She loved locked cabinets, doors, safes…anything secured, really. She wasn’t excited now because the cabinets might hold potentially damning information—they rarely did; that was exaggerated fluff in the movies—but because she was an excellent lockpick and loved to test her skills. A cabinet might not pose much of a challenge, but it would warm her up in case she needed to pick any other locks tonight.
She slipped out the roll of her lock picking tools, which she’d stashed inside a hidden pocket of her pants. The roll was made of a special synthetic fabric designed and manufactured at Marcello’s order, which made anything inside the fabric invisible on x-ray scanners and the like. They’d just barely started testing the fabric when this mission had come up and she’d grabbed it on a whim. Though she hadn’t needed to worry about x-rays at the airports—she’d been helicoptered in as a glamorous starlet would be—she had worried that her hurt ankle ruse might result in an x-ray. In case she hadn’t been able to convince the Captain to forego it, she’d wanted some kind of backup. Though the x-ray would have been of her foot and she kept her tools hidden closer to her hips, she hadn’t wanted to take any chances.
She unrolled it on top of the cabinet, selected the tools she needed, and began the easy work of undoing the lock—only five seconds. It was a little slow for her for a lock like this, but it had been a while since she’d picked one. Still, it felt like riding a bike after a long time—a little frustrating for a few moments while she tried to catch her balance and groove, and then it felt like flying as the adrenaline rushed through her.
God, she loved being an agent, almost as much as she hated it.
“Can I help you find something?”
She froze, one hand twisted around the handle of the topmost drawer, the other holding her re-rolled pick set. She turned slowly, removing the flashlight from her lips and sliding her tools behind her and down her pants. How much had he heard? How much had he seen?
She froze again at the sight in front of her.
The Captain stood there shirtless, pantless, shoeless, and clad only in a pair of tight-fitting and definitely not Navy-approved boxers. His hair was ruffled and disordered in that annoying way men’s hair tended to get; her hair never looked so good after waking up. Was his berth nearby? Or did he actually sleep in the bay?
Christ, he was cut. Defined abs and pecs covered with a good amount of chest hair that was vaguely heart-shaped—she loved chest hair on a man—and he had that seductive ‘V’ by his hips that trailed away into those boxers and the very, ahem, large object inside them. While his lips were quirked in an amused smile, his eyes flashed with anger and his arms were crossed over that delicious chest.
A sharp stab of awareness, arousal sparked through her.
He smelled amazing. Then again, he had this afternoon, too. It wasn’t a cologne—she knew regulations banned cologne on ships—so maybe it was a simple deodorant, or maybe it was just him, or a combination of the two. Whatever it was, it was intoxicating, but she couldn’t let her lust rule her right now.
The mission. Always the mission first.
She slipped into her persona and flashed a brilliant smile, then a questioning frown. “Captain! Shouldn’t you be wearing, er, identification tags at all times, among other things?”
“No. Tags are recommended for an officer of my position and rank, but not required. Now, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
The lie slipped easily from her lips. “I was trying to find my file. I know it’s notexactlywithin regulations, but I do have to be really careful that certain…details about me aren’t released or sold. I’m sure you understand.”
He flipped on the light momentarily blinding her and, when her eyes blinked open, he was right in front of her, crowding her against the cabinet behind her. He wasn’t touching her, but she had the distinct feeling he wanted to, in a variety of ways. Maybe to kiss her—that bulge in his boxers certainly wasn’t shrinking away—or maybe even to restrain her and call for the Naval police.
She didn’t feel fear. No, that wasn’t right. Agents always felt fear. It was more that she didn’t allow herself to wallow in it, and instead forced her brain to focus on getting out of the situation.
His eyes remained on her while he reached over and grabbed a file from the top of the desk pile, the one she knew was hers. “Here’s your file. First, assuming that I would sell any information about you, medical or otherwise, is bullshit. Second, even if I wanted to sell anything, what exactly is in here that you don’t want known? Third, it’s amazing you missed this since you were actually looking at it just a few minutes ago.”
Shit! So he had seen her. How had she not realized someone was watching? Had he heard her when she first entered the bay, or only since she entered the office and started rummaging around?
“Do you sleep in the medical bay, then? That’s a little unusual, isn’t it?”
He tapped the file against his hand then tossed it on top of the cabinet behind her. “Where I sleep is none ofyourbusiness. What ismybusiness, however, is why you’re breaking a minimum of twenty regulations, not to mention several other medical laws, to rifle through my patient files? Why are you really on this ship,MissSalamanca?”
She thought of perhaps telling him the truth, in case he might do the same in return. She’d only met him once and, though usually she could get the sense of someone from a single meeting, she hadn’t been able to take his measure, to discern what kinds of truths and lies he’d use and why he might tell either. People told both for their own purposes, or to protect others, or even to protect themselves. If he was being forced to conduct illegal medical experiments then, based on what she knew of him from Marcello, he’d most likely lie to protect his patients.
Then there were her truths and lies as well. So few knew about her true, alternate life that hid underneath, and her mind rebelled against telling anybody at all. She still had other missions to do, other work to finish that depended upon her being an agent disguised as an actress. She would see those missions through, goddamn it, see that work through. So, for her own selfish reasons, as well as what she knew of his personality, she decided against the truth.
She bit her lip in remorse, a move that often drew men’s attention away from where they shouldn’t be looking too closely, yet frustratingly did nothing for the man in front of her. “Well, I’ve never done anything like this before, you know, sneaking in to get my records. I have my own set of trusted doctors back in Vollywood but, before I found them, I’ve had doctors in the past try to sell my medical information. Given your, er, family, I didn’t believe you would try to sell it, but I don’t know you and decided not to risk it.”
He leaned closer, both of his arms boxing her in as he put his hands on the cabinet. His arms brushed her shoulders and she felt a bolt of electricity course through her. She tried to convince herself it was just the adrenaline of the situation and not the nearness of the man in front of her, surrounding her.
“So you know who I am?”
Shit! She’d slipped up and revealed that tidbit, but it was easily covered up. “Of course. I didn’t want to mention it during my medical exam, however.”
“Why not? I mentioned the fact that I knew you.”
She gestured with her hands, purposefully brushing them against his abs. To him, it would seem like an accident, but she used the movement to gauge his reactions.
He didn’t react. His stomach didn’t flinch at her touch, his breath didn’t catch. She had expected some kind of movement, maybe even him sucking in the muscles there, but he didn’t react to her touch at all.
