Mission: Irresistible

Chapter 3

Despite the well-lit grounds surrounding the hotel, East headed directly for the shadows, taking Ally with him. In a way, she understood his need to walk in darkness. In their business, anonymity was often the difference between life and death, and even though East no longer put his life on the line on a daily basis, old habits obviously died hard.

“Is this the way to the beach?”

He stopped and turned, a shadowy silhouette against the night.

“No. Would you rather go down to the beach?”

She started to deny his question, then convinced herself that truth, at least as far as she could take it, would probably work better between them.

“Yes, actually I would, if it’s not too much trouble?”

From the tone of his voice, she thought he smiled.

“Trouble? To walk on a beach in the moonlight with a beautiful woman? Ms. Corbin, you crush my ego.”

Ally stifled a snort of disbelief. “I’m sorry, Mr. Kirby, but your reputation precedes you. From what I’ve been told, both your ego and reputation are indestructible.”

When he answered, the smile was gone from his voice.

“If only that were so,” he said, then took her by the arm. “Allow me. The steps are lit, but uneven. And when we get to the beach, I’m afraid those shoes you’re wearing will be more of a hindrance than help.”

Thankful for the cover of darkness, Ally rolled her eyes at her own stupidity. She’d royally botched her first opportunity to do what she’d come to do. She was supposed to talk him into returning to work for Jonah, not remind him of why he quit in the first place. When his fingers curled around the flesh of her upper arm, she swallowed nervously, picturing the way they’d looked curling around that fragile stem on his wineglass. Long. Strong. Deadly.

As they descended the well-lit steps to the beach below, the silence between them was awkward, but when they reached the sand and Ally bent down to take off her shoes, something changed. Maybe it was the sound of rolling surf, or the path of moonlight stretching upon the water. And maybe, it was just the fact that in that moment, Ally quit thinking about why she’d come and began to focus on where she was. She turned, staring in awe at the luminous majesty before her.

“How beautiful.”

“Yes…beautiful,” East said.

Ally was so caught up in the view, she didn’t realize that he was staring at her and not the moon.

Time passed. The moon climbed higher in the night sky and the wind rose with it. A sense of sadness came upon her, knowing that this night and the spell of it all would never come again in quite the same way. Impulsively, she took a step toward the ocean, but East’s grip on her arm tightened, and he held her back.

“It’s too cold,” he said softly.

She started to argue. All she’d wanted was to feel the pull of the ocean against her feet to see if it matched the rhythm of her heart, and then she realized that coddling a flight of fancy was not why she’d come. And, since she’d already broken the tenuous connection they’d made with her thoughtless remark earlier, she felt obliged to call it a night.

“Of course, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It’s late and I’m sure you have more important things to do than baby-sit me.” She handed him his sports coat. “Thank you for the loan. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

East found himself holding his jacket as Ally bolted toward the steps leading back to the hotel.

“Well, hell,” East muttered, then followed her ascent, but by the time he entered the lobby, she was nowhere in sight.

East’s sleepless night was exacerbated by the turmoil to which he awoke the next morning. Both a knock on his door and the frantic ringing of both his cell phone and telephone had him on his feet and grabbing for a pair of sweats before he’d barely opened his eyes. He grabbed the cell phone on the way to the door, growling a response into the receiver as he unlocked the door.

The chef was on the cell phone yelling in his ear as Foster Martin, the assistant manager, dashed inside his apartment with a separate, but equally frustrating problem. He clenched his jaw, motioning for Foster to sit as he turned his attention to the man on his cell phone.

“Please hold a moment, my other phone is ringing.”

He answered the phone on the table without showing his frustration.

“This is Kirby.”

“Mr. Kirby, this is Detweiler.”

East flinched. The only time his head of security called was when there was a problem.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“There’s a woman giving birth in Room two, one, five.”

East groaned. The last time this happened, the woman filed a lawsuit against them for not having a doctor on staff. She didn’t win, but it was a hassle that lasted the better part of six months. He didn’t want a repeat performance.

“You’ve called 9-1-1?”

“They’re on the way.”

“How far along is she?”

Detweiler began to stutter. “Far along? Hell if I know. She’s at the screaming stage, if that’s what you want to know.”

East almost chuckled. If he remembered correctly, Detweiler was a bachelor.

“I don’t suppose there’s a doctor registered?” East asked.

Foster jumped up from where he’d been sitting, waving his hands even more in an attempt to get East’s attention.

“There is, there is,” Foster cried. “His name is Butcher. I remember thinking that would be a terrible name for a doctor to have.”

East gave Foster a nod and then returned to his conversation with his security chief.

“Check with registration. There’s a Doctor Butcher staying here. Get him to the woman’s room asap. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“He’s in three hundred,” Foster said. “I checked him in myself yesterday.”

“Did you hear that?” East asked.

“Yeah, Room three hundred,” Detweiler said, and hung up.

Foster started to speak when East motioned to the cell phone he was still holding.

“Hello, Pete, you still there?” East asked.

A soft curse rolled across East’s eardrum, followed by a burst of anger. “Pierre, Pierre, I told you to call me Pierre. And I do not like to be kept waiting.”

East’s voice lowered. “Look Fullbright, pull that French stuff with someone who hasn’t known you since sixth grade, okay?”

Pete Fullbright cursed once more, with emphasis, then sighed.

“The entire meat shipment is bad. What the hell do you suggest we serve three hundred and forty-four guests today? Hmmm?”

“Call Antonelli’s Meat Market. It’s just a twenty minute drive from here as opposed to the two-hour trip from L.A. Have them deliver whatever they have that’s freshest, and to hell with the cost. We’ll take it out of our regular shipper’s hide later.”

“Bien, bien,” Pete said. “Merci.”

East grinned. “Hey, Pete, you need to practice that accent a little more. It still sounds like you’re saying mercy.”

“Go to hell,” Pete muttered, then added, “…boss. Go to hell, boss.”

“Been there, done that,” East said, and disconnected, turning his attention to the man on his couch. “Now, what’s up with you?”

Foster Martin stood abruptly, his hands fluttering about his chest like a wounded bird trying to find the strength to land.

“The computer is down. At least I think it’s down. Anyway, it won’t come up and we have guests waiting to check out and guests waiting to check in. I’ve already called our usual repair service and they’re on some emergency call on the other side of L.A. Said it would be this afternoon before they can get out here.”

“Then call someone else,” East said, and headed for the kitchenette. Before any other disaster presented itself, he needed fortification in the form of caffeine.

“But…”

East pivoted, staring sharply at the small, pale man and tried to remind himself why he’d ever hired him. Then he frowned, remembering. He was the Attorney General’s nephew and he hadn’t hired him. He’d just appeared one day with a letter of recommendation written on a letterhead he couldn’t ignore.

“Foster, is there a phone book in your desk?”

“Why…yes there is. Do you want to borrow it?” Foster asked, anxious to please.

East bit his lip to keep from shouting. “No, but I want you to use it. Find the yellow pages. Find someone who can work on our specific system, and get them out here, okay?”

“Yes…yes, okay,” Foster said, and bolted toward the door.

“Oh, and Foster…”

He stopped and spun, his hands still fluttering. “Yes?”

“About the guests wanting to check in or out, use a pen and paper and do it like we used to before computers were ever invented.”

“Yes. All right,” he said, and shut the door behind him.

The ensuing silence lasted long enough for East to get his coffee made. As it was perking, he quickly dressed and made a trip to Room two hundred and fifteen to check on the expectant mother. To his relief, he found Doctor Butcher in the act of delivery and a couple of paramedics on their way down the hall, although the young woman was wailing at the top of her voice because her husband was nowhere in sight. It seems he’d gone out for his morning jog and was missing the birth of their first child. At that point, East made a quick call downstairs to send a couple of staffers in search of the man. Once he was certain that everything was under control, he dashed back to his room. After a couple of cups of coffee and a shower and shave, he headed downstairs fully expecting to find chaos at the registration desk. Instead, the desk was almost empty and only the normal ebb and flow of traffic was moving through the lobby. Mildly surprised, he moved behind the counter then into the staff room where the mainframe computer was housed.

Ally looked up from the chair in which she was sitting. “Good morning,” she said, then returned her attention to the computer terminal in front of her.

East’s mouth dropped. “This area is off-limits to the guests,” he said, then remembered who he was talking to and changed the direction of his questions. “What are you doing?”

Her fingers paused on the keys and the look she gave him was just shy of a smirk.

“I think my security clearance is high enough that I can be trusted,” she drawled, then tapped a couple more keys, hit the Save button, and leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile. “There, that should do it.”

“Do what?” East said, moving to look over her shoulder.

She stood. “Keep your system up and running for a few more years.”

“You fixed it?”

She nodded as she moved toward the door. “I’m going to get some breakfast now. That’s where I was going when I saw all the commotion. I offered to help and your assistant, what’s his name…?”

“Foster. Foster Martin.”

“Oh yes, Foster.” She grinned. “He’s not exactly cool under fire, is he?”

East sighed. “Was spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth?”

Her grin widened. “Only the left one.”

“Great,” East muttered, then shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. He glanced at the computer, which seemed to be running normally. “What did you do to it?”

Her smile stilled and she shrugged. “Oh…just dug around a little on the hard drive, punched in a few commands and gave it a new lease on life, so to speak.”

“That’s impossible. There are passwords.”

She folded her hands in front of her like a child about to recite.

“No, it’s not impossible and yes, I know.”

He arched an eyebrow. “So your line of expertise for SPEAR is in computers?”

Ally shook her head. “Not really. They use me mostly for undercover work. Without makeup, I can pass for a teenager pretty easy.”

“Computers are a hobby then?”

The smile on her face kept getting smaller. “No, I just know stuff,” she said, and once again started toward the door. She wanted to get out before he got to the part where he found out that her IQ was bigger than his ego. It always turned men off and she didn’t want to see that happen again. Not now. Not with him.

But East wasn’t going to let go. He caught her by the elbow as she started to pass.

“Stuff? You call that stuff? It took three technicians two days to set up this system. It’s complicated as hell and linked to Monarch’s entire chain of resorts and you not only got into the system, but had it up and running within thirty minutes?”

Ally stopped, her chin lifting as she met his gaze.

“Actually it was about ten. I know things. Lots of things, okay? Can we leave it at that?” Then she quietly pulled away from his grasp.

East hadn’t realized he was still touching her and took a quick step back, aware that he’d invaded her space and even more aware that she didn’t like it.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to be…” He sighed and started over. “Look, I guess what I should be saying is thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She was all the way to the door when his voice stopped her.

“Ally.”

She bit her lip, then turned. “Yes?”

“Intelligence isn’t something to be ashamed of.”

“Intelligence is hardly the word society uses to describe someone like me,” she said, unaware of the anger in her voice.

East moved toward her, touching her shoulder, then dropping his hand. His voice was soft, his gaze compelling. She found herself unable to look away.

“Exactly what do they call someone like you, then?”

“Freak of nature was the favorite phrase at my alma mater.”

“How old were you when you graduated?”

Her gaze turned inward, remembering how ill-equipped she’d been at ten years old to handle the social aspect of higher education.

“From high school…ten. From college…seventeen. But that was with three Ph.D.s and a minor in foreign languages, six to be exact. I was considering another semester or two when SPEAR recruited me. The rest is history.”

East kept looking at her, trying to imagine what it would be like to live with so much knowledge and not go crazy at the rest of the world’s ineptitude. He gave her a long, cursory stare.

“So, what you’re saying is, if I asked real nice, you could do my taxes for me next year without breaking a sweat?”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared hard at his face. “Are you teasing me?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She managed a smile.

He pointed toward the door with his chin. “Still hungry?”

Her stomach grumbled. “Starving.”

“Then follow me. I’ve got an in with the cook. He makes the best waffles this side of St. Louis.”

“Who’s in St. Louis?” she asked as they headed out the door.

“Aunt Dinah. Hers are the best, but don’t tell Pete I said so.”

“Who’s Pete?”

“My fake French chef,” East said. “Do you like them with whipped cream and strawberries, or are you a syrup fan?”

“Actually, I favor peanut butter and grape jelly.”

East grinned. “Order it on the side or Pete will have himself a fit.”

She pursed her lips primly. “Pete needs to learn to savor the finer things in life.”

East laughed aloud.

As they exited the office, a frantic young man in jogging clothes came running through the lobby. He took one look at East and started yelling.

“My wife. My wife. They said she was in labor.”

This would be the missing father, East thought, and took him by the shoulders, fixing him with a calm, steady gaze.

“Take it easy, Dad. She’s fine. There’s a doctor and a couple of paramedics with her now.”

The expression on the man’s face went from shock to joy.

“Dad?”

“I think I heard them say it was a boy,” East said.

“Oh man, oh man. I’m a father. I’m a father,” he cried.

“Yeah, so am I,” East said. “Congratulations.”

The man bolted for the stairs, unwilling to wait for an elevator.

East was still smiling when he turned back to Ally.

“Sorry. It isn’t usually so hectic around here.”

“Compared to my job, this is nothing,” Ally said.

The look on her face made him hurt. He remembered all too well what that job could be like, but before he could comment, his cell phone rang again. Within moments of answering, he began to frown.

“Hang on a minute, please,” he told his caller, then touched Ally’s arm apologetically. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call. Why don’t you head for the terrace. There’s a buffet set up, or you can order for both of us. Either way, I’ll be there shortly.”

“Sure, but what do you want?”

“Just tell the waiter I’ll have my usual.” Then he added. “Don’t wait on me. I wouldn’t want those waffles to get cold.”

“Actually, they’re better that way.”

He shook his head and then chuckled. “Do you have any other interesting habits I should know of?”

“I don’t know,” Ally said. “Exactly what do you think you should know about me?”

East’s smile slipped as his eyes suddenly darkened. “I’m not sure, are you?”

Suddenly, his question took on a whole other meaning. She looked away, and then angry with herself for being so gutless around this man, made herself look at him.

“Around you, I’m not sure of anything.” Then she doubled up her fists and thumped the sides of her legs in frustration. “And, I don’t think I was supposed to tell you something like that. Damn it all to hell, I am not good at this stuff.”

She stomped away, leaving East to make of her outburst what he would. Then he remembered his caller and put the phone back to his ear.

Ally sat on the terrace with her chin in her hands, staring out at the Pacific. This whole thing was a fiasco. Jonah must have been desperate to even consider someone like her for this task. She kept wanting to blurt out the reason she was here and get it over with. Subterfuge was a part of her life, but she’d never used it on one of the “good guys.” Deceiving East didn’t feel right and the longer she played the part of a stressed-out operative, the closer it came to being the truth. If she told him now, the worst that could happen was he’d just tell her to get lost. Then all she had to do was tell Jonah she failed.

She sighed.

Therein lay part of her problem. In all of Ally’s life, she’d never failed at anything, except maybe relationships.

Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she continued to watch the breakers slamming against the rocks. There had to be a way to accomplish this.

A few moments later, a waiter brought her food, with the comment that he would serve East’s order when he arrived.

Ally nodded.

“Will there be anything else?” he asked.

“Not right now,” she said. “Thanks.”