The sail down the Columbia River, with the sun’s rays kissing my skin and a gourmet breakfast fit for the Queen and the nattering, annoying voices of the former nanny and escort were easy. Pleasant even.
It wasn’t until I climbed into Luke’s car that the first beads of sweat began running down my back. Now, twenty-five minutes later and in front of my condo, my clothes are drenched and I’m in desperate need of a shower.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
Luke’s brow is furrowed a bit. “Well, not that I minded it at all, believe me, but . . . I’ve never heard you talk so much. You seem nervous. I just hope . . .” He stalls. “You’re not uncomfortable around me now, are you?”
Uncomfortable. That’s a good word for my agonizing.
What I did last night was so wrong, on so many levels. My wire is on again, as it has to be. I’m terrified that Luke’s going to say something that will reveal to my cover team that I wasn’t in my room last night. Because if they find out, I’m gone. On a plane back to D.C., off the case. Blacklisted in the big book of undercover officers. Probably blacklisted, period.
So, to reduce the risk of that happening, I brought up everything I could during the drive home to keep Luke’s words from wandering in that direction. Anything that came to mind—my pet rabbit when I was five; the time I broke my leg playing soccer, age seven; my first trip to Italy when I was nine; a terrible case of food poisoning when I went to Jamaica at nineteen.
It worked. Up until now.
“I’m not uncomfortable at all. But I meant it when I said I need to take things slow.” I take his hand with a smile. And I give him the excuse I mentally prepared earlier this morning, laden with lies and laced with regret. “I went on one date with my ex and then, suddenly, all of my time and focus was consumed by him, almost overnight. I don’t even know how it happened, but I stopped doing what I love to do. Being who I am.”
Luke frowns. “Like how, exactly?”
“Oh . . .” I begin spouting off the common dating atrocities all girls have committed at one point or another. “I cancelled out on a trip with my girlfriends because he was afraid I’d meet someone else. I started working out for him instead of for myself. I ignored my family, stopped responding to my friends’ messages, and when I was with them, I was glued to my phone, waiting for his texts. He liked to play golf, so I’d spend my Saturdays driving him around in the cart. I’d sit around at these pretentious lounges with his loser friends, and listen to them discuss Socrates and Confucius like the pompous, self-indulgent asses they were.” Somehow, fragments of my real dating history—Clara’s string of failed relationships—are now leaking in, creating a Frankenstein of a boyfriend. “He wouldn’t let me wear heels because I’d be looking down on him and he had a major height complex. He wouldn’t let me wear leather because of the oppression of the ‘bovine population.’ ” I cut myself off abruptly when I notice that Luke’s lips are pressed together tightly.
“He sounds like a real winner,” he says with mock sincerity. “I can see why you fell for him.”
I can’t believe I dated any of them. It’s embarrassing, admitting it now. “I don’t think you’re like him at all, believe me. But I just need to make sure that I don’t get caught up in this,” I gesture back and forth between us, “and forget who I am again.”
The undercover cop who just slept with her target.
Oh, hell. I’m sweating again. I need to get out of here.
He reaches up to cup my jaw, his smile brightening his eyes. “You can wear leather and heels and I don’t really golf. We can take it slow. Whatever you need.” His eyes dart to my mouth and he leans in to kiss me. I have to kiss him. There’s no excuse for not kissing him, I tell myself.
His lips just graze mine when his phone rings. Again. It’s been ringing and vibrating for the entire drive home but he hasn’t answered it, even though I’ve told him he could, every time. He lets his forehead fall against mine gently, groaning. “Sorry, that’s probably Rust. I’ve ignored him enough. He’s going to lose his mind if I don’t answer.”
“That’s okay.”
He smiles. “God . . . how are you so understanding?” I just smile until he plants a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ll give you a call later? Or you can call me?”
I force myself to pull away from him and step out of the car, hearing him say “yup” just as I shut the door.
“What the fuck was that? You could have blown the entire case!”
“Don’t be so dramatic. That woman was making me nervous, so I sent Bill in. I thought you were made for a minute there.” Warner heads straight for my fridge as Stanley trots over to greet me. They were waiting in the stairwell for me when I came up the elevator.
“You caught on to that too, huh?”
“Yup. I’ve been on pins and needles all night long.” He slams the door shut, beer in hand. “How was your game of tonsil hockey?”
Didn’t waste any time bringing that up. “I had no choice. You know that. I have to give him something or this cover will be dead in the water.” I lean over to give Stanley’s belly a scratch. He responds with several hoggish snorts. “I can’t believe I’ve missed you,” I mutter.
“You didn’t have to—” Warner stops mid-sentence with a deep inhale. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he finally heaves a sigh. “Whatever. I’m not arguing with you about this. You’re the one on the front line. I trust you.” He cracks a can.
“It’s beer o’clock already?” I check my watch. Noon. Warner looks like he hasn’t slept at all.
He ignores my jab. “There were a lot of veiled comments but nothing incriminating on the wire. Did you witness anything useful?”
“Besides some lines of coke?” I hope he can’t hear the lie in my voice, when I say, “Just a lot of rich assholes wining and dining and passing out on a giant yacht.” And a conversation that could arm the Feds with everything they need to get the noose ready for Luke’s neck. I’m not ready to divulge that yet. I can’t divulge it, now. I can only set Luke up for future admissions. When I’m ready.
He nods, more to himself. “Yeah, rough life. Sounds like 12’s walls are starting to come down for you, though. That’s good.”
“Yeah. Slowly.” I hate that Warner trusts me so much. All my cover guys do, because they need to in order for us to win this case. Still, it makes this deception that much more painful.
“Why’d you tell him all that stuff about an ex, before he dropped you off? Sinclair’s going to grill me on that if he listens to it.”
“Because I have to keep playing hard-to-get. Otherwise I’m going to run out of excuses for keeping him out of my pants.”
He grumbles in response. “And what the hell was all that other rambling? You had a pet rabbit?”
“Yeah, until the crazy old man next door shot it and ate it for dinner.”
He pauses, mid-sip. “What the fuck, Bertelli.”
I shrug. “I had an interesting childhood.”
Pouring the rest of his beer back in record time, he crushes the can and tosses it to the counter. “Yeah, I think I’ll need sleep to hear about that. I’m going to crash. It’s been a long night for all of us.” At the door, he throws back, “And, by the way, you sleep like the dead.”
“So I’ve been told.” I release a breath of relief as the door clicks. And make room for more guilt to slide in as I pull my window blinds open. Luke’s pacing back and forth with a phone pressed to his ear, already changed into sweats. I’m sure he’ll be going for a run.
My heart begins beating frantically, and I can’t tell if it’s fear of getting caught or excitement over him in general. Or worry for Luke and what may happen to him. Probably all three. But I do recognize the ache growing inside me. It’s there because I already want to see him again.
“This is so bad,” I whisper as Luke tosses his phone on the couch and leans over to give Licks a good head scratch.
Stanley throws his head back and begins barking, hopping around like a bucking bull as he watches Licks. Maybe he catches the motion, or maybe it’s just a fluke, but Luke suddenly looks up. He begins laughing.
I can’t help but laugh too. “Can’t you learn how to play a little hard-to-get, Stanley?”
Luke holds up a leash to the window and nods toward the park behind our buildings. He wants to see me again? Already? He starts doing the running man in the window, looking absurd. And adorable.
Dammit . . . So much for distancing myself a bit. Plus, I hate running. I don’t run for anyone. David was a runner and I refused to go with him.
Now, all I want to do is see Luke.
Throwing Stanley’s leash on him, I change and head out the door.
No wire.
No cover team.
Pushing aside my guilt.
