Surrender In Silk. Susan Mallery
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me?”
“I told you, Sanders,” Zach said. “You make everything personal. It’s a big mistake. You’re going to have to get over that or you’ll never make it in the field. Ernesto had turned on us. He didn’t think we knew, but we were onto him.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came out. Nothing made sense. She tried to remember Ernesto’s brief visit to the camp. He’d been friendly with everyone. She’d had no idea.
Danville closed the file. “You may keep the hotel room here in town for a couple of days. Report to the agency on the twenty-second to get your next assignment.”
Jamie stared at him, then at Zach. “That’s it? I’m still in?”
Danville smiled. “You’re still in, Ms. Sanders. Congratulations.”
She shook his hand, then hesitated, not sure what to say to Zach. He ignored her, so she left. On her way to the elevator, she ran the brief conversation over in her mind. Danville hadn’t wanted to yell at her. She hadn’t been fired. She’d made it!
The elevator doors opened. As she stepped inside, a voice called, “Hold them, please.”
Her index finger hovered over the Close Door button, but at the last minute, she pressed Open. Zach walked in.
Instead of facing front like a normal person, he leaned against the side wall and stared at her. She glanced at him, then quickly turned her attention to the row of lights above the door. They flashed one after the other as they rode down toward the ground.
Her skin got prickly. She chalked that up to excitement and leftover nerves. Seventy-two hours before, she’d been in the middle of a Central American jungle, held prisoner by the enemy.
The elevator stopped on the twenty-first floor and let in three women. They were all dressed in suits, stockings and high heels. They dismissed her with a quick glance, while Zach became the focus of their attention.
Typical, Jamie thought with a trace of irritation. No one cares what a man wears, but a woman’s clothing is all-important. Well, not for her. She was off duty and she planned to spend it the way she always did—in jeans and a sweatshirt. Zach wore the same casual clothing, but while she looked messy, he looked…wonderful.
She grimaced. His sweatshirt, soft from countless washings, hugged his shoulders and emphasized his narrow waist. Worn jeans had faded to white in the most interesting places, including the seams by his hips and crotch. With his smoldering dark eyes and lean good looks, he was temptation incarnate. Assuming she was in the mood to be tempted.
She swore under her breath. She thought she’d gotten over her crush months ago. Oh, sure, she found the man attractive. Who wouldn’t? But it wasn’t about a man-woman thing. She wanted him to say Good job, Jamie. Well, done. She wanted him to like her.
Quit wishing for the moon, she told herself, even as she recalled the feel of his hand against her cheek when he’d rescued her. Why had he touched her like that?
When the elevator stopped on the ground floor, she quickly stepped into the foyer of the large office building. She hurried to the wide glass doors and stepped out in the crisp fall afternoon. A taxi had pulled up and emptied its passengers. She waved to get the driver’s attention, then jogged across the sidewalk.
“The Hyatt,” she said, as she slid onto the back seat.
“You don’t mind if we share, do you?” Zach asked, appearing at the door.
The driver glanced at her. She shrugged and moved to the far side of the bench seat.
They rode to the hotel in silence. Jamie could feel her tension increase with every mile. She clasped her hands together and stared out the window, refusing to acknowledge his presence or the odd heat in her belly. When they arrived, she handed the driver a twenty, muttered for him to keep the change and tried to make her escape.
It didn’t work. Zach followed her onto the elevator and, when she reached her floor, he stepped out behind her. She turned toward him.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“We have to talk.”
“No, we don’t. You’re not my training instructor anymore. You can’t punish me or humiliate me or tell me I’m not good enough. I made it, sir, despite your attempts to keep me out.”
He stared at her, his dark eyes as unreadable and bottomless as the road to hell. “Who do you think told Danville you were the best recruit we’d hired in years?”
“Wh-what?”
He grabbed her elbow. “Which room?”
“801.”
He steered her down the wide, silent hallway, then waited while she fumbled with the plastic card key.
The corner room was a mini-suite with a king-size bed, a sitting area and a wet bar. She’d been told not to expect this kind of treatment during all her stays in the capital, but this time was special. She’d graduated and survived her assignment. This was her reward.
Once inside, Zach led her to the sofa in the corner. She sat down, still trying to absorb his words. He’d told Danville she was the best recruit? He’d told Danville? No way. It wasn’t possible.
“But you hate me,” she said, glancing up at him.
One corner of his mouth turned up in a decent facsimile of a smile. “Yeah. More and more each day. That’s why I rode you so hard, Sanders. To make you drop out.”
“Well, wasn’t that the reason? You said women make crummy agents.”
“I said women had problems they had to overcome. You only heard what you wanted to hear. You made it personal, Sanders. You always do.”
Moving with the liquid grace she’d always admired, he sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. They both had long legs. Her knees were together; his were apart. If she slid to the edge of her seat, her knees would brush against his inner thighs. The intimacy of their positions startled her. Suddenly it was difficult to breathe.
Zach didn’t seem to notice. He leaned closer and grabbed her right hand. He stared at the raw sores on her wrist.
“Hurt?” he asked.
“Yeah. They gave me a medicated cream. It should help me heal pretty quickly, and I probably won’t have a scar.”
His touch was surprisingly gentle…as it had been in the jungle. His fingers brushed against her skin, sending a powerful current humming up her arm. She felt her eyes widen and she glanced down so Zach wouldn’t see.
No, she told herself. She wouldn’t make a fool of herself in front of him. He must never know that she admired and respected him, and that she had spent countless hours of training seminars staring at his butt.
He released her hand, and she nearly whimpered in protest.
“I wasn’t pleased about having a woman in my class,” he said. “I’d had them before. Too much work and trouble. They slept with all the guys and stirred up resentments. Besides, only one had ever passed the obstacle course in the time allowed.”
“I almost didn’t.”
“You worked your butt off for it, Sanders, and I respected that. You know when I knew you were going to make it?”
He respected her? The elation was powerful enough to make her giddy. She kept her gaze firmly on the small square of carpet visible between their feet and struggled for control.
“No, sir,” she said quietly.
“When I came out of the forest on a run one morning and saw you practicing. Sleep is a premium during training, but you gave up some so you could practice. Why do you think I helped you in the gym?”
She looked at his face. “You helped me? On purpose?”
He shrugged.