Page 13 of The Agent

C ALEB SPENT MOST of the morning going over his files on Patrick Grier, focusing on the list of known associates and persons of interest, and trying to figure out who Grier might turn to for help other than his ex-fiancée.

By the early afternoon he gave up. The DEA and local law enforcement had already scoured that list for months, and so far it hadn’t produced any leads.

There was some hope with a former contact of Grier’s in Mexico, but the man wasn’t talking and no amount of pressure seemed to help.

Getting up from his chair, Caleb rubbed his eyes, then glanced at the bed, noticing that all the sheets lay in a tangled mess on the floor.

He’d been awake most of the night, tossing, turning, cursing and trying not to think about Marley.

Of course, he’d failed miserably, and in the end he’d been up for hours, tossing, turning, cursing and totally thinking about Marley.

He’d contemplated going to the guest room next door and dragging AJ out of bed, maybe getting a game of poker going, but he’d resisted the urge.

AJ wouldn’t understand the feelings Caleb was developing for Marley.

Disturbing feelings. His emotions, normally tightly reined in, now flowed like water from a leaky faucet, and he was helpless to turn them off.

He liked Marley.

No, he really liked her. And he wanted her so badly he couldn’t think straight anymore. Just the thought of her made every part of his body ache. His head. His groin. His heart.

“Forget about that,” he mumbled to himself, raking his fingers through his hair as he leaned back. “Focus on the job.”

Unfortunately, his body wouldn’t let him forget. He had an erection of colossal proportions straining against the front of his gray sweatpants, and in his groin an ache so deep his bones hurt.

His cell phone started ringing before he could slink off to the bathroom and resort to self-gratification. Noticing the caller ID, he suppressed a sigh and picked up the phone.

“Hello, sir,” he said.

A vile curse battered his eardrums. “What’s going on over there, Ford?” his supervisor demanded.

“What do you mean?”

Ken Stevens wasn’t put off by his casual tone. “Miguel Hernandez just gave me a call, wanting to know why one of my agents is cozying up to Marley Kincaid.”

Thanks a lot, Hernandez.

“I’m not cozying up to her,” he replied. “I had no choice but to make contact with her.” Quickly, he explained the ladder incident, finishing with, “AJ thought since I’d already interacted with her, I should keep it up to see if she knows anything about Grier.”

“And does she?”

“No.”

Stevens made a frustrated noise. “Next time, speak to me before you decide to go against protocol.” Stevens paused. “What’s this email Hernandez mentioned?”

Caleb told him what the message contained, even though Stevens probably had a copy of it sitting in front of him on his desk. “I told you he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her,” he said. “He’s going to make a move soon, sir. I feel it in my gut.”

“Then stay put and keep your eyes open.”

Despite his sometimes hotheaded nature, Stevens had always possessed a great deal of faith in Caleb and his abilities, which Caleb appreciated at the moment.

He knew his boss wasn’t happy that he’d befriended Marley, but both men understood that there were bigger things to worry about at the moment.

“I’ll catch him, sir,” Caleb said “He’s been lucky all these years, keeping his cover solid, avoiding charges, but his luck is up. I think he’s obsessed with Kincaid, and he will come for her.”

Stevens sighed. “He’d better.”

“No breaks on your end?”

“Lukas is still monitoring the bank account Grier opened with Kincaid, but there haven’t been any more deposits and no withdrawal attempts. I’ve got six agents on the airports, two watching San Diego General and a few more talking to Grier’s associates. We’re running out of manpower.”

Stevens’s voice hardened. “Don’t get too close to her, Ford. Keep the contact casual—we can’t risk having this case thrown out of court if you get involved with a witness. And keep me posted.”

As usual, his supervisor hung up without uttering a goodbye. Stevens didn’t have time for pleasantries, never had.

Caleb set the phone on the desk and glanced down at his ratty sweatpants, then lifted his hand to his chin and rubbed the thick stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave this morning. He should, though. He couldn’t have dinner with Marley looking like a disheveled lumberjack.

He rubbed his forehead, wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. His job at the agency was all he had, all he cared about, and here he was, risking it for a woman with big brown eyes and a gorgeous smile.

Why couldn’t he stay away from her? He had no reason to maintain contact—he was already convinced she had no information about Grier. He should be walking away from her, not running straight toward her.

He could always cancel their dinner date.

Tell her he was sick or that he had to go out of town.

But then he imagined the disappointment in her voice when he backed out, and knew he couldn’t do it.

He didn’t want to disappoint Marley. He wished he knew where these protective instincts had sprung from and why he so desperately wanted to make her happy.

Don’t get too close to her.

He almost laughed. What would Stevens do if he knew Caleb was going over there tonight for dinner?

Probably can his ass.

* * *

M ARLEY DID ONE LAST SWEEP of the living room, making sure she’d dropped the clutter level from this chick is a slob to organized mess .

She’d opted to serve Caleb dinner in the living room, since the kitchen reeked of paint.

The Chinese food she’d ordered would be arriving any minute, and she’d already rid the coffee table of the paperback novels that usually resided there.

Now she stood in the doorway, wearing a pair of comfy black pants and her favorite stretchy green T-shirt. Butterflies danced around in her stomach.

“What am I doing?” she mumbled to herself, sinking down on the couch cushions.

She’d told Gwen she wasn’t ready to get involved with anyone new, yet she seemed to be going out of her way to do just that.

She pictured Caleb’s face, wondering what it was about him that captivated her.

Patrick had won her over with his easygoing smiles and almost youthful enthusiasm.

He had a lust for life, charm that just poured out of him.

But Caleb…he was more intense. A little awkward around her, too, which she found kind of adorable. And whenever she thought about his hot kisses and lazy caresses, her body tightened with awareness.

Her head jerked up at the sound of the doorbell, immediately followed by the sound of her pulse drumming in her ears like the beat of a club song. She drew in a breath, willed her heartbeat to slow, then went to the door.

When she opened it, she found Caleb on the porch, wearing jeans and a long-sleeved navy-blue shirt, and holding two large paper bags with steam rolling out of the top. “I intercepted your delivery man at the door,” he said.

Marley glanced past his impossibly broad shoulders, and saw the retreating headlights of a beat-up white Honda with Mr. Chow’s logo on the side.

“I’ll grab some cash and reimburse you,” she said.

He shook his head. “No way.”

“I said it would be my treat.”

“I chose to ignore you.” His deep voice brooked no argument as he entered her house.

“How very last century of you,” she said sweetly.

He smiled—God, she loved it when he did that. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She led him into the living room, where they began laying out steaming hot cartons of food.

Marley had already brought out plates and utensils, as well as a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

She and Caleb got settled on the carpet, and she dug in immediately, too hungry to worry about the fact that she was stuffing her face when they’d barely said hello.

She hadn’t eaten a thing all day, thanks to another hectic shift at the hospital without a break and then because of the nervous flutters in her stomach at the prospect of seeing Caleb again.

She felt so drawn to the man, even though she still didn’t know much about him, save for the fact that he was devastatingly handsome and kissed like a dream. Maybe tonight he’d finally open up to her a little.

“This is delicious,” she moaned, popping another bite of sesame chicken into her mouth.

Caleb bit into an egg roll. “I haven’t had Chinese food since I left New York. Back there, I live on this stuff.”

“Is that where you call home?”

“I usually go where the job takes me,” he answered.

She furrowed her brows. “You mean, for research?”

“No, I only started writing recently.” He took another bite of the egg roll, then focused on the task of spooning chicken fried rice onto his plate. “I was doing construction before that, and the company I worked for did jobs all over the country.”

“So you took time off to write?”

He nodded.

Marley picked up her wineglass, studying Caleb as she took a sip. He seemed completely uninterested in talking about himself. Patrick, on the other hand, had been all about his own ego, constantly regaling her with stories where he played the starring role. None of them true, of course.

Which did she prefer? A man who talked up a storm and only told lies? Or one who refused to talk at all? Still, she wasn’t a quitter, and she was determined to pry some details out of Caleb.

“Does your family live on the East Coast?” she asked.

His face became shuttered. “I don’t have any family. My mother died when I was five, and I never knew my dad.”

She leaned closer, studied his face. “No aunts, uncles, grandparents?”

“Nope.” His tone was casual, but she saw a flicker of pain in the depths of his eyes. He took a sip of wine, then said, “I was in foster care my whole childhood.”