Chapter Fourteen

The next morning, a messenger trudged down the dock lugging two large file boxes. “Where do you want ’em?”

Andrea commandeered a smaller office next to the large one Dillon used. The floor plan described it as a guest’s office. The room was well-lighted and had a computer terminal and phone on a shiny walnut desk, and a copier and fax machine on a cabinet along one wall. A TV mounted in one corner streamed the latest business news and stock quotes. A comfortable-looking upholstered sofa and matching chair were positioned close to the door.

She sorted the documents as she removed them from the boxes, placing them in piles according to subject. When they were spread out and organized, she picked up a dozen provisioning company employee files and plopped down on the sofa. She combed through them one by one, looking for anything significant and occasionally noting an interesting fact on a pad she’d placed on the side table.

Her stack of reviewed files was two dozen high by lunchtime. Not wanting to break her stride, she requested Yolanda bring her vegetable plate to the office. Andrea dug into her lunch with fork in one hand and an employee record in the other. But the steamed spinach was surprisingly delicious. She stopped scanning files and focused on the food, savoring the taste. Who would have guessed vegetables could be so delicious?

Mitch knocked and stuck his head in the doorway at about two. “How’s it going?”

His smile did strange things to her lower half, and for a few seconds her mind went blank. Shaking herself, she sucked in a breath. “I found one interesting tidbit.” She picked up her pad and found the name. “Jerry Newsome. He works for the Miami provisioning company now, but before that he was employed by the local company partly owned by Stone Industries. He claims to have left the job here voluntarily. I checked him out online and didn’t get many hits. He has low cyber-visibility. Nothing suspicious about him. Like I said, I just found his employment history noteworthy.”

“The connection to Stone might be worth checking into further. Maybe he was fired and harbors a grudge.”

“It’s something I plan to look into.” She checked her pad and read the reminder she’d jotted at the bottom of the page. “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, what happened to the kid you caught sneaking onto the boat?”

“He’s gone. We interrogated him thoroughly and couldn’t find any connection between him and Dillon or Stone Industries. We held on to him for twenty-four hours. Then the company lawyer had a heart-to-heart with him and let him go. I don’t think he understood what he saw, but even if he did, I think we scared him enough to keep his mouth shut.”

Glancing at the wall clock, she exhaled and tossed her pad on the end table. “I don’t think I’ll get much of anything else done with this stuff today. Karli Stone, the socialite, has a facial scheduled, a stylist coming to do her hair, and someone else coming to do her nails. I’ll be a whole new woman by the time we leave for this party tonight.”

Fran zipped the dress up the back and stared at Andrea’s reflection in the full-length mirror with awe. “Your dress is absolutely fabulous.”

Andrea felt like a phony. The dress was out of this world, but she’d had no part in choosing it. In fact, if she had been given a choice, she would have gone for loose and tailored and selected something much less impressive. Regardless, she accepted the compliment. “Thank you, and thank you for your help getting ready.”

“Did you decide on the black gloves or the white?”

“The black.”

Andrea studied herself in the mirror while Fran went to fetch the silky gloves. When the woman returned, she told her, “Just leave them on the table with my bag. I’ll put them on in the car. I should be all right at this point. You can go eat dinner with your husband.”

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else I can do?”

“Positive.”

Fran left. Andrea stood rooted to the floor. She took in her reflection again and had a hard time believing she was the woman looking back. The stylist had carefully arranged every strand of her hair. Her makeup was impeccable thanks to the cosmetician Dillon had arranged to do her face. False eyelashes, liner, and liberal shadow made her eyes appear smoky and huge. Her inch-long nails were ruby red. The color of her toenails, showing in the strappy, peekaboo shoes, matched.

She felt like a modern-day Cinderella. The strapless designer dress was out of a fairy tale, and had fit perfectly once the dressmaker removed the bulky pads sewn in to lift Karli’s breasts and accentuate her cleavage. Andrea’s ample breasts filled the cups just fine without any help. She turned to look at her right side. The dress was entirely white. She turned to her left. The dress was entirely black. She was two sides of a black and white coin, and she wondered if the dichotomy might come in handy to blend into the darkness or a neutral inside wall.

With her mind back on the possible danger posed by going to the party and being exposed to the public, Andrea fetched a weapon from the backpack she’d stashed under a heavy wool sweater in a bottom dresser drawer. She strapped a small holster to her left thigh, stepped in front of the mirror, and frowned at the bump in the gown’s sleek material caused by the nine-millimeter Glock mini pistol. The gun would have to go. But what to do with it? She slipped it from the holster and went to the section of Karli’s closet where her accessories were stored. The black brocade Valentino evening bag she should carry to coordinate with her dress was waiting by the door, but it was too small to hold the weapon. Ditto for the beaded white bag. The only black purse that was roomy enough was too casual.

She tossed the brocade purse on the bed, slipped the gun back into her thigh holster, and twisted the holster to position the gun more toward her front. Lips pursed, she studied her reflection in the mirror. The gown’s material flared slightly at her hips and was fuller in the front, so the gun’s bulk was less obtrusive. Better, but still not concealed.

Would she have to go unarmed? A small purse with a thin strap could hang on her shoulder and not draw too much attention, although she’d probably be best to carry nothing at all. She glanced at the roomy purse. She’d look ridiculous carrying that suitcase around, and she couldn’t in good conscience make Karli look like a fashion fool.

A knock on the door. “It’s Weaver.”

“Damn.” With a sigh, she let him in.

His gaze roamed over her, burning every inch of her body and making her mouth go dry. For a moment, he seemed stunned.

“It’s really me,” she said, her voice tight.

He blinked, and his mouth twitched. “You look like a movie star or some exotic princess.” He gave her another of those cocky smiles that seemed to melt her insides, then reached down, took her hand, and bending at the waist, gently kissed her fingers. “I am your loyal servant, Your Highness.”

She felt the imprint of his lips burning the bare skin of her fingers and gasped as if punched by a velvet fist.

Her face heated, and she pulled her hand back, mortified. A blush? God, was she actually blushing at a tongue-in-cheek compliment and a joking kiss from her partner? Wearing Karli’s feminine clothes must somehow be softening her brain.

…

Mitch straightened, pulled in a breath, and regained control of his senses. Touching her had sent his blood rushing through his veins, but the heat building under his skin was inappropriate, and the fantasy swirling in his head was even further out of line. He had to stop acting like a love-starved teenager. Stop thinking along those lines.

His eyes traveled down her body once more, and he found the change of subject he needed to fill the awkward silence. “Take off the gun, cowboy.”

Of course, cowboy referred to the incorrect gender, as she was definitely all girl.

She shot him a surprised look, lifted her chin, and moistened her already-shiny, provocative lips. “I should have a weapon. I know it shows a little, but most people won’t notice, and ninety-nine percent of those who do notice will never guess what it is.”

He shook his head. “Take it off, or I’ll do it for you.” When he imagined his hands on her leg, warmth flooded his groin. His fingers itched. Dear God, he wanted to remove her gun. But if he touched her, he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop. He tried to make his features look fierce. “And while you’re at it, I want the rest of your arsenal turned over to me when we get back.”

“People are shooting at me, remember? I’m not comfortable walking around unarmed.”

“You’re in the big leagues now. You’re risking your life on this mission because that’s what you chose to do. But if you act like a cowboy, you’re risking the lives of the rest of this team.” She opened her mouth to object, but he put up a hand to stop her. His voice went low and harsh. “You’re also risking your future with the Rangers. If you get a reputation as a rogue, no one will want to work with you. They won’t trust you to watch their backs, and they won’t stick their necks out to watch yours.”

She blew out a breath and lifted her skirt. The tip of her tongue peeked out from between her teeth as she concentrated on the buckle of the holster. He fought an overwhelming urge to pull her against him and kiss her until she begged him to take her to bed.

Forcing his gaze away from her sensual mouth, he glanced at the bare skin of her upper back and shoulders, so creamy and smooth. How he’d love to run his fingertips… He linked his fingers over his stomach and dragged his mind to the business at hand as she removed the holstered weapon contritely. Had she given in because she’d seen the error of her ways or because she didn’t want him to tell her boss and get her in trouble? What was going on in that beautiful head?

He clenched his teeth. She was inexperienced and a loose cannon who was going to get herself fired—if she didn’t get herself killed first. A disturbing thought zapped through his brain. She needed someone to protect her from herself, and since he was her partner and superior, he was the obvious candidate for the job.

He watched her stash the gun at the bottom of a drawer and wanted to shake her and make her do what she was told. At the same time, he wanted to kiss her senseless and let her whisper what things turned her on. He swore silently. He was attracted to her and he shouldn’t be, and damn it, that attraction was messing big-time with his mind.

He should focus on what she could do to his career. Her disregard for the rules was going to screw up his life, possibly even get him fired, and he was helpless to stop her. Growing up as a middle child, he’d felt like others were running his life and he had no control. And now, watching Andrea Carnegie, he saw that lack of control, that trap of having to react to other people’s actions, ensnaring him once again.

She gave him a coy smile. “Could I slip a canister of pepper spray in my purse?”

“No.” Mitch opened the cabin door to escort her out.

She picked up her little black purse and a pair of long gloves with the hint of a pout on her lips.

He placed a hand lightly at the back of her waist to walk her down the hallway. An electric current shot up his arm at the instant of contact. He yanked his hand back, wondering if she’d felt it, too.

“You’re pushing too hard. Be patient,” he said, trying to focus on his assignment. “Just concentrate on being Karli and let us do the rest.”