Chapter 6
Chapter 6
S pying wasn’t easy. Carol’s first job, she botched horribly, had been too noticeable in her observations. They’d made her almost from the moment she arrived. Since then, she’d gotten better at it, much more subversive. But then there’d never been a job like this one.
For one thing, the gum threw her. How was she supposed to be incognito with a giant wad of rubberized sugar stuck to her head? For another, there was the security guy. He’d been suspicious. And then surly, shockingly so. She never should have mentioned her time in the CIA. It wouldn’t take too much thinking to put two and two together and figure out why she was here. Rookie mistake, Carol, rookie mistake, she chastised herself while she put on a pair of gloves, shoved a flashlight in her mouth, and shimmied under the sink.
When she finished with that task, she sat and made copious notes. Part of her skill at her chosen profession was her attention to detail. Nothing escaped Carol’s notice, nothing. It was what made her elite. She elevated being observant to an art form. Her skills were in demand, and she planned to keep them that way.
A knock sounded on her door, and she froze. I didn’t order room service. She tucked her laptop in her bag and made a surreptitious sweep of her room. Nothing was in view; nothing would give her away.
She opened the door and stood blinking in speechless surprise. The security guy stood on the other side of her door, a tray of melon in hand, uniform and perfectly cubed.
“They’re precise, I measured,” he said, his tone stuffed with an odd mixture of determination and amusement.
“Thank you,” Carol said, taken aback by the strange gesture. “Melon uniformity seems outside your domain.”
“We aim to please here at Omah Kesenengan .” He handed her the tray and rested his shoulder against the jamb. “Did you know that means ‘Pleasure House’? Sounds like it should be something else, you know?”
He gave her what was probably supposed to be a disarming smile, but his shrewd eyes gave it away. No doubt about it, he was suspicious. Carol shoved a bite of melon between her lips to avoid answering.
“But of course you probably already knew that,” he continued. “Seems like you’re the kind of person who does a lot of research and investigation.”
“Hmm,” she replied, nonchalant.
They squared off, facing each other in silence, only the width of the threshold between them, each hoping the other would break first. Jones was frustrated. He had expected a crack in her frosty demeanor. He was being his most affable and it was having no effect whatsoever. Clearly the problem here was her; she was broken, probably irrevocably. Once again he imagined having her recalled, The Colonel beckoning her back for an epic tongue-lashing. The Colonel owed him, too, in a roundabout way. Jones had helped his daughter with an off-the-books black op that hadn’t exactly been legal. Not that Jones would ever call in the favor, but he liked knowing he could. Especially now with Gum Lady staring him down.
Realizing he was the one with all the power in this scenario made him feel better. He took a breath and smiled. Her lashes fluttered in confusion, and his smile widened. “I was thinking. It seems like maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Have supper with me tonight and I’ll show you the best the resort has to offer, I promise.” He held up his hand as if taking an oath.
To his utter amazement, her face softened into something that resembled a smile. She had a pleasant dimple and he found himself warming, too. She was kind of cute, when he thought about it. Not his type, but like someone’s trying-to-be-tough kid sister, plumpish and freckled. Maybe it wouldn’t be a dreaded experience to take her to supper. Maybe they could be friends.
She tipped her head, smiling up at him as she made her inspection. “No,” she said, and—before he could respond—closed the door firmly in his face.