loved goading him.
"Tomorrow is Friday. Every Friday, Victor Borian comes into town to do business. He eats at the same restaurant, where I will happily float by like the ghost I'm supposed to be. This Friday night, he attends the Governor's Ball. I will be conveniently seated at his table. I meet him, and by the power vested in me as a dead ringer for his dearly departed wife, I lasso him, reel him in, and as we used to say in Ruby, Texas, hog-tie Mm 'til the rope burns. Oh, and don't forget, let him poke me if he wants."
"That's enough." Finn grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "You may not take this seriously, but I guarantee Borian will. He's interested in two things: money and power. And don't think for a minute he won't crush you in order to protect them."
For half a minute, she saw genuine concern in his eyes. The sight startled her.
"Afraid of losing me, Sharkman?"
His eyes iced over. "I'm not going to let your adolescent self-destractiveness put this operation in danger."
"Oh."
Don't be stupid, party girl. J. Edgar Hoover Jr. here doesn't give a damn about you.
Finn released her and slumped against his seat. He was sweating again. Christ, he was always sweating when he was around her. The last thirty-six hours had been sheer torture. In spite of everything he knew about her, his fingers still itched to touch her, feel the soft expanse of curve and skin. Every time he thought about Victor Borian getting near her, he wanted to punch something.
And she knew it, damn her.
Now he not only had to worry about stifling his response to her, he had to worry about stifling her recklessness. He was responsible for the case, which meant he was responsible for her. Somehow he had to keep her safe, even when everything indicated she dittn't want to be safe.
If she didn't give a damn, why the hell should he?
Because she'll endanger the mission.
Yeah, right.
He heard Roper's voice inside his head. Try being nice to her instead of your usual charming self.
Being nice meant caring. And he'd already served his time in that army.
* * *
They flew into Helena a little after seven. As the plane approached the city, Angelina could see it laid out in a broad valley between mountains and deep rolling hills. Trapped between two weighty forces, just as she was.
They secured their luggage and caught a cab to the hotel. Ensconced in the backseat, she tried not to think about tomorrow, when she would see Victor Borian and set their scheme in motion. An electric tingle of excitement nested in her chest, as though she were on the verge of stepping off a cliff into either the greatest adventure of her life or certain death. Half of her wanted to take that step, and the other half was terrified. Exhausted by the struggle, and from fencing with Finn, she couldn't wait to arrive at the hotel, shed her government escort, and soak in a tub for hours.
In keeping with her status as a wealthy widow, the TCF had arranged for them to stay in the priciest suite at the Colonial Hotel. Not without a little fuss, of course, because it was expensive, but Borian always stayed in the best when traveling, and Finn thought Angelina should do the same.
When they got to the room, she couldn't help but be glad. The hotel was no Trump Tower-Helena had no high-rise accommodations-but the VIP suite at the Colonial was spaciously designed with a living area, dining area, wet bar, a large bedroom with private bath, and an adjoining bedroom. Plenty of room so they wouldn't knock into each other. Finn poked his head into both of the bedrooms, then nodded toward the one attached to the suite.
"You take the room in here," he said. "I'll take the adjoining bedroom, but keep the door between unlocked. I'm going downstairs to scout the place, maybe map out an escape route in case we need one."
Fine. The less she saw of Special Agent Carver the better. She went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water for the bath, desperate to get out of the stifling suit
"Tomorrow is Friday. Every Friday, Victor Borian comes into town to do business. He eats at the same restaurant, where I will happily float by like the ghost I'm supposed to be. This Friday night, he attends the Governor's Ball. I will be conveniently seated at his table. I meet him, and by the power vested in me as a dead ringer for his dearly departed wife, I lasso him, reel him in, and as we used to say in Ruby, Texas, hog-tie Mm 'til the rope burns. Oh, and don't forget, let him poke me if he wants."
"That's enough." Finn grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "You may not take this seriously, but I guarantee Borian will. He's interested in two things: money and power. And don't think for a minute he won't crush you in order to protect them."
For half a minute, she saw genuine concern in his eyes. The sight startled her.
"Afraid of losing me, Sharkman?"
His eyes iced over. "I'm not going to let your adolescent self-destractiveness put this operation in danger."
"Oh."
Don't be stupid, party girl. J. Edgar Hoover Jr. here doesn't give a damn about you.
Finn released her and slumped against his seat. He was sweating again. Christ, he was always sweating when he was around her. The last thirty-six hours had been sheer torture. In spite of everything he knew about her, his fingers still itched to touch her, feel the soft expanse of curve and skin. Every time he thought about Victor Borian getting near her, he wanted to punch something.
And she knew it, damn her.
Now he not only had to worry about stifling his response to her, he had to worry about stifling her recklessness. He was responsible for the case, which meant he was responsible for her. Somehow he had to keep her safe, even when everything indicated she dittn't want to be safe.
If she didn't give a damn, why the hell should he?
Because she'll endanger the mission.
Yeah, right.
He heard Roper's voice inside his head. Try being nice to her instead of your usual charming self.
Being nice meant caring. And he'd already served his time in that army.
* * *
They flew into Helena a little after seven. As the plane approached the city, Angelina could see it laid out in a broad valley between mountains and deep rolling hills. Trapped between two weighty forces, just as she was.
They secured their luggage and caught a cab to the hotel. Ensconced in the backseat, she tried not to think about tomorrow, when she would see Victor Borian and set their scheme in motion. An electric tingle of excitement nested in her chest, as though she were on the verge of stepping off a cliff into either the greatest adventure of her life or certain death. Half of her wanted to take that step, and the other half was terrified. Exhausted by the struggle, and from fencing with Finn, she couldn't wait to arrive at the hotel, shed her government escort, and soak in a tub for hours.
In keeping with her status as a wealthy widow, the TCF had arranged for them to stay in the priciest suite at the Colonial Hotel. Not without a little fuss, of course, because it was expensive, but Borian always stayed in the best when traveling, and Finn thought Angelina should do the same.
When they got to the room, she couldn't help but be glad. The hotel was no Trump Tower-Helena had no high-rise accommodations-but the VIP suite at the Colonial was spaciously designed with a living area, dining area, wet bar, a large bedroom with private bath, and an adjoining bedroom. Plenty of room so they wouldn't knock into each other. Finn poked his head into both of the bedrooms, then nodded toward the one attached to the suite.
"You take the room in here," he said. "I'll take the adjoining bedroom, but keep the door between unlocked. I'm going downstairs to scout the place, maybe map out an escape route in case we need one."
Fine. The less she saw of Special Agent Carver the better. She went into the bathroom and turned on the hot water for the bath, desperate to get out of the stifling suit
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