The Cinderella Mission. Catherine Mann
Muddled memories quickly followed of the kidnapping attempt gone wrong that had left his parents dead and Ethan alone except for his father’s sister. He ached to know every detail his mind hadn’t been able to absorb at five years old.
Hatch’s words slowly filtered through the memories. Why would a simple kidnapping attempt on a Fortune 500 offspring warrant CIA classified status?
“Finish this for me, and it’s yours.”
To some it might seem cruel for Hatch to hold that file just out of Ethan’s reach. But he knew the rules of the office and that included nixing emotions to get the job done. He respected the man’s use of all weapons at his disposal, even as he longed to wrestle the file from the director’s desk.
Ethan’s elusive edge returned with a full burn. “I see now how you rose to your position.”
Hatch’s hand fell to rest on the edge of a potted plant beside his desk. “Family is everything.”
Kelly charged toward her cubicle, tears and anger battling for domination. Anger won by a long shot.
How dare Ethan try to ruin her chance with his poorly disguised—hell, blatant—disdain at the prospect of working with her?
She wanted to kick him right in his overblown ego. Instead, she took out her frustrations on her office furniture. She yanked her chair away from her government-issue metal desk and flopped down. A wall calendar grinned back at her with a dimple-butted angel.
Kelly ripped a Post-it Note off a pad and slapped it over Cupid’s face so hard the divider walls shook.
“Problems, sugar?”
Kelly inched her chair back to look at the woman in the next cubicle. “Not really, Carla. Thanks for asking, though.”
No one would suspect the willowy brunette punching away on the keyboard had once been a field operative—until a bullet to the back during dark ops in eastern Europe had left her in a wheelchair. Now she worked with Kelly in the operational support division, developing high-tech toys for the agents she used to stand alongside.
Carla always insisted she enjoyed her new position since operational support had direct contact with field agents, a fact that had soothed Kelly through two years of waiting for her chance. Hundreds of agency workers never knew the identity of a single agent. In fact, many agents never knew other agents.
All the same, Kelly knew that hadn’t stopped the yearning in Carla to step into the field any more than it had in her. Suddenly Kelly felt damned small for being angry when she had the very thing Carla wanted. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”
“Men can be a real pain.”
“Men?”
“I couldn’t help but notice Ethan Williams joined your meeting. I assume he’s the reason you’re out of sorts.”
Carla Juarez’s pitying look stoked Kelly’s temper back to life. This ridiculous crush had gone on long enough.
With impeccable timing, Ethan rounded the corner. Of course, he would choose now to make his appearance.
And walk toward her.
There’d been a day when she’d waited for him to lounge on the corner of her desk. She’d lived for the occasional invitation to join him for a sandwich in the cafeteria where they would discuss his latest overseas jaunt. Not today.
Not anymore.
Ethan cruised to a stop beside her. The spicy mix of aftershave and masculine sweat wafted her way. Her heart pitched. Damn.
“Kelly, I guess we should get together and review before meeting with Director Hatch later.” He sat on the corner of her desk like countless times before.
“Whatever you say.” She scraped stray paper clips into her hand and dumped them into the magnetic holder as if cleaning her desk might somehow restore her chaotic emotions to order. “You’re the hotshot agent. I’m just a desk jockey.”
Confusion flashed in those sapphire eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
The docu-binder suddenly looked like a not-so-shabby weapon after all if she used it to clock him upside his thick head. She spun her chair to meet him face on—and came a little too close to his knees for her comfort level. “Could you have been any more obvious in there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Quit being dense.” She inched her chair back. “You know exactly what I mean.”
His face blanked. “Help me out here.”
She forged ahead. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me?”
Still he didn’t move or speak. No emotion showed at all, darn his strong, stubborn chin. He was going to make her spell it out.
“That you don’t want to work with me.”
He scooped up her Eiffel Tower paperweight, studying it as if the snowglobe held answers. “You’re a top-notch informations agent, but you’re still operational support. You’re a rookie in field craft. If you can’t pull your own load, it puts me in danger.”
That gave her pause. The story of the mythological Aries teased through her mind, how the ram was sacrificed after his mission to save the Greek twins. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Ethan died or ended up with a bullet in his back because of her. Old insecurities marched over her.
Careful, Kelly. You know how easily you break things.
Watch your step, Kelly. Don’t trample Mama’s flowers.
After a litany of warnings, the dance had left her feet altogether until she found her sedentary refuge in books, the one place she never stumbled.
Cubicle walls threatened to close in on her with a familiar loneliness. Something she refused to let happen again. She wasn’t thirteen anymore, and no one would ever steal the dance from her steps again.
Kelly snatched the paperweight from Ethan and slammed it on her desk. Did he even remember he’d bought it for her? Was he laughing inside over her keeping it?
She launched to her feet. “Director Hatch wouldn’t have put me on the assignment if he didn’t have faith in my abilities.”
The cubicle closed in on them both now in a totally different way. She tried to inch away from the insistent heat of him radiating toward her belly.
Kelly backed farther until she bumped the wall. A picture on the other side rattled, then thumped. Kelly winced at her clumsiness. She would apologize to Carla later.
Ethan rose from the desk, brows pinched and his eyes filled with concern or sympathy. She didn’t know which but couldn’t bear either.
She’d had enough of that from Carla and everyone else in the office. No more hiding behind her hair and her fears. Kelly flipped the too-convenient camouflage of her brown mane over one shoulder and met him nose-to-nose.
Well, nose-to-neck actually, given their height difference. “Can’t you at least be honest with me?”
“About what?”
Damn him, always the agent on the job answering a question with a question. She would give him some answers guaranteed to knock him on his fine butt. “About why you don’t want to work with me.”
His jaw flexed with his gritted teeth for a few telling seconds too long.
Fine. She wanted it out there and acknowledged so they could sweep it away. “It’s because of that ridiculous moment before you left for Gastonia.”
His head angled toward her, his voice lowering. “Kelly, there’s no need to—”
“My work is the most important thing in my life.” This assignment offered hope for finding her voice. She refused to give ground, even though the scent and heat of him swirled through her