“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Why would you marry me if you can just get some whenever you want? Besides, I’ve set up my cover so that everyone out there in that bar knows that I’m looking to get married. What are they going to think if I just suddenly settle for casual sex?”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “But I’ve changed my mind about the whole marriage thing. Zoe, this guy is nuts. The entire organization is screwy. The way they treat women is criminal. I can’t let you do this.”
“Jake, you promised that you’d let me decide—”
“That was before I knew how bad it would be. On top of that, Vincent’s got security cameras everywhere. I found at least three in my bedroom. How the hell can I bring you there? Don’t you think it would look a little suspicious when I don’t make love to my gorgeous young wife?”
“So bring me there and make love to me.” Zoe couldn’t believe she was actually bold enough to say the words aloud.
Jake was silent, looking at her, looking hard into her eyes as if trying to see if she’d really meant what she’d just said.
She held his gaze, pretending she was as flip and blasé about the idea of being intimate with him, pretending she could shrug it off as just another job requirement, pretending it would mean no more to her than a way to find that missing Trip X.
It’s no big deal, she told him with her smile, even as her heart was pounding.
“Even if you would do that,” he finally said, “I wouldn’t. I couldn’t.” He turned away. “That’s not an option.”
Zoe felt like crying. He honestly didn’t want her. Even with necessity as a solid excuse, he couldn’t acknowledge that any of the passion that sparked between them when they kissed was genuine. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe he was the best actor she’d ever met, and all of the real passion was her own.
God, she was pathetic.
But that was just too bad. Because she had a job to do and no time to feel sorry for herself.
She took a deep breath. “So you’re just going to do this by yourself—find the Triple X on your own? All alone?”
“I need to get a message to Harvard. I think there’s a way to intercept the images from the security cameras—but I’ll need some equipment from him. If I can do that, you’ll be able to see inside the CRO compound from the safety of the surveillance trailer.”
“What if that’s not enough? Jake, you know it’s going to be easier for me to help you find the Trip X if I’m there with you. I think we’ve got to leave our options open. So I’m not going to let you pretend to come home with me, in case we need to use the marriage thing in the future.” And wouldn’t that be fun? Living with him twenty-four seven, pretending to be lovers, all the while knowing that she was about the farthest thing possible from the woman he truly wanted?
She handed him her ordering pad and pen. “Write Harvard a message,” she continued. “Write down whatever equipment you need. Whatever he needs to know. I’ll see that he gets it.”
There was a knock on the door and old Roy stuck his head in. “Zoe, Gus is looking for you. Hal’s bowling team just showed up.” He frowned at Jake. “Say, young fellow, you’re not supposed to be back here.” He stepped farther into the room. “Everything all right, Zoe?”
Zoe gave the old man a reassuring smile. “Everything’s fine, Roy. Tell Gus I’ll be right there.”
She looked at Jake as the door closed behind Roy. “I better get out there.”
He couldn’t hide his frustration. “There’s more we need to discuss.”
Zoe started for the door. “Load the jukebox with quarters, then buy another round for your friends. As soon as there’s a lull, ask me to dance. Hal doesn’t mind if the waitresses dance with the paying customers. We can talk more on the dance floor. Just make sure the songs you pick are ballads.” She paused, her hand on the door. “I know this is distasteful for you, but I can’t think of any other way for us to have a private conversation.”
“Zoe—”
She closed the door behind her and hurried to the bar.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JAKE MADE A QUICK SWEEP of the room as he headed for the jukebox. The bar wasn’t filled to capacity, but compared to when he’d first come in, it was hopping.
A tall man with long, greasy salt-and-pepper hair and a droopy mustache was behind the bar with Zoe and the bartender. He had to be Hal Francke. Sure enough, he didn’t move past Zoe in the crowded space without touching her in some way.
So bring me there and make love to me.
Jake shook his head to exorcise Zoe’s husky voice. She’d been serious. He’d seen it in her eyes. She would have had sex with him, in front of those cameras, to boot, in order to get this job done.
He stared sightlessly at the listing of songs on the old-fashioned jukebox, wishing he had some of her recklessness, her impetuousness, her careless youth. Wishing he could break away from everything that held him to the past, but knowing that even if he could forget for one night, for one hour, even if he could lose himself completely in this woman’s sweet arms, he’d wake up and be right back where he’d started in the morning.
Or maybe even in a worse place.
I know this is distasteful for you…. Zoe had said that as she walked out the door. He had to set her straight. He couldn’t have her continue to believe that. There was a lot about this assignment that was distasteful, but being with her was not.
Like he’d told her nearly five weeks ago—he liked kissing her. Too much. And even after all this time apart, he still liked it. Still much too much. He’d thought the distance would be good, that it would give him some perspective, some sense of reality. But all those weeks he’d dreamed about her in ways that were outrageously inappropriate.
He’d started out dreaming of Daisy, erotic, sensuous dreams of lovemaking filled with heat and light and such vivid sensations. But his dream would shift and change, the way dreams often do, and then Zoe would become the woman in his arms, her body wrapped around him.
He’d wake up, dizzy and out of breath and achingly, painfully alone.
Jake forced himself to focus and fed the jukebox dollar bills, punching in all the slow romantic ballads he could identify. He’d just picked a LeAnn Rimes song when he saw Christopher Vincent approach, his image shimmery but unmistakable in the curved glass.
He felt himself tense and worked hard to keep the smile on his face a pleasant one. God, when Christopher had grabbed Zoe, Jake had had to physically restrain himself. He’d come damn close to picking the man up and throwing him across the room.
“I guess our new little waitress likes you,” Christopher said.
Jake pushed the buttons for a Garth Brooks song, not even looking up. “Oh, is she new here?”
“She
