Hot in the City

If she was going to die in an airplane, this was definitely the way to go.

Except that she hoped that maybe...would he want to see her after they landed? Should she perhaps suggest dinner? Or maybe just a drink? Would he think she was asking for more?

Was she?

It took so much time to work up her nerve that she didn’t even realize they were already speeding down the runway, then rolling to the gate.

She swallowed—this was the time. Now or never.

What was the worst he could say? No? He was definitely flirting with her, so there was a chance, right?

But as she released her held breath, he freed her hand, standing quickly as people jockeyed for position to leave the plane. He stepped back, gesturing for her to exit in front of him.

“Ladies first.”

Della was overly aware of his big body behind her, crowding her slightly as she reached up and grabbed her bag, his front bumping up against her back, especially when he reached forward to get his own bag, leaning over her.

Ask him. Now.

Then they were moving forward, out of the plane, up the jet bridge, pushed along by the momentum of the people around them, all hurrying to exit.

She turned, and Gabe was looking at his watch, frowning, his expression suddenly distant.

“Gabe, I—”

“Della, it was great to meet you. Thanks for the company and the cards,” he said quickly, obviously distracted. “Sorry, I have to run.” He offered a smile before he turned in the opposite direction, walking off.

She waved, though he wasn’t looking anymore.

Della blinked, her cheeks burning as she started walking away, disappointed and embarrassed. In a flash, she was back in the hallway of her junior high, younger than the other kids in her class, with a crush on a cute boy who laughed when she waved and said hi and then kept on walking. Then, like now, it felt like everyone had seen her make a fool of herself—that they were all looking at her—though that wasn’t so, of course.

Back in school, the boys liked to flirt with her so she would help them with their math, but when it came to parties and dances, she was never included. She knew why, but at least when she helped them with their studies, they talked to her. Her parents had warned her constantly to keep to herself, that people would always want to use her for something. That she couldn’t be gullible and trusting. That she was meant for more important things than boys and parties.

Their advice had been true often enough. Gabe had only been looking for some amusement on the flight, nothing more. She shouldn’t have made more of it, knowing better.

Swallowing her letdown, she refocused her thoughts on work as she rode into the city, alone. As usual.

* * *

GABRIEL ROSS—AT LEAST, that was the name he was using for the moment—made it to his hotel still thinking about the woman on the plane. His lips kicked up into a smile as he thought about her, but he killed it. This was work. She was work.

Still, he was human. And male. Sitting so closely on the plane, he’d had more than one fantasy about how easy it would be to pick her up and do any number of arousing things to her, she was so petite. If he released her strawberry-blond hair from its sharply pulled back ponytail, how would it frame her heart-shaped face? How would she like to be kissed? How would she taste?

He’d love to find out what else made her blush. Watching her tightly rounded rear end as she walked ahead of him on the jet bridge had driven him crazy. He’d been close to asking her to dinner. Maybe for more than dinner.

It wasn’t often anyone—man or woman—beat him at poker. But of course, it would be tough to beat someone with her card-counting skills. She might be able to fool the average person, but Gabe was trained to notice such things. Once he’d figured out her game, he was able to take a few hands. It hadn’t been easy, though. He’d enjoyed the challenge.

But she also wasn’t a random person he’d met at the airport. She was his target. Or one of them. Dr. Olive Delilah Clark—Della, as she’d been called since she was young—was someone he needed to get close to.

Someone had been leaking sensitive data about the development of a vaccine for biological weapons at a NYC-based biotech firm, and it was Gabe’s job to find out who it was. They’d only gotten part of the research, and would no doubt be making an attempt to get more. So DHS planted dummy research, hoping the culprits went for the bait.

However, the perpetrator clearly had an inside contact, or a back-door in, to access the company’s research computers, which were offline. Gabe needed to get inside and find out who that contact was, and how the spies were accomplishing their task.

He’d be going in as a DHS investigator doing routine security checks on the staff members who worked on military contracts. In reality, he’d be running deep surveillance and peeking under the covers to see what secrets the lab’s employees might be hiding.

Anyone who was particularly interesting would merit deeper investigation. It meant digging into people’s lives—their private lives—and doing whatever it took to stop the leak.

Della had worked for the company as a contractor in the past, on the vaccine project, though the details were above her civilian security clearance. She finished her work in the early stages of the project, but that didn’t mean she escaped suspicion. She was an outlier, a random element, but that made her particularly interesting. She might be completely innocent, but it was also possible she had been turned or was being compelled by foreign agents. She was also smart—so he had to be smarter.

Gabe grabbed the computer bag he’d taken from the plane and slung it up on the wide table in front of the couch. He took pictures with his phone as he opened it, so he could replicate the case when he put it back together. An e-reader in a bright purple plastic skin appeared, and several foreign-language tapes tumbled out onto the floor.

Della’s bag. He’d done his homework, bringing along a similar bag of his own and taking hers “by mistake.”

The tapes were for learning Italian, but what he was most interested in was the laptop. There were no other papers of consequence in the case. He fired up his own machine, which had been waiting for him in the car, and started the password-breaking software he needed to get into Della’s computer.

While it ran, he filtered through her other belongings. Opening the laptop, he raised an eyebrow at the spreadsheet labeled “potentials” and found a list of names—male names—with comments and traits listed. Then he saw the links to online profiles—not spies, but online dating profiles.

Della was trying to find men online? That surprised him, and he went through the profiles, checking out each one in detail. In the process of doing so, he became irritated at the idea of Della actually dating any of these losers. She was better than this.

A beep signaled him that the password had been found, and he turned his attention to her laptop, allowing him to skim her files and download everything to his computer. There were several locked folders, and those he would need more time to investigate. He put the case back together exactly as he’d found it and checked his watch.

How long would it be before she noticed that she had the wrong bag and contacted him? It was imperative that she initiate their next contact. It would make her feel in control.

He couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to seeing her again. The opportunity to get closer to Dr. Clark was a tempting one, and while part of the job, he didn’t usually feel this keen a sense of anticipation at the prospect. What he’d found so far, unless there was more in the files, required only a general surveillance. He wanted to learn more.

For better or worse.

It was a rationalization, of course. He also wanted to have sex with her; he could be honest with himself about that much.

Sitting back, he pulled the laptop toward him, starting to study the files, and waited for the phone to ring. He had no doubt that it would.

2 (#u9d070d6a-ab9b-55f9-a6fa-2ab25b280f67)

DELLA SLOWED HER PACE as she approached the restaurant where she was meeting Gabe Ross. She’d been shocked when she’d opened her bag and realized it wasn’t hers. Especially when she’d discovered the stack of papers with the Homeland Security letterhead and his badge inside. She’d closed it as quickly as possible, calling him immediately.

She’d been so flustered on the plane that she’d clearly grabbed the wrong bag.

Still, she thought with a smile playing around her lips, it had resulted in her seeing Gabe again. It had taken every ounce of nerve to call him after discovering the mistake and finding his contact information on the luggage tag.

As she approached the small café with tables on the sidewalk under a charming dark red canopy, she heard her name called and looked up to see Gabe standing by the door.

Della walked quickly toward him, seeing that he had her case as well.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, grimacing. “I could have had this sent to you, instead of dragging you all the way up here.”

He smiled, taking his case as he handed her hers. “This is much better. I wouldn’t have wanted the case in unfamiliar hands.”

“Oh, yes, I—” she said, dropping her eyes down, then meeting his again. “I didn’t look through your things, of course, but I did open it and saw you work for the government. I promise I only saw the letterhead and your badge and then closed it right away.”