head to her cheek. “There’s only one other thing I’d rather be doin’ than giving in to this SOB. You thought anything more about that accord, Rosebud?”
Her head tilted until her cheek rested in his palm. “I can’t, Sam. I like my job, I like working at Hauberk. If you and I have an affair, when it ends, I’ll be out of a job.” When he started to protest, she straightened her head and took a half step back, leaving his hand hovering mid-air before he dropped it a second later.
“I’m not one for casual sex. If I have an affair with you, it’ll turn into something more and you’ll…well, you’re the boss, so I’ll be the one looking for a new job.” She paused, waiting for the ache that had started in her heart to ease. “I’d have to leave Hauberk, Sam. I couldn’t stay. No matter how much you say my job isn’t on the line, my heart is. And I’m not willing to lose either.”
“Who says it would have to end?” He stepped closer, but didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her body was so aware of him it swayed toward him. Her lungs tried to fill up with that scent of him, imprinting it indelibly because one day she knew she’d never smell it again.
“Affairs always end, Sam.” And in her experience, they never ended with them being just friends.
“Maybe I want more than an affair, Rosie. Maybe I’m lookin’ for the long term.”
Her eyes closed on their own. He was so smooth, so convincing. And she wanted to believe him, but she also knew his history-she’d been checking him out along with the other employees. No one she’d interviewed could remember Sam Watson dating a woman longer than four months since he’d been with Hauberk. And he hadn’t committed himself to a longer term relationship with her, he’d simply said “maybe.”
It would end.
The door at the far end of the hall opened and the fox terrier streaked toward them, yapping its head off. The connection between them broken, Rosie stepped between Sam and the open door, her hand on her gun.
Mrs. O’Mara appeared in the doorway, and peered at them over her coke-bottle glasses. “Oh, it’s just you two. Come back here, Georgie, you naughty boy. I’d told you it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
As the old lady closed the door behind her, Rosie headed back toward 1202. Knowing he was watching, counting on it, she accentuated the roll of her hips. “So how about we go back in and see if we can find who’s been taking those photos?”
He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “You think I don’t realize you’re tryin’ to distract me from goin’ out and finding my stalker?”
“Is it working?”
“Hell, yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next night Sam didn’t appear for their usual research session. Instead he bypassed their door and headed straight to his apartment. Andy gave her a shrug and trailed him while Scott ducked into their apartment. Ten minutes later Scott sat across from Rosie, burying himself in the files piled on the dining room table.
Dark circles ringed his eyes-evidence of the nightmares he denied having but they all heard every night. Not a surprise. After Sam’s cryptic comment, she’d read Scott’s file. He’d spent three months as a hostage of some obscure group in Colombia, escaping through hostile terrain with tales of brutality that had everyone worried about those left in the camp. When he’d been cleared medically, Troy and Sam had both tried to convince him to take some time off, he’d refused and so ended up on her team.
For the next hour, she and Scott slogged through more of the Hauberk client files, while Kris finished going through the Security Guard files. She placed the last of her current pile on the table and rubbed the back of her neck against the ache that was forming. “I’m not finding anything. How about you?”
“Nothing concrete.” Kris picked up the list he’d made. “Got a few trainees who might be bitter because they washed out the Protection Agency program and ended up guarding buildings. And there are a couple who got fired who might qualify but from what I’ve seen of their write-ups they couldn’t find their dicks with a magnifying glass.”
“Guess that makes you a suspect, too,” Scott said with a grin. “I found a few possibles in the client files, but one’s left the country, one’s dead, and the other hired some hot shot firm out in California to guard them. So I can’t see they’re viable suspects.”
Before she could reply, Rosie’s Berry chirped with a familiar double tone announcing a text message had arrived. Sam.
Table 4 2 set in 1201
She shook her head and went back to the list of employees working for the Security Guard division. Five minutes later, her Berry chimed again. Chicken Creole.
“Is there a problem?” Scott asked.
“No, it’s just Sam wants me to eat at his place tonight.”
Kris, who had buried himself in yet another folder, looked up with a hopeful expression on his face. “What’s he cooking?”
When she told him, he closed the file. “Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll go. I’ve got dibs.”
“Be my guest-”
Before she could finish, Kris dashed to the front door and slammed it behind him.
A minute later, her Berry chimed again. Not Kris. You. On the heels of that message came another. Clothing optional.;)
Sheesh! That one didn’t even warrant a reply.
The front door opened and Andy stomped in, obviously grumpy as Kris trailed him. “Sam says to get your butt over there before the champagne goes flat.”
“Champagne, as if,” she muttered. “He doesn’t have any. All he has is Heineken.”
“Yeah, he does,” Scott said. “He asked me to pick up a couple bottles of Dom Perignon this afternoon.”
“Kris, why don’t you go into the kitchen and toss one of those frozen cannellonis Rosie bought into the oven. Scott…” Andy paused. “Shoot, just leave us alone, will you? I want to have a private word with Rosie.”
Some sort of unspoken communication passed between the two men. Scott nodded and headed to his bedroom as her Berry rang again.
Apple Crumble amp; French vanilla ice cream 4 dessert.
What had he done? Called her mother to find out her favorite dessert? And vanilla ice cream, how ironic. If ice cream was a metaphor for sex, vanilla certainly described her love life lately. She had a feeling Sam’s would be Rocky Road.
“When are you going to admit there’s something between you two?” Andy asked quietly.
“You know the rules say operatives can’t get romantically involved with their principals.”
“Oh, screw the rules.” He groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “Come on, Rosie, you gotta give the rest of us poor shlubs some hope.”
“I’m not willing to risk my job for a couple of nights of…” mindblowing sex, but she wasn’t about to say that, “…fun. Because at some point it’ll end and I’ll be out of a job.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or you could end up Mrs. Rosie Watson, mother of 2.4 kids and part owner of Hauberk. You’re using the job as a shield, Rosie. Since when did you sprout a yellow stripe on your back?”
“It’s just…” She rubbed her face with her hands. Day by day, hour by hour, Sam had been chinking away at her armor until the barriers she’d thrown up were tissue-paper thin. “It’s just Sam’s so…Sam, you know?”
“Larger than life? I thought women liked that type.” He leaned back, sprawling his legs wide, his arms stretched along the back of the couch. “You’re not usually a coward, so what’s the problem?”
“He’s…he’s not like any other man I’ve ever dated before,” she said slowly. He makes me feel things with an intensity I’ve never felt before. He makes me want to do things with him, to him, for him I’ve never considered with another man.
Whenever she felt any of her other lovers gaining any modicum of control over her, her claws came out and they ended up running away with their tails between their legs. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, all her need for control fled around Sam.
