If she didn't get some action, and soon, she was going to
die of boredom.
Nevada James fingered the plants on her desk, trying desperately
to think of some way to stay busy. She hated working the night
shift, the small cubicle suffocated her, and being an analyst
was akin to a prison term. Taking calls from the National Crime
Agency's field operatives no longer held the thrill it used
to. What she really wanted to do was become an operative herself.
Now that she'd received the letter informing her she'd been
accepted into the field agent training program, her days as
an information gatherer were all but over.
She smiled, anticipating the thrill and excitement of starting
work with a seasoned agent. The commander told her he'd have
her partner lined up by Monday. Which meant tonight was going
to be her last night as an analyst. Next week her new life
would begin.
A call beeped in and she
grabbed her headset, answering with her code name. "This
is Velvet."
"Velvet? This is Midnight."
Ah, the voice of the mysterious agent known only as Midnight.
She perked up at the sound of his husky tone, tightening her
headset so she could hear him better.
Finally, relief from another boring night at the office. Her
heart started its familiar race, and for a second she almost
forgot she was at work. Usually, taking calls from one of the
NCA field agents didn't give her a moment's pause. That is,
until Midnight called in. Then, the noise of the other analysts
around her cubicle disappeared. It was just him, and her. Alone.
"Go ahead, Midnight." Her
fingers hovered over the keyboard, ready to take down the
coded information. She entered
his name and the time of his call. Ten thirty p.m.
His voice mesmerized her like a starlit sky at the witching
hour, sending her libido into instant overdrive. The way he
said Velvet made her wish it were her real name, instead of
the code name the National Crime Agency assigned her. But he
didn't know her name, nor she his. He was just a voice on the
other end of the line. Safer that way in case their transmissions
were tapped into.
"It's hot out here,
Velvet. How about there?"
Midnight's steamy voice conjured up images of a summer evening,
the air still sweltering from the day's heat. Her mind filled
with a vision of two bodies entwined under the stars, lips
pressed against glistening, humidity soaked skin. In St. Louis,
almost every summer night was an experience like that. Only
without the sexy part.
She broke into a sweat. "Yes, very hot." Why
did talking to him always make her feel like a bumbling schoolgirl
having her first conversation with a guy? She was twenty-six,
not sixteen.
"So, are you ready
for me?"
More than she could ever
say. "Oh, yes ...I mean, go
ahead."
"I'm trying to get
an appointment with Mr. Smith, but so far, no luck. Maybe
I can catch up with him tonight. I'll
let you know if I get one scheduled."
With rapid keystrokes, she
entered the coded message and saved it for retrieval later
by the analysts. They'd be disappointed.
No results from Midnight's stakeout yet. "Got it. I'll
let the boss know."
"Thanks. You're the
best."
He sure made her feel sixteen. Nevada looked forward to these
conversations, eager to hear his voice. It was always the same.
He'd call, she'd sigh and picture the two of them together,
imagining how he might look. With that voice, he had to be
hot. She was thinking a little over six feet tall, with dark
hair and equally dark eyes. Tanned but not overly muscled.
Kind of like a James Bond type, only she doubted he traipsed
through the streets of St. Louis in a tux.
Silly as it was, she smiled into the microphone. Her fingers
wound around a loose strand of her long hair, nervously wrapping
and unwrapping the tendril. She fought the urge to giggle.
He laughed as they talked, a sensual growl that made her tingle
all the way to her toes. She put her hand on her chest to still
the raging thump of her heartbeat. She was certain anyone within
fifty feet of her cubicle could hear it.
"I'll give you a call
when the meeting's set to go."
"Fine." She was always a little bit sad when their
calls ended. "Take care, Midnight."
"Later, Velvet." A
click, and then dial tone.
She sighed, absently playing with a leaf on one of her desk
plants.
"You've got it so bad,
girl."
Nevada swung her chair around
to face her eavesdropping coworker, Ellen Blair. "I do not." She
pulled the headset off and brushed her hair behind her ears.
"Oh, please." Ellen rolled her eyes. "I
listen every time you take one of his calls. I can't hear
him, but
I can hear you slobbering all over the phone. It's icky."
Ellen puckered her heavily glossed lips into an air kiss.
"Stop." Nevada
was barely able to contain her laughter.
"No, you stop. I know he sounds hot and all, honey, but
he's just a voice on the other end of a phone." She leaned
over the waist-high cubicle wall separating their desks, her
voice lowered to a whisper. "You need a real man, Nev.
You need to get laid."
"No, I don't."
Ellen thought everyone needed sex as often as she did, which
according to her own accounts, was several times a week. Something
about curvy blondes with baby blue eyes and long spiral curls
must attract every man within shouting distance. Ellen was
never at a loss for male companionship. The expensive jewelry
she wore was proof of their adoration.
Petite blondes were in. Men rarely went for average brunettes
like Nevada.
"You need it so bad
you don't even realize it."
Ah yes, Miss Ellen the sexpert. "Think again. Besides," she
shrugged, "I don't have the portfolio you do."
Ellen didn't even bother
to blush, just brushed the expertly polished fingernails
of one hand across her shoulder. "You
could have, if you'd ever try a real relationship instead of
a fantasy one."
"A real one? Oh, I don't think so. Besides, you get all
the guys, Ellen. I'm just an applauding bystander," she
added with a wink.
Ellen shook her head. "You
just refuse to see what everyone else does. I'd kill for
your golden eyes and tanned skin."
"You're crazy." Nevada
waved Ellen off.
"Anyway, you need to
get out of your fantasy life and into a real, hot, shake-the-rafters,
between-the-sheets romance."
Nevada shuddered at the thought. A real romance would be more
than she could handle right now. Maybe ever. Her harmless flirtation
with Midnight was right up her alley. Real was risky. As long
as Midnight remained nothing more than a fantasy, her heart
would be safe.
