Classified by Debra Webb

trick of some sort? What if their employers were mortal enemies? This could get complicated fast. “I’d have to know who you’re working for first.”
    He held out his hands, palms up. “That’s one thing I can’t give you.”
    Casey’s jaw dropped. That was ridiculous. “You want to work together but you can’t tell me who sent you?” Totally unacceptable.
    “All right.” He put his hands on his lean hips. “Tell me who you’re working for and I’ll do the same.”
    Her shoulders tensed. Classified, Lucas had said. “Sorry.” They were at an impasse. “I can’t do that. But,” she added quickly, “only because I’m under strict orders from my employer. Not because the information is relevant to you.” All true. Not that she owed him an explanation.
    Stark glanced over his shoulder and considered the lay of the land in the direction of the road then settled his attention back on her. He shrugged. “Well, we’re headed the same way.”
    “We are.” An entirely exaggerated awareness of him had her pulse speeding up again.
    “No reason we can’t walk together,” he suggested.
    “No reason at all,” she allowed.
    He gestured in the direction they’d come in a dead run from the bad guy. “Ladies first.”
    Shoulders squared, she stalked past him. He caught up with her and draped his jacket over her shoulders, all without missing a step.
    “You look cold.”
    She stopped and glared at him. “I’m fine.” She offered his jacket back to him.
    Instead of grabbing it, he took his time rolling down the sleeves of his shirt, first one, then the other. “It’s a long walk back to Fernandez’s place. It’s pretty cold out here.”
    Casey exhaled a lungful of frustration. “Fine. Fine. Fine.” She dragged on the jacket, sliding her arms into the too-long sleeves. His scent immediately invaded her nostrils… His body heat still warmed the inside of the jacket.
    Dear God! What was wrong with her?
    She marched forward, ignoring the man and the assault on her senses.
    He fell into step beside her. “Thanks for rescuing me back there.”
    “Not a problem.”
    “Nice panties, by the way.”
    She kept walking. He was lucky. Really lucky she didn’t have a gun in her hand.
    If he survived until daylight he would be even luckier.

Chapter Six
     
    Outside, Paulo Fernandez’s home and landscape remained as rustic as when he’d purchased the abandoned mining hacienda. But inside, he’d clearly spent extravagantly to create a retreat suitable for a royal. Too bad he was anything but royal.
    The two goofballs who had been charged with disposing of Casey and Stark were evidently groveling for forgiveness. Casey watched through a window near the front of the house as the two cowered in the center of the great room while Fernandez paced back and forth across the stone floor ranting and waving his arms like a dictator. There seemed to be little pleasure in paradise. If those two thought Fernandez was giving them a hard time, just wait until Casey got her turn. She hadn’t looked forward to getting even this much since her last field assignment for the Agency.
    Irritation rumbled in her belly at the idea that she’d been assigned to a desk for the last six months. Yeah, she’d almost taken a bullet a few times—three to be exact—in her two years of field service prior to that. The last time didn’t count in her opinion since the bullet had scarcely grazed its target. But the powers that be had labeled her reckless.
    Was it her fault the hostage had gotten injured during retrieval? Not at all. The guy had been a spoiled brat of a prince who hadn’t grown up in twenty-five years. He should have followed her orders. Then there wouldn’t have been an almost international incident. And he wouldn’t have needed a Band-Aid for the scrape he’d suffered.
    Casey kicked the frustrating thoughts aside. Maybe this vacation—that was what her superiors at the Agency thought she was doing—would demonstrate