But that wasn’t her problem.
It could have been because for the past twenty minutes she’d been trying to not think about the man in bed with her and instead, had been trying to come up with a plan to avoid the goons while still managing to acquire the location of Arnold’s computer.
In the end, she decided she could always provide Kahsan with a false address, but she couldn’t disregard the idea that if she had a chance at Arnold’s code, maybe, just maybe, she might be able to break it. Quickly. Then she would have had Kahsan assassinated and given the CIA back their missing terrorists.
Forget getting her job back. There had to be some kind of promotion in that for her.
“You’re breathing too loud,” she told him as an answer.
“You should sleep now while we have the chance,” Quinlan said in reply.
“So should you. Curious that you can’t, either, isn’t it?”
Abruptly, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair-a telltale sign of frustration for him.
“Want to talk about it?” Sabrina prodded. She turned on her side toward him, her cheek resting in her palm. It was almost funny to watch his face go slightly pale at the suggestion. “Come on, why not just admit it? You can’t sleep next to me because you can’t help but remember the last time. Although I don’t recall either of us doing a whole lot of sleeping on that occasion.”
“I’m not the one with the endless memory.”
“Yes, but some things are unforgettable,” she teased.
“Drop it, Bri.”
She chuckled softly and was somewhat amazed at herself that she was able to make jokes about an event that had so radically changed her life. No, she corrected herself. It wasn’t making love to him that had changed everything. It was the day after that had rocked her world. But that event seemed very long ago. And the hurt that usually accompanied the memories had been dulled to a soft ache. Maybe it was another sign that she was growing up.
“Okay,” she offered. “But for the record I’m not the one getting edgy.”
“I am not edgy,” he said through clenched teeth.
She let that go, but decided that since they weren’t going to get any sleep he might as well answer a few questions that had popped into her mind. “So you divorced the first wife,” she stated. “Was there a number two?”
She could tell that he didn’t see the point in refusing to answer. “No.”
“Me, either. I mean no husband.”
“I know.”
Sabrina nodded. “I guess that would have been in the report. It makes me curious, though, how long has the CIA been checking up on me?”
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Don’t assume it was anything…personal.”
“Heaven forbid.”
He scowled slightly. Then said, “You were…you are…important to the program, Sabrina. Despite the fact that you left-”
“Was fired,” she corrected him.
“While your skills make you valuable, they also make you potentially dangerous.”
“I get it,” she muttered. “We’re back to me being a terrorist.”
He rolled off the bed in a fluid movement, evidently preferring to stand while they talked. “It wasn’t necessarily about that. You could have been kidnapped. Forced to work against your will.”
That made her laugh. “Have you ever known me to be forced to do anything against my will?”
He smiled faintly. “No. Still, there were concerns. You were routinely monitored.”
“By you?”
“Not always, no.”
Sabrina pressed. “But sometimes, right?”
Somewhat reluctantly, he nodded. “When you went to Monte Carlo,” he admitted.
“You were there?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. All this time, she’d imagined that the split that had occurred between them had sent them in opposite directions in life. Now she’d come to find out he’d seen her. As recently as a few years ago.
“I was in Europe at the time. You leaving the country was a concern. I was asked to check in on you.”
He’d been so close, but he hadn’t even bothered to say…what?
She wondered when she had stopped. Certainly, before Monte Carlo.
“I spotted you almost immediately,” he added.
Sabrina thought back to the Monte Carlo trip. She’d targeted the most exclusive casino. Her goal had been to go in, strike quick and make a speedy exit before anyone understood what she was capable of. In Vegas she’d worn out her welcome because she’d gotten too greedy, made too much of a spectacle of herself and her talent. By the time she got to Atlantic City they were already on the lookout. She hadn’t wanted to repeat that mistake in Carlo. She’d also wanted to ensure it would be possible to come back.
“Really? I wore a wig and tinted glasses.”
“Ice blond. Long. I remember. You wore a short black dress and impossibly high heels. Men turned to look at you as you made your way through the tables, but you didn’t seem to notice. They couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”
She got off the bed and circled it so that she stood directly in front of him. “And what about you? What did you think of me?”
“I thought you looked silly,” he stated bluntly. “Like a little girl trying to play grown-up. Then you sat down at a poker table and I watched you methodically take each man at that table for every penny he had. They were furious, while you seemed slightly amused at their expense.”
“I’ve got skills,” she quipped and leaned against the table the TV sat on. Silly. She’d been going for sexy vamp, and he thought she’d looked silly. Of course, it shouldn’t have bothered her, but she was a woman so naturally it did.
“I wondered at the time, why not blackjack. You could easily count the cards. It wouldn’t matter how many decks they pulled from. It was a safer bet.”
“Ah, but not as challenging. With poker there’s more than just brains involved. I can calculate the odds that the cards I’m holding will result in a winning hand. Plus, I can remember every card thrown on the table. You play the odds and more often than not you’re going to win. But that’s where using my brain ends and other skills kick in. You’ve got to be able to keep your cool. And you’ve got to be able to bluff. Sometimes it all comes down to a good bluff.”
“And you’ve got skills in that area, too.”
Sabrina folded her arms over her chest in a defensive move. “You’re like a clock, you know that? What, do you have some internal alarm that goes off every hour reminding you not to trust me and then to tell me about it? I forgot how single-minded you can be. Let me ask you something. Did you ever trust me?” She’d been trying for sarcasm, but her last question had sounded far too sincere.
“Trust no one,” he reminded her, quoting what she used to call the CIA credo.
She dismissed that shallow reply and uncrossed her arms and walked toward him. “I think you did. I think you trusted me. No, I know it.”
“You’re letting it get personal again,” he said softly.
“That’s because it was personal.” She moved a little closer to him, invading his space. She could see the muscles in his jaw tightening. She could see that she was making him uncomfortable. She’d forgotten the pure rush of fun she always experienced whenever she was able to shake the unshakable Quinlan out of his comfort zone.
“You hated it, too. Hated that I had gotten under your skin and you couldn’t shake me. I knew that. But you couldn’t help yourself. You let me deep inside, all the way. To a place I doubt you’d ever let your own mother go. You refused to admit it then, probably still do, that’s fine. But don’t kid yourself. Don’t think for a moment I didn’t know what was happening between us.”
“You were nineteen years old,” he countered. “You knew nothing.”
