Tori was certain that her fate was a product of her impetuous encounter with Carter. Hopefully this new mission meant she’d finally paid her dues and was getting an assignment based on merit.
Of course, it wasn’t as if they’d given her the type of assignment she’d been wanting. She’d hoped to infiltrate a drug ring or buddy up with members of the mob. Instead, she was getting undercover light—pretending to be married at a sex resort. Not what she’d expected, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
And even though she was stuck as the underling, she intended to do everything in her power to shine on this job. And if that meant impressing—and obeying—Carter Sinclair, well, she could handle that.
She’d try anyway. She intended to work her tush off in the process. Because when this was all over, she wanted to be out in the field permanently. And if Carter was her stepping-stone, then so be it. She was ten times the agent he was, and in the end, she’d surely prove it—even while being the subservient little underling.
As it was, she’d already outlined a number of ways they could get the case rolling. Her eyes skimmed over the neatly printed list, only one of many papers in her portfolio. She’d worked on her plan over the course of the entire flight from Washington to California and she had some great ideas for jump-starting their research and investigating the potential perps.
Carter was sure to be impressed.
“Looks like the gang’s all here.”
Tori flinched at the achingly familiar voice behind her. A voice that forced her to admit that, on a certain forbidden level, she was excited about seeing him again. Damn.
Gathering herself, she shifted on the bench to face him. She drew in a quick breath, hoping he didn’t notice. Carter had always been good-looking, but she hadn’t expected the commanding presence she was facing. Somehow, he’d matured since she’d seen him last, and the change suited him.
“Solved the case yet, Lowell?” he asked.
She smiled, the same cool and collected smile she’d used a hundred times to ward off unwelcome advances. “Not just yet, Sinclair. But I’ve got a self-imposed deadline. By noon tomorrow, I’ll have this thing whipped.”
“Noon?” His head cocked slightly as he looked her in the eye. “You’re slipping, Lowell. I plan to have this case wrapped up by ten at the latest.”
She set her jaw. “Dawn, then. I’ll smoke out our bad guy by dawn.” She looked him in the eye. “No matter what, I’ll solve it before you do.”
His mouth twitched, but he didn’t throw another challenge at her. Good. Chalk one up for her side.
With a quick flick, she snapped her portfolio closed, then stood up, her hand out in a formal greeting. “I’ve been working on our plan of attack. I thought we could start at the local paper. I’ve already called their morgue and asked them to pull any articles about the resort so we—”
“Good to see you, too, Tori.” He started walking past her toward the baggage claim area, ignoring her hand and her comments.
Okay. That was not what she had in mind. Gathering her bags, she hurried after him. “Carter?” No response.
Damn it, he was ignoring her on purpose, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that kind of power play.
Determination renewed, she shifted her duffel’s strap on her shoulder and upped her speed, catching up to him as he eased onto the down escalator. She squeezed onto the same step, forcing him toward the handrail, his body close enough that she caught a subtle hint of his aftershave. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you ignore me,” she said.
He turned, leaning against the rail and ignoring the signs imploring him to Please Hold Handrail. For a second he just stood there, looking at her, his eyes dark and dangerous. “We’re not going to get anywhere,” he said, throwing back her words, “if you start working this case on your own without talking to me or the rest of the task force first.”
“Working this—?”
“Calling the newspaper office? What were you thinking? Word could get back to whoever’s running this scam that someone’s poking around. We’re supposed to be undercover, remember? And that means not jumping in wearing bright orange neon.”
Her fingernails dug into her palm as she tried to control her flaring temper. “I’m not an idiot, Sinclair. I said I was a reporter for a travel magazine doing some background research on California resorts. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that’s going to jeopardize your precious first time leading a mission.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for him to apologize, but he said nothing. Well, fine. Wasn’t this going to be a pleasant assignment?
As they stepped off the escalator, she matched him stride for stride, her irritation growing with each step. “Do you want to hear my other ideas? Or are you going to just keep on ignoring me?” Probably he expected her to simply do whatever he said without question and not even participate. Hell, this was their mission, even if he was technically in charge. And Tori intended to see to it that she was a full participant, no matter what Carter might have planned.
This time he stopped, and she gave herself two mental points. “Look, Tori. I’m tired. I haven’t slept in three days.” He shifted his carry-on to the opposite shoulder, then smiled at her. A real smile, not the least bit condescending. Damn him, how the hell was she supposed to stay righteously indignant if he was going to make nice?
“I’m not ignoring you,” he added. “I just want to get my luggage, get our car and then get on the road. Once we’re on the highway, you can talk all you want.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out his baggage claim ticket. “Deal?”
She wanted to argue. Hell, she even opened her mouth and started to. But the facts were the facts, and as much as she hated it, Carter was in charge. Not only that, but he was being civil—at least a little—and that was something she hadn’t really expected considering their history and how they’d started out a few minutes ago.
She couldn’t say her anger melted, but it was definitely getting soft around the edges. And hadn’t her grandmother always said she’d catch more flies with honey? Tori had always hated that saying, but at the moment it seemed uniquely appropriate.
He stood still, waiting for her answer, his arms crossed as a flood of passengers maneuvered around them.
Her instincts told her to fight. To make him understand—right then, right there—that she wasn’t just some second-fiddle partner. She wanted to be part of the decision-making process, and she didn’t intend to let him overshadow her. But something in his eyes stalled her resolve, and she caved.
“Fine,” she said, hoping against hope that she wasn’t somehow handing Carter the upper hand for the entire length of their assignment. She lifted her chin. “We’ll talk in the car.”
CARTER EXHALED in relief. He’d expected a fight. Hell, where Tori was concerned, he always expected a fight. And he had to wonder what had caused her to back off.
Still, he didn’t intend to wonder for too long. Right then, he’d take whatever little gifts she handed him. And he fully anticipated that they’d be sparring like old times once they reached the car.
Right
