Lying in Bed

“Jeannie is being held over in court,” she said, her voice as gruff as the hour. “They weren’t able to get a postponement. If you’d answered your phone or picked up your messages, you would know that. Palmer asked me to take her place. I would prefer not to be here, but we really don’t have a choice if we want to salvage the operation. Now, turn off the light and go back to sleep. Please.”

It took him a minute to digest what she’d said. Eventually he nodded. “Okay.”

She punched the pillow, looked once more in his general direction and said, “Oh, and if you wake me before eight, I’ll kill you with my bare hands,” then pulled the covers over her head while Ryan thought of five different reasons he should get up and go straight back to L.A.

That would end any chance he might have had for the D.C. job, but hey, he was a good agent. He could still rise to the top, even if he had to climb stairs instead of ride the elevator. Which would leave one of the other candidates to slip right into that sweet, sweet position working for the Deputy Director. For example, the woman sharing the goddamn bed.

What he couldn’t do was pretend to be married to Angie Wolf. This operation was possible because Jeannie and him, they had seen each other in their underwear before. It had been funny. No embarrassment whatsoever. Hell, he was pals with her husband. He played with her kids. They were cool, him and Jeannie, no matter what cockamamie new-age tantric yoga tofu-covered bullshit they might have to sit through.

Angie Wolf was a whole different kettle of fish. She was hot, for one thing. Hot as in smokin’ hot. Tall, lean, small up top, but on her it worked, and legs … Man, those runner’s legs. Her dark hair was straight and thick and flowed halfway down her back, and he’d found himself too often staring into her cocoa-colored eyes.

Worse than that, he’d almost broken one of his cardinal rules because of her: he did not cross the line with anyone connected to the job. But at last year’s Halloween party they’d come uncomfortably close. He’d been joking, sort of, but then there was this heat between them, and he’d realized that the fire had been smoldering for a long time, probably since they’d met. But A.D. Palmer had interrupted what had been dangerously close to a kiss and she’d stepped back. He’d laughed as if it was no big deal, as if his heart hadn’t been beating a wicked drum solo in his chest or that he’d been half-hard just from the scent of her perfume. They’d kept their distance since. Sixteen months later they still had to be careful because the pull hadn’t diminished one iota. At least not for him. She was kind of hard to gauge.

God, just a few hours ago, he’d been laughing about the Intimate At Last brochure. Body work. Couples massages. Delightful homeplay assignments. Shit. How was this supposed to work now?

Once the light was off, he stared into the shadows of the room. He wasn’t about to fall asleep anytime tonight. Angie Wolf was going to be his wife. For a week. Holy hell.

THE FIRST THING ANGIE thought when she woke up was how surprised she was that she’d slept at all. She’d assumed sharing a bed with Vail would have kept her wide-awake for the entire night, but the exhaustion of the day had won out. At least the bed was big enough that they wouldn’t have to touch. The thought of feeling his bed-warmed body brush against hers was enough to cause a surge of panic that woke her more efficiently than a cold shower.

“I’m ordering coffee,” he said, shifting behind her. “You want?”

She exhaled as she remembered her role. Not the one as his wife, but as his partner. “Yeah, thanks.”

The sound of the bedding rustling as he reached for the phone caused her muscles to tense and her jaw to tighten. So much for her resolve. She’d made a choice yesterday. She could have refused the assignment. As with everything worth having, and there was no doubt that the job in D.C. was, compromise and sacrifice came with the package.

No matter what her personal feelings were toward Ryan, her only task this week was to play his loving, entitled, slightly insecure wife so that Ryan became the perfect target for blackmail. The end. Nothing else mattered. Not sharing a bed, not the intimacy exercises they would participate in, not the inevitable touching. As long as they were both completely clear that no “optional” nudity was going to occur under any circumstances, they’d be fine.

Behind her, Ryan hung up the telephone, then the comforter shifted as he stood. Angie stayed frozen on her side just long enough for things to get really awkward. A quiet huff broke the silence and a moment later, the bathroom door closed.

She rolled onto her back and the way she relaxed told her just how tense she’d been. She hadn’t moved all night. Good thing because she’d been so close to the edge she could have very easily fallen right on the floor.

A shower would help things immensely. Personal issues aside, yesterday had been a killer. She’d barely made it on the last flight to Vegas. Getting into character had been insanity. While she’d had to suffer a mani/pedi, two of the L.A. team had hit Rodeo Drive armed with her measurements and crossed fingers to pick up a complete designer wardrobe. Underwear. Bras. Shoes. Earrings. She hadn’t had someone buy her panties since she’d been twelve.

Her own style was business casual, built around the fact that she carried a Glock in a shoulder holster. She’d be more comfortable dressing up as a vampire than pulling off Prada or bebe.

The bathroom door opened, and there was Vail. Shirtless. Wearing UCLA Bruins sweats that hung low on his sharp-edged hips. Of course, he was sculpted like a professional athlete, a swimmer, damn him. Even worse, he had a Hollywood-handsome face to go with it. Dark hair, piercing green eyes, goddamn chiseled jaw. She let out a groan but immediately stretched, trying to make it seem natural, and not a reaction to the six-pack and the shoulders-to-hips ratio.

He tried to fight a grin, not very convincingly, then took a few more steps toward the big dresser. “The bathroom’s all yours. I showered last night.”

Angie threw the covers back and swung her legs over, determined to get her act together. What she needed was to talk to Liz, who couldn’t have picked a worse time than yesterday to be incommunicado.

“You gonna sleep in your clothes every night?” Ryan asked. “I suppose it wouldn’t blow the gig, but I imagine it won’t be very comfortable.”

“Yeah, no, it was late,” she said, keeping her head down as she went to get her suitcase. Why wasn’t the room bigger? Like the size of Montana? “At least the room’s nice.”

“So is the minibar.”

She didn’t look up at him. “I don’t think the budget’s going to cover twenty-dollar beers.” The snick of the pull handle on her suitcase seemed alarmingly loud, but then everything since she’d agreed to this … situation had felt excessive.

To give Ryan credit, he was being extremely civil. She’d been worried he’d be in her face about the change in plans. She’d also imagined him very, very pissed. But then, they were officially on the job, and working for the government made acceptance of the absurd a necessity.

Ryan was a good agent. He was dedicated. More than that, he was smart. He wasn’t as concerned with rules and regs as the brass would like, but that wasn’t a big deal, not to her. He got the job done. He could be pleasant. Nice, even. He’d never been anything but professional, even after they’d had that brief … misunderstanding at the Halloween party. Hell, he’d moved on without missing a beat.

It was as a man that he failed spectacularly.

No, that wasn’t fair. He had different values than her own, that’s all. It wasn’t up to her to judge someone’s sexual practices. If he wanted to sleep with the entire female population of Los Angeles, it was his own business.

She made sure she didn’t look too anxious as she made her way to the bathroom, but slamming the door might have given him a clue. When the back of her head bumped the door she realized that she’d done nothing but behave like a child since she’d opened her eyes. Not moving, not looking at him, avoiding his touch. The man didn’t actually have cooties, and she would eventually have to meet his gaze. Touch him. Act like a professional. Act like his loving wife.

The first thing she did was turn on the shower. The second thing was to pull her iPad out of her suitcase and turn it on to Skype.

Liz answered the call in seconds. “I got your message. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” she asked, and Angie could see her redheaded friend perched at her breakfast counter, still wearing her Nike running gear. In front of her was a glass of orange juice and a bowl, probably oatmeal.

“I’m already in Vegas,” Angie said, keeping her voice low. She didn’t want Ryan to hear, God no. “With Ryan Vail.”

“Holy crap, Angie. Did you not have a choice?”

“Yes and no. I mean, how could I tell Palmer I didn’t want to step in? The whole case would’ve gone down the drain.”

“What are you going to do?”

“The job.”

“But …”

“I know!” Angie said. “God, why weren’t you around yesterday? I have to sleep in the same bed with him.”

“Oh, sweetie, that is the least of your worries. Do you know what tantric massages are like?”

Angie closed her eyes. “Stop it. That’s not helpful.”

“Well, I’m not sure what I can do from here.” Liz lifted the iPad and brought it up until her face almost filled the screen. “You can do this. I know you can do this, because you are fierce and you are a woman to be reckoned with. Besides, Ryan isn’t about to cross any lines with you. In fact, I’d bet a million he’s going to go overboard to make sure nothing hinky could even be implied.”

“I wish I could fit in a run,” Angie said. “I’m exhausted, but I’m wired.”

“Find time later. What do you have to do right now?”

Taking a deep breath, Angie let her friend’s steady voice calm her down. “Shower. Dress like Angie Ebsen. Coordinate our stories so we don’t contradict each other. Go to the first session. Introductions, filling in forms. Then lunch, and after that, there’s some kind of bonding ritual. God, Liz, a bonding ritual.”

“Don’t think about anything past lunch. Introductions are a piece of cake. You know the backstory, you’re expected to be nervous. You’ll be fantastic.” Liz smiled broadly, and damn if that didn’t help, as well.

“Now go get clean, then put on your disguise. Break it down like your training schedule. I’ll be in the field, but you can call me during the day. I shouldn’t be late, though, so we can Skype tonight, okay?”

“Sounds good. Thanks.”

“No problemo. Later.”

The screen went dark, Angie clicked off the tablet and stepped into the shower in no time. She’d already solved her first problem. No way she could have lasted the week with people calling her Jeannie. Thankfully Brian had thought of a way out of that little mess. Angie would be her middle name, the one she preferred. The computer guys had woven it into all the paperwork and background references.

The story of the Ebsens would remain intact. Unfortunately the team had used a lot of Jeannie’s personal history for Mrs. Ebsen’s childhood, and because Jeannie and Ryan had known each other so long, no time had been wasted filling in all those details.

Now those blanks would, by necessity, have to be replaced with Angie’s past. And Ryan needed to give her the Cliff’s Notes version of his history, as well.

With the shower running, she stripped, grabbed her toiletries and used her time to visualize herself as Angie Ebsen. She imagined the way she’d carry herself as someone wealthy, who had high-level expectations about service and general conversation. She could see herself playing the part, she really could, up until the point where she had to act as though she was in love with Ryan.

God, this was going to be tricky. Even in her own head, all she could picture was the humiliation of that single horrifying moment if, no, not if … when Ryan figured out that she still wanted him. How he’d been the man in her fantasies for more nights than she cared to admit.

She stared down at the unbelievably expensive engagement and wedding rings on the third finger of her left hand. She was so screwed.

RYAN REALIZED HE’D BEEN staring at the bathroom door for a while and that he might want to move before Angie finished with her shower. He shook his head as he turned back to the dresser to get ready for their first day of marriage.

He supposed they’d have to talk about it now. It being the distance they’d been maintaining for over a year. The polite nods without eye contact, the apologies that followed accidental touches. Walking on eggshells like that at work had been bad enough, even though their jobs required minimal interaction. But behaving that way here would ruin the mission.

What they needed was to be all over each other. Just shy of obsessively on his part, a little less so on hers. Jeannie and he had been A-OK with that plan. They’d practiced until they’d been able to stop cracking up with each vaguely sexual touch. But with Angie he faced the opposite problem.

Every touch was sexual with nothing vague about it. Hell, the slightest brush of Angie’s skin had caused a chain reaction that left him unsettled and heading toward hard. Thank God he wasn’t a teenager anymore, or he’d have had to walk around the office with a textbook handy to cover himself. As it was, he always managed to make a quick exit or distract himself long enough to settle down, but that wouldn’t be a viable option when they were in public here.

He pulled out a pair of khakis and a striped polo shirt, selected, along with the rest of his wardrobe, by a personal shopper who specialized in outfitting guys who made fifty times Ryan’s yearly salary. Even his boxer briefs and socks were ridiculously expensive, and he paid attention to his clothes.

The sound of the shower registered and, of course, his brain went straight to a very detailed picture of Angie naked with water running down her chest, a drop hesitating on the edge of her rigid nipple, streaking down her stomach only to get caught in the trimmed thatch of dark hair that signaled the approach to his happy place. Never mind that he hadn’t actually seen her naked. He had a good eye and could connect the dots.

And right there was the crux of the problem. The big, elephant-size problem.

In order to make the sting operation a success, they would have to break every boundary they’d very carefully set in place, consciously or not, at the risk of his libido overtaking his good sense.

Angie was not the kind of woman who would make exceptions for special circumstances. Even if they hadn’t been colleagues, she wasn’t his type of woman at all.

Physically? No question. She was a wet dream even when she wasn’t in the shower. But he suspected she wanted someone she could count on. Someone who would be there for the long haul. A man who would be an excellent husband and father. A stand-up kind of guy to share her life with.

He wanted a woman who didn’t particularly care who he was, as long as there was a bed and he could keep up his end of the bargain.

So not only were he and Angie required to mix business with pleasure for an entire week, they already knew that getting too close was playing with fire. Hell, all they’d done was consider, for like five minutes, hooking up, and they’d both backed off so fast they’d left skid marks.

This arrangement did not bode well. For either of them.

As soon as he was finished dressing, he speed-dialed Jeannie.

“I was going to call you.”

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. “How is this gonna work?”

“She can do it,” Jeannie said, in her I’m being serious voice. “We spoke last night and she’s completely committed to getting the job done. Just spend as much time as you can this morning going over your personal histories. Between the two of you, you’ll make it happen. I doubt there’s going to be anything heavy on the first day.”

“We can still postpone this. A family emergency or something. Before they meet her.”

Jeannie’s silence had him wishing he’d kept that last thought to himself. She didn’t know about the thing between him and Angie. Didn’t need to. No one did.

“What’s wrong with you?” Jeannie said finally. “Delaying could blow the whole sting. We’ve all worked too hard to get this far. Sometimes we’ve just got to roll with the punches. I figured you better than anyone could deal with that.”

“I know, I know. You’re right.”

Again she hesitated. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Nope. Nothing. I’m good.”

“Okay. You two look great together. You’re the perfect bait. Hey, get the evidence we need to proceed and you can come on home. Easy as pie.”

“Jeannie?”

“What?”

“You can shove that pie where the sun don’t shine.”

“Why, Ryan Vail, I never.”

“Yes, you have.”

Her laugh made him even sorrier she wasn’t here. But their conversation told him he’d better get his act together fast. “The trial going okay?”

“Same crap, different day. I’m really sorry, kiddo. I would have been there if I could.”

“I know.”

“Call me tonight, let me know what I’m missing.”

“If I can, I will.” He disconnected, shoved his phone in his pocket, hoping like hell there would be nothing to tell. Ever. That he and Angie would pull this sting off with no hiccups, and then he’d be on his way to D.C. to a new job before he had to give her another thought.

A minute later he still hadn’t moved and room service was at the door.

THE COFFEE WAS ALL SET OUT on the patio when Angie left the bathroom. Two laptops were open, one on the table which Ryan was staring at, the other on the dresser. That laptop had to be Ryan Ebsen’s because the screen saver consisted of revolving pictures of Ferraris.

She debated unpacking, but she needed the caffeine too desperately to wait.

Outside, it was surprisingly warm for February in the high desert, and the view of the mountains was beautiful. Ryan had a large cheese Danish on his plate, but in front of her seat at the round glass table was a yogurt-and-fruit parfait with a bran muffin on the side. She stared at the breakfast, then looked up to meet Ryan’s gaze, but only for a second. “What’s this?”

“Sustenance.” He poured her a cup of coffee, then put the carafe down.

“Thank you.” Interesting that it was the exact breakfast she would have ordered for herself.

“You’re welcome. Look,” he said, meeting her gaze. “I believe what’s required here is to barrel through all notions of propriety and just get down to how the hell we’re going to pull this off.”

Angie knew she was blushing, she could feel the heat rise on her cheeks. “Can I at least have a cup of coffee first?”

“Yeah,” he said, easing up, at least somewhat. His posture was still stiff and he could only hold her gaze for a few seconds at a time.

She proceeded to put the cream in her coffee, to take a few moments as she sipped to catch the view and try to relax. Ryan looked different in his Ebsen clothes. She’d never imagined him in khakis and a too-tailored-to-be-off-the-rack polo shirt. The suede bucks were the perfect touch to put him on the Street Style map on GQ. He’d always dressed sharply, but this change made him look rugged and elegant at the same time, and she’d better stop thinking about him in or out of clothes and get down to work.

After another big sip of almost hot enough coffee, she gave him a nod.

“Okay,” he said. “Starting with registration, we’re going to be the Ebsens to everyone at the hotel, so from this moment forward, we’re in character. We won’t be able to pull it off 24/7, but the more we practice, the easier it will get. Your part shouldn’t be too tough. I’m playing a ruthless bastard, so you won’t have to act much, at least not to start.”

She flinched at his words until she saw the way his mouth quirked up. Joking, just joking. Everyone in the unit, including Ryan, kidded around, often with really black humor, and as of yesterday afternoon, it had never made her blink. Now, though … Pulling out a smile, she said, “I don’t think you’re a bastard. I think you’re going to be very good at this.”

After a questioning look he cleared his throat as he reached down beside his chair and brought up a thick file folder.

“All right, then,” she said. “You want to go first?”

“Go first?”

“I need you to tell me as much as you can about the parts of your real life you used to fill in your cover background. We let you and Jeannie handle that aspect because she knows things about you that the rest of us on the team don’t.”

“Right.” He paused, obviously thinking over what he wanted to make public and frowning as if he wanted to be anywhere but sitting across from her. “I, uh. Huh. Maybe we should … How about you tell me what you know about me and I’ll confirm, deny, fill in.”

Bad idea. Really, really bad. It would be just like her to say some idiotic thing she’d made up in her head about him. Or ask a question that had nothing to do with the sting. “That seems more complicated than it has to be. And frankly, confusing.”

He looked out at the distant mountains. “I’m not trying to be evasive, but what Jeannie knows, she’s learned over the last three years.”

“I understand. She’s your partner. Kind of like a wife in a way.”

“A wife?” He laughed. “We’re not that close.”

“You know what I mean,” she said, saw the fleeting panic in his face and considered that maybe he didn’t. “Have you ever lived with a woman?”

“No.” He seemed affronted. “No,” he repeated, this time drawing out the word and meeting her eyes. “You?”

She started to shake her head but stopped herself. “Nope, never have lived with a woman. I was trying to get you to think in terms of what you’d expect a wife should know about you.”

He rubbed his eyes, and murmured, “Maybe you should go first.”

Dammit. Angie was going to have to take the lead on this and she’d been counting on following his example. “Okay,” she said finally, reminding herself to be cool and act her age. “We have one shot at these people, so when I’m finished, you can ask me any questions you like. And then we’ll discuss exactly how far we’re willing to go to see this through to the end.”

3

“I KNOW YOU BUILT Jeannie’s tennis playing into the cover story, but I’m just okay at tennis so we’ll have to be careful there. Running is my thing,” Angie said, and Ryan nodded because he already knew that. “In fact, I run every morning and I plan to stick to my schedule while we’re here.” She paused. “Do you want to write some of this down?”

He shrugged. “I will when I need to. But I already knew you were a runner.”

“Really?” she asked with a slight tilt of her head.

“Yeah, you know, that 10k you did in August?”

The head tilt was now accompanied by narrowed eyes. “I don’t recall talking about that at work.”

Ryan stared at her. Damn. There was a risk of getting too close to the line if he spoke to her about her runner’s body. Hell, it was obvious that she was dedicated to the sport. He flashed back to the picture he’d envisioned of her in the shower and he grabbed a pen, then ducked inside the room for a moment to grab a blank piece of paper and cool himself down. By the time he returned to the table, he was fine. “I must’ve heard someone mention it, but yeah, I’ll write it down.”

She seemed to buy that answer and turned to gaze thoughtfully through the sliding-glass door. “I’m not exactly sure what kind of subjects are going to come up during the intimacy exercises, so I’m gonna cover a broad spectrum. Um, I don’t like roses. Of any color. If a man were to—” Her gaze shot back to him. “You’d send me a simple fresh-cut mixed bouquet if you were to do that sort of thing. Nothing fancy and prearranged.”