As long as Ms Armand didn’t get near the alarms that would have the embassy’s armed guards running in our direction, I could allow her some latitude. And I might learn what she was after, then be able to determine how much she knew about Kovac and how worried I should be.
I slipped into a shadowy doorway and watched her. I didn’t mind the show one bit.
I’d only see her from afar once, and since then in surveillance photos that usually showed off the spray of freckles across her nose and the barely tamed curls in her hair. Tonight, her make-up hid the freckles and the tight updo smoothed out her unruly locks, much to my chagrin.
She slid out of her ridiculous black trench coat–no doubt her attempt at a disguise–making the show even more enjoyable. She was beautiful and sexy as hell in her low-cut, backless gown. The silky material looked like it could slide right off her shoulders and straight to the floor with the slightest flick from my fingers.
I ignored my hard-on and hoped our team doctor, who was monitoring each operative’s vital signs through our high-tech wrist watches, would keep the spike in my heart rate and blood pressure to herself.
“Everything okay, TJ?” Samantha Bond, the doctor in question, asked in my comms.
I tapped once under my ear for yes, and Bond went silent. She wasn’t just a medical professional, she was a good friend, a field surgeon I’d met way back when, during my army days. Like everyone on the Alpha Team, Bond was actually more like family. And like most close families, they would give me no peace if they caught a whiff of my lascivious thoughts about the reporter, which included that one-step gown removal and had progressed to an image of the woman lying naked on top of the desk she was currently trying and failing to breach.
When it was clear the locked desk was Ms. Armand’s only objective and thus her behavior was unlikely to yield more information about her motives, I leaned against the door jam and smiled, finally ready to reveal my presence.
She would scream, as startled civilians normally do, but no one was close enough to hear her. As long as she didn’t bolt for the exit, we wouldn’t be discovered. Although if she did bolt, I would block her path and she would run right into me. I would easily be able to contain her and would have the chance to hold her in my arms for a minute in the process.
“Not every pick works in every lock,” I said quietly, more than half hoping she would run straight at me.
She jumped and sucked in her breath, but she didn’t scream or run. She stood quickly and tucked her tools behind her back. “Mr… What was it again?”
“TJ, Ms. Armand, but a woman in your profession doesn’t forget names.” I grinned and closed in on her slowly, enjoying the way she blushed, which brought out the blue in her eyes and the reddish highlights in her dark brown hair.
“Are you following me?”
I tsked and shook my head. “If you had any idea what you’re doing right now, you wouldn’t need to ask. You would have clocked me tracking you 20 feet down the hallway.”
More color rose in her cheeks. I’d forgotten how freckles and blushing were so closely tied together. And how the combination was so damn charming. The rediscovery wasn’t doing a lot for maintaining my professionalism, but it sure as hell was fun to watch.
“Now,” I took a step toward her, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing here, or do I have to guess?”
