Chapter 3
Jaime unpacked with her back to Michael...until he came up behind her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. ''We'll have to act like husband and wife, if we want to pull this off,'' he said, leaning in close.
Jaime took a step away from her doctor - and turned to face him. ''I know. But it's only in the daytime - when we're out there. Not here. And it's only for the assignment. There is no 'us', Michael. There can't be.''
''I know. Should we practice?'' Michael suggested.
''I think we've had too much 'practice' already.''
Back home, drink in hand, Steve was thinking exactly the same thing. He pictured what Jaime had told him that Michael had said, combined with what he himself had witnessed - and he didn't like what he was seeing in his head.
Mark had made arrangements for his assistants to keep covering his practice in DC; he was going to be needed here for now. He found Steve brooding morosely as he poured yet another drink...and he noted that the ice in Steve's glass was nearly melted, forcing him to add more. It wasn't his second drink. ''How many is that?'' he asked gently.
''Three or four,'' Steve admitted.
''Think that's a good idea?''
''Can't hurt.''
Yes...yes it could, Mark thought to himself. ''Self-medicating now?''
''Yup.''
''You could do that; in the morning, the problem is still there though. How about talking it out, instead?''
''That'll just make me angrier,'' Steve grumbled. ''And you don't need to hear what I'm thinking right now.''
''Try me.''
''Which part do you wanna hear?'' Steve slurred. ''The part where the 'good doctor' made a pass at my wife before we left the hospital last week...or the part where he's got her alone in a hotel room right now?''
Michael poured them each a drink, 'just to calm a mild case of the nerves'. He handed Jaime the glass and couldn't help watching her as she sipped. Lord, what a beautiful woman, he thought. His mind fed him a section of the Hippocratic Oath: Into whatever houses I enter, I will go into them for the benefit of the sick, and will abstain from every voluntary act of mischief and corruption; and, further from the seduction of females...and then another: to do good or to do no harm.... Had he crossed those boundaries? Yes; he had to admit that he had. And his thoughts were crossing them even further.
It was getting late and they had to get an early start in the morning. Jaime was getting drowsy and went into the bathroom to change into her nightgown and robe. She felt Michael's eyes on her but chose to ignore this as she pulled back the covers.
''I should check your ear - and your reflexes - before you go to sleep,'' Michael told her. She might need split-second reactions; could her body physically handle it? He would make sure...
They entered the room with an arm around each other's waists, playing their parts to the hilt. As Oscar had known he would be, Michael was perfect in his role. The 'buyers' were lapping it up...and Michael himself was savoring the ability to hold Jaime again, even as they were carrying out their assigned mission. When they returned to the hotel room that night, he had trouble shutting off those thoughts...and found his dreams to be even more detailed - and more explicit - than they had ever been before.
On the second day, Jaime and Michael did an intricate dance around the sale of what their buyers thought were the most highly classified batch of government secrets regarding nuclear facilities in the Pacific Southwest. They were trying to drive the price higher - to get their quarries to actually bid- and they succeeded. The 'nuclear scientist' kissed his 'wife' and they returned to their hotel. One more day should wrap it up with a neat red ribbon on top, Jaime thought to herself...then she grabbed Michael's arm as they stepped into the hotel room, pulling him back out into the hallway and closing the door.
''We're bugged,'' she told him. ''I can find it...but I'll need a few minutes.''
Michael nodded. ''In the meantime, maybe we should give them a bit of a show,'' he suggested. ''If they have the least bit of a doubt, we need to convince them that we're really a couple - that we're married.''
''We'll talk our way through it,'' Jaime agreed. Just keep your hands off of me, she finished in her head. Together, they entered the (bugged) room.
''We'll be rich soon,'' Jaime told her 'husband'. ''Then this'll all have been worth it.'' She kept her distance from Michael as she used her ear to scour the room for the listening device's location.
''I think we deserve to celebrate,'' Michael told her in a voice that positively oozed what he'd dreamed about the night before. He stepped closer to Jaime, leading her toward the bed. They sat down near each other, making sure the bug would pick up the sound of the bed springs. Jaime moaned convincingly...and then nodded toward the bedside lamp; she had found the bug. After a few more assorted noises and a little bouncing to make the device pick up the sound of the bed springs again (to let their buyers know that they were, indeed, 'husband and wife'), Jaime reached into the lampshade, located the planted device...and crushed it...then moved away from Michael to sit on her own bed.
She didn't much care for the look in his eyes.
Mark watched Steve pace the living room yet again, with his fourth drink in his hand (that Mark had seen him pour). ''You'll wear a path in the carpet,'' he said quietly.
''Yeah...and?''
''And maybe you should sit down, stop self-medicating - and talk to me.''
''Nothin' to say,'' Steve slurred. ''My wife spent the day in the arms of another man - one who's already made more than one pass at her - and now they're probably alone in a hotel room together. What more can I possibly say? 'Cept that if he hurts her...he's gonna regret it.''
