Code Name: Bikini

by Christina Skye

  “I have more in another refrigerator. The extras were for you, Tobias.” She smiled wryly. “They were meant to be a surprise for your birthday.”

  The big security officer blinked. “My birthday? How in the hell did you know—”

  “Andreas is dating the assistant purser. Her cousin is married to the director of personnel back in Miami. No secrets on a cruise ship, remember?” Gina blew a strand of hair from her face, still shaken by the sabotage before her. “Happy early birthday. We were going to surprise you tonight.”

  Tobias watched her open a second refrigerated unit on the far wall. “Don’t worry about me. Keep those for the captain.” He shook his head as Andreas began dumping the ruined desserts in the garbage. “Stop. I need some of those for evidence.”

  “For fingerprints?” Andreas looked confused. “But we all wear plastic gloves.”

  “Maybe whoever did this wasn’t careful. It’s worth a shot. I want everything in plastic bags, including that metal tray.”

  “Good idea. Meanwhile, what about her computer?”

  Gina jumped at the sudden intrusion of Trace’s voice. He had been so quiet that she’d forgotten he was still there.

  “We’ll check the crew access number and verify the time of the intrusion. Then I’ll start cross-checking location and access against videotapes.”

  “Only a fool would use his own number.” Trace leaned against the big Sub-Zero freezer and crossed his arms. “Obviously, he used someone else’s code. And the videotapes could be useless.”

  Gina shivered a little. “Can’t we do anything to stop this?”

  “I’ll find something.” Tobias studied the debris on a tray. “Maybe we’ll get lucky with some prints and—”

  “I think I have a better way to get the information you need,” Trace said quietly.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I HATE BREAKING RULES.” The security officer’s mouth flattened. “So how many will I have to break?”

  Trace wondered how long Tobias and Ryker had been working together. Working with Ryker for any amount of time would make anyone cynical.

  “None. I’ve got a friend with equipment that can pull a molecule of sweat off a fly’s wing.” He held Hale’s gaze. “Shall I contact him?”

  They both knew this was Trace’s judgment call. Any anomaly or incident of this sort created security risks.

  “No one’s that good,” the security officer growled.

  “My guy is. Trust me on this.”

  Tobias didn’t look ready to trust anyone. He also didn’t appear to be happy about the suggestion. “What would your contact need? Assuming that I go along with this idea.”

  “Clear photos of everything. I’m thinking some infrared shots would be useful. He’d want food samples and your surveillance videos, too, of course.”

  Tobias shook his head. “Not gonna happen. No outsider would ever be given access to those tapes.” He stared down the long row of cabinets, and his hands opened and closed as if he were trying to hold something that couldn’t be held. “You’ll get the tray and the food samples. I’ll get you the infrared photos, too. But you can forget about viewing the surveillance feed.”

  “Do you want to resolve this or not?” Trace shot back. “If you do, get those tapes.”

  “Stop growling.” Gina strode between the two men, hands on her hips. “Tobias, let’s work on those videos.”

  “I’ll do what I can.”

  Gina spun toward Trace. “And you stop giving orders. You’re not part of the crew. You shouldn’t even be down here,” she muttered.

  “Maybe I should be. You’re obviously understaffed. I could help you out. On an informal basis, of course.”

  “Out of the question. Passengers aren’t even supposed to visit work areas. And no offense, but you’re hardly pastry chef material. The job requires patience, focus and excellent reflexes. Some knowledge of chemistry doesn’t hurt, either.”

  “Is that a fact?” Trace kept his expression unreadable. “Do you always rip into people who try to help you?”

  “I manage just fine without anyone’s help.” She glanced at the people gathered uneasily near a big commercial refrigerator. “I need to speak with my staff. Then I want to check those computer access logs, Tobias. I want solid proof of tampering, and I want a name.”

  She turned her back pointedly on Trace. “Everybody get coffee,” she said to the group by the refrigerator. “It’s time for us to plan our counterattack.”

  “SORRY IF I SNAPPED at you.” Gina didn’t look at Trace as she strode down the hall. “Morale was going south and I had to do something fast. They’re worried that their bonuses will be cut or they’ll lose their jobs. I can’t let that happen. This isn’t about rules and security.” Her hands bunched against her waist. “It’s about people and families.”

  “You care about them.”

  “Of course I do.” She swung around to face him, stiff with anger. “Andreas sends money home for his sister, who’s got leukemia. Imogen’s father can’t work because he lost his leg in a boating accident two years ago. Reggie’s mother…”

  Gina stopped, unable to continue. She felt the weight of too many personal stories. Whole families depended on the checks sent back from this ship.

  Everyone in the kitchen counted on her. They were family, in the truest sense of the word, and she couldn’t let them be hurt because of a crazy woman’s vendetta.

  “Things are different here. We’ve all grown very close, and now I’ve got a responsibility to them.” She stuck her hands in her pockets. “I doubt you’d understand that.”

  “I understand more than you think,” he said harshly.

  “Maybe, maybe not. Anyway, Blaine has to find out there will be consequences. I’m going to talk to her.”

  “Bad idea. People who do things like this aren’t interested in talking. Let her think she’s winning, then ambush her from a rear-guard action. Remember, all warfare is based on deception.”

  “Is that Navy theory?”

  “No, very old military advice from a Chinese genius named Sun Zi.”

  Gina scowled. “So I can’t go kick her butt from here to Sunday?”

  “It’s not exactly a long-term solution.”

  “That probably means I can’t grip her throat and strangle the last ounce of life out of her, either.”

  “Nix on the strangulation. Law enforcement tends to frown on stuff like that,” he said dryly.

  “What kind of date are you? Can’t a girl have any fun?”

  “Is this a date? I thought it was more like a security consultation.”

  “Somehow it’s turning into both, and I’m not sure why. Did I say thank you?”

  “Not recently.”

  “Thank you.” Gina stood uncertainly. Something in his eyes made her breath catch.

  To hell with being careful. Leaning in close, she kissed him. He didn’t move as her mouth brushed his, then settled for a slow, thorough appreciation. Her heart gave a little kick as she felt his hand rise, skimming through her hair.

  She meant to pull away but somehow she forgot all about that.

  There was more here, she thought dimly. With this man there would be fire and surprise and risk. But the risks would be worth it.

  She bit his lip gently and heard his breath catch. When she teased him with her tongue, he responded with the urgent slide of his mouth.

  His hand tightened in her hair. Slowly he drew her body against him.

  Oh, the man was good. Far too smooth for safety. He knew moves that she’d never heard of.

  She felt his hands tense on her cheek, his breath coming fast and shallow.

  Nice to know that he was shaken, too. She felt the tension in his shoulders, the weight of his hand cradling her neck. When she closed her eyes, she sighed, adrift in pleasure. Caught in a strange and unexpected surge of…

  Belonging.

  Impossible, Gina thought dimly. Her heart hammered so hard she rubbed her hand prot
ectively over her chest.

  He didn’t push her further, and when she pulled away, he watched her in silence. Questions hung between them.

  Dangerous. Far safer to act as if she hadn’t been knocked dizzy by the force of his touch. But somehow she didn’t want safe.

  “What was that about?” she whispered.

  “Hell if I know.” He eased a wayward strand of hair from her flushed cheek. “But I’m going to find out.” His eyes were very dark.

  She blew out a little breath, suddenly aware of people passing and shooting them amused glances. “No fair saying things like that when I’m trying to stay calm and cool. In case you forgot, this is a public place. Gossip on a ship can be brutal.”

  She stepped back and missed the warmth of his arms immediately. “You don’t have to waste your vacation helping me. Blaine is my problem.”

  “Are you kidding?” He moved easily, matching her pace. “This is the most fun I’ve had in three days. A few hours ago I was ready to stick a fork in my eye, just for the distraction value.”

  “You really are having a terrible cruise, aren’t you? Usually people love our ship. Gambling, fitness, dancing, we’ve got it all.”

  “It’s not the activities or the facilities.” Trace cleared his throat. “It’s the female passengers. There’s way too much grabbing.”

  “Welcome to the brave new world of high seas cruising.” Gina glanced down at his hand. “You could try wearing a wedding ring.” Then she shrugged. “On second thought, it wouldn’t make any difference. Any man who looks like you is fair game.”

  Trace made a sound of annoyance. “It’s not open season,” he snapped.

  “I’m glad to know someone thinks that. Not that I’m criticizing. If a woman wants mindless sex, that’s her privilege. Ditto for the man.”

  His eyes cut to hers. “Is that a theoretical or a personal opinion?”

  “Off topic. This is a security consultation, remember?”

  “And a partial date. You need to eat and I’m prepared to feed you.” His eyes darkened, bottomless and hungry. “All night long, if you want.”

  Gina’s breath caught in her chest. Yes, she wanted. Her body hummed, turning hot at the thought.

  But she didn’t have sex with strangers, not even strangers who had saved her from professional ignominy twice.

  She avoided his eyes. There was no point in drawing things out. “You really don’t have to escort me to my cabin. I doubt I’ll be attacked while I cross the aft deck.”

  “I’ve finally got something to do. You think I’m giving that up now? I was one step removed from body restraints and enforced confinement until this happened.”

  Body restraints. A hot and very kinky image of Trace naked on her bed left Gina’s cheeks hot. Was she losing her mind?

  She rolled her shoulders. “You really are an alpha-personality gone bad, aren’t you?”

  “Comes with the territory. Not that your job is exactly calm and quiet.”

  Gina laughed. “Things can get bonkers when we’re counting down the final minutes before a ship-wide event. But when you work together long enough, you learn to work as a team. The laughter keeps us steady, able to cope.”

  Trace held open the door as they reached the end of the hall. “Admirable field style. Sure you weren’t ever in the military?”

  Gina looked away, memories crowding in. Did he see things that others didn’t? “I have a feeling your field style is pretty good, too, Lieutenant.”

  Suddenly she wasn’t thinking about Trace’s skills at fighting or covert surveillance. She was imagining him in bed, rugged and fierce, making her wild. She imagined finding out how that lean, tough body looked and felt naked under her searching fingers.

  Serious meltdown. Time to grow up and stop being a mental case, Ryan.

  They took an elevator down two decks, and Gina stopped outside an end cabin, digging in her pocket for her key card. “You really don’t have to stay.”

  “I’m staying,” Trace said harshly. “Tobias Hale is nobody’s fool, and he seems to think you should take basic precautions, which is right up my alley. Now go find that list of missing e-mails that he wanted. I’ll be right outside.” His voice turned hard. “Just don’t take too long or I may decide to come in and get you.”

  Gina’s throat felt dry. “And that would be bad because…?”

  “Because I doubt that we’d get out of your room until morning.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SOMEHOW SHE KEPT her voice steady. “You’re pretty cocky, Lieutenant.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “You’re impossible, too.”

  “So I’ve also been told,” he said calmly.

  Gina tried hard not to stare at his mouth. Why did he make her so distracted? “I appreciate your help, Trace. But if you’re expecting this to go anywhere—don’t. You’ll be disappointed.”

  “Go?” His face was unreadable. “Not sure I follow.”

  “Don’t play dumb. As in a week of uninhibited cruise ship sex.” She shook her head. “It’s not happening.”

  “I’m not angling for…cruise ship sex,” he said wryly.

  He didn’t seem at all ruffled by her warning, which surprised her. So maybe he was different from the other men she’d met aboard. After all, a gorgeous man like this could pick and choose, and there was no real reason he’d pick her. She’d never rated herself very high in the allure department.

  He waited at the door while she searched her desk, found a sheet of notes and flipped off the desk light. When she looked up, he was studying the room. “What?”

  “You don’t spend much time here, do you? No posters. No photos. No knickknacks. It’s strictly a place to sleep.”

  He was right, and for some reason his dead-accurate assessment made her uncomfortable. “Sleeping is all I have time for besides work.”

  Trace walked around a big black duffel bag in the corner of her cabin. “Not entirely. I see you’ve got a fully equipped gym bag in the corner.”

  “Not for the gym. That’s for Thursday-night poker.” She smiled a little. “It’s become our little institution aboard the ship.”

  “Glad to hear it, because I love poker. What’s your buyin?”

  “Uh—that depends. Tobias usually sets the figure.”

  Trace looked thoughtful. “How about you wrangle me a seat at the table?”

  “No can do, Kemosabe. It’s invitation only and strictly for staff. Tobias rules the proceedings with an iron fist.”

  “Maybe he’d make an exception in my case.” Trace toyed with the zipper of her duffel, and Gina bumped away his hand.

  “Back off, Ace. Go find your own poker game.”

  Trace shook his head. “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “Because you look for secrets everywhere,” Gina muttered. When he didn’t answer, she frowned at him. “What now?”

  “Things don’t match up. You just don’t strike me as a cook. You seem comfortable with handling authority, and you know how to read people quickly. Were you always a pastry chef?”

  She laughed dryly. “When I was twelve, I woke up and said, ‘Gee, why don’t I make a mango chocolate cheese-cake today.”

  Not.

  But the truth wasn’t any of his business. That meant flippant was best. She changed topics adeptly, waving a stack of papers as she walked back to the door. “Three of my e-mails are missing.”

  He stood outside the door, legs apart, body relaxed but alert. In full bodyguard mode, she realized.

  For some reason the thought was very comforting. But Gina wasn’t looking for a protector, and she certainly didn’t need to lose her head over a handsome stranger who’d be gone in a week. She would handle Blaine perfectly on her own.

  She closed the door to her cabin and took a deep breath. “I’ll have to reconstruct all those messages.”

  “Tobias is right,” Trace said quietly. “Stay prepared. Things will g
et nastier before this is over. So what started your little war?”

  She gave a hollow laugh. “Chocolate ganache.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Chocolate and cream, melted together slowly and blended perfectly. It’s amazing stuff.” She rubbed her eyes gently, the way her doctor had shown her. “I made a ganache cake on a cruise to Honduras last year. Turns out the passenger was a TV bigwig. His wife loved the cake, which I constructed to look just like his favorite car—a silver Porsche GT2. When he saw it, he refused to eat it. It’s still wrapped in plastic, frozen in his freezer. Terrible waste of varietal chocolate, if you ask me.” Gina cleared her throat, feeling Trace’s body too close.

  Too strong.

  And his scent, a faint mix of citrus and leather, made her want to lean close, pull off that shirt and run her hands over hot, sculpted muscles.

  She cleared her throat. “Where was I?”

  “Porsche. Waste of good chocolate.”

  “Right. The next thing I knew, he wanted photos of my other cakes, which are always super-realistic. I did a red Prada cake in the shape of his wife’s favorite ostrich handbag, and I made a pair of shoes to match. There were e-mails and a few phone calls, and one morning I found out I was up for a series. Chocolate Rules is the working title.”

  “This chef is gunning for you because of jealousy?”

  “Not a chef, the head of beverage services. I should try to keep an open mind, but she’s made threats and done some shoving.” Gina took a long breath. “When will we know for sure who’s behind this?”

  “An hour after my guy has the materials. He has skills that haven’t even been named yet. He’ll pull a print somewhere. Maybe even a fabric sample.”

  “A print would be enough. All the crew is fingerprinted when they’re hired.” Gina started walking, her expression fierce. “So what do I do next? Because I’m not giving up.”