2

      TORI SAT ON A BENCH outside the Burbank airport and read through her report on the Kama Resort for the umpteenth time, going over every nuance that had led to her putting together the connection between the blackmail victims, and to her conclusion that there were more victims out there still unaccounted for.

      Her eyes drifted over the page, taking in every word. Not that she actually needed to read it. Heck, at this point she could practically recite the thing from memory. But reading kept her mind off Carter, and that had to be a good thing.

      Carter. She shouldn’t have let her thoughts go there, because now she was stuck thinking about him. And she didn’t want to think about him. Thinking about him only made her frustrated and angry and a whole host of other emotions she had no business entertaining. And to find out she was going to be working in close quarters with him—and at a sex resort, no less.

      She shivered, not sure if it was a blessing or a curse.

      She recalled his face—that cocky grin, those brooding eyes. And lashes so long they’d be feminine on any man other than Carter.

      A curse. Definitely a curse. And not only because he frustrated her on so many levels. Sure, he’d been her nemesis throughout their tenure at the academy, and sure, he’d gotten the prime assignments while she’d been pounding a keyboard. But she was a big girl. She knew Carter hadn’t been the one holding her back. No, that dubious honor belonged to her superiors. And while she was pissed as hell, she wasn’t pissed at Carter. Well, not much, anyway.

      But this was her case. She’d put the pieces together. She’d spent hours getting blisters on her butt while she made phone call after phone call tracking down leads that tied the players to the resort. She’d been the one who’d burned up the Internet trying to find missing pieces of information. And she was the one who’d drafted the report that got the ball rolling.

      By all rights, she should be leading the team. But was she? Nope. Once again, Carter had bested her, and she was reporting to him.

      The situation stank.

      Not that she’d really expected anything else. After all, she’d been stuck in a closet with a computer for the last few years while Carter had been out doing the job she deserved. Not that anyone had ever come out and said anything about her indiscretion with Carter. Instead, her superiors had consistently praised her brains even while citing her past insubordination. Okay, so maybe she didn’t always follow protocol, but lots of agents didn’t, right? The point was to win in the end.

      No, Tori was certain that her fate was a product of her impetuous encounter with Carter. Hopefully this new mission meant she’d finally paid her dues and was getting an assignment based on merit.

      Of course, it wasn’t as if they’d given her the type of assignment she’d been wanting. She’d hoped to infiltrate a drug ring or buddy up with members of the mob. Instead, she was getting undercover light—pretending to be married at a sex resort. Not what she’d expected, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

      And even though she was stuck as the underling, she intended to do everything in her power to shine on this job. And if that meant impressing—and obeying—Carter Sinclair, well, she could handle that.

      She’d try anyway. She intended to work her tush off in the process. Because when this was all over, she wanted to be out in the field permanently. And if Carter was her stepping-stone, then so be it. She was ten times the agent he was, and in the end, she’d surely prove it—even while being the subservient little underling.

      As it was, she’d already outlined a number of ways they could get the case rolling. Her eyes skimmed over the neatly printed list, only one of many papers in her portfolio. She’d worked on her plan over the course of the entire flight from Washington to California and she had some great ideas for jump-starting their research and investigating the potential perps.

      Carter was sure to be impressed.

      “Looks like the gang’s all here.”

      Tori flinched at the achingly familiar voice behind her. A voice that forced her to admit that, on a certain forbidden level, she was excited about seeing him again. Damn.

      Gathering herself, she shifted on the bench to face him. She drew in a quick breath, hoping he didn’t notice. Carter had always been good-looking, but she hadn’t expected the commanding presence she was facing. Somehow, he’d matured since she’d seen him last, and the change suited him.

      “Solved the case yet, Lowell?” he asked.

      She smiled, the same cool and collected smile she’d used a hundred times to ward off unwelcome advances. “Not just yet, Sinclair. But I’ve got a self-imposed deadline. By noon tomorrow, I’ll have this thing whipped.”

      “Noon?” His head cocked slightly as he looked her in the eye. “You’re slipping, Lowell. I plan to have this case wrapped up by ten at the latest.”

      She set her jaw. “Dawn, then. I’ll smoke out our bad guy by dawn.” She looked him in the eye. “No matter what, I’ll solve it before you do.”

      His mouth twitched, but he didn’t throw another challenge at her. Good. Chalk one up for her side.

      With a quick flick, she snapped her portfolio closed, then stood up, her hand out in a formal greeting. “I’ve been working on our plan of attack. I thought we could start at the local paper. I’ve already called their morgue and asked them to pull any articles about the resort so we—”

      “Good to see you, too, Tori.” He started walking past her toward the baggage claim area, ignoring her hand and her comments.

      Okay. That was not what she had in mind. Gathering her bags, she hurried after him. “Carter?” No response.

      Damn it, he was ignoring her on purpose, and she really wasn’t in the mood for that kind of power play.

      Determination renewed, she shifted her duffel’s strap on her shoulder and upped her speed, catching up to him as he eased onto the down escalator. She squeezed onto the same step, forcing him toward the handrail, his body close enough that she caught a subtle hint of his aftershave. “We’re not going to get anywhere if you ignore me,” she said.

      He turned, leaning against the rail and ignoring the signs imploring him to Please Hold Handrail. For a second he just stood there, looking at her, his eyes dark and dangerous. “We’re not going to get anywhere,” he said, throwing back her words, “if you start working this case on your own without talking to me