“Are you flirting with me?” KC asked this question, for the first time, right in front of Gramercy and Atlas. They had kept enough secrets from her and Yardley, and they needed to understand she was a death-to-the-patriarchy operative and would not accept anyone’s idea of what was best for her anymore.
Yardley went pink. “It’s extremely hard not to. My upbringing has taught me to secure power when I see it.”
Gramercy rose to his feet, gathering up papers. “That’s mycue. I have two more critical meetings, at least, before I can restordie, so I’m going to remove myself to whatever monk cell Batwing has designated for me. Atlas?”
“I think these two can take it from here.” They stood up, and the pair left together.
“How much sleep do we get before we’re cleared to go to London?” KC was only asking to say something. To stay with Yardley. To see what it felt like to do nothing but sit on a sofa with her in a dim room.
So far, so good.
“I’m hoping for a couple of hours.”
They hadn’t been alone together since the linen closet at the ambassador’s residence.
An incredibly bizarre lightness entered KC’s middle. It took her a second to identify it as joy.
Joy, because she didn’t have to lie.
Joy, because, for the first time, she could tell Yardley whatever she wanted.
“Do you want to play a game?” she asked.
Yardley’s eyes widened. “I want to play a game more than anything.”
“Let me tell you about it before you commit. You know how, in corny spy movies, when the handsome spy in the tuxedo has figured out the beautiful woman in the evening gown is with the bad guys, she asks him what she wants to know right before he kisses her, and he says, ‘If I told you, I’d have to kill you?’”
“Yes. I know this trope. I’ve never been in a situation where I got to use it, but I have a feeling I would relish the drama.”
KC laughed. “I’m sure you would. Here’s my game. I ask youfor intel. About you. About us. And if you want to answer, you tell me, ‘If I told you, I’d have to kiss you.’ Then I decide if I really want to know, because if I do, I have to let you kiss me.”
Yardley captured KC’s gaze for a dark-eyed moment. “There doesn’t seem to be a penalty in this game.”
“The only penalty is if it doesn’t work, and more knowing and more talking doesn’t lead to where we’d really like it to. If itdoeswork but it’s hard, the kissing is a way to make it easier. Positive reinforcement.” She smiled.
Yardley’s exhale was choppy. “Can we have a practice round? One that’s easy. So I’m certain I understand the rules.”
“Yes.” KC thought about something very easy she wanted to know that she should’ve known a long time ago. “What’s the perfume you wear when you go on one of your trips that had nothing to do with finance? I’ve never found a bottle that smells like it.”
Yardley walked on her knees across the long cushion to sit close to KC. “If I told you, I’d have to kiss you.” The pink in her cheeks had spread to her throat.
Well. That sounded as good as KC had hoped it might. The words, combined with Yardley’s new proximity, sent a wave of anticipation racing over her skin. “I want to know.”
Yardley pushed her hand into her own hair, dropping it behind her shoulders in a way that showed KC the outline of her sports bra and the shape of her breasts beneath the white T-shirt she’d changed into. “It’s my granddaddy’s lucky cologne. He bought it in Ulaanbaatar after he opened a drop package with intel that turned out to be a bomb, but it didn’t detonate. It has santal. And blood orange.”
When KC took a breath, her memory supplied the smell, butinstead of it making her feel lonely because the smell meant Yardley was leaving, it made her think about what it would be like to inhale it on her neck knowing exactly what it was.
Yardley leaned forward. “Now I have to kiss you.”
She did. No tongue, no teeth. Only their lips, softly fit together, before she pulled away.
“It’s my turn,” she said. “Maybe this isn’t a practice round question, but I’ve never been brave enough to ask.” She put her hand on KC’s knee. “Do you think you’d ever want to introduce me to your dad?”
KC’s shocked laugh made her eyes sting. There were some feelings there, obviously. Even before Robbie Nolan had retired to the Florida Keys, it had never been difficult to keep him in the dark about her job. Or her life. One of his overarching philosophies was to never ask personal questions if he could avoid it. The last time she’d tried calling him on the phone, he’d offered a series of complaints about the hidden fees for a three-day Margaritaville cruise he’d recently booked and then signed off after seven minutes.
“If I told you,” she said, “I’d have to kiss you.”
It heated her blood to say it aloud. It sounded like a promise, passed back and forth between her and Yardley, that the only consequence of doing something that had always been difficult for them would be to get more of what they wanted.
