maybe she’d just go cruising. Thankfully the mechanical failure had nothing to do with sabotage this time, just a bad fuel injector.
One man in particular strong-armed his way into her thoughts but she kicked him out. He was long gone.
The doorbell chimed and she jumped up. “I’ll get it.” Any excuse to take her mind off trouble.
Marg and Shannon didn’t even appear to notice she’d moved. They were too engrossed in watching Orlando Bloom.
Alex just shook her head and wandered over to the front door. She knew it wouldn’t be Brown; he was parading all over Miami showing off his new tiara. Could be the Professor coming back down for something he claimed he couldn’t find at her mother’s, like the pepper grinder. Alex had noticed the Professor sneaking a look at Marg at the Ms. Miami contest today. She had the sneaking suspicion the man had a thing for her mother, which could be very good. The Professor would know how to handle Marg’s exotic tastes and fragile ego.
Alex opened the front door and all other thoughts, including the one that would have told her to say hello, fled from her brain.
Blake stood on her porch.
“Hey, Alex.” When she just stood there, mute, he added, “Can I come in?”
Cheering from the girls at something on the movie nudged Alex out of the trance she’d drifted into. “No!” She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her. “I have company.”
A flicker of something in those blue eyes made her chest constrict. Damn this man and his control issues. Damn his power over her. Ten seconds in his presence and already she couldn’t catch her breath.
“I stopped by to thank you,” he said. “You performed a great service for your country.”
She heard what he sa
id, but for the most part she was busy admiring the charcoal suit and silver shirt with the contrasting black tie. The guy knew how to dress. His only concession to imperfection was the way his hair had that just-rolled-out-of-bed look, and even that turned out to be perfect.
She’d pushed the limits of his control that one night when he’d kissed her. She wasn’t even sure how it happened. But it had been nice. Too bad it wasn’t meant to be.
“Well, I suppose I should be on my way.” He took a step back.
Somehow the move jolted her. Wait just one minute, she mused as her attention shifted from how gorgeous he looked to what he was actually saying. There was no way he came to her house on a Saturday night to thank her when he’d already done so yesterday when the lens had been recovered.
“What did you really come here for, Blake?” Her self-confidence roared like a lion. Oh yeah. This guy had a thing for her. Thank God she’d chosen this outfit for tonight. Slim-fitting, low-slung lounge pants and a silk camisole edged in frilly lace. Her bare feet sported sexy pink toenails. She looked good. She knew it and so did he.
He looked puzzled at her question, but he knew exactly what she meant. “I suppose I wanted to ensure that you were all right.”
Liar. “You knew I was all right when we said goodbye yesterday.”
He nodded.
“So what gives? Did you come back because there was something else you wanted?”
Tension tightened that handsome jaw.
“You want me, Mr. Uptight CIA guy?”
His gaze raked down the length of her body and back. Blatant desire burned there when his eyes met hers once more.
“Yes.”
She heaved a wistful sigh. Well, damn. “The problem is,” she admitted woefully, “I don’t get involved with dangerous men. I’ve stuck by this rule a really long time, Blake.”
Temptation glittered in those blue eyes. “Don’t worry, it’ll be our secret.”
A smile lit her face; she could feel the glow. Now there was an offer she couldn’t possibly refuse. Anticipation sent her body temperature soaring.
