Page 49 of Edge of Secrets

“They dry out.” There was laughter in her voice. “Do you think I would’ve filled your pockets with something that turns to slime?”

“I can’t wait for your shift to end,” I told her.

“Me neither. Bye.”

I tried to concentrate, but all the urgent, pressing business that grimly occupied me on every other day seemed trivial today—a whole lot less interesting, too.

And I called Nell so often, she started to snap at me and hang up on me—but always with laughter in her voice. I’d never been the type who had any luck making girls laugh before, but I finally understood why guys worked so hard at it. It was an irresistible feeling. I’d do any crazy thing to get that gurgle of laughter out of her.

Meetings, conference calls. Seconds ticked by—heavily, laboriously. My employees were acting strange, too. I caught several whispering conversations, cut off when I walked by. Smothered bursts of laughter. Bruce had a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. It would’ve bugged the shit out of me if I hadn’t been in this altered state.

Gant called in the afternoon, and that snapped me right into razor-sharp mode. He was with his buddy Braxton, another ex-agent from our NSA days, a guy who now ran a security outfit. He was expensive as all fuck, but I arranged for Nell’s apartment to be bug swept as soon as I got access to a set of keys.

Not that I intended for her to spend any more time there. Not safe. Or particularly comfortable, either.

I had a nice big extra room in my apartment that was still empty. All her bookcases would fit into it, plus a desk, a chair—a couch, even. Nell’s studio. I loved the very thought of it.

Anything Braxton could reveal would inform us about our opponent’s resources and agenda. That made it well worth every penny. The thought of having that conversation with Nell made me nervous, but hey. I would be as charming as I knew how to be. Which wasn’t saying a lot, but hell, a guy could try.

At ten to five p.m., I just gave in to it. It was hours earlier than I usually left, but I wasn’t getting a damn thing done around here. I might as well head to the Sunset Grill, park my ass there, and make sure she didn’t leave the place alone—personally.

Nell was scheduled to work for three hours on the game texts with Bruce, from six until nine. That was ridiculous, considering that she’d just come off a long shift of waitressing. She pushed herself way too hard. I could pull rank, tell Bruce it wasn’t happening tonight. Insist that she cut out early, considering all of last night’s drama. We could grab dinner somewhere before we met her sisters at the Irish pub. That was an encounter I tried not to think about. I didn’t want social anxiety to kill my buzz, and it absolutely could. I wasn’t great in groups. Hell, I wasn’t great one-on-one either, most of the time.

And I had to shut down this line of thought right fucking now.

I was kissed by the gods and found a good parking spot not too far from the Sunset Grill. I went in, heart thudding, and scanned the place until I saw her, swathed in her sunset orange apron, hair twisted up and corkscrewing around her face. She looked pale, tired, harassed. And freaking drop-dead beautiful.

She glanced over at me and promptly bumped into a table. I was at her side in two steps, reaching to steady her tray, but she pulled back with a hiss of warning, spilling half a bowl of French onion soup.

“Nope! Thanks, but I can manage. What the hell are you doing here? It’s early!”

“It’s a restaurant, right? Don’t I have the right to come in here?”

“Yes, of course,” she said, biting her lower lip. “But all the tables are full. You can wait fifteen minutes for one, or you can sit at the counter.”

I seated myself at the free stool at the end of the counter. The place was hopping, with late lunchers and early diners everywhere. Nell and a red-headed girl were the only servers, and both were running frantically. I watched Nell grace her clients with her luminous smile, carrying loaded trays that looked far too heavy for her. She sneaked the occasional glance at me, and some minutes later she made it back to me with the coffeepot.

“Stop staring,” she whispered. “It’s making me nervous.”

“What’s with you?” I asked as she poured my coffee. “You seem tense.”

“Oh, am I?” She snorted. “Hah. It’s nothing. Business as usual. Money problems. Credit card debt. A bugged apartment. Armed kidnappers shoving me into a car. Nights of wild monkey sex with a hot but overbearing man who’s practically a stranger to me. Then I get to work and discover that not only does Kendra have one of her weird illnesses, but Pete broke his toe, so we’re short-staffed. And now you’re here, staring at me the way a hungry cheetah stares at a zebra. Other than that, I’m fine. Let me take your order. Strip steak, I presume?”

“No. Actually, I ordered out for lunch a few hours ago,” I told her.

Her eyebrow lifted. “Oh. Then why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you,” I said. “I couldn’t wait anymore.”

Nell bit her luscious lower lip, a blush warming her cheeks. “Well. That’s lovely, Duncan, and I appreciate it, but we have an eight-dollar minimum during the dinner shift.”

“More coffee,” I said. “And my usual dessert. I fully intend to burn it off later.”

She gave me a disapproving look. “You should try something new. I think today I’ve earned the right to insist on it.” She marched away.

“So. You’re the one, eh?” a gravelly female voice said.

I looked across the counter into the clear gray eyes of a strong-jawed, wide-hipped lady of about seventy, the one who was usually in the kitchen. “Excuse me? What one?”

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