Chapter 1 #2
“Gabby,” he said sharply, “for this to work, you need to participate. You need some real experience before you are out in the field. I want you prepared.”
“I’m trying, but… It’s just—” It was hard to have a serious conversation with a guy whose cheeks were smooshed between her legs.
“Get out of your head, Gabby. Strangle me with your thighs.”
She stared back. Had she just heard that come out of his mouth? Was this a training thing or a sexual tension thing? In the interest of being direct-ish, she said, “This isn’t the way I imagined things going, you know, you between my legs like that.”
“Hmmm.” He looked up at her in a way that made her think she might not smell like an old barn, or, if she did, maybe he was into it.
Before he got more playful, she twisted the arm she was still holding in the wrong direction, forcing him to roll onto his back and bringing her with him.
She scooted back, settled directly on his stomach.
Her phone buzzed with a text. Markus handed it to her. “Just in case it’s your kids,” he said.
At that little gesture, she melted. He was so thoughtful and unselfish. The barn was his if he wanted it.
“It’s just Justin,” she reported. He had texted: Your boudoir is ready. Get ready for reveal.
Justin had been giving her bedroom a makeover for the past week. She hadn’t been allowed to see it. Was it a sign? Markus between her thighs, her bedroom finally ready to inhabit after a reno…
“Markus—” she started to say. “I don’t know if I can do that thigh move.”
“It’s a classic for a reason, not that I want your thighs wrapped around another guy’s head, but you have strong legs. When it comes down to it, they’re more dangerous than your fists.”
“I just feel like I should shower before we practice that one. There’s this yoni oil that is supposed to make your crotch smell like candy.”
“Gabby!” he said. “This is combat. Do you think dudes are worried if their balls smell?”
Probably not.
“You have to imagine that I’m the bad guy in these exercises, take it one hundred percent seriously.” In a softer voice, he said, “And skip the oil.”
“Is this foreplay or training?” she blurted out. It was unclear.
He wrapped his arms around her and brought her closer, answering her question.
“Oh.” She relaxed in his arms. As their breath mingled, he ran his hands down her back in a way that was turning her into a pile of mindless goo. With her senses fully obliterated by his magnetism, she brought her lips to his and let her eyelids flutter shut.
It had been a month of absolute torture, holding Markus at arm’s length, but she’d been firm with her boundaries, and he’d respected that she needed some time. He was waiting.
Was waiting. Past tense.
He let out a sigh and kissed her back softly. Not needy or demanding, just perfect. He broke the kiss, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire. “Are you ready to upgrade our coffee date to an actual date?”
Could she do it all? Fully kissed with swollen lips and a need that she couldn’t ignore, it seemed possible. She said, “Yes, let’s have dinner.” But she still needed that boundary. It’s not like she had time for a real relationship. “Maybe we can call it a working dinner?”
Markus rubbed the back of his neck. “I want to respect your boundaries, but I would actually like to date.”
Gabby tensed up. This was so delicate. She wanted Markus, but she couldn’t. Could she? “We could date, if we keep it casual.”
Markus looked disappointed. “Are we really that casual after what we’ve been through together?”
Gabby thought on it. She looked at him. He was right. They weren’t totally casual, but there’s no way they could be totally serious. “What if…” she said thoughtfully, summoning all the power of the cool badass spy she almost was. “What if you were my work wife?”
“Did you just ask me to be your work wife?” Markus smiled, but there was an edge of sadness in it.
“We won’t be regular work wives. More like work wives with benefits.”
“Okay.” He didn’t look totally convinced, but she’d make him see. This could work.
Gabby smiled brightly and pulled up the calendar on her phone. “All right, work wife, I gotta get home, but I’m putting you,” she said with a flirtatious lilt, “on my calendar. How about the Friday after next?”
“Really?” He looked skeptical, probably because he didn’t think she’d follow through.
She gave him a sexy nod. “Oh yeah, we’re going to do it.” In the calendar event, she tapped out the words, Dinner with Work Wife.
Change her call sign to Maverick, because there was a new Top Gun in town.
Gabby glanced at her watch. “Shit. I was supposed to be home already.” Wednesday was spaghetti night and the only night without any activities. She and the kids ate spaghetti, watched a show, and bonded. She slipped on some tennis shoes and collected her things.
“What are you doing tonight?” she asked Markus.
“Meal prep,” he said. “Seven days of chicken and rice. I’m trying a Szechuan chicken recipe.” Markus was the type to meal prep his meal prep.
High heels on the wooden gym floor interrupted their conversation.
Their boss, Special Supervisory Agent Valentina Monroe, hurried into the training gym.
In addition to being the boss, Valentina also happened to be Markus’s ex-wife.
Not intimidating at all, especially since Valentina could make picking up dog poop look sexy.
Her boss-lady wardrobe upgrade was all sexy pantsuits, elegant chignons, and classic heels that Gabby had seen her run in. Her whole look said, “Yes, mistress.”
Gabby’s look generally said, “Ma’am, do you need help?” But that was her magic as a spy. No one, and she meant no one, saw her coming.
“You two, my office. Now.”
Gabby glanced at the time again. “Umm, Valentina, I was supposed to be home a while ago—”
Valentina stopped and looked over her shoulder, Miranda Priestley style. “Agent Greene, national security trumps spaghetti night.”
“How did you know that?” Gabby asked, her jaw on the floor.
“I’m a spy. I know everything, and so should you.”
“So this one can’t wait until morning?”
“No,” she said sharply. “It absolutely cannot. I have an assignment. You need to start prepping tonight.”
Damn it. She texted Granny, who was at home with the kids. “Running late.”
Granny responded.
Granny: Get ’em, tiger!
Granny: But can you pick up a plunger on your way home?
Geez. Valentina stopped and adjusted a Louboutin. “I think I have a rock in my shoe.”
Granny: Lucas flushed something.
“Don’t you just hate it when that happens?” Valentina said, frowning at her designer shoe.
“It’s the worst,” Gabby lied. A rock in her Louboutin sounded like a dream.
Valentina was everything Gabby wasn’t. It’s not like Gabby was jealous, mostly confused. How could Markus go from Valentina to her? Was she Markus’s not-quite-midlife crisis? Instead of a Ferrari, he decided to get a middle-aged mom. It was almost unbelievable.
Once they were in her office, Valentina sat behind her desk and waited for Markus and Gabby to settle into the chairs across the desk. “Have you been following the Sheridan Lane story?”
Markus leaned forward in his chair eagerly. “Of course.”
“Where’s that?” Gabby asked.
“Not where. Who,” Valentina said with a click of her pen cap. “Sheridan Lane. You two need to find her.”