Page 4 of Controlled Chaos

Chapter 3

Porter

Porter studiedClara as she stood in line. She was perfect for what he needed. His brother-in-law had been right.

The kiss had been a surprise, and with it, the realization that Fillpot really hadn’t given Clara any clues as to what he needed.

She returned with three more cups of coffee, a stack of napkins, and a pen. She put two coffees in front of her and one in front of him. Retaking her seat, she sighed and plastered on a fake smile. “Okay, then.”

“Did my brother-in-law tell you anything about me?” he asked, needing to know where to start.

“No, but it seems Fillpot has been playing things pretty close to his chest.”

Porter could hear the strain in her voice and the underlying subtext of her words. It bothered her.

He held out his hand, feeling a bit stupid after the kiss they’d just shared. “FBI Special Agent Porter Anderson. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Clara’s cheeks blushed as she shook his hand. “Clara Bennett, and I’m sorry for the…”

“Don’t be. It’s good we got that out of the way.” He winked. Then immediately regretted it. He was coming off like an arrogant ass, and that was the opposite of how he’d wanted this to go.

“Sorry,” he amended.

The crinkles around her eyes gave way to confusion. Reading people was his job. Reading her confusion was easy, unlike the way she’d surprised him with the kiss. He hadn’t been expecting that. The realization he didn’t see it coming confused him back into the here and now.

“This is all coming out wrong.” He cleared his throat and ignored the coffee, folding his arms on the table. “Let me catch you up to speed. See, I told my brother-in-law last night at dinner that I was being sent out of town for my next assignment.”

Clara sipped her coffee and held his gaze all the while doodling on a napkin without ever looking down. Porter couldn’t help but glance to see what in the world she was drawing.

Tiny symbols covered the napkin’s surface, which had a couple small tears where she’d pressed too hard with her pen. Was that a nervous habit or one of her abilities? He held in his questions and met her gaze again.

“I explained to him that it consisted of me getting close to a target we’ve been watching for months. The man in question isn’t showing any signs of deception, even though the FBI believes he’s the man we’re looking for.”

“Interesting as that sounds, what does that have to do with you being here? You may have blinded me to how this started, but I know how it ends.”

His lips twitched. “Fillpot told me he had the perfect agent to go with me.” Porter lifted his cup. “And that person is you.”

Skepticism clouded her eyes. “I’m not an agent.”

“I know, but you are on his team, and the way he tells it, you have a unique ability that can help me.”

“He told you I was special?” She asked. Her tone turned accusatory as she narrowed her eyes.

“That kiss told me you were special. He told me you have abilities.” Porter meant it. He wouldn’t apologize for that one.

Pink tinted her cheeks as her lips jerked down into a frown. Most women enjoyed compliments, not that Porter doled them out often, but Clara’s scowl told him she was less than amused.

“Abilities that obviously don’t work when I’m around you. Case in point, in all the times this has played out in my head, I never once saw you standing in line in front of me.”

“Yes, well.” He sat back, contemplating her statement. “He must believe you can help me in some other way.”

“Porter Anderson, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I’m afraid I can’t help you” Clara said the weight of his full name as if trying to flip the professional switch again. She rose from the table, and her face softened before her gaze dropped to his lips.

She couldn’t un-flip that switch no matter how hard she tried. She couldn’t take back the heated kiss. It would linger in his mind long after she was gone. “You don’t even know the assignment.”

“I don’t need to know what it is. I only know that I can’t help you. So, I’m afraid my answer is no.”

“I appreciate your honesty,” Porter said, when, in reality, he would have handcuffed her and tied her to the chair to make her hear him out. Something in his gut told him that was the wrong move to make. Her answer was unacceptable, but he’d find a way to get her to change her mind. He needed her, and hearing her tell him no confirmed just how much she was the right choice.

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