Jeanie London - Between The Sheets

John heaved a sigh that drove the alarm indicator in her head right off the gauge. The man was gearing up for an argument. She recognized the raised brows, the stiff neck and the squared shoulders as surely as if the word A-R-G-U-M-E-N-T had been tattooed across his forehead.

She took a judicious step back. Unfortunately, her sweater caught the edge of his in-box as she did. John came halfway out of his chair in a vain attempt to catch it, but the whole tray toppled off the desk with a clatter.

“No, no, don’t get up,” she said, sinking to her knees to collect the scattered papers. “I’ve got them.”

She could feel his gaze on her as she gathered the various documents and envelopes and quickly restacked them. By the time she returned the tray to his desk, her cheeks were hot and John was watching her with an expression of resignation that only made her blush burn hotter.

Backing away to minimum safe distance, she took a calming breath and another crack at appearing nonchalant. But John still looked resigned, which meant he wasn’t buying her act.

“Do you know what a nibbie is, April?”

A nibbie? Definitely not the question she’d expected. A change of tactic, then, so he could try to make his case for getting her off the computer. “Yes.”

“Would you mind explaining the term to me?”

“Nibbies are teeny-tiny tufts of fabric that ball up on sheets. It’s a casual term. You might have heard them called piles or pills.”

He shook his head. “These…nibbies are a big deal?”

“To some people, I guess.”

“Well, I suppose that fits. Wilhemina made a point of saying that whoever I sent needed to know what a nibbie was. She called me obtuse when I told her I didn’t know what she was talking about.”

Under any other circumstances April would have smiled at John’s indignation. Most people wouldn’t consider calling the man anything but sir. Then again, most people weren’t his wife’s sister, a formidable woman who was more than up to the task of handling her sister’s equally formidable husband. But April couldn’t even rally a grin. She’d walked right into this one.

“Sort of like the Princess and the Pea,” he said, grinning at his own cleverness, which in April’s mind only supported the accusation of obtuseness.

She only shrugged, afraid to open her mouth and step in any further. Personally, she couldn’t see what the big deal was. She’d never noticed whether she slept on sheets with nibbies or not. The only time she was horizontal in a bed was when she was fast asleep, unconscious of nibbies, piles or pills. Unconscious enough to be unaware of anything else that might take place in a bed, either.

He leveled that steely gaze on her. “Sounds to me like you’ve got a good bead on the subject. You’re the right person for this case.”

“And what exactly is this case?”

“Inside surveillance.”

A moment passed before she managed to speak past the alarm shrieking in her head. “Inside surveillance? You want me to go…undercover?”

“As Rex Holt’s in-house marketing assistant.”

Undercover? A laugh sprang unbidden to her lips, along with a denial that she managed—barely—to squelch before it actually popped out of her mouth. Good thing, too, because butting heads with John would only make him dig in his heels.

She started to pace. She didn’t sit still well on the best of days, but with John springing fieldwork, no, undercover fieldwork on her…

Glancing at the most recent Mooney family portrait that included a stoic John, a smiling Paula, their daughters, sons-in-law and seven grandchildren, she clasped her hands behind her back and forced herself not to pace, although the urge to move was physical.

She was manic at the best of times but when she got nervous…April Stevens aka April Accidentally had learned to curtail her actions rather than risk knocking anything else off John’s desk, or heaven forbid, the étagère, which housed all sorts of sentimental items.

John knew more about her than anyone on this planet. Surely he could be reasoned with. “Wow, real undercover work,” she forced herself to say lightly. “Why don’t you take the case? You live to go out in the field and it’s been a good year since you’ve gotten out of this office.”

“Aside from the fact that I don’t know a damned thing about nibbies, I promised my wife that I’d get you out from behind the computer. She said you’ve been holing up since you and Jeff broke up. She thinks you’re pining.”

“I’m not pining.”

Man, she should have known she’d wind up back here despite diversionary tactics. The planets must be aligned, because short of quitting her job and moving to Canada, April couldn’t seem to avoid John and Paula’s attempts to force her to get social.

“I appreciate the concern, John, but what is it you don’t understand about hard work? I like working hard. I’m good at my job. Where’s the problem?”

“You’re good at the computer end of your job. You don’t have enough experience in the field. And like Paula pointed out, you need to make time for a life.”

“I have a life. A good one. You know how active I am in the adoption society—”

“More time spent behind the computer.”

“If memory serves, I just took off a morning last week to attend the preschool graduation of one of your little rug rats.”

“A real life. You barely come out from behind the computer for holidays. When was the last time you were out with friends? Or on a date?”

April could hear Paula’s arguments as though she were actually broadcasting them through her husband’s mouth. “I was just out with the girls a few weeks ago for Marietta’s bachelorette party. I’m sure every female in this place will corroborate my story.”

“What about a date?”

“I haven’t met a guy I’m interested in.”

She wouldn’t mention that if she happened to meet one she’d run in the opposite direction.

“Cut me a break, April.” John spread his hands in entreaty. “What am I supposed to do? This is Wilhemina we’re talking about here. Paula’s on the warpath. She wants me to help her sister and she wants you out from behind the computer. This is a straightforward job. You pretend you’re this guy’s assistant and keep your eyes on him. You can handle this. Getting out of the office will be a challenge.”

Challenge? Oh, John was right about that. She inhaled deeply and tried to appeal to reason. “Send Sherry. She’s much better at this sort of thing.”

“Sherry’s married. We don’t have any idea how long it’ll take in-house security to complete their investigation. It makes more sense to send single you.”

“Just because I don’t have a husband doesn’t mean I don’t have important things going on in my life, you know. I happen to be in the middle of an adoption search.”

A bald lie, since she’d just reunited Dawn Conover with her birth sister and hadn’t been assigned another search yet.

“Bring your laptop. You can work your search into your cover. An occasional break will keep you fresh.”

“Sherry will blend in much better.”

His dark gaze settled on her thoughtfully. “You’ll blend in just fine. Don’t borrow trouble.”

John didn’t have to define borrowing trouble, and while April appreciated his confidence in her abilities, the simple truth was that jumping into new situations was not one of her strengths, at work or in her personal life.

Unfortunately, she hadn’t been nicknamed April Accidentally for no reason. She was high-strung by nature and whenever she got nervous, accidents were the likely result, which didn’t make her prime undercover material.

Of all the crosses she might have to bear in life, April considered this one tame, if rather unfortunate. She accepted her flaws right along with her strengths and coped with them.