Ryan had always said she was too black and white, that people weren’t bad or good but all sorts of levels in between. But she’d never believed that. You had choices in life, and what you made of those choices defined who you were. At some point in most people’s lives, they had to decide. Good or bad.
“So you visited CR International. Did you meet anyone else?”
“Rosamund Fairfax came in while I was there and another woman—Tara Roth.”
He raised a brow, a sign she was beginning to think meant he was surprised or even impressed. “Christian Roth’s new wife. And what did you make of her?”
“Didn’t have time to make anything. We met only briefly.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, if you can find some way to get closer to her—do it.”
“Yes, boss.”
After the colonel had disappeared into his office, she spent a while longer reading the files and finding very little of interest.
The only good thing about the morning was Faith’s headache had gone as though it had never been there. Actually, she felt great and grateful there had been no other symptoms.
It was nearly time to make the decision whether to meet Ash or not. But she knew she was going; she had to get out of here for a while or go crazy.
She stopped at the final checkpoint. “Did you enjoy my coffee?” she asked the guard. Ex-army she reckoned though he was dressed in a private-security-firm uniform.
“Yes, but next time I prefer two sugars.”
“Ha-ha.” She made to walk out, but paused. “Have you worked here long?”
A wary expression crossed his face. Probably cross-referencing her question against his list of things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. She’d been given one herself, and it had been long. “Two years.”
“And have you met the boss?”
“The colonel? Every day.” He sounded puzzled.
“No, I meant the colonel’s boss.”
“He has one?”
Obviously not then. She smiled and headed out of the building.
Stepping out into the open was like being reborn. For a minute, she stood, inhaling deeply. The air was hardly fresh. Late August in the center of London and it smelled of hot car fumes and too many people. But she loved it anyway.
As usual, she’d dressed in one of the black pants suits she always wore for work, but added her favorite top, a stretch red shirt that hugged her slight curves and made her skin appear white.
She strolled along the street keeping an eye out for Ash. He’d be hard to miss, but she couldn’t spot him anywhere. Maybe he’d decided she was too much bother and he didn’t want to get to know her better after all.
Some part of her whispered that would be for the best. She hated the idea that she was using him, lying to him. She’d make a crap undercover policewoman, as she found lying almost pathologically impossible and most people would see though her in a flash.
But the rest of her—the body part rather than the mind—felt a huge stab of disappointment.
She’d been trying not to think about it, but now she had a sudden flashback to the feel of his huge hands on her breasts. Little flutters started up in her belly; it had felt so good. And the kiss. She’d nearly come just from his kiss, from his lips on hers, his hard body pressing against her.
But she couldn’t sleep with someone she was investigating. Though she suspected the colonel would tell her to do whatever was needed to get the information he wanted. But she couldn’t. It was that “good guy, bad guy” thing again. She had her own set of rules.
Leaning against the metal railings, she scanned the crowd for black-clad men and the busy road for black SUVs. But nothing. Then she caught sight of a figure moving toward her. At first, her gaze slid past him. And back, because he was exactly what she liked in a man. Besides, he was tall, towering over the rest of the crowd.
Holy moly.
She had a vague memory of Ash telling her he was getting a makeover this morning. He hadn’t been kidding.
The black leather was gone—and she had to admit to a little pang of regret. Ash had looked great in black leather. In its place, he wore a lightweight, silver-gray business suit that had to have been made to fit him. A pristine white shirt and a dark red tie. His hair was immaculately cut and hugged the shape of his skull, the designer stubble was gone leaving him smoothly shaven. His eyes were covered by designer shades.
He came to a halt in front of her and she snapped her mouth shut because she couldn’t think of anything to say. Except—wow, and she really didn’t want to say that.
“Faith,” he murmured in that low, husky drawl. He reached up and took off the shades and his gaze wandered over her, then back to her face to settle on her mouth. Was he thinking about their kiss? Because she was. “You look beautiful.”
She almost snorted. One of them looked beautiful, and it wasn’t her.
“Are you all right?” he asked when she failed to speak.
She shook herself. “You look…different.”
“Yes, it was a sort of dare from Ryan. We have our first meeting this afternoon, and he didn’t think I wasn’t giving off the right vibes. I said neither was he. So we had a deal—I’d tone down, he’d tidy up.”
She cleared her throat. “Well, it’s official—you’re toned down.”