Twenty files, one meeting, and three strong coffees later: I close my eyes and exhale.

What. Am. I . Doing.

Sitting across from Sark at the conference table has never, ever, ever been that electrifying. I know that I've given him ample icy stares, but that was when I was concerned about him giving me away to Sloane.

That, I'm afraid, is the least of my worries.

I shudder at the memory of his languid smile. No woman in her right mind could possibly find him unattractive, but how many would take on a known assassin?

I need more coffee.

Getting up, I head for the coffee dispenser on the other side of the room. One foot in front of the other. My hands are shaking and I think I'm going to spill some onto my blouse.

'Careful…'

I don't know what unnerves me more; the husky tone of his voice, or the feel of his hand around mine. 'You almost sloshed that revolting brew all over yourself.'

I laugh nervously. His lips slowly curl into a smile. I suddenly feel like a bird seconds away from being cat chow.

'I should go now,' I mumble, moving backwards, wondering why he isn't letting go.

He leans his face closer and I feel his warm breath on my ear. 'Are you afraid of me, Sydney?'

My back stiffens. He slides his fingers away from mine.

'Of course not,' I lie, a second too late. He shrugs nonchalantly and walks away.

I stalk off in the opposite direction, blinking back inexplicable tears.

*

'Ice-cream is good.'

I hiccup, down another spoonful, and Will laughs. 'Rough day at work?'

I nod, and suddenly I'm crying.

'Syd? Syd I'm so sorry-'

I sob into his right shirt pocket and leave a teary, chocolate stain.

'I know that it isn't exactly a normal job,' he starts, gently rubbing my back, 'but can't you take a few days off?'

Sniffle-shudder-sniffle-shudder.

'Maybe. But Sloane might get suspicious.'

He sighs. 'You know Sydney, even superheroes like you need to take a break.'

I totally agree.

'Tired,' I mumble, soothed by his steady heart beat. Good ol' dependable Will. I can definitely count on you. You're not like Vaughn with his Alice-in-the-box. Or like Sark, with his blasted conceit that just happens to make him all the more sensual.

He gets me my blanket and carefully drapes it over me. 'Go. Sleep. No more ice cream.'

*

I make it a point to not look at him for the entire day. Yep, nine to five. No Surreptitious Sark Stares for a full eight hours.

It hurts too much.

Then Sloane calls me in his office and tells me in that creepy paternal tone of his that he hopes that Sark will behave himself on the mission since it only is the two of us and that if he does step out of line I have to tell Sloane straight away -

WHAT.

Wonderful.

'Is something wrong, Sydney?'

I smile brightly. 'No. No of course not. I'll let you know if anything bothers me. Thank you for your concern.'

I think I'm going to be sick.

*