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“Okay. You two look great together. You’re the perfect bait. Hey, get the evidence we need to proceed and you can come on home. Easy as pie.”
“Jeannie?”
“What?”
“You can shove that pie where the sun don’t shine.”
“Why, Ryan Vail, I never.”
“Yes, you have.”
Her laugh made him even sorrier she wasn’t here. But their conversation told him he’d better get his act together fast. “The trial going okay?”
“Same crap, different day. I’m really sorry, kiddo. I would have been there if I could.”
“I know.”
“Call me tonight, let me know what I’m missing.”
“If I can, I will.” He disconnected, shoved his phone in his pocket, hoping like hell there would be nothing to tell. Ever. That he and Angie would pull this sting off with no hiccups, and then he’d be on his way to D.C. to a new job before he had to give her another thought.
A minute later he still hadn’t moved and room service was at the door.
THE COFFEE WAS ALL SET OUT on the patio when Angie left the bathroom. Two laptops were open, one on the table which Ryan was staring at, the other on the dresser. That laptop had to be Ryan Ebsen’s because the screen saver consisted of revolving pictures of Ferraris.
She debated unpacking, but she needed the caffeine too desperately to wait.
Outside, it was surprisingly warm for February in the high desert, and the view of the mountains was beautiful. Ryan had a large cheese Danish on his plate, but in front of her seat at the round glass table was a yogurt-and-fruit parfait with a bran muffin on the side. She stared at the breakfast, then looked up to meet Ryan’s gaze, but only for a second. “What’s this?”
“Sustenance.” He poured her a cup of coffee, then put the carafe down.
“Thank you.” Interesting that it was the exact breakfast she would have ordered for herself.
“You’re welcome. Look,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I believe what’s required here is to barrel through all notions of propriety and just get down to how the hell we’re going to pull this off.”
Angie knew she was blushing, she could feel the heat rise on her cheeks. “Can I at least have a cup of coffee first?”
“Yeah,” he said, easing up, at least somewhat. His posture was still stiff and he could only hold her gaze for a few seconds at a time.
She proceeded to put the cream in her coffee, to take a few moments as she sipped to catch the view and try to relax. Ryan looked different in his Ebsen clothes. She’d never imagined him in khakis and a too-tailored-to-be-off-the-rack polo shirt. The suede bucks were the perfect touch to put him on the Street Style map on GQ. He’d always dressed sharply, but this change made him look rugged and elegant at the same time, and she’d better stop thinking about him in or out of clothes and get down to work.
After another big sip of almost hot enough coffee, she gave him a nod.
“Okay,” he said. “Starting with registration, we’re going to be the Ebsens to everyone at the hotel, so from this moment forward, we’re in character. We won’t be able to pull it off 24/7, but the more we practice, the easier it will get. Your part shouldn’t be too tough. I’m playing a ruthless bastard, so you won’t have to act much, at least not to start.”
She flinched at his words until she saw the way his mouth quirked up. Joking, just joking. Everyone in the unit, including Ryan, kidded around, often with really black humor, and as of yesterday afternoon, it had never made her blink. Now, though … Pulling out a smile, she said, “I don’t think you’re a bastard. I think you’re going to be very good at this.”
After a questioning look he cleared his throat as he reached down beside his chair and brought up a thick file folder.
“All right, then,” she said. “You want to go first?”
“Go first?”
“I need you to tell me as much as you can about the parts of your real life you used to fill in your cover background. We let you and Jeannie handle that aspect because she knows things about you that the rest of us on the team don’t.”
“Right.” He paused, obviously thinking over what he wanted to make public and frowning as if he wanted to be anywhere but sitting across from her. “I, uh. Huh. Maybe we should … How about you tell me what you know about me and I’ll confirm, deny, fill in.”
Bad idea. Really, really bad. It would be just like her to say some idiotic thing she’d made up in her head about him. Or ask a question that had nothing to do with the sting. “That seems more complicated than it has to be. And frankly, confusing.”
He looked out at the distant mountains. “I’m not trying to be evasive, but what Jeannie knows, she’s learned over the last three years.”
“I understand. She’s your partner. Kind of like a wife in a way.”
“A wife?” He laughed. “We’re not that close.”
“You know what I mean,” she said, saw the fleeting panic in his face and considered that maybe he didn’t. “Have you ever lived with a woman?”
“No.” He seemed affronted. “No,” he repeated, this time drawing out the word and meeting her eyes. “You?”
She started to shake her head but stopped herself. “Nope, never have lived with a woman. I was trying to get you to think in terms of what you’d expect a wife should know about you.”
He rubbed his eyes, and murmured, “Maybe you should go first.”
Dammit. Angie was going to have to take the lead on this and she’d been counting on following his example. “Okay,” she said finally, reminding herself to be cool and act her age. “We have one shot at these people, so when I’m finished, you can ask me any questions you like. And then we’ll discuss exactly how far we’re willing to go to see this through to the end.”
3
“I KNOW YOU BUILT Jeannie’s tennis playing into the cover story, but I’m just okay at tennis so we’ll have to be careful there. Running is my thing,” Angie said, and Ryan nodded because he already knew that. “In fact, I run every morning and I plan to stick to my schedule while we’re here.” She paused. “Do you want to write some of this down?”
He shrugged. “I will when I need to. But I already knew you were a runner.”
“Really?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head.
“Yeah, you know, that 10k you did in August?”
The head tilt was now accompanied by narrowed eyes. “I don’t recall talking about that at work.”
Ryan stared at her. Damn. There was a risk of getting too close to the line if he spoke to her about her runner’s body. Hell, it was obvious that she was dedicated to the sport. He flashed back to the picture he’d envisioned of her in the shower and he grabbed a pen, then ducked inside the room for a moment to grab a blank piece of paper and cool himself down. By the time he returned to the table, he was fine. “I must’ve heard someone mention it, but yeah, I’ll write it down.”
She seemed to buy that answer and turned to gaze thoughtfully through the sliding-glass door. “I’m not exactly sure what kind of subjects are going to come up during the intimacy exercises, so I’m gonna cover a broad spectrum. Um, I don’t like roses. Of any color. If a man were to—” Her gaze shot back to him. “You’d send me a simple fresh-cut mixed bouquet if you were to do that sort of thing. Nothing fancy and prearranged.”
He took notes. Flowers. Shit, he wouldn’t have thought of that, though he’d seen Jeannie buy carnations on the corner after work. He liked that Angie didn’t care for fancy arrangements, although he couldn’t imagine why it made any difference.
“Good Lord, how much can you write about flowers?”
He looked up. “Which one is your favorite?”
“Tulips, lilies, no, lilies remind me of funerals. Anything but roses and lilies.”
“Got it.”
“I don’t drink much, because of the running. But I don’t mind sour apple martinis or white Russians. I can’t see Mrs. Ebsen throwing back a Miller.”
Ryan smiled. “I don’t think I’d marry anyone who didn’t like beer.”
“I didn’t think you’d marry anyone for any reason.”
“That’s true,” he admitted, returning his eyes to the paper. “Back to Mr. and Mrs. Ebsen. I know you like sports in general so let’s get that squared away.”
She nodded. “I cross train in mixed martial arts, a beach volleyball league and ballet, but I watch basketball. I’m not into football at all, or hockey, sorry. Baseball bores me to tears, so let’s just stick with basketball. You do like basketball, right?”
“Not as much as hockey, but yeah, I’m a Lakers man.” He’d bet his official Gretzky jersey that she already knew that. He’d won the office pool several times. Just like she’d known he was into hockey. He remembered a disagreement they’d had about Larry Bird that had taken place before the Halloween incident.
“Good,” she said. “We met at a sports event, then. A championship game.”
He pulled out his own phone and started punching keys. “The 2010 Finals, there was a fund-raiser in one of the owner’s suites. How does that sound?”
She nodded and scribbled on the margin of her report. “Perfect.”
“Why don’t we make that our safety topic, then. I don’t think anyone would question it. We’re pretty athletic looking. Meanwhile, what are you going to do about your name?”
“Tell them I go by my middle name, Angie.”
“That’ll work.” He looked up from his phone.
Angie rose and stretched over to reach the coffee carafe. After topping off his cup, she tended to her own. It was interesting seeing her dressed as Angie Ebsen. Her blouse was red with big sleeves but snug around the waist. Nice, but not nearly as great as the slim, black pants. Completely unlike anything she wore to the office.
He’d never thought much about how she neutralized her looks by the clothes she wore. As far as he could recall, she completely avoided anything that hugged her figure, which was a damn shame.
“My favorite extravagant restaurant in L.A. is Mellise, which is somewhere the Ebsens would go,” she said, sitting again, and allowing him to relax. “Do you know it?”
“Yep, it wasn’t far from where I grew up. What about Matsuhisa?”
“Never been, but I have been to Nobu. If anyone asks, we’ll use Matsuhisa or Mellise, okay?” She sipped her own coffee, then took a bite of bran muffin. If her surprised smile was anything to go by, she liked it a lot.
“What else do people want to know when they first meet?” he asked, anxious about the time they had left before they had to report to the workshop. “No kids, so there’s that.”
Angie swallowed, then dabbed her lips with her napkin, drawing his gaze. “The cover story takes care of a lot. Where we live, no pets. My parents being filthy rich, me attending school abroad, which Angie Ebsen doesn’t like to talk about. Simple.”
He went back to his notes, afraid she’d caught him staring. “I can’t think of anything else.”
“No questions?”
He shook his head.
“Okay, now you fill me in.”
Ryan looked up, the urge to get out of this strong, but he couldn’t think of one reason she’d believe. He’d have to tell her what he could, and let her ask her questions. It wasn’t as if his life was anything horrible, or even that much of a secret. He simply preferred to keep work and personal life separate. It was easier and cleaner to let his coworkers believe what they wanted. Some of which was actually true.
ANGIE COULD BE WRONG, but she got the feeling Ryan’s hesitation was more about figuring out what not to say than how to fill her in on his life. He had to know she’d heard the stories. It wasn’t as if anyone said anything terrible about him. On the contrary. Men seemed to be jealous, but not enough to make him a target, and the women she knew … well, they were mostly like Paula or Sally if they weren’t happily married, like Jeannie.
Finally, after finishing off his Danish and the last of his coffee, he said, “I grew up in Santa Monica with my father. Don’t know much about my mother. She left when I was a kid. No siblings. I don’t have any other hobbies except sports, and yes, even though it’s less convenient, I work out at Gold’s.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not that big a deal. In a pinch I’ll go to the FBI gym.”
“I meant … about your—”
“That was no big deal, either. Anyway, I graduated from UCLA. We already talked restaurants, I run, but it’s not my thing, and I play tennis occasionally. I prefer a pickup game, but what the hell.”
“So if someone in the group asks us to double at tennis? Remember I’m only so-so.”
“Then let’s give that a pass. We’ll need to be on every time we’re in public. At least if we go to the casino, there’s lots of distractions. The important bit is to get me into a situation where I can confess my sins. That’d probably be with Delilah or Ira. They’re licensed and have to honor client confidentiality, but if the opportunity arises with the other two staff members, I’ll jump on it. No telling who’s involved in their scheme.”
Angie nodded, trying to digest all the data Ryan had rushed through. No mother? Wow, that had to have been rough. But it might explain why he played the field as if his life depended on it.
“What about movies?” he asked.
“I’m in favor of them.”
He rolled his eyes, which was a good thing, in her opinion. Things had grown a little tense. “Fine. Spoilsport. I liked Date Night. Sin City. To Kill a Mockingbird. African Queen. Harold and Maude.”
Ryan inhaled. “I saw one of those movies.”
“Let me guess. Sin City.”
His eyes narrowed. “That was a trick, wasn’t it? You didn’t like Sin City at all.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, but it was friendly. Nice. Getting closer to the comfortable ballpark.
“So what are your favorites?”
“I know you’re expecting all the Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris movies that have ever been made, but that wouldn’t be true.”
“You don’t like Bruce Lee and Chuck Norris?”
“Not every one of their movies, no.”
“Seriously, guy flicks exclusively?” she asked.
“I’ve gotten misty over a film or two. I’m not that much of a stereotype.”
“Misty, huh? Like when Shaun had to kill his mom in Shaun of the Dead or when Rose let DiCaprio go in Titanic?”
Ryan’s eyes widened. “You liked Shaun of the Dead?”
