Mac had positively not intended to get seduced while she was on this mission. Even Rob had largely kept his emotional distance, beyond going to sleep curled up against her back with one hand around her cupping a breast lightly.
Helen had struck her as the sort of social widow Mac was, though never apparently married to anything except a job she had successfully escaped from.
They sat, holding hands and leaning against each other across the arm rest, listening to a mad scientist aria about the joys of destructive firepower. It really was a silly play, but the three main actors had gone at it like the Lincoln Shakespeare Company, back on Ramsey.
She could honor that. It was what came after that she found herself considering with most of her attention, blue tentacles notwithstanding.
Currently, Mac had no itinerary, save to be on call to support Rob and Alicia, both of whom had taken the night off to relax. Rob had reminded her that this was the longest of long surveillance operations, intended to flush out villains.
Instead, she’d stumbled into the most fascinating woman. Someone her age, but not withered and withdrawn. Vibrant. Sexy. Possibly a little horny, based on that kiss they’d shared before the lights went down.
Did she take the stranger back to her hotel later, possibly after a nightcap? It wasn’t that far of a walk, through a nicer part of town. Even with weird warehouses converted to playhouses.
There was nothing in her room that would compromise her. Every bit of secret gear was down with Alicia or back on the ship against future need, so Helen wouldn’t accidentally blow her cover if they did end up sleeping together.
The woman was hungry for touch. That Mac understood extremely well. Rob was a gentleman because Mrs. Jones had specifically trained him to appreciate an older woman. Most men were unfortunately like Umberto, wanting young, dumb, and busty. They didn’t want someone who could provide stimulating conversation, let alone be smarter than them.
Somehow that emasculated them, for reasons Mac had never understood. Maybe she needed to corner Jorge Royo one of these days, and demand answers from him. He was something of a guru on the topic, and he didn’t limit himself to bimbos young enough to be his granddaughters.
What was it that Rob had said, quoting the man?
Every woman is as beautiful as she decides to be when she wakes up in the morning.
Helen had chosen to be beautiful today. Mac understood that. It was something of a constant battle, not to give in to the entropy of being over fifty and letting things slide.
Doubly so because she was living on borrowed time. One of these days, Miguel would be replaced, and the new Director would take one look at her previous record and demand changes in her career.
Mac needed to grab life by the scruff of the neck and bleed it for every bit of excitement and fun she could, while she had the chance.
She leaned over and kissed Helen on the cheek suddenly, surprising the woman. It felt good.
Around them, the final battle rose to stupendous, if silly heights, with the piano player really giving it her all to the point that Mac wondered if the instrument might need to be retuned after this.
Ray guns flashed. Spotlights strobed with the music, presumably replicating explosions. Blue-faced squidpeople cried out in agony and collapsed at the feet of the heroic scientist and his bad-ass assassin wife, who kissed while standing atop a pile of alien corpses.
Very, very silly.
But heartfelt. Close your eyes to the scene and listen to the voices and they were living and dying up there. Helen squeezed her hand and lowered her head on Mac’s shoulder.
The woman had chosen to be beautiful this morning. With clinical eyes, Mac would have said a little plain. Nose slightly crooked. Eyes a little wider than perfect.
Suitably average, but a little above average. Cute, but not memorable. Smart, but hiding it behind a façade of bonhomie and pleasantness.
Mac started. That described the standard field agent that every agency in the galaxy tried to recruit. Folks who could walk away and be nearly impossible to describe, because so little about them stood out physically. At the same time, the smarter the better. Mac wasn’t the only PhD in Mathematics in the building, though none of the others ever completed her level of field training.
Still, an undergraduate degree was a dead minimum for recruitment, followed up with a year of hard training and constant learning for the rest of your life.
To come up with a cipher. Like the woman previously leaned against her shoulder and now looking at her with a little concern as the lights came up.
“A little overwhelmed there,” Mac muttered to her as the score of fans began clapping and hooting, along with the cast and crew. “Tonight was kind of magical.”
“I agree,” Helen said, leaned slightly in so they touched arms.
Finally, things fell to silence and everybody began making their various ways. There was no backstage, so the cast milled and filed out into the front room where there was more wine and camaraderie to be had.
Mac followed Helen, watching the way the woman moved. It reminded her of Rob, but that might be nothing.
Or everything.
Was this somehow Carlota? Or had one of the other agencies somehow been smart enough to catch a clue and also send along a woman of the right age and temperament to get inside Carlota’s head?
Except that Rob had pointed out more than once that she and Mrs. Jones were almost unique in the industry of field agents. Partly, that was longevity, as few such folks remained healthy and unknown for that many decades.
And, she had to admit, most women didn’t want to work that hard to be available as a sex goddess to tempt younger agents.
Fools, but she wasn’t going to change the world herself. She just had to set the kind of example that made it easier for the next woman coming along. Mac had no doubts that having Mrs. Jones as an example of sexy and deadly had worked in her favor when convincing Miguel.
They each bought another glass of pedestrian wine and found a quietish corner where they could face in and keep the rest of the crowd at a social distance.
Mac studied Helen’s face, wondering if this was the infamous Hummingbird. And if seducing the woman would work, or allowing herself to be seduced by her.
Helen was standing closer than most women would with a stranger. A hand came out and touched Mac’s arm. Obviously, she wasn’t the only one thinking such thoughts.
“So now what?” Helen asked.
“Trying to decide if I should invite you to dinner at some all-night diner nearby,” Mac said. “Or just skip that part and take you home and have you for dinner. We could always order room service later.”
Those brown eyes lit up for a moment. Yes, this was a woman who didn’t get cat-called or wolf-whistled as she walked down the street. Never got appreciated by strangers or friends for being sexy.
A woman wanted to be noticed. You just keep your grubby mitts over there until I invite you to touch.
Mac leaned down some and they were kissing again. Lips, but not hands. Not yet. Wine glasses carefully held off to the sides. Pure lust, but the kind driven by need and an expectation of touch that might require hours to cover all the options, rather than two pumps and a snoring lout beside you on the bed.
Not that she had a low opinion of many men her age. Or younger.
Rob had certainly spoiled her. She’d occasionally considered demanding that Royo take her to bed so he could show her how much of that man’s legend held up in the light of day.
Tonight, Helen seemed to be in the same boat. Awakened by the need for tender touch. Open minded enough to take pleasure where she found it.
Seducible.
“Room service would be acceptable,” Helen murmured.
Mac turned and found a flat surface to put her wine glass on. She smiled expectantly at Helen and the woman joined her. They grabbed hands and grinned.
“That wine wasn’t that good,” Mac said. “I can get us something much better at the hotel. And some first-rate chocolate to pair with it.”
Again, those eyes flashed with excitement. Possibly lust.
If this wasn’t Carlota, Mac would at least have the pleasure of enjoying the woman and exploring her needs.
But what if it was her elusive quarry?
Then what?