Undercover Pursuit. Susan May Warren

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      She glanced over at him and sighed. “Fine. Nice to meet you, Luke.”

      That was a start. “Aren’t you hot?”

      Her eyes darted to her turtleneck then over to him and his cotton Oxford.

      Finally, she said, “Okay, yes, I’m boiling. I should have layered, so I could have shed as I came south, but I was in a hurry. I didn’t even get the call that I was coming here until…I guess almost two days ago now, and I had so much to do that, well, I forgot to dress for the weather.” She lifted one of her feet, probably marinating inside her blue fuzzy boots.

      “Yeah, I only found out yesterday. Good thing we could put this together so fast.”

      “So, you didn’t know you were coming, either? Aren’t you in the wedding party?” She regathered her hair into its ponytail, then fanned her face with a business card she held in her hand. For an operative, she had a small-town look about her—a sprinkle of freckles on a small nose, a little extra padding on her—instead of the hard-edged, lean-bodied look of a woman who could flip him in hand-to-hand combat. She looked just normal enough that they might pull this thing off.

      “No. I’m just here for you.” He winked at her, and again, she gave him the oddest look, one that made him lose his smile.

      “I thought you were a groomsman.”

      “No, that’s not part of the plan. But you’re a bridesmaid, right?”

      She nodded, staring again out the window. “Except my maid-of-honor dress fits someone else. I probably won’t eat for three days. If it even gets here.” She sighed and leaned back. “I can’t take any more glitches.” She shook her head.

      Glitches?

      A mariachi band from the driver’s radio filled the silence.

      What glitches? “Is it something I should be worried about?”

      “I think we’ll live through it.”

      Good. Because survival always topped his priority list.

      She closed her eyes, as if she weren’t worried, either.

      Fine. Okay. He stared out the window as the cabbie drove them through the city.

      At least she had stopped calling him names.

      The driver let them off at the ferry entrance, and as she wrestled her carry-on out of the car—Luke offered to do it, but she’d rebuffed him—he bought their tickets.

      “It’s leaving, come on!” He took off, but that crazy bag she’d opted for—which completed the tourist façade well but made him want to throw it in the ocean—clipclopped over the deck and down the cement pier. He finally returned for it and picked it up.

      “I can take it.”

      “I’m sure you can, but we can’t miss the ferry.” He gestured to the man waiting for them and didn’t put down the bag until they had climbed aboard and gone to the top deck.

      “Thank you.” She sat on the bench and breathed out, lifting her face to the sun. “I’m sorry for being on edge. I just don’t like surprises. And, frankly, you’re not what I expected.”

      “What did you expect?” Hadn’t she been given his file to read also?

      She gave him a small smile, a shake of her head. “I’m just used to…it’s just better if I go it alone.”

      Yeah, well. “I prefer it, too, actually.”

      She sighed. “I don’t like it. It’s just the way it is.”

      He sat next to her, breathing in the salty air and the tang of coconut oil, listening to the cry of gulls overhead. The sky had turned a cerulean blue and a slight breeze off the ocean skimmed the sweat from his skin.

      He could think of worse assignments.

      She, too, seemed to relax as the boat pulled away from shore, cutting across the nearly translucent blue swatch of water between Cancun and Isla Mujeres.

      “I have to admit, the good part about my job is the freedom to choose my own schedule. And take off when I need to. And I needed this.”

      Yes, maybe he did, too. An assignment away from the cramped, cold quarters of his Prague apartment. He could already feel the sun baking his bones, uncoiling the tension of the past year. Years, actually.

      “I don’t want to walk into any surprises. Is there anything you need to know about me?” he asked. “We should make sure we look like an actual couple by the time we get there.”

      Although she’d put on her sunglasses, he saw her eyes widen. “I thought we’d ironed this out. I don’t need your help.”

      “That came through loud and clear, but since I’m here, for the sake of world peace, let’s work together.”

      She leaned over, pulled her feet out of her boots and took off her socks. She had cute toes with pink painted nails, a do-it-yourself job. “I guess you’re right. We’re all fixed up—it would spare us complications. Fine, you can be my date.”

      Awesome. Except her tone might make a guy just throw himself overboard. Still, he tried a smile, just to be neighborly. “I promise to be the best wedding date you’ve ever had.”

      She pulled down her glasses and narrowed her eyes at him, as if she might be trying to see through him. “Really, I meant it about the nub thing. Just because I’ll let you dance with me doesn’t mean—”

      “Got it, Scarlett. Just enough to be believable.”

      She pulled off her glasses and sighed. Then she shook her head. “I don’t know what you heard, Luke, and truthfully, any other girl might be flattered by your dedication. But I’m just here for the wedding, and I’d like to see it go off without a hitch.”

      “Agreed.”

      She smiled, nodded and replaced her glasses. “Good. Everyone just needs to calm down.” She pulled out a cap, put it over her hair and lifted her face back to the sun. “Everything is going to be just fine.”

      Right. Luke folded his arms over his chest, closing his eyes. Just fine. “I trust you,” he said. What choice did he have?

      TWO

      “I don’t know, Chet, there’s something about Scarlett—er, Stacey. I don’t think she likes me, for one. I clearly offended her.”

      “I think she thought that I expected a sort of, well, more realistic relationship. But the woman has more than a ‘Keep Away’ sign around her neck. She’s wired with a thousand volts of don’t-touch-me. And talk about cold. I think the Sanchez family is going to see right through us,” he said into his international cell phone.

      Luke sat on the edge of the king-size bed, watching the surf pound the reef, spit froth into the air and break on the coral outside his Lost Breezes cottage. He had taken off his СКАЧАТЬ