Lach pressed his lips together and bit the inside top lip because the alternative was to burst out laughing. Finally, he managed to say, “You’re tenacious, I’ll give you that.”
“Fine, I’ll just call you Scottie.”
“Do not call me Scottie.”
Regina shrugged one shoulder. “Soup it is.”
At which point, Lach couldn’t hold back his laughter. And damn if her eyes didn’t dance with her own hilarity. Now all he wanted to do was whisk her away from this maddening place, from these people and their fucked-up politics and have her to himself so he could…
Don’t think about it. She’s a mission. She’s trouble. She’s disarming and charming and …irresistible.
Which made her dangerous. Lachlan realized he was still holding her and dropped his hands to his sides, immediately missing the feel of her soft skin under his palms.
The mischievous light faded from her eyes as her hand slipped off his arm. “All right, Soup. You caught me fair and square. Can we please go into the party now? I’ll be missed by more than the CIA. Now, where did I…” She looked around the courtyard until her gaze landed on her shoes. “Oh. Shit.”
She picked up her shoes, which were now in three pieces. One had lost a heel. She looked around the courtyard again and then up to the window she’d crawled out of and she sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. Lach followed her gaze to the dark window and noticed what looked like a black bird lying on the sill, its feathers fluttering in the light breeze.
“I seem to have misplaced my purse,” she said lightly. “Which I’m pretty sure had superglue in it, now that I think about it. Among other things.” She shoved her shoes into Lach’s hands. “Here, hold this.” And just as he dropped her shoes to stop her, she took a running leap and caught the jasmine vines several feet above her head.Is she a cat burglar too? he wondered as she quickly scaled the building again, grabbed the purse, and tossed it for him to catch. Which he did, because what the hell else was he supposed to do? Except maybe his job, which certainly did not include letting this woman call the shots.
Shit. He should have marched her straight to the CIA spook in charge of this insanity and turned her over to him. Instead, he’d watched her—twice now, for sweet Jesus’s sake—scale down a wall.
“Thanks, Soup,” Regina said as she plucked her purse back out of his hands. She opened it and pulled out a tube of superglue. She picked up her broken shoe and quickly glued the heel back on. “It’ll probably break again before the night is over, but who cares?” She smoothed her auburn hair and straightened the ridiculous white bow on her head. And all Lach could do was watch her in fascination as she frowned and removed the bow, then shook out her hair. She slipped her heels on, gave the broken one her weight, and when it didn’t break she looked at Lach expectantly.
“Can you accompany me into the party, or do you need to report me to your CIA handler first?”
“Such cheek.” Of course he had to report her; that was the whole point of standing guard in the courtyard—to find Regina. But it would probably be best to get her inside. Instead, he asked, “What were you doing up there?”
“You probably have some idea, or your CIA guys does, but I’d rather keep that to myself for now. So, if you aren’t going to report me, let’s go in during the formal announcement. I think that’ll be enough cover to keep us under the radar, don’t you?”
Just as he was about to offer his arm, another voice interrupted them.
“I’ll have that report first, Ms. Sparda.”
They both turned at the man’s voice, Lach suddenly feeling possessive. Jeremy Heath stood watching them expectantly with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow. He stood at ease, dressed in a tux that would have cost Lach half a year’s salary, the Rolex on his wrist maybe two or three. Lach glanced at Regina. Her startled look quickly gave way to curiosity, then amusement.
Sure. The two of them looked like a matching set, like they belonged together—both classy and polished, not rough around the edges like Lach.
“So,you’rein charge,” Regina said without hesitation as she looked him up and down.
Jeremy smiled. “I won’t even pretend to be as long as you’re around.”
Smooth. Asshole. Smooth enough that it appeared to win over Regina. Then Jeremy spared him a glance.
“You’re dismissed, Campbell.” As if Lach were the help. He turned his attention back to Regina. “I’ll escort you back into the party, Miss Sparda, but we’ll be taking the long way while you tell me exactly what was going on up there. And with whom.”
Regina’s lips twitched. “Really? I don’t even know your name. At least Soup here was kind enough to introduce himself.”
“Soup?” Jeremy looked smug.
“Short for Superman,” Regina added, slipping her arm through his. That took a little air out of Jeremy’s tires. “We were just headed into the party, seeing as I’m in charge.”
“I’m Jeremy Heath,” he said quickly.
“Jeremy, if you’ll give me a business card, I’ll be sure to add you to my social calendar. Perhaps next month?—”
“Do you want to save Princess Sana or not?”
Princess Sana? Lach had been briefed on the royal family at the start of the mission. She was the religious one. Or rather—the one who had discovered religion after attending a protest and had supposedly gone into seclusion. Maybe he’d had Regina all wrong.
