"It's dangerous work, honey. Security guards don't have all that much training. Or worse, if it's a government enterprise, you might run across an itchy trigger finger somewhere."
"Oh, please, Mack, let's not start discussing dangerous jobs." Jaimie swept her tousled hair from her forehead. The moment she released the silky strands, they settled right back in a soft, thick halo.
"You knew that was coming." Kane laughed, his head back, uninhibited, the way he always laughed. But his eyes weren't laughing, Jaimie noted. "And you deserved it."
"Get your gear out of the middle of the hallway," Mack said.
"He always resorts to dishing out orders when you get the best of him," Kane reminded Jaimie.
"Speaking of dishes, clean your mess up," Jaimie said primly.
"No one was speaking of dishes," Kane denied. "I said dishing, dishing, you know, like . . ." He trailed off with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, all right, then, but this is under protest. You used to do our dishes."
"I was twelve and you blackmailed me," Jaimie said, scowling darkly at him. "If I didn't, you weren't going to let me go to any of the football games." She tilted her chin. "Now I call the shots."
"Says who?" Mack flipped her over so she landed on her stomach. Instantly his leg was across her thighs, his upper body pinning her down. He leaned wickedly close, his warm breath on the nape of her neck. "I just let you think you call the shots, honey. I draw the line at this Spagnola character."
"Mack, let me up." Jaimie tried not to laugh. She wasn't going to encourage him. He felt so familiar, so right, but she knew better, and playing around with him was like playing with fire. Sooner or later she was going to get burned. On the other hand, he was waiting for her to fight with him over sharing the bed and she wasn't going to do it. He would never touch her with Kane in the room. He might want to, but he was exhausted and Kane was a good chaperone. She was safe, and she could act like it meant nothing to her. Let him think it didn't matter to her at all.
"Will you two stop horsing around?" Kane yawned. "It's three o'clock in the morning. Let's turn in."
"The great TV watcher." Mack reluctantly shifted his weight from Jaimie. He took great care to retain his hard-won portion of the bed. "Pack it in, honey, hotshot has spoken."
"I'm not sharing my sheets," Jaimie announced with a fierce, meant-to-be-intimidating scowl. "You can sleep on top of the covers."
"I bought them," Mack pointed out, tracing the hand-embroidered dragon nearest him. "That should give me a few rights."
"I'll share my other pillow," Jaimie conceded, "but only because you sent me all those dragons." She loved the collection of dragons, mostly given to her by Kane and Mack over the years. She might forgive him a little just for that.
"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Kane protested. "You know that jeweled one from Egypt? I bought that one."
"Like hell you did. You were making goo-goo eyes at some belly dancer, as I recall," Mack lied, settling more comfortably onto the mattress, his thigh touching Jaimie's.
It had been so long and she felt like heaven, all soft skin and heat. She smelled a little like heaven too. It was only the fact that he was so exhausted that he dared take a chance sharing her bed again. Jumping her was not the way to win her back, but keeping the old familiar footing would go a long way toward smoothing his path.
Kane retrieved the rest of their luggage and dumped it unceremoniously in the corner of Jaimie's bedroom. "The man said you looked like an assassin; he wouldn't take your traveler's check. I paid, remember. Is the couch comfortable?"
"Aren't you two supposed to be used to roughing it?" Jaimie demanded, exasperated with both of them. "And Kane never makes goo-goo eyes at women. That's you."
"I paid you back, Kane," Mack insisted, ignoring Jaimie.
"When did you pay me back?" Kane asked suspiciously, as he headed for the bathroom.
"You're in a lady's house," Mack called out. "Don't forget the toilet seat. And it was in Milan."
"I can't believe you said that." Jaimie was horrified. "I'd forgotten what it was like sharing a house with men." She buried her face in the coolness of the pillow.
"He isn't very well trained," Mack explained loud enough for Kane to hear.
"Turn on the alarm, Kane," Jaimie reminded as the man emerged wearing a long-suffering expression and navy blue sweats. She smiled to herself. Sweats seemed to be quite the rage in nightwear when she'd bet her bottom dollar they never slept in clothes if they could help it.
Kane activated the alarm, rolled out his sleeping bag on the couch, and turned off the light. "It wasn't Milan."
"I paid your fine so you wouldn't go to jail. Hell, Kane, you tried to steal the cop's hat."
"You dared me to." There was a flurry of rustling sounds, a loud thump announcing Kane hitting the floor. Fortunately, his censored comments were muffled by the carpet.
"Never try sharing a bed with him," Mack advised. "Jaimie?" Now his voice turned very casual. "Professor Chilton was one of your instructors at Stanford, wasn't he? How did he end up in London doing consulting work?"
"His brother-in-law worked in some capacity for a corporation. He recommended Professor Chilton after the company had a series of breakins. It was lucky for me he checked into the same hotel I had gone to after I . . ." She broke off, grateful the lights were out. She didn't have anything to be ashamed of. She'd left because she had to go in order to survive. If Mack couldn't understand that, too bad.
A hint of defiance entered her voice. "I checked into a hotel after I left our apartment and the next morning I ran into him in the lobby. We had breakfast together; I really needed a friend. Naturally, we talked electronics. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was in business." She didn't add that running into the professor had given her the freedom to keep from running back to Mack, afraid and a failure. It had actually felt good to make her own decisions and be responsible for her own life, once she'd gotten past the pain of separation.
"So you think you're good enough to make it on your own?" Kane prompted. He took a few minutes to get settled again.
The room was pitch-black, Jaimie's eyes working to adjust as she stared up at the ceiling. "I was better than Chilton, Kane, right from the start. He knew it too. I used his name and he used my expertise. He's back teaching--that's what he loves--and I've got enough of a reputation now to hold my own. It worked out great."
"So you actually break into buildings?" Mack didn't sound happy about it.
"Sure, I study the security system and find a way to beat it. The theory being, of course, if I can do it, so can someone else. Then I try to design a system exclusive to the particular needs, setting, and personnel of the client. Sometimes it's a onetime shot; other times I'm on retainer as a full-time consultant. I'm also developing new software for a bomb detector. There's a lot of interest in that."
"I've got to hand it to you, Jaimie"--Kane's voice was frankly admiring--"you've done well for yourself."
Beside her, Mack stirred restlessly. Jaimie ignored him. "Thank you," Jaimie said softly to Kane. She refused to care whether Mack approved of what she did or not. She thumped the pillow and snuggled deeper, trying to ignore his close proximity.
"I didn't spot your cameras." Kane was casual, his voice coming out of the darkness from the direction of the couch.
"My cameras?" Jaimie turned toward the wall, curling up, her voice drowsy, unconsciously sensual.
"None of our team triggered the alarm. I looked at the tapes myself yesterday during the report. You know we always record any action. We made it into the warehouse clean, yet you knew we were there. You even knew who we were. You grabbed the frying pan instead of the gun."
Mack could feel Jaimie go perfectly still. Her body trembled. She twisted the edge of the sheet between her fingers. Without conscious thought, Mack's hand went to the nape of her neck, easing the tension out of her.
Kane allowed the silence to stretch and lengthen. It was a full five minutes lat
er before his soft, insistent voice disturbed the night. "The cameras, Jaimie, where are they?"
"I didn't bother with cameras on the ground floor." Although she sounded sleepy, Mack was certain she was selecting her words carefully. "The cameras will be on the second floor."