Mission: Irresistible

Her stomach grumbled. “Starving.”

“Then follow me. I’ve got an in with the cook. He makes the best waffles this side of St. Louis.”

“Who’s in St. Louis?” she asked as they headed out the door.

“Aunt Dinah. Hers are the best, but don’t tell Pete I said so.”

“Who’s Pete?”

“My fake French chef,” East said. “Do you like them with whipped cream and strawberries, or are you a syrup fan?”

“Actually, I favor peanut butter and grape jelly.”

East grinned. “Order it on the side or Pete will have himself a fit.”

She pursed her lips primly. “Pete needs to learn to savor the finer things in life.”

East laughed aloud.

As they exited the office, a frantic young man in jogging clothes came running through the lobby. He took one look at East and started yelling.

“My wife. My wife. They said she was in labor.”

This would be the missing father, East thought, and took him by the shoulders, fixing him with a calm, steady gaze.

“Take it easy, Dad. She’s fine. There’s a doctor and a couple of paramedics with her now.”

The expression on the man’s face went from shock to joy.

“Dad?”

“I think I heard them say it was a boy,” East said.

“Oh man, oh man. I’m a father. I’m a father,” he cried.

“Yeah, so am I,” East said. “Congratulations.”

The man bolted for the stairs, unwilling to wait for an elevator.

East was still smiling when he turned back to Ally.

“Sorry. It isn’t usually so hectic around here.”

“Compared to my job, this is nothing,” Ally said.

The look on her face made him hurt. He remembered all too well what that job could be like, but before he could comment, his cell phone rang again. Within moments of answering, he began to frown.

“Hang on a minute, please,” he told his caller, then touched Ally’s arm apologetically. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call. Why don’t you head for the terrace. There’s a buffet set up, or you can order for both of us. Either way, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Sure, but what do you want?”

“Just tell the waiter I’ll have my usual.” Then he added. “Don’t wait on me. I wouldn’t want those waffles to get cold.”

“Actually, they’re better that way.”

He shook his head and then chuckled. “Do you have any other interesting habits I should know of?”

“I don’t know,” Ally said. “Exactly what do you think you should know about me?”

East’s smile slipped as his eyes suddenly darkened. “I’m not sure, are you?”

Suddenly, his question took on a whole other meaning. She looked away, and then angry with herself for being so gutless around this man, made herself look at him.

“Around you, I’m not sure of anything.” Then she doubled up her fists and thumped the sides of her legs in frustration. “And, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you something like that. Damn it all to hell, I am not good at this stuff.”

She stomped away, leaving East to make of her outburst what he would. Then he remembered his caller and put the phone back to his ear.

Ally sat on the terrace with her chin in her hands, staring out at the Pacific. This whole thing was a fiasco. Jonah must have been desperate to even consider someone like her for this task. She kept wanting to blurt out the reason she was here and get it over with. Subterfuge was a part of her life, but she’d never used it on one of the “good guys.” Deceiving East didn’t feel right and the longer she played the part of a stressed-out operative, the closer it came to being the truth. If she told him now, the worst that could happen was he’d just tell her to get lost. Then all she had to do was tell Jonah she failed.

She sighed.

Therein lay part of her problem. In all of Ally’s life, she’d never failed at anything, except maybe relationships.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she continued to watch the breakers slamming against the rocks. There had to be a way to accomplish this.

A few moments later, a waiter brought her food, with the comment that he would serve East’s order when he arrived.

Ally nodded.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“Not right now,” she said. “Thanks.”

She reached for the side dish of peanut butter as he walked away and began carefully smearing each square in her waffle with an equal amount of the rich, creamy spread. Once having achieved symmetry, she did the same with the grape jelly until the waffle was all but obliterated beneath the concoction. Then, with a knife and fork, she cut into the waffle, separating a perfect three-square by three-square bite and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled with appreciation as she began to chew.

East stood in the doorway leading out to the terrace, stealing a moment to watch Ally unobserved. At first glance, there wasn’t anything really remarkable about her. She was of average height, without an ounce of spare flesh on her body. Her clothes were ordinary; a pair of navy slacks and a white, linen shirt hanging loose about her hips. Her hair was short and capped her head in a thicket of auburn curls and her eyes were the color of new grass. And yet as he watched her methodically preparing her food, he understood her need for control.

He could only imagine what it must have been like for a child such as she; born with an intelligence beyond understanding into a family that didn’t have time for her, she must have felt like a misfit from the beginning. He didn’t know, but he would guess she’d never had a “best friend” in her life and wondered if, as a child, she’d ever spent the night giggling with other girls or playing with dolls. Being a SPEAR operative wasn’t conducive to gathering close friends, either. Too many secrets that couldn’t be shared.

When she slowly and carefully cut another perfect square of waffle and popped it into her mouth, he was struck by an overwhelming urge to lean over her shoulder and take a great big bite out of the middle of that waffle just to see what she’d do when things went out of control.

At that moment, her waiter stopped at her table and topped off her coffee. When she lifted her head to smile and thank him, East pictured himself leaning down and tasting the peanut butter and jelly waffle on her lips. In spite of how physically resilient he knew she must be, there was something very fragile about her insecure smile and the curve of her cheek.

But he’d been too accustomed to denying himself to do anything so foolish as to get involved with a woman—especially an operative. After what he’d done, he didn’t deserve happiness. It was enough that he was still alive. The kid he’d hit with his car was not.

He shoved aside his personal feelings as he strode to their table and took his seat. “Looks good,” he said, pointing toward the food on her plate as the waiter filled his cup.

“Umm,” she nodded, still chewing.