The Cinderella Mission

He just wished he could say the same for himself.

Kelly hunched over her desk, ignoring the persistent ache in her back. Her computer screen hummed in the late-night air, her only company the whir of a janitor’s vacuum and a lone light from under Hatch’s office door.

Nuances of verb tenses swirled through her head, soothing her with the familiar oblivion of work. She was in control here, with her languages and academics. If only she could find the same control away from her books.

She’d made a fool of herself this afternoon, proving full well she didn’t deserve this assignment. Not that Director Hatch had listened when she’d tried to bow out later.

Kelly whipped away the grit in her eyes and reached for her mug of herbal tea. She blew into the steamy heat, hints of raspberry steaming from the mug. She stared at the glowing words on the screen from an intercepted missive. The rural Rebelian dialect, a mix of German and Russian, seemed to be discussing some kind of sapphire. A jewel? Or the color itself?

The color of Ethan’s eyes.

She screeched those thoughts to a complete halt. Just a crush, she reminded herself.

Her nose itched with the phantom scent of masculine cologne and sweat mingling with her raspberry tea. A shiver tingled through her and her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled the memory of Ethan.

So real.

Too real.

Her eyes snapped open.

A shadow fell across her desk. She didn’t look up.

“So you really like my butt?” Ethan’s rumbling voice filled her workspace.

Mortification seared her. She scrolled through the text on her computer screen as if he hadn’t even spoken.

He sat on the edge of her desk as he’d done at least a hundred times before. “Well, I like your smile. And I’m mad as hell at myself for having done something to take it away.”

Damn, he was good. Already she could feel her anger melting like a bowl of her favorite rocky road ice cream left in the sun.

“You’ve earned this assignment, Kelly. I had no right to tamper with that.”

She studied her still fingers on the keyboard and mumbled, “As if you could.”

“Ah, that’s right. I need to ‘get over myself.’”

His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more appealing and she could almost hate him for that. Sure he showed that fine butt of his on occasion, but once her anger had cooled she knew he’d been trying to protect her feelings—in his own man-dense kind of way.

Sort of sweet, actually. And gorgeous. And smelling so good she wanted to crawl over the desk to bury her face in his jacket.

Ethan hitched his knee farther on her desk and moved closer. “I looked over the data on Morrow’s disappearance this afternoon and came to a conclusion.”

He might as well have dangled a carrot in front of her. No way could she resist. “And?”

“Hatch was right about us as a team.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“I’m okay with foreign languages conversationally.” Ethan scooped up her paperweight again. “Written translations, however, are not my strong suit. And I sure as hell don’t speak as many languages as you do.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you need me.”

Ethan went still. His eyes fell from her face, lower. He couldn’t be looking at her breasts?

He glanced away, replacing the paperweight. “A good field operative needs to know his or her limitations. Which means you have to accept I have something you need, too.”

“You do?” she asked, her breasts suddenly warm and heavy beneath her crossed arms.

He swallowed, long and slow, before his eyes locked firmly on her face. “Things could turn ugly at that summit ball. You have to be able to defend yourself. I need to know you can defend yourself or I won’t be able to concentrate on my end of the operation.”

“Okay.” Feet planted, she heeled her office chair back for distance from the draw of those sapphire eyes. “I’ll log in extra training hours.”

“Not good enough. If you’re going to be ready in two weeks, it’ll take more than a few extra agency courses. I require a personal reassurance my partner can protect herself, and even watch my back, too. I’ll only have that if I take part in the training 24/7.”

Kelly scrambled to follow the conversational thread with the scent of him filling her tiny cubicle. She needed air. She needed space.

She needed another partner.

Ethan canted forward. “I think we should live together.”

Chapter 3

“Live together?”

If Kelly’s horror-filled eyes were anything to gauge by, Ethan guessed he was being subjected to a crash course in “getting over himself.” His bruised ego would have to move aside. He had to convince her to move in with him so his Aunt Eugenie could orchestrate a makeover in a way that wouldn’t hurt Kelly’s tender feelings and he would be one step closer to securing the file on his parents.

Ethan reached to stop her chair before she backpedaled into the next cubicle. “Hear me out.”

She smacked his hand away. “If this is your idea of revenge for what I said this afternoon, it’s not funny.”

“Kelly, this afternoon was,” he paused, “surprising. It’s not exactly something I’d like to repeat. But no harm, no foul.”

“Really?” Suspicion stained her eyes.

He’d have to teach her to hide her emotions better. “You were absolutely right. We’re both professionals and I should have treated you as such.”

“Now you show that by suggesting we live together?”

Ethan opted to ignore her sarcasm. “Hear me out. You’re off office duty once you leave today.”

“But the computer intelligence—”

“I have secure link-ups at home. That summit ball is only two weeks away. We need every minute between now and then to trade services.”

“What services are you offering at your playboy bachelor pad?”

Her meaning sucker-punched him. Apparently he hadn’t hidden his attraction as well as he’d thought.