arched an eyebrow, making sure her voice was low enough for just the two of them to hear, “Looks like that’s not the only thing you’re picking up.”
E.J. grinned, wicked mischief in his eyes. “You know, they say life is a like a box of chocolates, and I’d like to sample all I can.”
Sarah laughed in spite of herself—contrary to the evidence at hand, E.J. was a real southern gentleman. Refined, intelligent and wealthy as sin, his family owned a local ship-building company. She would have expected him to be a total snob and a real bore, but he was neither.
He was a great cook, a handsome devil and a decent man. He’d given up control of his family’s company to follow his heart, returning to a career in law enforcement. In the process he’d broken off his engagement with his high school sweetheart and had thrown himself headfirst into a very happy bachelorhood. Sarah wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him with the same girl twice.
They’d hung out, at work and socially, keeping each other company, talking shop. At one point, he’d actually tried his charms out on her, and while she might have been the teensiest bit tempted—he was good-looking, after all—she’d shut him down. They were colleagues, and, to an extent, buddies. In a completely platonic way, she loved E.J. to death.
Then her boss, Ian, showed up in the doorway, passing a curious glance over E.J.’s “date,” who fluttered her eyelashes in appreciation of Ian’s dark good looks, before turning his attention to Sarah.
“Full house today. They called me about the bust, said that you got hurt. What happened? Are you okay?”
His arms were crossed over his chest, one dark eyebrow raised as he leveled a look at her that she’d gotten used to. Still, there was approval in his eyes, something she yearned for on a very basic level—the recognition of doing a good job, being believed in, making a difference.
“Yeah, I’m good.” Then, in a more smartass tone, “Nice shirt, boss.”
Ian looked down at the wildly patterned Hawaiian shirt that was open at the chest, and shrugged.
“Thanks. Sage bought it. She said it was “me.” We’re headed for the beach today. You know, to hang out, maybe cook some hot dogs. E.J., why are you here?”
“Just stopped by to get my cell phone and saw our girl working as usual.”
Sarah glared at E.J., who, smiling, just popped on his Ray-Bans, then slid his arm around his date and, with a wave, headed for the door.
Ian turned to Sarah. “I think today was a day off for you, too, right? Time to relax and leave work at the office?”
There was a not-so-subtle tone of accusation in his voice.
“Hey, I was very mellow until that idiot started taking pictures of me for his Web site. I’m sorry they called you, though. It’s just a cut. I’m fine.”
“No problem. I want to know when anyone is hurt. But the point is you shouldn’t have been working, so I guess it was all incidental—it’s not like you’ve been tracking him or anything like that, right? You had no idea he would be there? It just…happened?”
She knew he knew better, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
“All work and no play, Sarah…” Ian shook his head.
“Would you rather I’d let him go? Have you seen that Web site? He’s been at it for months, taking pictures up unsuspecting women’s skirts in the park, in the mall, but the beach photos were the worst. Virginia is one of the few states that actually have active laws on up-skirting, and I intend to put them to good use.”
To make sure she was getting her point across, she added, “Think about it, Ian. How would you feel if it were Sage’s parts put up on the screen for the enjoyment of the general public?”
Sarah knew she’d hit a nerve when something dangerous flickered in her boss’s eyes. Sage, Ian’s fiancée for several months now, was the center of his life. Sage had been a convicted felon serving out a five-year prison sentence, with Ian monitoring every detail of her life for the duration. They’d gotten together when Ian had been forming the team on the request of the department. E.J. and Sarah had been Ian’s backup when they’d gone after one badass computer hacker, a former lover of Sage’s who’d set her up to take the fall for a computer virus he’d created and unleashed.
It had made for an odd courtship, to say the least. Sage had almost lost her life helping them catch the hacker who had victimized her. When all was said and done, though, her record had been cleared, and for the last year she’d been busy establishing her own computer security agency. In the meantime, Ian was becoming impatient waiting to make Sage his wife.
But then he smiled. “You’re right, of course, but you do need to take a break. You’re going to burn out.”
“I feel fine.”
“I’ve been where you are, Sarah, and I had to learn the hard way that it isn’t worth it. All you do is work. You need more balance in your life.”
“I like to work.”
Ian glanced at the clock. “I’ve gotta get moving, but I’m serious. You’re working way too hard—” He held his hand up to stem the objection about to pop from her lips. “You’ve done a great job, I’m not complaining, but I want you to take a break. I’m granting you an immediate vacation—starting Monday.” He appeared to think about it for a second and spoke again, “No, starting as soon as you leave today. No work. Play only. Two weeks. It’s an order.”
Sarah had a hard time believing what she was hearing—he was forcing her to take a vacation? Wasn’t that against the constitution or something?
“That’s ridiculous. I don’t want or need a vacation. You can’t dictate my free time. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself anyway, and I—”
“Exactly. That’s the problem. You don’t do anything but work. Sage and I went to a nice resort over in Cape Charles—it’s small, more like an inn, and it’s close. You can get there easily. I’ll make the arrangements and all you have to do is show up on Monday. And no laptop. In fact, you can leave it here. With me.” He shot her an evil grin. “And they don’t allow cell phones at the resort. Or PDAs. Just so you know. If they find them, they’ll ask you to store them in their office until you leave, so as not to disrupt the other guests.”
Sarah felt the color drain from her face.
“No, Ian, please, I—”
“You’re going. Either that or you’re enrolling in the stress relief program that they’re starting up this week. Make your choice.”
Sarah felt her breath come up short—how could he? The stress relief program was a nightmare—everyone was doing whatever they could to avoid it—six weeks of deep breathing and sharing your feelings. God. It was a numbers game, she told herself. Two weeks of torture was better than six.
“Fine. Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll go.”
Her voice was tight and unhappy, and Ian chuckled, shaking his head and turning away. “Sarah, I want you to enjoy life a little. I want you to relax, have fun. Maybe you’ll even like it.”
Sarah
