Decker was certain that a perceptive woman could always tell when a man was remembering what she looked like naked.
And Tess was extremely perceptive.
“Yeah,” he said, thinking instead about Nash sitting in that conference room. “We just flew in this morning.”
She picked up on that
we
, and her expression changed. It was subtle—she was good at masking it—but her entire body seemed to tense. So much for hoping that she hadn’t noticed when Nash left.
God damn Nash. Deck promised himself to take the son of a bitch into the sparring ring as soon as possible—and beat the shit out of him, under pretense of physical training.
Of course, Decker would get equally thrashed, but maybe he deserved it, too. He should have said something to Nash three years ago, when Tess first came to work at support. Something like, “Hey, I really like this one.”
And then Nash would’ve kept his hands off of her.
Of course, so would’ve Decker.
Because Nash was right about one thing. Refusing to mix work and sex, and then working 24/7, pretty much meant a total lack of sex.
Decker was going to have to do something about that in the very near future.
Right now he turned to Tom Paoletti. “If you want, Nash and I could step outside for a while, let you talk to Tess privately.”
This was the equivalent of a job interview for her. He tried to imagine doing an interview with Emily in the room. Well, okay, bad example, because on some levels he’d been relieved when she’d moved out of their apartment. But still . . .
“No, let’s keep you part of this,” Commander Paoletti said, leading the way back into the conference room.
Deck watched as Tess braced herself. She took a deep breath, stuck a pleasant smile on her face, and . . .
Nash was on his feet, looking equally casual, hands in his pockets. He greeted Tess with a completely impersonal smile. “Tess Bailey. What a surprise.”
“I bet,” she said. “How are you? How was Mexico?”
As Decker watched, something flickered in her eyes, and he knew she’d just realized that she’d given something vital away.
Nash hadn’t told her he was going to Mexico. Which meant that she’d cared enough to look for him after he’d left.
Deck could see from the way Nash was standing, from his “Oh, uh . . . It was . . . uh, great,” that he’d picked up on that info, too.
He wondered if Nash had taken Tess’s seemingly innocent question one step further and realized that not only had she looked for him, but she was good enough to find him.
And intelligent enough not to pursue him.
“That’s . . . great,” Tess said. “You look like you got some rest. I’m glad.”
She really meant it. She really
was
glad.
Decker couldn’t have loved his partner more if he were his own brother, but never before had he wanted quite so badly to break Nash’s nose.
But then he looked over and realized that Nash knew she meant it, too. And the son of a bitch was actually shaken. Tess and Commander Paoletti probably didn’t notice it, but Decker sure as hell did.
And wasn’t
that
interesting? Nash. Shaken.
They all sat down, and Decker sat back and watched everyone’s body language as Paoletti—as easygoing and relaxed as ever—explained about the earthquake and the missing laptop. Tess—feigning casual comfort and sitting in a position that signaled she was interested in this job and open to all possibilities—asked questions and made comments that let them all know she was completely up to speed on both al-Qaeda and Kazbekistan, and entirely capable of holding her own as a member of the team.
Nash was very, very quiet. Normally never going for long without some comment or joke, he simply sat and listened while Tess answered Paoletti’s inquiries about why she’d left the Agency, about her training, about her background.
He was completely motionless and closed. Legs and arms crossed, shoulders tight. He looked as if he might explode, if someone held a burning
And Tess was extremely perceptive.
“Yeah,” he said, thinking instead about Nash sitting in that conference room. “We just flew in this morning.”
She picked up on that
we
, and her expression changed. It was subtle—she was good at masking it—but her entire body seemed to tense. So much for hoping that she hadn’t noticed when Nash left.
God damn Nash. Deck promised himself to take the son of a bitch into the sparring ring as soon as possible—and beat the shit out of him, under pretense of physical training.
Of course, Decker would get equally thrashed, but maybe he deserved it, too. He should have said something to Nash three years ago, when Tess first came to work at support. Something like, “Hey, I really like this one.”
And then Nash would’ve kept his hands off of her.
Of course, so would’ve Decker.
Because Nash was right about one thing. Refusing to mix work and sex, and then working 24/7, pretty much meant a total lack of sex.
Decker was going to have to do something about that in the very near future.
Right now he turned to Tom Paoletti. “If you want, Nash and I could step outside for a while, let you talk to Tess privately.”
This was the equivalent of a job interview for her. He tried to imagine doing an interview with Emily in the room. Well, okay, bad example, because on some levels he’d been relieved when she’d moved out of their apartment. But still . . .
“No, let’s keep you part of this,” Commander Paoletti said, leading the way back into the conference room.
Deck watched as Tess braced herself. She took a deep breath, stuck a pleasant smile on her face, and . . .
Nash was on his feet, looking equally casual, hands in his pockets. He greeted Tess with a completely impersonal smile. “Tess Bailey. What a surprise.”
“I bet,” she said. “How are you? How was Mexico?”
As Decker watched, something flickered in her eyes, and he knew she’d just realized that she’d given something vital away.
Nash hadn’t told her he was going to Mexico. Which meant that she’d cared enough to look for him after he’d left.
Deck could see from the way Nash was standing, from his “Oh, uh . . . It was . . . uh, great,” that he’d picked up on that info, too.
He wondered if Nash had taken Tess’s seemingly innocent question one step further and realized that not only had she looked for him, but she was good enough to find him.
And intelligent enough not to pursue him.
“That’s . . . great,” Tess said. “You look like you got some rest. I’m glad.”
She really meant it. She really
was
glad.
Decker couldn’t have loved his partner more if he were his own brother, but never before had he wanted quite so badly to break Nash’s nose.
But then he looked over and realized that Nash knew she meant it, too. And the son of a bitch was actually shaken. Tess and Commander Paoletti probably didn’t notice it, but Decker sure as hell did.
And wasn’t
that
interesting? Nash. Shaken.
They all sat down, and Decker sat back and watched everyone’s body language as Paoletti—as easygoing and relaxed as ever—explained about the earthquake and the missing laptop. Tess—feigning casual comfort and sitting in a position that signaled she was interested in this job and open to all possibilities—asked questions and made comments that let them all know she was completely up to speed on both al-Qaeda and Kazbekistan, and entirely capable of holding her own as a member of the team.
Nash was very, very quiet. Normally never going for long without some comment or joke, he simply sat and listened while Tess answered Paoletti’s inquiries about why she’d left the Agency, about her training, about her background.
He was completely motionless and closed. Legs and arms crossed, shoulders tight. He looked as if he might explode, if someone held a burning
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