but he didn’t have to know that.
She leaned back in her seat and tried to relax, regroup and unwind. All she could think about was that wicked smile of his, which mocked even as it dared, judged even as it flattered. What a puzzle Cochran was. Cameron. Would they progress to a first-name basis? Did she even want to?
She closed her eyes and tried to imagine the two of them working in tandem, as partners, maybe even friends. Could she unbend enough to manage a friendship? Certainly never more than that, she warned herself, no matter how heart-stopping he looked or how powerful that spell of his turned out to be.
His touch, innocent at it had been the few times they had made contact, had alarmed and upset her. She couldn’t allow herself to backslide and become the scared little rabbit she had been growing up.
All those stories her mom had told about the evils of free love and rampant sex in the commune hadn’t helped Tess develop well socially. They had created yet another fear to be conquered. Next time she would be the one to initiate contact. She would do the touching, she decided, and she wouldn’t let it shake her, either. Not one little bit.
It could work with guys. It could work with boats. It was only a matter of employing systematic desensitization and cognitive restructuring of thoughts and misconceptions. She knew how to get over these things.
He returned to his seat half an hour later. Transformed. Tess was speechless. And more rattled than ever. His suit was a tropical beige, jet-set expensive, as were his Italian loafers and the dark brown V-necked pullover. Cashmere, she was certain. The Rolex watch, signet ring and diamond ear stud must have set him back a fortune, too.
“What’s the matter? Did I miss a spot?” He stroked his chin with two fingers.
“N-no. You look…fine.” Oh, man. Too fine, she thought with a sigh.
He raked her with an assessing look. “Your turn. Did you bring anything less…austere? I’m afraid you look just like an agent should, and we can’t have that.”
His southern accent had disappeared, and his speech sounded more like that of a newscaster. How’d he do that?
Tess was still trying to come to grips with the change in his appearance as she shook her head. All she could think of were her plain, low-heeled pumps—in beige, which went with everything—and her neat little suits from JC Penney. She frowned down at the Timex ticking away on her wrist. She felt…positively plebeian.
“Well, don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can fix that after we land.”
“Fix what?” she muttered.
“You,” he said, then shrugged. “Your wardrobe. The hair. Makeup. You’ll need to get in step for when we hit the clubs, maybe even the casinos.”
“Casinos?”
“Yeah, we’ll check the clubs in Saint-Tropez first, but the casinos are where we’re probably going to find him.”
“How would you know that?”
Cochran smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Because I know who we’re after, and he loves to gamble.”
Tess thought he was blowing smoke. Yet he radiated confidence like a space heater. Her doubt must be showing, because he continued without waiting for her to comment.
“Mercier related the message letter for letter when I asked, and I recognized the signature misspellings. There’s also a cadence and tone to it that are familiar. This guy’s wordy. And English is not his first language. This is the same man they used before to hack in. Now the brains behind the operation has him making the demands, so he’s not running the show. I intercepted some of the messages last time. This all but proves we’re also working against the original mastermind. That’s the guy we want, so we have to get junior first.”
Tess was impressed in spite of herself. “Fine. Now if we only had a name, we’d be in business.”
“Oh, I have that. I’ll also know him when I see him. Zahi Selim, an Egyptian ex-patriot. Young, around twenty-five or twenty-six. His family cut him loose when his behavior got too extreme, even for them. His father’s in the export business, textiles, and owns a number of European properties in major cities. Sort of like Fayed. You know, the father of Princess Di’s boyfriend?”
“The one killed in the crash with her? You mean, this Selim guy we’re looking for is a playboy?”
“And was working it big-time until Daddy cut him off and he ran out of money. Hopefully he’ll be returning to his former habits if he got an advance on this job. I almost had enough on him in London and reported what I had. My superior ordered him arrested without giving me prior notice. I had argued against it, but he didn’t listen.”
“Ah,” Tess said. “And they had to let him go. Not enough proof to hold him. Now he’s at it again.”
Cochran sighed and relaxed in his seat, tapping his long fingers on the armrests. Nerves or controlled anger? “My objections to his arrest were misconstrued.”
Tess regarded his expression, a mixture of disgust and resignation. “But you know him by sight? What if he recognizes you?”
“He won’t. I tracked him down and kept tabs on him, hoping for rock-solid proof of his involvement, but we never actually met. Mercier said he’d send a photo taken when Selim was in custody in London so you can see what he looks like.” Cochran frowned. “He’s a ballsy little son of a bitch. I’ll give him that. Smart, too, in some ways.”
“So how do we approach him?” Tess asked, getting excited now about a quick resolution to the op.
“We don’t. You do. He’s a sucker for fast women. Rich women willing to finance his habit. I want you to befriend him and entice him to come on board the yacht for a ride up the coast, supposedly to Monaco, where you two can gamble. Maybe offer him a little private action on the way.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble. Why don’t we just grab him? That would be simpler, wouldn’t it?”
“Risky. If he put up a fight, our grab might be misconstrued as an assault, or worse. If we render him unconscious, how would that look at the marina?”
“We could take him to the airport and back on the jet,” she suggested.
He shrugged. “Same thing. How would we get him out on the tarmac and onto the plane without being observed? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I want an arrest for kidnapping added to my less than stellar record. Mercier could straighten it out eventually, I know, but our boy would be out of our hands for the duration. Better if he comes along willingly.”
“I see your point,” she agreed.
“Fine. We’ll need to get the location of his computer first. You’ll get him to take you home with him if you can, and you’ll pinpoint where it is. Then we’ll have located our proof. Next, once you’ve enticed him onto the yacht and we’re out to sea, we’ll get some answers.” He looked over at her with a smile. “Then maybe I’ll dump the little bastard overboard and see how the sharks like garbage.”
Tess smiled and shook her head. “You’d never do that.”
“Don’t think
