Spies and Prejudice (16 page)

I don’t move closer, but I don’t get off the couch either. I realize my mistake too late. Tanner’s hand comes up to my cheek, his thumb dropping just below my chin. My pulse thunders beneath his thumb. “It’s late,” I say. I mean for it to be an exit line, but it comes out like a purr, an invitation.

“Then I probably shouldn’t do this,” he says.

“Do what?” I whisper as Tanner leans closer.

“This,” Tanner says against my lips.

His kiss is soft and tentative, asking. He pulls away, just a tiny bit, waiting for my answer. I don’t hesitate. I close the distance between us and kiss him back, slowly at first, savoring every second this time.

His hand drops to my shoulder, sliding down my arm, pulling me the rest of the way to him. I loop my hands around his neck and bring him even closer.

Our kiss builds slowly, warming me from the inside out until every part of me is on fire.

Tanner’s weight presses into me as we lay back on the couch. “We should stop,” Tanner says, his breath ragged. His lips press against my ear and his tongue dances along the line of my jaw.

“Yes.” But I’m not sure if I’m agreeing with him or urging him on.
I kiss him again, harder and more insistent. His hand finds my knee and inches higher, tracing circles that brand my skin.

Just as his fingers reach my thigh, Tanner breaks the kiss and pushes himself up on his elbow, creating a distance between us. “We have to stop, Berry. This is against the rules.”

“Whose rules?”

“Pemberley’s.” Tanner sits up and leans back against the couch. “Mine.”

“You have rules about this?”

Tanner nods. “It’s why I’ve been so annoyed with Ryan. He’s been too close to Mary Chris from the start. It’s a major distraction. The job has to come first. Always.”

I prop myself on my elbows, suddenly cold. “The job? Is that what I am? A job?”

“Of course not. Protecting the formula is the job. You’re the distraction.”

“I’m the distraction?”

“I can’t explain it. I mean I was supposed to get close to you. I just wasn’t supposed to feel anything.”

I sit up, pulling my skirt down around my ankles. “So you were just supposed to swoop in and string me along until your job was finished?”

“Something like that. It should’ve been easy. I mean you’re only sixteen, and you were wearing those ridiculous glasses.”

Is he seriously telling me how I was supposed to fall all over him so he could keep an eye on things for Mr. Moss? “Those ridiculous glasses take high-resolution photos from fifty feet away.”

“Still ridiculous.” Tanner runs his hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. You’re too young. Way too headstrong. So damaged.”

I clutch my knees to my chest, setting my chin on the soft fabric. The pain that fills me is at once familiar and strange. Grief, I know well. This other thing is a different kind of heartbreak. I bite my lower lip, but it still trembles. “You think I’m damaged?”

“No. I mean yes. This is coming out all wrong.” Tanner looks up at the ceiling, clenching his jaw. “You keep everyone at a distance, Berry. You don’t even believe you can love someone.”

His words hit me so hard that I have to fight back or risk getting beaten to death. “Maybe that’s because I’m surrounded by egomaniacs who don’t need
distraction
.”

My shot hits solidly. Tanner actually flinches. “Well, it did kind of ruin my first field mission. My parents think I’m a complete imbecile who’s going to lose it whenever there’s a halfway decent-looking girl around. All this time I’ve been on Ryan for Mary Chris and I’m the one who let things get too far. I should’ve been able to do this without feeling anything more than sorry for you.”

“Right. How could you possibly feel anything but pity for some pathetic motherless child who doesn’t even know how to properly swoon in the presence of your royal hotness.”

“This isn’t going right.” He runs his hand through his hair again. “I’m trying to—just listen. I think—I know it’s crazy.” Tanner turns his head so his blue eyes meet mine. “I might be falling in love with you.”

I spring to my feet so fast I almost trip over my skirt. “Don’t bother. It’s a complete waste of time. I can’t love anyone, remember?
And even if I could, I’m positive it wouldn’t be a guy who thinks I’m only halfway decent and blames me for his own stupidity.”

Tanner stands up to face me. We both just stand here, staring at the invisible wall between us. “I don’t blame you, Berry.” He looks down at the floor. “I blame myself.”

At least now we can rule out the L word. “I might not know much about love. I might not even be capable of it. But you don’t have to worry. You’re not falling in love with me.” I wait for him to meet my gaze. “I’m pretty sure it’s not love if you have to beat yourself up over it.”

Tanner doesn’t say anything as I walk down the hall to my room.

He lets me go.

I
n the morning Tanner is gone. Lulu is curled up on the couch where he sat last night, her head resting on a blanket folded into a neat square. I scratch the soft spot behind Lu’s ears, but she doesn’t lift her head.

“Trust me, Lu, he’s not worth pining over.” Not that I can’t relate. I spent most of the night trying to figure out how things got so far with Tanner that he could hurt me so easily.

I curl up on the other side of the blanket and rest my head next to Lulu’s. There’s a faint hint of cinnamon that’s only tolerable because it’s overpowered by Saint Bernard breath.

The worst part is that he was not exactly wrong about me. I can’t pretend I’m not damaged. It’s worse than that. I’m broken. I proved it last night when I took the scanner from Mary Chris.

I close my eyes and try to remember my mother. Not the professional photograph in the paper, or the picture of us at a wedding that hangs in my room, but the real her. The woman who helped me learn to read and made peanut butter and banana sandwiches every time I
got a perfect score on my spelling test. The woman who drove me to judo class when all the other girls in my class were playing soccer or taking ballet. I try to remember, but there’s nothing there but a vague image of a faceless woman in the place where my mother should be. How is it that I can remember what she did, and not remember what she looks like beyond a few faded pictures?

Lulu whines and sets her chin on my head.

“You would’ve liked her,” I whisper.

I must fall asleep, because the doorbell wakes me. Lulu wags her tail like crazy at the front door, and I let myself think it’s Mary Chris before I’m awake enough to remember that it won’t be.

Jason stands dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized terry cloth bathrobe, holding a tray of coffee.

“What’s with the jammies in the daytime, Hef?”

“It helps me get in character.”

“What, no bunny slippers? ’Cause I’m pretty sure that Polonius was a fuzzy slipper kind of guy.”

“Who isn’t?” Jason holds the tray of coffee over his head while he makes his way past an overenthusiastic Lulu.

I reach for a cup. “Does this mean you don’t hate me?”

“Hate you, no. But this is the part where I get to say I told you so.”

“Like I could’ve asked Mary Chris to build me a scanner so I could snoop around her father’s office.”

“Just like.” Jason sets his coffee on the table and grabs the other end of the rope toy hanging from Lulu’s mouth. “My laptop’s in the car if you want to see what you got.”

“How do you know I don’t have a computer?”

“Tanner told me about the break-in. Didn’t he tell you? He asked me to hang out with you until your father gets back on Monday. I’m your bodyguard.”

When did Tanner tell Jason about the break-in? “I don’t need a bodyguard. But if I did, I think I’d go for someone who doesn’t wear towels as outerwear.”

“Says the girl who thinks throwing on a black hoodie is accessorizing.” Jason pulls harder on the rope in Lulu’s mouth. “I swore I wouldn’t let you out of my sight, so you’re stuck with me. I can’t say no to that guy. His eyes are dreamy.”

“You always were a sucker for a pretty face.”

“The washboard abs don’t hurt either.”

“You’ve seen his abs?”

“Not in the technical sense, but it’s implied. So how did the thief get in?”

“I’m not sure. The alarm was disarmed but not damaged. Lulu was plied with a porterhouse, and the only thing missing is the desktop. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were after. It was a surgical strike.” Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any safer.

“Anything on the computer you’re worried about losing?”

“Most everything we have is backed up to an off-site server. We probably lost some recent work reports and photos. A bunch of personal drama that no one will care about except those involved.”

“Not true. I’m always interested in personal drama.” Jason finally pulls the rope toy from Lulu’s mouth and tosses it down the
hallway. Lulu trots after it. “So spill. I want details. Did he spend the night? It sounded like he spent the night.”

“Don’t get excited. He slept on the couch.”

“You’re killing me, Berry. I can’t believe you let him spend the night and didn’t make a move.”

I feel my face flush.

“Oh my God! You totally did!”

“No!” Only because Tanner ended things when he did. Stupid, stupid girl. The wound is still too fresh to dwell on, but I do it anyway. “He called me damaged.”

Jason understands immediately. He closes the distance between us and folds me in his arms. “I never liked him anyway.”

“Liar,” I say into his shoulder.

“Fine. I don’t like him now.”

“Thanks.” I rest my head against the rough cloth of his robe. “Did you really wear this thing to Starbucks?”

“Drive-thru.”

“The things you do for your art.” I take a breath and let go of him. “Can I see that laptop you brought?”

Jason goes out to his car and comes back with his arms loaded with two backpacks and a computer bag.

“How long were you planning on staying?”

“What? One bag is clothes. The other is skin care. Stage makeup can do a lot of damage to the pores.”

I take the computer bag from him and point him in the direction of my dad’s room to unpack. I waste no time finding the memory card and popping it into the computer.

The letter flashes on the screen, but I don’t read it right away. Part of me wants to keep her out for a little longer. The ghost of my mother is not exactly a friendly ghost.

It’s just a report on some sort of psychological testing of participants who were trying a new energy drink called Juiced that Moss was planning to launch. There’s a boring summary of reactions to taste tests and colors, and some self-reported energy levels. Things don’t get interesting until page five. A small percentage of participants began to behave erratically after a few weeks. At least two showed signs of psychosis, complete with hallucinations and paranoia. One became violent. The majority of the participants had no adverse side effects, but all showed signs of addiction after four weeks. My mom was going to recommend against final FDA approval.

Is that why someone wanted her dead? Because she discovered a problem with Juiced?
There are no coincidences
.

What had that woman told Mr. Moss in the parking lot when she gave him the letter? Now that they knew the product was real, they would come after it. Tanner and Ryan were here to protect the formula for Juiced.

The lives you think you’re saving aren’t worth your own
.

Someone wanted Mom to stop her plans to go the FDA. And now someone wants the formula for Juiced.

Jason walks back in the living room. “What’s first on the agenda? A stakeout of some poor sap who doesn’t know his wife is on to him yet? A trip to the mall to get some color into your wardrobe? Spa day?”

I close the laptop. “Witness interview.”

“Oooh. Sounds very
Cops and Lawyers
. Who are we interviewing?”

“Heather Marrone.”

“Should I know who that is?”

“She told the police she saw my mother’s accident.”

Jason’s eyes go wide. “For serious?”

“If you’re not up for it, I can go alone.”

“Nice try. Bodyguard, remember?”

“Fine. But lose the bathrobe.”

Jason glances down at something on the table. “What’s this?” He holds up a piece of paper with some handwriting scrawled across it.

“What?” I step forward.

“He left you a note!”

“Tanner?” Who leaves notes? There’s a reason that people prefer e-mail and texting to leaving notes lying around. It’s so messages don’t fall into the wrong hands. Tanner really is terrible at the whole spy thing. Jason holds the note just out of reach. “There’s this thing called privacy.”

“Fine.” Jason hands it to me. “But I expect you to tell me everything.”

I stare at the handwriting, which is almost too perfect to belong to a guy. Homeschoolers must spend a lot of time on penmanship.

I stare at the words until they bleed together. Then I read them again. Tanner botched his mission because of me. He’s more of an idiot than I thought.