She hadn’t heard from Ash yet. They’d lunched together each day since that first time. And each evening he drove her home and dropped her off in front of her apartment. And each time she saw him, her decision to keep her distance eroded a little bit more.
At night, as she lay in her bed, she fantasized and she gave herself a little release, but that only seemed to make her body crave him more.
He’d kissed her last night in the front seat of his car like a couple of teenagers making out. And God, that man could kiss. Only the neighbors pulling up behind them and beeping their horn had put a halt to their lovemaking. By that time, Ash had one hand on her breast and the other on her belly and inching downward.
She’d ached for his touch. A pulse throbbing between her thighs, and when he’d raised his head and gazed down into her face, a question in his eyes, she’d come so close to nodding.
Only a second beep had brought her to her senses.
If she liked him less, she might have given in. Because it would be just sex. But she did like him. And she couldn’t risk herself feeling more while she was using him and she suspected he was using her.
Not that he was giving her much. He told her that if she took the job with them he’d tell her everything. His words had so much reflected her current situation at work that she’d been even more pissed off.
Anyway, he’d driven off last night without arranging to see her for lunch today, and he hadn’t called yet. She hated how bad that made her feel. Maybe it would be better if she didn’t see him again, before she got in any deeper. But that thought made her feel even worse.
She was a mess.
On top of that, she still hadn’t heard from the hospital about her test results and that made her edgy.
She eyed up the colonel as he crossed the floor to his office. He’d been avoiding her, probably because she moaned at him for something to do every time she saw him. But this time, he must have felt her evil-eyed stare because he glanced up and headed over.
“The boss is expected this afternoon,” he said. “You should have your clearance by tomorrow morning.”
“Will I meet him?” she asked. She was curious about “the boss.” The boss who the security guards had never met, which must mean that he came in through a different entrance and presumably skipped the retinal scan and all the other checks.
“Perhaps.”
As he left her, she sat back in her chair and grinned at her reflection in the dark screen. Tomorrow was the big day. She was finally going to learn something interesting. Or in the very least, she was going to discover that MI13 had nothing interesting for her to learn.
When the phone on her desk did ring, she almost jumped. She glanced at the number. It was an external line, but she didn’t recognize the caller. Not Ash then and a jolt of disappointment stabbed her in the middle.
She ignored it and picked up. “Hello, Detective Connelly speaking.”
“Detective Connelly, it’s Tara Roth. We met briefly the other night.”
“I remember.” Her mind was working furiously. What the hell did Christian Roth’s wife want with her?
“Ryan suggested I call you.”
“He did?” That didn’t make anything any clearer.
“He said you had some doubts about coming to work for my husband’s company and thought I might be able to answer some questions for you.”
It sounded reasonable but her detective senses were tingling. All the same, she was definitely interested.
“That’s nice of you to take the time. Give me a moment, and I’m sure I’ll come up with a question or two.”
“Actually, I thought we might meet for a drink tonight. I’m doing some shopping. We could meet up after you finish work.”
“Why not? There’s a bar on the embankment called Happy Joe’s. How about that?”
“I’ll find it.”
After putting the phone down slowly, she glanced up at the colonel’s door, half expecting him to pop out and officially assign her to spy on Tara Roth.
When nothing happened, the tension seeped out of her. She was getting paranoid. The colonel wouldn’t be monitoring her calls—would he?
There were no more calls, despite her constant glare at the phone. She was being pathetic. Time to be proactive. She picked it up and punched in a number.
“Hi, Pete. It’s Faith Connelly. I wondered whether you like to meet me for lunch.”
Chapter Nine
Faith was already seated at a table when Tara walked in. She recognized her from the other night. Small, her blond hair cut into a shoulder-length bob with a green baseball cap on top, and startling green eyes. She also recognized the woman with her, just as short but with spiky dark brown hair, an orange cap, and brown eyes. Rosamund Fairfax was pretty and perky and not a wart in sight—nothing like a witch.