might be Nash. Or mud. The two were apparently synonymous. Decker’s message to Jimmy was loud and clear, even without the pointed look.
The office telephone rang. “Excuse me,” Paoletti said, and picked it up. “Paoletti.”
Jimmy took the opportunity to lean toward Deck. “I’d like to point out that, also as a rule, you never get laid.”
Deck didn’t bother to respond.
“Great,” Paoletti said into the phone. “I’ll be right there to let you in.” He pushed himself to his feet and dropped another bomb, this one of devastating proportions. “Tess Bailey’s out front. Her flight got in early.”
Jimmy didn’t so much as blink. Mentally, he’d jumped out of his seat and run right through the wall into the back parking lot—like Wile E. Coyote used to do on the Road Runner—leaving behind a hole in the shape of a desperately fleeing man. Physically though, he didn’t move an eyelash.
“That fast enough for you, Chief?” Paoletti smiled at Decker.
As the former SEAL CO vanished into the outer office, Decker turned and looked at Jimmy. His eyes were decidedly chilly.
“You didn’t call her after we left the Agency, did you?” Deck guessed correctly, although it was a mystery how he suddenly knew that. Because Jimmy was still not reacting to Tess’s unexpected appearance. Not at all. Nothing, nada, zip. No expression whatsoever. “You didn’t tell her where you were going, you just left town, no word.”
It was pointless to lie. “Yeah.” Crap, how was he going to handle this?
“You are such an asshole.” Deck was going to be no help. He was genuinely pissed at Jimmy.
It didn’t happen often, but when it did—look out.
“Yeah, I know.” He
was
an asshole. Had he really thought he’d simply never run into Tess again? Had he honestly believed it would be that easy?
“You know what I never do?” Deck said flatly. “I never find myself in the awkward situation of having to work with someone I’ve screwed, both literally and figuratively. Jesus, Nash.”
Jimmy could hear Tess’s voice in the outer office—her laughter as she responded to the lower rumble of Paoletti’s voice. Shit.
Shit.
Any second she was going to walk in here and . . .
“You don’t have to worry,” Decker told him. “Not right now, anyway. She’s a professional—she’s going to behave like a professional. It’s later, when she gets you alone—”
Oh, Holy Christ. “Don’t let her get me alone.” Jimmy broke down and begged.
“Fuck you,” Decker said, and actually meant it. He stood up, headed toward the door that led to the outer office. “I’m not just going to
let
it happen, asshole. I’m going to help set it up.”
“No, Deck, listen,” Jimmy said. “You don’t get it. . . .”
But what could he possibly say to make Decker understand when he himself didn’t even fully comprehend the reason he’d run so hard and fast from Tess?
But Decker wasn’t waiting for him to try to explain the inexplicable.
He was already gone.
C HAPTER
F OUR
Decker intercepted Tess and Paoletti before they came into the conference room.
“Hey, Tess,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. “How’ve you been?”
She was surprised to see him. Genuinely pleased, too, with a wide smile that was sincere. “Lawrence Decker! I didn’t expect to see you in San Diego.”
She took his breath away, she looked so good. Healthy, with high energy. Happy. As if she hadn’t spent the past two months pining away after Nash. Of course, maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed when he’d left.
Her brown hair was cut short—even shorter than it had been that night she and Nash had saved his ass at that strip club outside of D.C. She was dressed more formally now in a feminine version of a business suit, a crisp white shirt buttoned nearly to her throat. It was a far cry from those half-undone jeans and nothing else, but okay, thinking about that was seriously inappropriate right now.
The office telephone rang. “Excuse me,” Paoletti said, and picked it up. “Paoletti.”
Jimmy took the opportunity to lean toward Deck. “I’d like to point out that, also as a rule, you never get laid.”
Deck didn’t bother to respond.
“Great,” Paoletti said into the phone. “I’ll be right there to let you in.” He pushed himself to his feet and dropped another bomb, this one of devastating proportions. “Tess Bailey’s out front. Her flight got in early.”
Jimmy didn’t so much as blink. Mentally, he’d jumped out of his seat and run right through the wall into the back parking lot—like Wile E. Coyote used to do on the Road Runner—leaving behind a hole in the shape of a desperately fleeing man. Physically though, he didn’t move an eyelash.
“That fast enough for you, Chief?” Paoletti smiled at Decker.
As the former SEAL CO vanished into the outer office, Decker turned and looked at Jimmy. His eyes were decidedly chilly.
“You didn’t call her after we left the Agency, did you?” Deck guessed correctly, although it was a mystery how he suddenly knew that. Because Jimmy was still not reacting to Tess’s unexpected appearance. Not at all. Nothing, nada, zip. No expression whatsoever. “You didn’t tell her where you were going, you just left town, no word.”
It was pointless to lie. “Yeah.” Crap, how was he going to handle this?
“You are such an asshole.” Deck was going to be no help. He was genuinely pissed at Jimmy.
It didn’t happen often, but when it did—look out.
“Yeah, I know.” He
was
an asshole. Had he really thought he’d simply never run into Tess again? Had he honestly believed it would be that easy?
“You know what I never do?” Deck said flatly. “I never find myself in the awkward situation of having to work with someone I’ve screwed, both literally and figuratively. Jesus, Nash.”
Jimmy could hear Tess’s voice in the outer office—her laughter as she responded to the lower rumble of Paoletti’s voice. Shit.
Shit.
Any second she was going to walk in here and . . .
“You don’t have to worry,” Decker told him. “Not right now, anyway. She’s a professional—she’s going to behave like a professional. It’s later, when she gets you alone—”
Oh, Holy Christ. “Don’t let her get me alone.” Jimmy broke down and begged.
“Fuck you,” Decker said, and actually meant it. He stood up, headed toward the door that led to the outer office. “I’m not just going to
let
it happen, asshole. I’m going to help set it up.”
“No, Deck, listen,” Jimmy said. “You don’t get it. . . .”
But what could he possibly say to make Decker understand when he himself didn’t even fully comprehend the reason he’d run so hard and fast from Tess?
But Decker wasn’t waiting for him to try to explain the inexplicable.
He was already gone.
C HAPTER
F OUR
Decker intercepted Tess and Paoletti before they came into the conference room.
“Hey, Tess,” he said, holding out his hand for her to shake. “How’ve you been?”
She was surprised to see him. Genuinely pleased, too, with a wide smile that was sincere. “Lawrence Decker! I didn’t expect to see you in San Diego.”
She took his breath away, she looked so good. Healthy, with high energy. Happy. As if she hadn’t spent the past two months pining away after Nash. Of course, maybe she hadn’t. Maybe she hadn’t even noticed when he’d left.
Her brown hair was cut short—even shorter than it had been that night she and Nash had saved his ass at that strip club outside of D.C. She was dressed more formally now in a feminine version of a business suit, a crisp white shirt buttoned nearly to her throat. It was a far cry from those half-undone jeans and nothing else, but okay, thinking about that was seriously inappropriate right now.
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