Page 41

She notices my distraction. Comes close enough to whisper in my ear. “If you can’t handle this, I can do it without you.” Her tone is direct but not scolding. A fellow agent who will do whatever is best for the mission.

She’s after something. But it’s better to pretend I trust her. It will get her guard down. “I’ve got it under control.”

“Good. This will be fun. I promise.” She presses her lips to my ear.

My stomach flutters. It’s strange to be here with her. To see her in action.

To see her hesitate.

That’s not my vision of her. In my head, she’s strong and powerful and impervious to harm.

The Jamie in my head doesn’t doubt herself.

But this one does.

It’s quick. A moment. Then she’s back to her role. She presses another soft kiss into my neck and shoots me a look that says I trust you.

She brings her lips to my ear. Lets a dare slip into her voice. “Now, come on, say goodbye like you expect something for three-thousand dollars a night.”

Now that’s the Jamie I know. The one who never backs down.

I miss that about her. I really do.

And, yes, I haven’t done this nearly as much as she does. But I know how to play my part. I know how to act as her co-conspirator.

I know how to show the entire room how much I want her.

I slide my hand under her short skirt and squeeze her lush ass.

She lets out a soft groan. It reverberates against up my neck, along my jaw, all the way to my ears.

Blood rushes south.

Other concerns disappear.

Her groan is still my favorite sound in the entire world.

What could ever be better?

“Perfect. You check downstairs. I’ll check upstairs.” She motions to the foyer, where men mingle with champagne flutes. “Give me ten.”

I nod. I’m already back to myself. The man on a mission to infiltrate the head of security at the Swiss bank where Jamie’s payments originate.

Yes, Swiss banks are notoriously hard to crack, but they’re still run by humans. And this human has a glaring weakness we can use against him.

Jamie climbs the massive spiral staircase. Disappears behind a couple making out like there’s no tomorrow.

It’s an amazing ability, really. One moment, she’s the beautiful, sparkling woman I know. The next, she’s another anonymous member of the crowd.

I move through the grand main room to check the others.

In the Earth toned study, older men drink cava and discuss politics. Young couples in the dining room sip cocktails and trade parters. The dusty library is empty.

Jamie would like the poetry of that.

She really is a writer. She left a lot of work at my apartment. I read it all too. At first, as a sort of masochism. Then to understand my rival.

The signs were always there: the love of dark humor, the way she played with the line between life and death, the “research” questions about work to help her “get into the head of a man in my position.”