Degradation (38 page)

Pen vs. Sword

Marcus Carmello stared at the clock that sat over his office door.

Fifteen minutes.

He had been staring off in to space for fifteen minutes.

Unacceptable. He usually had exceptional work ethic - first one in the door, last one to leave, never stopping in between. Just go, go, go; work, work, work.

But he kept staring. He hadn't been able to concentrate ever since a short, sexy, brunette cheerleader had nearly run him over a couple days ago. He didn't know if she was actually a cheerleader, but her perky attitude and frighteningly cheery smile made him think of one. And last night he'd had a very vivid dream involving her in a cheerleading outfit. It had left a lasting image on his brain, so that was how he thought of her. As a cheerleader.

He had only been living in Seattle for about two years. He had gone on a couple dates, but nothing had stuck. He was too involved in his career. At first his life had been all about getting his business up and running, and now it was all about making it the best it could be, the best in the business. He didn't have time for women, at least not outside of the bedroom.

He shook his head and looked down at his desk calendar. He had to find something to do or he was gonna start replaying last night's dream in his head.
Again
. There was a big event coming up that weekend that he needed to concentrate on; he had been specifically requested to head the event, so he wanted to double check that everything was up to his personal standards. He was finally starting to get back in to the groove of things when his intercom buzzed.

"Mark?" his secretary's voice rasped over the speaker.

"Yeah, Deb?" he asked, flipping through a contract to make sure everything was signed.

"A Ms. Carrington is here to see you."

He furrowed his brow, trying to think.

"Does she have an appointment?" he asked, pulling his calendar up on his computer.

"No, but she has your shirt in a garment bag and some coffee for you," his secretary replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Holy hell, the cheerleader is in my office
.

Mark stood up and walked around his desk, peering out in to the front room. His door was glass and the front of his office was all windows that went from the middle of the wall to the ceiling. His secretary, Deborah, sat at her desk with her back to him. Across from her stood a woman who also had her back to his office.

When he had met Penelope Carrington the day before, she had been wearing an unflattering pair of khaki trousers and a burgundy polo shirt with some logo on the chest. It had screamed uniform, but she had still looked cute in it. Now, seeing her in normal clothing, he felt his blood pressure rise a little.

She was wearing a pair of white shorts that hugged her hips and a black sleeveless blouse. Her luxurious brown hair fell down her back, past her shoulder blades. She bent over to examine an item that was under glass, and he almost groaned. She had an amazing ass – she was disproportionately bigger on her bottom half, but in the best possible way. She filled out her shorts in a way that made his body ache. Before he could do something stupid like start drooling, he adjusted himself and walked out of his office.

His secretary smirked at him, but he ignored her and walked up behind Pen. She didn't notice that he was behind her and she stayed bent over. She was looking at a medal that had been given to him by the mayor of Seattle. She flung some of her hair over her shoulder and he smiled, remembering that same gesture from the day before. Her hair seemed to have a mind of its own. The strands promptly slid back over her shoulder.

"I told you I could have someone pick it up," he said abruptly and she jumped, jerking upright and spinning around. He stepped back, watching to see if she had any coffee.

"You startled me!" she laughed, pressing a hand to her chest. He kept his eyes trained on hers.

"Sorry. Glad you didn't have any coffee," he joked, but his voice came out flat. She kept her smile, but it looked strained, like she was working to keep it there.

"Nope, not armed today. I notice you're without your trusty firearm," she said, gesturing to his side. He looked down at where his gun would normally be resting.

"Don't worry, it's in my office. Never too far away," he assured her. She nodded.

"So. Mall cop, huh? Do you like making innocent ladies feel stupid?" she asked, plunking a hand on her hip. He raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" he asked and she laughed again. He held himself very still. If he wasn't careful, he could grow to live to hear her laugh. He didn't even know her, but her laugh had stuck with him since the first time he had ever heard it.

"Yesterday. I asked if your job was like being a mall cop and you said yes. This is clearly not mall cop territory!" Pen laughed, gesturing to the expansive office. He glanced around. The room stretched off to his right and was filled with cubicles. He also rented the two other spaces on the floor and the whole floor underneath them.

"Well, I specialize in security. If a mall called me and asked for a special security team for some event, I could provide it. So, kind of a mall cop," Mark offered. She narrowed her eyes playfully at him.

"Nice try, but I don't think so. What exactly is it you do?" she asked, walking past him and turning towards the cubicles. He turned with her, but then caught sight of his secretary. The smirk had turned in to a knowing grin. He frowned.

"Let's move this in to my office," he suggested, and placed a hand on the small of her back to guide her towards the door.

Warmth spread over his hand where he touched her. Her waist was sharp and tiny in contrast to her hips. He looked down at the top of her head while they walked forward, noticing how much shorter she was than him. He almost smiled, but then he noticed his secretary staring at them.

"Don't forget your coffee," Deb said in a syrupy sweet voice. Pen stopped moving abruptly and Mark bumped in to her.

"Oh! I brought you a coffee. To kinda pay you back. But I didn't know what you liked, so I just got what I normally drink," Pen laughed, leaning to the side to grab the coffee cup. Mark stepped away before her backside could make contact with him.

"Convenient for you," he said sarcastically, finally ushering her in to his office and shutting the door. His secretary managed to give him shit-eating grin before turning back to her work. He grumbled to himself as he made his way behind his desk and sat down.

"It's a mocha. Everyone likes mochas," Pen told him, sitting the cup on his desk.

There was an awkward silence for a moment. Pen stayed standing, fidgeting with her hands, his shirt hanging over her arm. Mark sat there and looked up at her, wondering what he should say. He was still a little shocked that she had just shown up. He had honestly just expected a delivery service to turn up with his shirt, or at the most, he would go pick it up at wherever she worked.

"So, are you like a secret agent?" she suddenly blurted out. He burst out laughing and he wasn't sure who was more shocked, him or her. He finally gestured for her to take a seat and she sat down.

"Not really. I used to be, though," he replied. Both her eyebrows went up.

"Really!?" she asked, and he laughed again.

"No. I mean, I did work for the FBI for a long time. Agent Carmello, at your service," he told her, and she smiled broadly.

"That's so cool! What did you do?" she asked, and he smiled as well. No one ever really asked about his time with the Bureau.

"I specialized in hostage situations, but I worked all kinds of stuff. Undercover stuff, narcotics stuff. I was sort of a jack-of-all-trades, if you will," he said. She looked impressed.

"Wow. So what are you doing here in Seattle, of all places? Shouldn't you be in DC or something?" she pressed, scooting her chair forward to get closer to his desk.

"They have offices all over the country - I spent most of my time at the San Francisco headquarters. But I finally had enough almost two years ago and resigned. Decided I wanted to be my own boss, moved up here and started this security business. We provide private security for people and locations. Took a while, but I've got a lot of other former agents working here, as well as some former marines and cops, all amazing at what they do," he told her.

"So you're kinda like the secret service, but for hire," she put it in to simple terms. He smiled and leaned back in his chair.

"Sure, you could say that. So, Ms. Carrington, what exactly do you do? Former CIA?" he joked, and she laughed again. It did something to his heart.

"Hardly. I've never even held a gun. I work at Benaroya Hall," she said.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Benaroya Hall? That gorgeous auditorium downtown? I work there, that's why I was wearing that stupid uniform yesterday," she said, and he chuckled.

"I've never been there, but I've been working non-stop for most of the time I've been here. Haven't really seen any of the sites," Mark explained.

"Oh, you must have. Pike's Market? The EMP Museum? Space Needle?" she asked, rolling her hand with each name. He shook his head.

"Nope. I've driven past the Space Needle," he offered. Her jaw dropped open.

"You haven't even been to the Space Needle. I can't believe it. That's it. What are you doing right now?" she demanded, jumping to her feet. He was caught off guard again.

"Excuse me?" he asked.

"You're clearly not busy if you have time to shoot the breeze with me. Get up, we're going to the Space Needle," she informed him.

Normally he would argue with anyone who ordered him to do something, but he found himself climbing to his feet. This tiny girl had a way of making him forget what was going on and what he was doing. He opened his mouth to ask a question but she whirled away, hanging his newly cleaned shirt on a coat rack.

"Wait. What are we doing?" he asked. She looked over her shoulder as she pulled open his door.

"We're going to go site seeing, it'll be fun. I'll be your tour guide. Don't you wanna go?" Pen asked.

She was still looking over her shoulder, her hair cascading down her back, curling at the ends. She had one leg bent, popping her hip out at an angle. His eyes traveled from her curvy backside down to her tan thighs, all the way to her strappy wedge sandals. When he finally looked back up at her face, her smile was gone. She almost looked a little nervous. Like she was looking at the big bad wolf. He cleared his throat and walked around his desk.

"Yes. Yes I do."