Sun. Sand. And alone time – Finally! – with his Kitten. Mike Faber stood in front of the suite number he'd been given and smiled his most practiced and favorite of carefree smiles. No work. No entourage. Life is good for me!
Not yet having a key, he juggled his bags to one hand and knocked on the hardwood door, gazing with approval at the high-end quality of the hallway décor – not what I expected from Shannon - while he waited. And waited. Hearing a faint voice from behind the door, he knocked a little harder. "Let me in, Kitten! The vacation of your dreams is about to start!"
An irritated "Keep yer pants on!" floated to his ears just before the door was flung open so hard that it hit the inside wall and started a quick swing back toward closed. Faber dropped a bag as he rushed to stop it and nearly fell on his ass as he kicked one foot out to keep the door open...and winced as it slammed into his instep. Looking up, the FBI agent's brows rose in surprise as the woman he'd come all this way to see turned her back and walked across the suite and out onto the balcony, speaking earnestly into the cell phone pressed to her ear. Must be work. As he inched his ankle and leg far enough into the doorway to wedge it open, he heard her normally uncommon laughter ring out, carefree and unrestrained, followed by something that sounded like "I can't believe you just said that to me! You're supposed to still be angry you..." The voice trailed away as she paced away from the door. Or not work. Who the hell's she talking to that's so damned important?
"Kitten?" He dropped his bags by the side table and meandered across the room, taking in the open floor plan and the gentle breeze that wafted in through the open windows. Noting that the bedroom off the central living room had a king sized bed, he smiled rakishly and called toward the open balcony door, "Aren't you going to give me a proper welcome? I've spent the entire plane ride down planning the perfect way to start off the weekend, and I think that there's just enough time to christen the bedroom before dinner!"
He said that last just as he got to the doorway and expected an equally lascivious response from the sassy Mary Shannon. Only, instead, Mary rolled her eyes and with a look that screamed "Can't you see I'm on the phone here?" as she casually reached out with one hand to push the balcony door closed. Astonished, he reached for the doorknob but stopped as she glared at him through the glass panes before turning her back to lean against the stone wall overlooking the beach, sand and surf that Faber had been looking forward to seeing.
"What the hell?"
He continued to stand there for a few minutes, dumbfounded. But, as it become more and more obvious that the beautiful blond really wasn't going to hang up and join him, he finally turned away. Walking into the room and grabbing his bag, Faber sneered as Mary's laughter once again rang out from the balcony. Grumbling to himself about obnoxious bitches, he stomped into the bedroom to unpack.
Three hours later he could barely remember why he'd been upset. After the brushoff he'd received upon arrival he's unpacked, slamming drawers and doors as he went. Glancing into the main room he saw Mary's shadow still cast from outside, so he'd decided upon a shower. He'd taken his time, wanting to wash off the stress of travel and the anger brought on by his reception. He'd even decided to be civil, but get his own room, as he was drying off. Then just as he exited the bathroom, Mary apparently finished with her call, because she breezed into the bedroom looking, for all the world, as if she'd just received the best Christmas present wrapped in Easter candy. Without a word, she'd walked up to him, grabbed him by his hair and dragged him to bed, kissing and nipping all the way. Dinner had turned from room service into a full body buffet with Mary as the dessert. For thirty minutes after, they'd calmed in the late evening twilight, catching their breath and lazily touching and stroking. Although, that last was more Faber than Mary.
Just as Faber was getting warmed up for another go round, and thinking that getting his own room would be a bit hasty, Mary's phone rang.
His mouth had already been firmly planted between her breasts, so his response to the intrusion was muffled. "The theme song to Star Trek really doesn't suit you, Kitten," he said while reaching behind him in an attempt to grab the phone and silence the irritating noise.
"Hey!" She smacked his hand away and shot out from underneath him so fast that his nose was scrunched up against her hipbone when she stopped moving, phone safely in hand.
Much more softly, she answered, "Hey." … "No. No. You're not interrupting." She smacked Faber's wandering mouth away from her inner thigh and used the toes of her left foot to grab his nose and push him away. "Really. Nothing at all interesting going on here. What's up?"
"Now just a – "
Mary jammed the ball of her foot against his mouth and used the movement to leverage herself out of the bed. Faber watched in amazement as she waltzed, naked as a jaybird, out to the balcony and again shut the door behind her.
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Faber discovered that Mary had had a couple of days to herself before his arrival only because one of the junior butlers had mentioned it. Young Enrique was too observant for his own good, in Faber's opinion. The lad had been surprised when the older man had bristled upon being called Senor Marshall and asked why that was his assumed name. Enrique, around profuse apologies and hand wringing, had explained that the lady of the room had often been on her cell phone, vocally or via text, when he'd arrived and had mentioned the name several times. She'd always seemed happy to be speaking to the man, so Enrique had, understandably but mistakenly, assumed the gentleman would be the one joining her. The FBI agent, not a stranger to interrogation techniques, allowed the flustered boy to keep talking until he'd gleaned that "often" translated to almost each time the boy had entered the room, and that "happy" meant she'd been smiling, joking and laughing whether someone else was in the room or not. Upon asking, Faber discovered that his name hadn't been mentioned at all.
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Later that day, as he was standing in front of the open window overlooking the resort's private beach, he mentally shrugged. That's okay. I'm the one who's here, right? However, it hadn't gone unnoticed that while Mary hadn't exactly curtailed her cell phone usage, she had become much less expressive during all of those calls and texts. That was if she stayed in the same room at all, of course. Since he'd arrived the day before, Faber had more than once turned while speaking to find that the woman had wandered out of the room without a word. He'd find her in the hall or on the balcony, and each time she'd quietly disconnect her call or hit send before pocketing her phone.
It was the first time in a long time that Faber had been on the receiving end of what he considered to be the "shafted" side of a relationship. He was unaccustomed to feeling used and had discovered that he didn't like the sensation one bit. However, every time he'd decided to cut his trip short, Mary would walk up to him with heat in her eyes and body. And he was lost. What the hell is wrong with me?
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The sound of the shower turning on in the next room overwhelmed the soft crash of the waves rolling onto the shoreline. That, in turn, was interrupted by the sound of a cell phone vibrating against wood. Looking around, Faber spotted Mary's cell jumping a path across the suite's mahogany coffee table. He glanced covertly toward the bathroom door, which was just visible through the bedroom's open french doors. She never leaves that thing out of sight. With more daring that he thought he possessed, he tightened the towel wrapped around his waist before sidling over to pick up the phone. Making sure Mary couldn't see him if she should happen to look out into the room to see what was taking him so long, he quickly entered the security code he'd seen her use to unlock the screen.
"Ah. The entourage of one is missing his celebrity," he muttered as Marshall's name popped up. Opening the incoming text, he read it with a wrinkled brow, "No or not yet?" He gave the phone a funny look. "What kind of message is that to send to your partner when she's on vacation?" Grinning to himself, Faber answered his own question. "I'll tell you what kind. It's the kind she doesn't need to bother reading." With that he hit the delete option, relocked the phone and placed it back on the table where and how he'd found it. "He can trade trivia with her when she gets back to work. Until then, I think I'll just get her attention focused on me."
"Hey, idiot! You coming in here, or do I have to do everything myself?"
With a self-satisfied smirk, Faber walked over to the door of the suite's bedroom. "Coming, kitten!"
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The trick with the text messages worked quite well, Faber decided. He'd managed to surreptitiously intercept three or four more messages, each of increasing emotional ire from what Faber could tell. Marshal Marshall is getting pissy, he thought as he chuckled gleefully.
Unfortunately, his glee ended when Mary's hand reached around from behind him, gripped his wrist and twisted. Hard. The phone dropped from his nerveless fingers and into her outstretched hand.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing, jackass?"
Faber winced. Although whether due to the extra twist she'd applied to his wrist or the fury radiating from her lovely eyes, he wasn't sure. Time to grovel.
"Now, Kitten, I – "
She gripped his wrist harder and marched him toward the bedroom. "Don't even try to fuck with me, Faber. How many messages have you deleted from my phone, huh? One? A dozen?" She shoved him into the room so hard that he went face down on the bed with a bounce. He hadn't even managed to turn over before he heard her voice growling to her partner. "Marshall?"... "I know. I'm didn't mean to disappear. Someone has been deleting my messages before I could see them." As Faber sat up, holding his swelling wrist gingerly against his chest, he found her storming through the room opening drawers and throwing his clothing haphazardly onto the bed. She stopped briefly when her partner said something that obviously pulled her up short. "I know that. Don't you think I realize that already?" … "Fine. I admit it. You were right. Happy now?"
She paused for quite some time as the lanky marshal's muted voice drifted out of the phone. While Mary was distracted, Faber inched off of the bed, afraid she'd try to grab him again. However, as he pulled his suitcase from the closet and glanced to see that she was still occupied, he was shocked to see tears in her eyes. It was only then that he realized just how badly he'd been played. And just how wrong he'd been about her intentions for inviting him to join her on this vacation. She was running. My God. How stupid can I be? He'd known there was something between her and her partner, but he'd been sure that it was all one sided. Certain that Mary was truly interested in him and what he had to offer. I'm an idiot.
As Mary continued to speak quietly on her phone, Faber quickly packed his clothes and grabbed his shaving kit from the bathroom. Throwing it all together, he zipped up his bags and looked over at the woman he'd always think of as Kitten. She'd turned her back, so all he could see was her shining blond hair and curving figure. With a shake of his head for what would never be, he walked away and let himself out of the room, knowing he wouldn't speak to her outside of the office ever again.