Sharon Sala - Mission - Irresistible

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.”

She reached for the side dish of peanut butter as he walked away and began carefully smearing each square in her waffle with an equal amount of the rich, creamy spread. Once having achieved symmetry, she did the same with the grape jelly until the waffle was all but obliterated beneath the concoction. Then, with a knife and fork, she cut into the waffle, separating a perfect three-square by three-square bite and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled with appreciation as she began to chew.

East stood in the doorway leading out to the terrace, stealing a moment to watch Ally unobserved. At first glance, there wasn’t anything really remarkable about her. She was of average height, without an ounce of spare flesh on her body. Her clothes were ordinary; a pair of navy slacks and a white, linen shirt hanging loose about her hips. Her hair was short and capped her head in a thicket of auburn curls and her eyes were the color of new grass. And yet as he watched her methodically preparing her food, he understood her need for control.

He could only imagine what it must have been like for a child such as she; born with an intelligence beyond understanding into a family that didn’t have time for her, she must have felt like a misfit from the beginning. He didn’t know, but he would guess she’d never had a “best friend” in her life and wondered if, as a child, she’d ever spent the night giggling with other girls or playing with dolls. Being a SPEAR operative wasn’t conducive to gathering close friends, either. Too many secrets that couldn’t be shared.

When she slowly and carefully cut another perfect square of waffle and popped it into her mouth, he was struck by an overwhelming urge to lean over her shoulder and take a great big bite out of the middle of that waffle just to see what she’d do when things went out of control.

At that moment, her waiter stopped at her table and topped off her coffee. When she lifted her head to smile and thank him, East pictured himself leaning down and tasting the peanut butter and jelly waffle on her lips. In spite of how physically resilient he knew she must be, there was something very fragile about her insecure smile and the curve of her cheek.

But he’d been too accustomed to denying himself to do anything so foolish as to get involved with a woman—especially an operative. After what he’d done, he didn’t deserve happiness. It was enough that he was still alive. The kid he’d hit with his car was not.

He shoved aside his personal feelings as he strode to their table and took his seat. “Looks good,” he said, pointing toward the food on her plate as the waiter filled his cup.

“Umm,” she nodded, still chewing.

“Your food is ready, sir,” the waiter said. “I’ll be right back with it.”

“Good, I’m starved,” East said, taking a careful sip of the hot brew in his cup.

Suddenly, Ally gasped as a seagull swooped into their line of vision, filched a piece of left-over toast from a nearby table that had yet to be bussed and then disappeared over the roof of the hotel.

“They’re pests, but this is their territory and there’s little we can do about them if we choose to eat outdoors.”

“I rather like them,” Ally said. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

East watched her pick up her knife and start to cut through her food, again sectioning off that same three-by-three square bite. Her forehead was knotted in serious concentration and she was gripping her knife and fork so hard that her knuckles were almost white. He frowned, believing that she was closer to a breakdown than he first suspected. Instinctively, his need to help her kicked in and he leaned forward.

“Why do you do that?”

She paused and looked up. “Do what?”

He pointed to the waffle. “Cut your food so precisely.”

Startled, she glanced down at her plate then felt herself flushing with embarrassment. Freak. Always a freak.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it’s just a habit.” She laid down the knife and fork and then folded her hands in her lap, her enjoyment of her food suddenly gone.

“Ah, damn, I didn’t mean to upset you,” East muttered.

Ally made herself smile. “Don’t be silly. I don’t get upset.”

That cold, emotionless wall had gone up between them again and East found himself resenting its presence. By God, he was going to get an emotional response from her, even if it was nothing but anger.

“Yes, you do. Everyone does at one time or another.”

Ally bristled. She hadn’t known this man even twenty-four hours and he thought he “knew” what she was thinking?

“Listen, Mr. Kirby, you don’t know me, so how can you sit there and pretend you know my behavior patterns?”

The flush on her face had gone straight to her cheeks. They were fiery with anger, matching the glitter in her eyes. East leaned back in his chair, satisfied with what he’d done. She didn’t know it yet, but she would thank him one day for putting her mind on something besides the hell that had driven her here.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing to the leftover food on her plate.

Prepared for another stinging rebuttal, his question took her off guard. “Umm…I, uh…don’t suppose.”

“Good,” he said, and pulled the plate in front of him, then picked up the waffle like a piece of toast and took a hearty bite. As he chewed, his eyebrows arched in surprised appreciation. Then he swallowed. “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad, at all,” and opened his mouth again.

Suddenly, Ally regained her sense of self and snatched the waffle out of his hands just in time to save it from another bite.

“I changed my mind,” she said. “You eat what you ordered and I’ll eat mine.”

Ally stared down at her plate and the chaos he’d made of the waffle. Sighing, she reached for her fork when she heard him clear his throat. She looked up, glaring at the smug expression on his face. Damn him. There’s nothing wrong with being a little bit fussy about one’s food.

“What?” she asked.

He shrugged, as if to say he didn’t know what she was asking.

“That’s what I thought,” she snapped. As she began trimming off the uneven spot he’d bitten into, she heard him chuckle.

“Just because I don’t want to share my food, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me,” she muttered.

East’s grin stilled. He leaned forward. “Ally.”

“What?” she mumbled, refusing to look up.

“I was just teasing you. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with you, do you hear me?”

She paused, letting an old pain resettle itself around the region of her heart. Then, just to prove she was as outrageous as the next, she set her jaw and cut a reckless swath through the chilling waffle, slashing off a diamond-shaped bite, rather than her usual, perfect square. Then she gave him a “take that” look and stuffed the bite into her mouth just as their waiter appeared with East’s breakfast.

East hid a grin as the waiter set down his food. Moments later, he dug into his scrambled eggs and bacon. As he ate, he couldn’t help thinking they’d never tasted so good and wondered if it was the waffle appetizer that had piqued his appetite, or the company he was in. Either way, for a day that had started off so chaotically, it was turning into something very interesting.