The Cinderella Mission (Family Secrets #1)(30)
Author: Catherine Mann

He wanted to see if Kelly’s eyes would spark with all that life and vitality when she unraveled in his arms, a thrill beyond any he could imagine.

An addictive thrill that could lead him into forgetting that his self-indulgence would eventually hurt her.

Kelly peered through the rental-car windshield at the deserted, snow-filled parking lot outside Crazy Clyde’s Cavern. The tourist trap had pretty much shut down for the winter. Clyde Hanson could well have agreed to see them out of boredom rather than any residual patriotism.

Reaching for her car door, Kelly stopped short when Ethan pulled it open like some guy on a date. The quaintly old-fashioned chivalry tickled her whimsy. “Aunt Eugenie’s training, I guess.”

Ethan grunted.

Not an encouraging sign from a man she hoped to lure into an affair.

Rows of cabins sprawled dark and bare, puffs of smoke only rising from one chimney in the brown clapboard building labeled Clyde’s Country Store. Kelly trudged through the ankle-deep snow past a thirty-foot neon statue of an old miner with a cheesy searchlight inserted in his helmet where a mining lamp normally resided.

Who’d have imagined the owner of this two-bit pit stop had once been a driven agent?

She knew Ethan thought she lived in some innocent ops-support bubble, but she watched and listened, always trying to pick up as much as she could in preparation for her turn. Rumor had it, Clyde had lost more than half a finger when a friend turned on him. Some said he’d gone a little crazy. Others said he’d wised up and gotten out.

The job allowed so much latitude in obtaining justice, it cultivated a ripe environment for corruption. How hellish not knowing how far to trust even fellow operatives. Ethan lived with the dark underside every day. Alone.

She slid her mittened hand into his, and he didn’t pull away, this complex man with wandering feet but the gentlest touch. This man who saw into the secret yearnings of her soul enough to give her impromptu flying lessons.

Ushering her past a frozen pond and up the slick steps, Ethan shot her a quick smile and squeezed her hand. Nothing big. Or overt. Just a simple gesture of reassurance.

Who saw into his soul and soothed his innermost hurts? Of course he would laugh at her if she even insinuated he needed anything from anyone. Maybe through today’s interview she could show him having a partner wasn’t so bad, teach him there were some people who could be trusted.

He could trust her.

Ethan stepped ahead of her. He rapped on the glass pane just over the Closed sign.

The door swung wide. A burst of dry heat swelled through and warmed her face while the cold chilled her back.

“Welcome!” boomed the Santa Claus of a man with hands far too large for the intricate gem cutting he performed. “Thank God someone saw fit to drive up here and talk to me before my brain froze.”

“Hello, Clyde.” Ethan tugged his gloves off and stuffed them in the pocket of his ski jacket. “This is Kelly Taylor.”

“Well, hi there, Kelly Taylor.” Clyde kicked the door shut behind them, sealing out the howling wind. “I never lucked into a cute little partner like you back in my day.”

A day long before political correctness, as well, but she couldn’t help but smile at his bluster. “Thanks for seeing us on short notice.”

“Nothing else to do.”

Kelly unzipped her jacket and let it flap loose as she strolled around the gift shop made to resemble a nineteenth-century store. Jars of candy canes perched in front of the old register. Wooden display boxes lined the counter and inside the display case. She let her hands sift through labeled box after box—garnets, rose quartz, citrine, topaz. Moonstone?

So cool to the touch.

Her eyes traveled ahead of her hand to the next box, clear blue stones glistening, and a sigh whispered free.

Clyde’s beefy hand shot past her. “You have a good eye, Miss Taylor.” He scooped a handful, the smooth perfection making a startling contrast as they trickled back through his nicked and scarred fingers. “The hue will accent your pale skin nicely.”

“I’m just trying to remember what qualities this is supposed to posses.”

“Ah, well, actually a perfect choice for a lady agent. Aquamarines are reputed to weed out unnecessary information. They clarify thought, banish evil sprits and promote light. Here. Feel.”

He passed her a grape-size stone with a necklace hook soldered on the top.

Kelly let it roll around in her palm. “Maybe I should take a dozen.”

“It’s also said to be a symbol for chastity.”

Suddenly, she wanted to pitch it back in the bin.

“We’ll take it.” Ethan tugged a folded clip full of cash from his pocket and peeled off two one-hundred-dollar bills, obviously purchasing information along with the simple gemstone, even if Clyde did throw in a handful of peppermint sticks for good measure.

Kelly tucked the candy in her pocket while Ethan slid into interrogation mode. Hooking a casual elbow on the counter, he began quizzing Clyde and the old agent soaked up the chance to revisit his days with the agency. Kelly listened to Clyde explain the intricacies of cutting gems for decorative versus more practical purposes. She catalogued everything he shared to sift through and analyze later.

Somehow she knew the cost of purchasing this information and the use of Ethan’s plane wouldn’t go onto his agency expense account. This man gave so much of himself and his resources for his country, shrugging it all off as nothing more than a way to pursue thrills.

If that were the case, then he would be scaling mountains in the Andes. Instead, he channeled those thrill-seeking ways into a higher good.

How could she not admire him for that?

How could she not want him?

The mention of Rebelia jerked her from her ridiculous daydreaming. She needed to keep her mind on the job. Her quest to land in Ethan’s bed would have to come later.

“In fact,” Clyde leaned back in his chair, peppermint stick dangling from the corner of his mouth, “there’s an old Rebelian saying that goes something like, ‘He who owns the gem of power owns the world.’”

Kelly inched closer. “Oh, really? How so?”

“About four hundred years ago, a Rebelian ruler gave his new wife a bridal gift, an exquisite stone set in a necklace. Shortly after the birth of their son, she died. Some said she mourned herself to death because her husband only married her for her royal connection to a neighboring country.”

Kelly’s hand tightened around the cool weight of her rock. “The poor woman.”