Chapter Nine
“YOU CAN COME ON OUT, MISS CORDELIA. WE WON’T BITE,” DAISY SING-SONGED.
“Not unless you ask nicely,” Belinda Sue added.
Cordelia stepped out of her bathroom, took one look in the mirror, and nearly fainted dead away.
The ladies had teased and curled her pin-straight golden brown hair to within an inch of its life.
It now rose high on her head like a crown of tangled cream puffs.
Daisy had done something to her eyes to make them ten times larger and a deeper blue than she thought possible.
Like staring straight into the ocean. Her full lips had been painted bright red, designed to stand out and grab a man’s attention, but the outfit really took the cake.
Belinda Sue had packed Cordelia into a black bustier that had her small breasts spilling over the top with mystery cleavage she’d never in her life seen before.
She paired it with the tiniest scrap of lace she claimed was underwear, but Cordelia was certain it was just a tissue held together with two strings.
A garter holding up sheer black stockings completed the look.
Arline provided a trench coat that had two designer watches hanging from the inside. Arline quickly plucked the watches free, burying them in the pocket of her floral caftan and shooting Cordelia a look that suggested she was not invited to ask questions.
“I don’t know about this, y’all.” Cordelia stood before her partners in crime, wringing her hands and trying not to chew all the lipstick off her mouth. “You don’t think he’s going to take one look at me and laugh himself hoarse?”
“Honey.” Daisy put a hand on her shoulder. “Ain’t a red-blooded Texas man alive that would take one look at you and do anything other than sink to his knees and beg for mercy.”
Belinda Sue nodded. “She’s got that right. You know your books and your lists and how best to organize a closet, but trust that we know men.”
An emotion Cordelia couldn’t quite identify, but one she was certain she’d spent her whole life avoiding, squirmed in her stomach.
She wasn’t fit to be any kind of temptress.
There had to be another way to distract Archer that didn’t involve her looking like a burlesque dancer, but she didn’t know men.
She’d just have to trust their judgment.
Arline gave her a detailed outline of Archer’s office, including where to find the tamper-proof bags, his passcode for the lab, and the exact time the courier would empty his outbox.
It was anyone’s guess how Arline came by this information, but she wasn’t interested in sharing anymore than she’d been willing to explain why she had a trench coat with designer watches dangling from the inside flap.
All she’d said was that she made it her business to be familiar with the FBI’s comings and goings.
Belinda Sue stuffed a wad of leather into Cordelia’s coat pocket, along with a plastic tube filled with leftover wine. “Now, remember, don’t enter the building until 5:45. That gives you fifteen minutes to work your magic.”
“Right.”
“You don’t need to be so nervous, Miss Cordelia.” Daisy fluffed and picked at Cordelia’s sky-high hair. “You’ve got plenty of feminine wiles.”
Cordelia had about as many wiles as a honey badger in a beehive, which Arline had no trouble pointing out, but she was all they had, so she’d have to do.
They went over the plan one last time, then the three ladies under her care waved her off, beaming like proud momma birds who had just shoved their baby from the nest. Cordelia’s heels clicked on the blacktop as she walked across the parking lot to her car.
She didn’t usually wear heels—her fear of bunions was right up there with her fear of mold—but her impeccable balance saved her from looking like a fool.
She drove into town with one heel kicked off on the mat, her stocking-clad toes wiggling against the gas.
The closer she got to the FBI field office, the more her shoulders scrunched up against her neck.
Daisy had been so sure that Archer looked at her a certain kind of way, but he’d also been the boy who’d told her she was every pirate’s dream because of her sunken chest. If he so much as cracked a smile at her getup, she could forget worrying about jail.
She’d drop dead of embarrassment right then and there.
The parking lot to the field office was empty and the building dark, save for a single light in the front right window she knew to be Archer’s office.
Thinking about him sitting in there alone with his head in his hands, trying to piece together what happened to his daddy, sent a twinge of guilt through her.
She didn’t like manipulating people, and she knew what it felt like not to have any answers where a father was concerned.
But it wasn’t her place to ease his mind in that regard.
She’d already committed to protecting Daisy by any means necessary.
At exactly 5:45, Cordelia wiped her palms against her hips and pushed open the door to Archer’s office.
The plain white box had a steel desk that covered the length of a wall.
Whiteboards and corkboards decorated the room, with various notes and pictures attached.
Her eyes got stuck on his suspenders, a weakness, before her gaze fell to the outgoing tray, the drawer with the plastic lab bags, and a plain black-leather journal that held all his notes and passwords.
Right where Arline had said they would be.
Archer’s head shot up and he stood. A blank look crossed his face before a slow grin creased the corners of his mouth, like he wasn’t about to admit she’d taken him by surprise, though his eyes roved over her made-up face.
“After that huff I left you in earlier, I thought you’d go out of your way to avoid me. ”
“I didn’t want to give you the satisfaction of thinking you’d gotten the better of me.”
“Darlin’, I don’t doubt you’d make me work for every inch of that satisfaction, but I’m guessing that’s not why you came by.”
“Not exactly.” The pounding in Cordelia’s chest, ears, throat picked up an erratic tempo. No more stalling. She opened her trench coat and let it fall and dangle from the crook of her arms.
His grin halted.
This was a mistake. She should pull up the coat now and leave while there was still a microscopic amount of dignity she could scrape off the floor.
Yet she froze, rooted to the spot. Unable to move or breathe or think.
She suddenly understood why deer just stood in the road while a car came barreling straight for them.
All the air seemed to evaporate from the room as his pupils drowned out his irises. He took her in from head to toe. “Damn me to hell. Why do I feel like I’m about to be the punch line on one of those hidden camera shows?”
Cordelia bit back her fear and sauntered forward. Where was that famed balance when she needed it? She stumbled, but righted herself before her heel slid out from under her. “Do I look like a joke to you?”
“No, ma’am.” He swallowed. Hard. “In fact, I’m a little worried this might be a dream and I’m going to wake up any second now.”
“Do you want me to slap you just to be sure you’re awake?”
He cracked a smile at that. “Belinda Sue teaching you a thing or two?”
“Ugh.” She made a face. “What do you know about Belinda Sue’s specialties?”
“It’s a small town. People talk.” He reached behind him and pulled the blinds closed.
“You’re probably trying to distract me because y’all know I’m looking into Daisy in connection to the poison, but I would like to state for the record that I have no issue with your methods.
” His arm wrapped around her waist, and he tugged her against him.
A flash of liquid heat pooled in her stomach. This was all going horribly wrong. Distract, disrobe, disarm. Drop off the sample they’d collected from the wine and get out before he noticed. That had been the plan.
She wasn’t supposed to feel things.
“I—” She cleared her throat. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Come on, now.” His big, calloused hand stretched across her rib cage, and she released an involuntary gasp. “That’s what you’re doing, right? Playing games with me?”
She rubbed her hand against his chest, her fingers curling against him on instinct, like a satisfied cat giving a good back stretch. The warmth of his skin sizzled through his shirt, the heat of him igniting her palm. “What if I said I showed up like this because I find you irresistible?”
He laughed, low and deep, as he nuzzled her neck, his lips brushing the tender skin beneath her earlobe. “I’d call you a damn liar.”
This was too close. Too much stimulation.
Cordelia specifically avoided these situations, knowing how easy it would be to lose her head.
Hadn’t she watched her momma fall into this trap time and time again?
The thought ran like ice through her veins.
She pushed out of his embrace and backed up, giving herself the space she needed to find her equilibrium again.
As she hopped up on his desk, her legs bumped against the drawer holding the lab bags. The chill of the metal surface made her skin pebble. “Maybe I’m just having a bit of fun.”
“You’re in the right business for fun.” He moved closer. A skilled predator stalking unpracticed prey. “Lucky for both of us, I don’t mind playing a few games myself.”
He reached for her again, but she held up a hand to stop him. “If we’re going to do this, eyes open, shouldn’t we start on even ground?”
Archer rubbed his jaw over the shadow of late-day stubble. “Little late for that, considering we haven’t been on even ground since we were ten and you stole my shorts at the swimming hole and threw them up in a tree.”
She pulled the leather banana hammock out of her coat pocket. When he frowned and shook his head, she giggled. The sound—and feeling—were foreign to her. “I thought you said you liked games?”
His expression turned pensive, but she blinked, and his playful demeanor returned. She didn’t know where his mind had gone, but that had not been the reaction she’d been expecting when she pulled out the leather underwear. Was he actually going to do it?
“My momma used to ask me why I couldn’t be more like that little West girl next door. If she could see you now.” He snatched the banana hammock from her. “Those ladies at the Chickadee are a bad influence.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” Cordelia pouted as she slid off the desk, the gesture pulling the lingerie up tight, exposing more of her. “But if you really feel that way, I could always leave.”
She turned toward the door, unable to suppress her smile at his sharp intake of breath.
She’d just reached for the handle when his arm came over her, pressing firmly against the door.
The rough cotton of his starched shirt rubbed against her bare back.
Heat radiated off him in waves. She was in so much trouble.
His fingers circled her wrist, spinning her around and pulling her back against his chest. “I don’t believe I said anything about wanting you to go.”
“I’m not doing this unless I can be assured you’re as vulnerable as I am right now.”
She stared up at him, blinking rapidly in a move she hoped would pass for a flutter.
Seduction was not her forte. She just needed him to leave the room before he discovered she was way out of her depth.
His fingers trailed the shape of her face.
A touch so gentle, so tender, she felt like she’d left her body altogether and stepped into someone else’s life.
Someone who inspired long looks and sweet words.
The kind of woman she’d always guarded herself against becoming.
Her tense muscles relaxed as she melted into his touch.
“All right.” His expression softened, though a smile was now playing around his mouth. “We’ll do this your way.”
He stepped into the bathroom adjacent to his office, and Cordelia immediately got to work. The courier would be arriving in two minutes. She had no time to spare.
She located the lab bag and tossed the wine sample in there, then buried it in his outbox under a batch of other papers.
Next, she flipped open his leather-bound journal and began taking pictures of every page.
She didn’t have time to be careful. The sound of a motor humming outside caught her attention, and she peeked out the blinds.
The courier had arrived. Cordelia shook her hands as she glanced around the office to make sure she hadn’t missed anything.
“I hope you know,” Archer said through the door, “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone.”
Without responding, Cordelia slipped out the door. She passed the courier as she was belting up her trench coat, and he gave her a knowing look. Like he knew what kind of outfit she had on underneath. Or maybe that was just her imagination working overtime.
Shame burned her cheeks as she rushed out to her car and peeled out of the parking lot without looking back.
There was a solid chance Archer would be hopping mad when he came out of the bathroom and realized he’d been had, but she couldn’t think about that yet.
As soon as they got those lab results in hand, they had no choice but to go looking for who had poisoned the pastor before Archer, the sheriff, and the town started looking too closely at the Chickadee.