Charade

Moving to the peephole, she was surprised to see that her second visitor for the evening wasn’t Carmine, either. Instead, it was a bored-looking delivery boy with a long white box. And once again, security hadn’t alerted her, which was baffling. Not to mention, annoying.

Your Christmas bonus is in jeopardy, boys, she warned the front-desk crew.

Then she took a moment to warn herself, as well. Since when are flowers delivered in the middle of the night? Something screwy’s going on.

Her best guess was that Carmine had sent them. He would have ways of getting them past the guards, either covertly or otherwise. If that was the case, she needed to get this over with as quickly as possible, then get back to Jeff—hopefully for another round of X-rated kissing.

Wise up. You’re still Franco Bracciali’s daughter. This could be a completely different kind of package, so stop being such a sap. Girls who let strangers into their homes in the middle of the night make headlines the next morning, and not in a good way. So forget about sex and try to focus, will you?

Clearing her throat, she called out, “Who is it?”

“Flower delivery. Sorry for the late hour, but it’s a rush.”

Sasha scowled. “Just leave the box where I can see it through the peephole, then go. Sorry about your tip, but like you said, it’s late.”

“No problem, ma’am. Have a good night.”

Jeff was beside her before she could open the door. “Flowers? What’s that about?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “How did he get past security? In fact—” she arched an inquiring eyebrow “—how did you get past it?”

“The alarm system on the delivery door in the alley is prehistoric. Typical of these ritzy buildings—all the show is up front. But I reset it after I was inside, so…” His tone grew brisk. “Stand back. I’ll handle it.”

She laughed. “You’re kidding, right? It’s my condo, so you stand back. Never let it be said that a Bracciali allowed an honored guest to get blown up on our turf.”

“I knew you led an interesting life,” he drawled, “but this just about beats it.”

She liked the way his green eyes twinkled when he teased her, but reminded herself that he had mostly been an enemy—or at least a detractor—for the majority of their relationship, so she shouldn’t let her guard down so easily.

Turning away from him, she leveled her eye with the peephole again, then had to admit, “It looks legit. Let’s check it out.”

Opening the door, she edged into the hall and knelt beside the long white box. “No ticking,” she told Jeff, half jokingly.

“Allow me.” He grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her to her feet. Then he pushed her behind himself before nudging the lid with his foot. The box opened easily, revealing a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.

“Ooh, nice.” Sasha knelt again, scooping the flowers into her arms. The she flashed Jeff a playful smile. “You didn’t send them, did you?”

“Given how things are going, I kinda wish I had. But no. You’ve obviously got another secret admirer. Some sort of belated Valentine’s Day gift.”

Sasha could see a tiny envelope nestled between the dark red blossoms. Pulling the card free, she opened it and scanned the simple inscription.

Your cell and landlines both roll to voice mail. We need to talk. Check your e-mail. AA.

“What does it say?” Jeff demanded. “Are they from Martino?”

Sasha pursed her lips, buying time to decide how to respond. Given what was going on at Athena Academy, this mysterious message could only be about the kidnapped girls.

Which meant they had found a way to allow Sasha to help! And it also meant she had to get rid of her sexy guest. Fast.

“It’s from my father,” she lied finally. “He feels awful that we couldn’t attend the wedding together. He thinks it’s time to talk.”

“Man, that’s huge.” Jeff rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready for that?”

“Honestly?” She gave an audible sigh. “It bothered me, too, avoiding him the way I did. Gianna and I—and her sister Vittoria—were inseparable when we were little. We played in that ballroom on bad-weather days while Dad and Uncle Antonio sat nearby talking. Obviously they were up to no good, but still…”

“Still, it was innocent in its own way,” Jeff agreed. “I get that, you know. You think I’m constantly judging you, but the truth is, I get it. That’s the only reason I’ve ever thought you’d crack under the strain. Because it is a strain. He’s your father. You love him. I get that.”

Sasha stood and looked him in the eye. “Thanks.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I could call him. Or I could blow it off. I’ve done that before. But either way, I need to think it through. Alone. I’m sorry.”

“No problem. I should be going anyway. This was sort of nuts from the start. Not that I planned it. At least, not from the start.” His handsome face flushed. “Did I mention how good you look?”

Sasha felt her cheeks redden. “You look good, too. I guess we were set up by our own hormones.”

“Yeah?” He chuckled. “I like that.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You’d better go.”

He nodded, but didn’t move toward the elevator. “I know this sounds corny, but I’m gonna remember that kiss for a long, long time.”

“Me, too.” She gave him another, more wistful smile. “Too bad I wasn’t wearing the bra-cam, or we’d have videos of it. For old times’ sake.”

“Actually…” He rested his hands on her hips as he’d done just before their kiss. “I’m kind of glad you weren’t wearing a bra.”

“Mmm.” She brushed her lips across his, then pulled free quickly. “Definitely time for you to go, Agent Crossman.”

“Yeah. I’ll call you.” He cleared his throat, then explained, “To let you know what happens with Vincent.”

“Right.” She bit her lip again. “Bye, Jeff. And thanks.”

Her words brought a smile to his lips. “My pleasure. Get inside, Camper. And lock the door. The security in this dive sucks.”

His expression—not to mention his tone—was so seductive, she felt herself beginning to melt again, so she gathered up the flowers and the box, then bustled past him, calling good-night over her shoulder. Then she followed his instructions by engaging the dead bolt as soon as she was inside the condo.

“Ohmigod,” she told herself, leaning against the door and exhaling with exaggerated need. “What was that about?”

It was a question she could have dwelled on—and drooled over—for hours, if Athena Academy hadn’t been waiting to hear from her.

When Sasha dialed the number supplied in the e-mail from AA.gov, Allison Gracelyn, an Athena board member who now worked for the NSA, answered on the first ring, saying only that a car would be arriving for Sasha in ten minutes. That gave her just enough time to don a pair of black jeans and a stretchy purple V-neck sweater. Then she grabbed her favorite butter-soft black leather boots and a cozy parka, along with her purse, and headed for the door.

Unfortunately, her third unexpected caller of the evening was waiting in the hallway. And this time, it really was the much-expected Carmine Martino, who asked pointedly, “Going somewhere?”

Oh, crap, Sasha complained to herself. But aloud, she kept her cool. “A delivery guy just dropped off some flowers. But he took off before I could give him a tip. So I wanted to catch him—”

“He’ll live,” Carmine assured her, his thick voice indicating he had had too much to drink. “The real question is, who the fuck is sending you flowers in the middle of the night?”