“Better not make her wait,” he said, tucking his tongue into his cheek. “You might get a spanking when you get home.”
As far as pithy replies went, it wasn’t his best. But it seemed to work just fine because the look Chelsea shot him as she thumbed on her phone was so frosty he was surprised he didn’t see snowflakes forming in the air.
“Ma!” she said. He loved it when she talked to her mother, because her southern accent peeked out. “Now’s not a good time. I told you I might…” She quieted and then blew out a sigh that was a Broadway production worthy of a Tony Award. “Yes, Mother,” she mumbled, her tone contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout. Yes, ma’am. Okay. I’ll talk to you later. Promise.” And then, to his delight, she looked around the table, color rising in her cheeks before she whispered as quietly and as quickly as she could, “Love you too.”
After she hung up, he opened his mouth but she lifted a firm finger. “Not a word,” she warned. He took a breath. “Ah!” She waggled her finger in front of his face, and he snapped his jaws shut.
For all the headache and heartache Chelsea gave him—and heartburn sometimes too—she made up for it by tickling his funny bone on a pretty regular occasion.
Unfortunately, I have another bone I’d much prefer she tickle.
Dear God! And it was thoughts like that that made their working together completely untenable…
* * *
So…not the best way to project an aura of professionalism and poise, Chelsea thought as she shoved her phone back into her purse. And cue the music…
“I’m sorry,” Penni said. “Was that…really your mother?” Chelsea looked up to find Penni’s expression was one of incredulity. And maybe…was that a hint of suppressed humor?
She stifled a groan. “Indeed, it was,” she admitted lamentably. “See, before I was named the official liaison to these jokers… Dan, did you tell her?” When Dan nodded, she continued. “Well, before that, I was nothing more than a technician.”
“Which we all know is code talk for the men and women who scour the Internet and reams of Intelligence documents for the telltale signs and signatures of plots and threats,” Dan said quietly. “Don’t sell yourself short, Chels. Folks like you, sitting at a desk somewhere, are far more integral to the everyday safety of Americans than people like me and this monkey.” He hooked a thumb toward Z.
“Aw, thanks, Dan,” she said. She really liked Dan. He was the definition of “a good guy.”
“Who you calling a monkey?” Z lifted a brow. And although she was sure he would argue the point, he was a good guy too.
“If the fez hat and cymbals fit, my friend…” Dan winked.
Chelsea loved the byplay between the two of them. Listening to them banter the last couple of days had been like getting backstage tickets into the minds of men. “Aw, look at you two,” she said, “being all Rocket and Groot.”
Z blinked at her, his eyes narrowed. She sighed at the familiar expression. Dagan Zoelner was far too serious. Oh, sure, he liked to mix it up with the insults and the wisecracking—if there was one truth, it was that Z possessed a razor-sharp wit. But even when he was joking around you’d be hard pressed to see a smile on his face.
Chelsea had decided to make it her life’s goal to rectify that wrong And she managed it occasionally by busting the man’s Bs—as he so often put it. With the right quip, the right insult, the right witty reply at the right moment, she could coax…not a smile, necessarily…but certainly a grin out of him. She lived for those instances. Because when Z smiled, it was like the sun coming out after a hurricane. Brilliant and blinding and so beautiful you almost couldn’t stand it.
“Rocket and Groot? I don’t know what that means,” he said.
“You know, Guardians of the Galaxy?”
He just shook his head.
“The anthropomorphic raccoon and the tree thing?”
Now he simply lifted a brow.
“You really should get out more,” she told him before turning back to Penni. “Anyway, back to the original topic. Until recently, I spent most of my days locked in an office. Which means this new position I’ve taken is not something my mother is accustomed to.”
“I thought most family members didn’t know about…” Penni let the sentence dangle, then finished with a carefully worded, “the specifics of what you do and who you do it for.”
It was customary for family and friends of CIA agents to be under the impression that their loved one worked for another, safer government agency. It protected everyone in the equation because a person couldn’t be blackmailed or tortured for information they didn’t have in the first place.