Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Ana
What was she saying?
WHAT WAS SHE SAYING?
You like things firm, too? Did she really make that double entendre?
Walking down that hallway, she’d been lost in her quest for a bathroom before heading to the hotel restaurant for a sad little “Party of One” display. Her plan didn’t include getting filthy in a dumpster, outmaneuvered by a teeny little kitten.
Then he arrived.
Dennis was the size of an action movie star, with shockingly smart eyes and a closed-off demeanor that belied his sweet, tender manner with that little kitty.
He was nothing–nothing–like her type.
Then again, dating her type had gotten her into her current mess: dumped, absolutely suckered, and being interviewed by the DEA.
“What am I supposed to say in response to that?” Dennis teased as Ana went to war with herself, convinced her instincts regarding men weren’t just bad.
They were so flamingly awful, she should be banned from dating.
“I–I don’t know!” she giggled, too caught up in her own thoughts to keep the banter going. “I’m definitely not at my best tonight.”
“I think you’re fine.”
“You don’t know me.”
“We’re practically besties. Completed our first mission just now.”
“Mission?” Aha. Her radar was right. Military dude.
“Rescue mission. Subject found unharmed and returned home safely. Mission complete.”
“You’re military.”
“Retired.”
“You? Retired? How recently?”
“Very. Today. Just got home.”
“You live here?” Pointedly looking around the hotel, she made it clear she was joking.
Dennis laughed, gesturing toward the bar.
“If you’re going to interrogate me, I have to insist it happen over food and drink.”
“Is that in the Geneva Convention?”
“Am I your prisoner?” His eyes dropped to her mouth. “Or are you mine?”
“I’m not in the military.”
“Neither am I. Anymore.” He peered at her. “Police?”
“No.”
“What do you do for a living?”
Slowly–as if one of her feet was reluctant to follow him, the other eager–they made their way toward the bar.
It was a sprawling, open complex that was more lobby than restaurant.
A shimmering feeling deep in her belly made its way toward her skin, spreading slowly.
Its delicious pace made her feel half in one world, half in another, the new one glorious and welcoming, full of delights to explore.
Hold up there, Ana, she cautioned herself. Don’t let this sweep you away.
“What do you think I do?” she asked, surprised by her own coyness. Once he found out, he’d chill toward her, right?
If he didn’t, it would be a red flag. She should have realized that sooner with Harris, her ex.
The fact that he’d leaned in when she said the words had been a screaming clue to run away.
“I think you rescue people.”
“Because you saw me rescuing a cat?”
“Because of how you touched my arm when I was having… trouble.”
She knew trouble wasn’t what he started to say.
Flashback was more like it.
“You noticed.”
“I did. Thank you.”
“Military, huh? How many deployments?”
“Twenty years’ worth.”
“No one has two decades of nonstop deployment,” she said, laughing as they approached the host’s stand, but Dennis’s face didn’t spread into the smile she expected.
While he wrestled with his answer, he turned his attention to the hostess, a sweet young thing who looked young enough to carry a Cinderella license.
“Table, or bar?”
Conversation pits were laid out in circles of varying sizes, the cavernous area feeling more like a futuristic movie set than the flagship property of a hotel chain.
“Table,” Dennis answered with so much assurance, she stopped pondering the question the second he decided.
The hostess led them to a small round one, far away from the bar, with a curved, upholstered banquette. Menus were set down and they slid into their seats.
He gestured to the left side for her, placing himself where he could see all the exits. This guy wasn’t a player. He was trained for a line of work that didn’t lend itself to discussion.
Hmmm.
“Two caipirinhas, please,” he said to the hostess, who smiled and nodded before leaving.
“As I said before, your pronunciation is perfect.”
“I know enough to get in trouble.”
“You were deployed in… Brazil? Portugal?” She said it with healthy skepticism on purpose, to make it clear she knew that was unlikely.
“Not deployed. Spent a little time in Brazil, though.”
“I get the sense you’ve spent a little time in a lot of places.”
“I get around.”
“But now you’re retired? Settling down?”
“Something like that.” He leaned back, giving her a chance to see how he moved his body when they weren’t in a cold alley. Comfortable yet also on edge, he was a study in contrasts.
Big military guy cuddling a stray kitten…
“You still haven’t answered my questions, but you’ve asked me plenty, so I know what you do for a living, Ana.”
“You’re ready to guess?”
“Not a guess. I’m certain.”
“Really? If you’re right, I’m buying.”
“And if I’m wrong?”
Just then, a server appeared, dressed in black pants and a dark purple collared shirt. Her hair was shaved on one half of her head, the other styled in layers with purple highlights.
“Hi, there. Don’t get too many of these,” she said, setting the drinks before them. “Can I get you some appetizers? Water?”
“Do you have a charcuterie board?” Dennis asked politely, looking to Ana for confirmation.
She liked how he checked in with her. Didn’t take over, but he also clearly knew what he liked.
“We do. Large or small?”
“We’ll be here a while. Let’s get the large. And a bottle of sparkling water. Ana?”
“Sounds great.”
She meant it, too. It was as if he’d profiled her, known in advance what she liked.
A tendril of fear shot through her. What if he wasn’t what he seemed? Retired military, just happened to come across her while she was rescuing a kitten. Buttering her up and asking her out for drinks.
Then knowing exactly what she liked?
After the mess with her ex, Harris, over the last month, what if he were some kind of undercover operator?
Or worse…
A fed?
When the server left, Dennis leaned forward and picked up his drink, watching her with renewed interest. He took a sip, eyes sharp and processing what his taste buds brought to his neurons.
“Mmm.” He swallowed. “A bit sugary for me, but I like it. I can imagine drinking this on a beach.”
“You like beaches?” she asked.
“The ocean, yes. Sand, not so much.”
Ana eyed her drink. She knew he hadn’t touched it, but her paranoia was coming on fast, and she had to check herself.
He sensed it, looking at her.
“You okay?”
“Sure.”
“That’s not very convincing.”
Changing the subject wasn’t a tool only he could use.
“So what do you think I do for a living, Dennis?”
“You’re a psychologist.”
“Whoa!”
“Told you. Wasn’t guessing.” He winked at her. “But I’m paying for dinner. My treat.”
“That’s not how our bet goes!”
“I’m just happy to be right.”
“I thought you were already certain.”
“I was, but there’s always a margin of error.”
“What made you think I’m a psychologist?”
“You sensed what was wrong with me. Used grounding techniques. Very subtle.”
Ana just blinked and reached for her drink. Given the direction of their conversation, she was going to need it.
“If we’re confiding, I have to ask: Why are you really here?”
“Huh?”
“Is this about Harris?”
Reading people was her superpower. Since toddlerhood, her mom always said, Ana could sense a person’s innermost self. If little Ana didn’t like someone, eventually the truth about that person would come out.
And the reaction on Dennis’s face when she mentioned Harris made it clear he had no idea what–or who–she was talking about.
“Whatever this Harris guy has done,” Dennis said slowly, “it’s got you rattled. No, I have nothing to do with him. Why would you ask?”
“It’s a long story.”
He spread his arms out along the back of the curved banquette and grinned at her, broad chest flexing under his knit shirt. The guy was big. Strong and masculine, the epitome of what Hollywood considered tough.
And the opposite of every man she’d ever been with.
“I don’t check out until noon, and my only other friend at this hotel is Pillow.”
That made her laugh, but wouldn’t someone undercover do that, too? Relax the mark, get her loose so she talks?
“Tell me about Harris,” Dennis persisted. “Sounds like a jerk.”
“Worse than a jerk. And I chose to be with him, which means I’m stupid for picking a jerk.”
“Past tense means he’s your ex.”
“Yes.”
“Bad breakup?”
“He fled the country about a month ago under drug smuggling charges.”
“And left you to be interrogated and your life nearly ruined by the DEA.”
“You know way too much not to be some kind of undercover person,” she groaned, hating herself for falling for the stray kitty act.
Her voice hardened. “Who are you? Did Marlo and Guy send you? I already told them Harris is in Morocco, and I told the feds everything I know. We didn’t share bank accounts, so–”
“Hold on there.” Dennis cut her off, his big hand on her wrist. Warm and heavy, it felt like the touch went straight to her heart. Pained but intrigued eyes met hers. “Back up a bit. You really do have one hell of a break-up story to tell.”
“Not to a private investigator paid by Harris’s parents. If he even has parents. Or an undercover DEA agent. Or – does he owe you money? Because – ”
Never in her life had she heard a laugh like the one that came out of this man.
Rolling deep in the back of his throat, it began as a chuckle, turned into a chortle, then blasted the air like a foghorn. He laughed until he grabbed his ribs on his right side and began gasping.
“Can’t. Breathe. Oh. No. Not. Under. Cover. Ana. Ahahahahaha.”
Faced with a man with a hundred pounds and a foot of height on her turning into a puddle of giggling goo, all she could think to do next was drink.
“Swear,” he said as he finally came up for air, reaching for a cocktail napkin to wipe his eyes. “I swear I’m not undercover. And I’m not here to kidnap you or pump you for information or… any of that.”