“Bilocate,” his monitor ordered.
He hoped he wasn’t shouting his joy as power surged through him.Fast forward! Fast forward!
And there the bitch was, right in front of him.
JED BECKONED TO HELENwith a slight shake of his head. He was done. He quelled the amusement that rose up as he watched her affecting an exaggerated shuffle, dragging one foot behind her while holding one hand against her chest as if she was disfigured, and awkwardly swinging the other hand, in such perfect imitation of a hunchback that there was no mistaking who she was impersonating.
She was something else. No woman who knew him here would dare make fun of him in quite that way. The bold ones flirted. The married ones gossiped. Those who disagreed with him were still carefulwith words and actions. No one had ever pretended to be the classic Igor to mock him.
“Your leg must be hurting you more again,” he commented. “I must not have taken care of it enough the other night.”
He enjoyed the way her eyes narrowed, the way her lips curled down into that sinfully sexy pout. She had no idea what she did to him every time she came close. In fact, neither had he anticipated it, since all he’d ever done was watch her on-screen and interact with her through virtual reality.
Meeting Helen Roston in real life was like watching HDTV for the first time. Everything about her was more vibrant, taking his breath away. He’d never get tired of looking at her. Of wanting her. His desire was like a freight train. One could see it coming; one could even brace for it; but there was no avoiding the oncoming collision.
Also, her sassy and quirky humor made him see something in a different light. Like now, for instance. What woman would mock herself as Igor to his Frankenstein?
“Who are those two?” she asked.
“Checks and balances.” He keyed the door open and they both exited.
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“Show any deficit or overextension, and someone somewhere will find a reason to put you more behind.”
“I mean their names,” she said.
He glanced at her. “They change faces, so it’s easier to just remember them as checks and balances. You’ll see what I mean the more you deal with them.” He glanced at his watch. “One more appointment.”
“Can we first pick up some food? I’m starving.”
So was he. But then he’d never liked to eat much after finishing an assignment.
“We’ll be eating with Admiral Madison,” he told her, watching the surprise in her eyes. “So that should take care of that problem.”
“The same admiral from the group of department heads watching me during the test run? The one with the nice voice.”
Amusement filled him again. He’d bet the admiral—a tall, distinguished man, with medals hanging out his ass, and whose valor on the field earned him the nickname “Mad Dog”—had never been recognized for just his “nice” voice before. “Yes. The SEALs we’re conducting the joint venture with are his boys.”
“Ah. Makes sense now. Do I just show up with you? How does one dress for a meal with an admiral, anyway? Not that it’s going to matter,since I don’t have any change of clothes at Center other than workout and casual.”
Jed glanced at her again. She was talking quickly. There was a faint blush on her cheeks, as if she was aware that she’d given herself away.
“It’s coming back again,” he observed. “Our time in the elevator alleviated your condition for a while, but it wasn’t enough to stop it.”
Her cheeks went even pinker. “You’re making it sound as if you did that to help me out,” she muttered. “I’d feel a lot better if I didn’t feel so helpless against it. It makes it impossible for me to think, and you’re using it against me.”
“Yes,” he acknowledged.
“I should’ve seen it coming,” she continued. “I knew you were up to something but I kept getting distracted by all that techy stuff.”
He could tell that she wasn’t really talking to him, that she was trying to distract herself now. He frowned. He didn’t want her to suffer. After feeling a little bit of what she was going through while they were connected in VR, he understood her distress. The inability to control one’s impulses would frustrate him too.
He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head up. “Everything’s going to be all right. We’ll fix this.” He frowned. Her eyes were dilated. “What’s the matter?”
“I’m not sure,” she breathed. She touched her forehead tentatively. “Tension.”
“Tension? As in headache?”
