Cindy Dees - Taken By the Spy

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I am going to do it.”

“I’ll cut you off. No money, no credit cards, no bank account. Nothing.”

Twenty minutes ago, that threat might have given her pause. But after Mitch’s scathing opinion of her utter uselessness as a human being, she’d be damned if her father would bully her out of this.

“Do what you have to, Dad, but my decision’s made. Good night.” She closed the phone and handed it back to Mitch in silence.

“What did he threaten to do to you?” Mitch asked quietly.

“He’s cutting me off financially.”

“Totally?” Mitch sounded surprised.

“Yup.”

“Man, that sucks. I can look into having the boys put you on the payroll for the duration of this op if you’d like.”

She grinned ruefully. “Thanks, but I’ll muddle through until he gets over his snit. My mother is loaded, compliments of her divorce lawyer, and she’ll slip me some cash if I empty my bank account before he gets over his snit. Besides, I can always threaten to go public with what my father’s doing to me and he’ll back off. Negative publicity is very bad for a man in his position. He’s up for reelection this November.”

Mitch winced and grinned simultaneously. “Ouch. Blackmailing your old man? That’s cold. I like it.”

She grinned back, reassured she’d made the right decision. She wanted some of the competence that was Mitch Perovski for herself. If she spent a few days with him, maybe some of that cool confidence of his would rub off on her. Goodness knew, she needed it. If he could show her how to get people to take her even a little more seriously, it would be worth all the money in her trust fund and more. She was sick and tired of being walked all over.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. If she could shed her socialite image and become a strong, independent woman…oh, yes. The idea made her tingle from head to toe. Wild horses weren’t going to keep her away from Mitch Perovski, no matter what risk that entailed.

Chapter 4

Mitch glanced around the tight confines of the Baby Doll ’s cabin. The sofa no doubt folded out into a bed. One bed. Two people. He winced mentally. He could be a gentleman and offer to sleep up top, propped up in one of the chairs or stretched out on the hard deck. But this was likely to be the last decent night’s sleep he got for the next several months, and dammit, they were both adults. They could sleep in the same bed without anything untoward happening between them.

Kinsey stifled a yawn.

He said lightly, “Let’s get some shut-eye. No telling when the boys will be here to pick us up. Operations rule number one: sleep when you can.”

She nodded without protest, unlocked the sofa, and pulled it out into a bed. With her working at one end and him at the other, they made the bed with satin sheets—what else for the Baby Doll? —cashmere blankets, and fluffy eiderdown pillows.

“Where are you sleeping?” she asked, all innocence.

“Here. How about you?”

Her alarmed blue gaze snapped to his. She looked down at the inviting bed. Back up at him. “Oh.”

He shrugged, but it didn’t relieve the abrupt tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. And tomorrow promises to be rougher than today.” Why did he give a damn if she refused to sleep with him or not? She wasn’t some princess—which she was taking great pains to convince him of. She was just a person. Just like him.

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