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“He’s not working this alone. Also, if we don’t have our perp isolated, who do you think he’ll contact the minute he gets to a phone or a computer?” He stared straight into her eyes. “Get over the boat thing. I know what I’m doing.”
“I hope you do.” This was just another battle she would have to fight in order to be who she wanted to be. She had won others, like conquering her strong resistance to confrontation and her aversion to physical contact. She admitted she still overcompensated to some degree, but for the most part, she was well over those hurdles and felt pretty good about herself.
She had overcome her childhood, or rather her lack of one. Her parents had been reared in a commune until they rebelled and ran away at seventeen. Their awkward attempts at entering the establishment had thrust a lot of responsibility onto the daughter they’d had too early in their lives.
Impulse had governed them and probably always would, but not Tess, who had a firm grip on reality, knew how to map her success and conquer her fears. So, she wasn’t about to quail at riding in a stupid boat.
“Nice plane,” he commented, looking around as if he hadn’t noticed before. “Not exactly Air Force One, but nice. Does it have a shower?”
“Back there,” she replied, pointing, hoping he would fit into the little enclosure. He was a large man, well over six feet tall and well muscled, almost bulked like a weight lifter. Deep-sea fishing must provide a great workout.
She jerked her gaze away from his legs, bare from just above his knees to below his ankles. He had great legs. She cleared her throat, hoping he hadn’t noticed her noticing. “Your bag—”
“I know where it is. I stowed it.” He got up and smiled down at her. “I’ll just go and clean up a little.”
Tess nodded, wondering if he would be in there long enough for her to snoop. Had he brought a weapon? A computer? Anything else she should know about?
“Will we have to go through customs?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind. Again.
“No. Mercier called ahead. He…knows people,” she stammered. “Do you have a weapon?”
“Two, which I wouldn’t want confiscated, and I don’t like anyone touching my laptop.”
Tess dropped her gaze, knowing it might reflect the guilt she felt about her plan to search his things. “You’re not supposed to have a computer.”
He laughed at that, and the sound of his laughter stroked every cell in her body as he left her to take his shower.
Damn, the man rattled her. She had to get over it and get her composure back. Her uncanny instincts didn’t work when she was this unnerved, and they had to work.
At least she had gotten him on board the mission and had accomplished her initial goal. She had to relinquish control of the op to him now, and that would be the most difficult aspect of the job.
Tess liked being in charge, but she had to admit this was not the time, any more than on the last two missions. Gaining experience had to take precedence. She had lied a little bit, indicating that Mercier would have sent her on alone if Cochran had refused to join her, but he didn’t have to know that.
She leaned back in her seat and tried to relax, regroup and unwind. All she could think about was that wicked smile of his, which mocked even as it dared, judged even as it flattered. What a puzzle Cochran was. Cameron. Would they progress to a first-name basis? Did she even want to?
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the two of them working in tandem, as partners, maybe even friends. Could she unbend enough to manage a friendship? Certainly never more than that, she warned herself, no matter how heart-stopping he looked or how powerful that spell of his turned out to be.
His touch, innocent at it had been the few times they had made contact, had alarmed and upset her. She couldn’t allow herself to backslide and become the scared little rabbit she had been growing up.
All those stories her mom had told about the evils of free love and rampant sex in the commune hadn’t helped Tess develop well socially. They had created yet another fear to be conquered. Next time she would be the one to initiate contact. She would do the touching, she decided, and she wouldn’t let it shake her, either. Not one little bit.
It could work with guys. It could work with boats. It was only a matter of employing systematic desensitization and cognitive restructuring of thoughts and misconceptions. She knew how to get over these things.
He returned to his seat half an hour later. Transformed. Tess was speechless. And more rattled than ever. His suit was a tropical beige, jet-set expensive, as were his Italian loafers and the dark brown V-necked pullover. Cashmere, she was certain. The Rolex watch, signet ring and diamond ear stud must have set him back a fortune, too.
“What’s the matter? Did I miss a spot?” He stroked his chin with two fingers.
“N-no. You look…fine.” Oh, man. Too fine, she thought with a sigh.
He raked her with an assessing look. “Your turn. Did you bring anything less…austere? I’m afraid you look just like an agent should, and we can’t have that.”
His southern accent had disappeared, and his speech sounded more like that of a newscaster. How’d he do that?
Tess was still trying to come to grips with the change in his appearance as she shook her head. All she could think of were her plain, low-heeled pumps—in beige, which went with everything—and her neat little suits from JC Penney. She frowned down at the Timex ticking away on her wrist. She felt…positively plebeian.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can fix that after we land.”
“Fix what?” she muttered.
“You,” he said, then shrugged. “Your wardrobe. The hair. Makeup. You’ll need to get in step for when we hit the clubs, maybe even the casinos.”
“Casinos?”
“Yeah, we’ll check the clubs in Saint-Tropez first, but the casinos are where we’re probably going to find him.”
“How would you know that?”
Cochran smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Because I know who we’re after, and he loves to gamble.”
Tess thought he was blowing smoke. Yet he radiated confidence like a space heater. Her doubt must be showing, because he continued without waiting for her to comment.
“Mercier related the message letter for letter when I asked, and I recognized the signature misspellings. There’s also a cadence and tone to it that are familiar. This guy’s wordy. And English is not his first language. This is the same man they used before to hack in. Now the brains behind the operation has him making the demands, so he’s not running the show. I intercepted some of the messages last time. This all but proves we’re also working against the original mastermind. That’s the guy we want, so we have to get junior first.”
Tess was impressed in spite of herself. “Fine. Now if we only had a name, we’d be in business.”
“Oh, I have that. I’ll also know him when I see him. Zahi Selim, an Egyptian ex-patriot. Young, around twenty-five or twenty-six. His family cut him loose when his behavior got too extreme, even for them. His father’s in the export business, textiles, and owns a number of European properties in major cities. Sort of like Fayed. You know, the father of Princess Di’s boyfriend?”
“The one killed in the crash with her? You mean, this Selim guy we’re looking for is a playboy?”
“And was working it big-time until Daddy cut him off and he ran out of money. Hopefully he’ll be returning to his former habits if he got an advance on this job. I almost had enough on him in London and reported what I had. My superior ordered him arrested without giving me prior notice. I had argued against it, but he didn’t listen.”
“Ah,” Tess said. “And they had to let him go. Not enough proof to hold him. Now he’s at it again.”
Cochran sighed and relaxed in his seat, tapping his long fingers on the armrests. Nerves or controlled anger? “My objections to his arrest were misconstrued.”
Tess regarded his expression, a mixture of disgust and resignation. “But you know him by sight? What if he recognizes you?”
“He won’t. I tracked him down and kept tabs on him, hoping for rock-solid proof of his involvement, but we never actually met. Mercier said he’d send a photo taken when Selim was in custody in London so you can see what he looks like.” Cochran frowned. “He’s a ballsy little son of a bitch. I’ll give him that. Smart, too, in some ways.”
“So how do we approach him?” Tess asked, getting excited now about a quick resolution to the op.
“We don’t. You do. He’s a sucker for fast women. Rich women willing to finance his habit. I want you to befriend him and entice him to come on board the yacht for a ride up the coast, supposedly to Monaco, where you two can gamble. Maybe offer him a little private action on the way.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble. Why don’t we just grab him? That would be simpler, wouldn’t it?”
“Risky. If he put up a fight, our grab might be misconstrued as an assault, or worse. If we render him unconscious, how would that look at the marina?”
“We could take him to the airport and back on the jet,” she suggested.
He shrugged. “Same thing. How would we get him out on the tarmac and onto the plane without being observed? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I want an arrest for kidnapping added to my less than stellar record. Mercier could straighten it out eventually, I know, but our boy would be out of our hands for the duration. Better if he comes along willingly.”
“I see your point,” she agreed.
“Fine. We’ll need to get the location of his computer first. You’ll get him to take you home with him if you can, and you’ll pinpoint where it is. Then we’ll have located our proof. Next, once you’ve enticed him onto the yacht and we’re out to sea, we’ll get some answers.” He looked over at her with a smile. “Then maybe I’ll dump the little bastard overboard and see how the sharks like garbage.”
Tess smiled and shook her head. “You’d never do that.”
“Don’t think so?” He looked entirely too serious.
“Would you?”
He shrugged. “Depends on how cooperative he is and how I feel at the time.”
“Stop yanking my chain, Cochran. You’re treating me like a trainee agent, and I’m definitely not that. I’ve been around the block a time or two.”
“Fine, so take your hair down, show a little cleavage and let’s see your sexy look.”
Tess jerked upright in her seat and glared. “What?”
“So I can see if you have what it takes to persuade our boy to ride the seas with you. Looks like you might need a little work.”
“Go straight to hell!” she gasped, clutching her chest with one hand and the armrest with the other.
He closed his eyes and blew out a deep breath. “Well. A lotta work.”
Tess had never wanted to slap a man so badly before in her life. Instead, she stood up and marched to the back of the plane, into the bathroom, and slammed the door.
She leaned against the tiny sink and tried to calm down. When she could breathe normally, she raised her eyes to look in the mirror, attempting to assess her features objectively.
Could she entice with these looks? Would any man in his right mind follow her onto a boat?
Not unless she stole his wallet. Cochran was right. She needed a lotta work.
She let down her hair and fluffed it, letting a slightly wavy lock fall over one eye. Sexy? Maybe a little if she ditched the outfit and went back in there stark naked. Or maybe not.
Cochran was seriously impacting her self-image. Her image frowned back at her.
“I can do this!” she said in a desperate whisper.
Half an hour later she pranced back into the main cabin, copying the exaggerated runway strut of models she’d seen on television, and posed, hand on her hip, to get his reaction.
His lips pursed and his left eyebrow quirked up as he looked her over. His gaze traveled over her like a laser, burning her confidence to ashes as it tracked from her hair, over her skimpiest, half-buttoned sweater, over her straight-leg Kleins, right down to her strappy little sandals and back again. Then he looked away without so much as a comment.
What was he thinking?
“Well?” she demanded, resting both hands on her hips.
He smiled up at her. “The look is adequate, but I think the attitude will have to change. Sit down.”
She plopped into the seat across the aisle from him and crossed her arms over her chest. “Face it. I’m no femme fatale. Not in my genes.”
“Hey, the jeans are great. Could be a little tighter, but the cut is right and the color’s good. The sweater’s way too cutesy, though, even left open like that. And you’ll need a push-up.”
“Bra? You’re telling me what kind of bra to wear?” Tess was incensed. And red. She could feel her face burning. “So I’m a thirty-four B. Sue me!”
“Look,” he began with a studied blink and a sigh that screamed impatience. “Don’t take this personally. I’m trying to be helpful here. Sexy is in the attitude, and yours is too…uptight.”
She rolled her eyes and threw up her hands. “As opposed to down and loose?”
He grinned and nodded. “Finally the aha! moment. See, you’re halfway there, just knowing that. Now all you have to do is loosen up.”
Loosen up? Damn, if he said that again, she’d smack him!
She jumped up, paced down the aisle, turned and paced back, fists clenched. He made her feel like a weird old prude with ice water in her veins! And she wasn’t! She was not!
Furious beyond words, Tess leaned over, grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth. She could be sexy. She’d show him just how sexy she could be when she put her mind to it.
But her mind strayed dangerously when her lips met his, and her fury was the last thing on it.
Chapter 3
Cameron almost jumped back in shock, but the feel and taste of her lips registered quickly enough to prevent that. Instead, he leaned into the kiss and deepened it immediately.
Damn, the girl must have been around the block to kiss this way. He grasped her waist, pulled her down on his lap and let the good times roll.
He had kissed a lot of women, but even in her anger, this one had a sweetness, a freshness and an eagerness he had seldom enjoyed. Yeah, he could work with her, with this. Man, oh, man.
As suddenly as that she jerked her head back and stared at him, wide-eyed. With shock?
“Hey, you kissed me,” he reminded her, adding a quizzical smile to put her at ease.
She jumped off his lap as if he’d bitten her. “Well, it won’t happen again!” she announced as she backed into the seat across the aisle and sat down with a plop. “That was just…just to…well, show you.”
“Well, you sure got my attention, I’ll give you that.” He crossed his legs to hide his erection. If the kiss had scared her that much, he didn’t want her to run and lock herself in the back cabin.
“I can be sexy,” she declared, crossing her arms over her chest and slinging one jeans-clad leg over the other.
Cameron nodded. “Yes, you can. I’m convinced.”
“Don’t you patronize me! I hate it when men patronize me,” she snapped.
Damn. “Okay, make me some ground rules here. I’m just a guy, and we pretty much take things at face value unless we’re told otherwise. So, you can kiss me, but I can’t kiss you back?”
“Exactly,” she said with a firm nod, still keeping her eyes averted. Then she shook her head. “No. There won’t be any more kissing. Understand? No kissing. At all.”
“Okay, got it. Then I’m guessing sex is out of the question?”
“This is not funny!”
