Jackson blinked. Blinked again. Clearly, he’d expected something cooler, like Jane Bond or the name of a comic book superhero. “Did you pick that?”
“No.”
“Then what fool thought it was a good idea to name you after an insect?”
Essie let out a huff of amusement. Honestly, she didn’t think it was that bad. “My handlers said I had to be Cricket because Black Widow and Mantis were already taken.”
“And they couldn’t come up with something more threatening than a damn cricket?”
Fighting a smile, she shrugged. “I never really thought much about it. Some of my colleagues got saddled with worse code names than that, so I always considered myself lucky. A guy who came in the same time as me ended up—well, I can’t say what he ended up with, but it was worse than Cricket.”
Poor Cupcake…he hated that name. Not that he used it for long. The poor bastard got shot in the groin on his very first field assignment and washed out of the program a month or two after his release from the hospital. Last she heard, he was still with the Agency, working at a desk as an analyst. It was critical work, just not as prestigious as being out in the field.
“Your turn,” Jackson said. “What do you want to know?”
A jumble of questions crowded her thoughts, and she paused to decide which one she wanted answered the most. “What was your first thought when you met me?”
A sensual smile spread over his face. His gaze met hers, and the heat in his eyes knocked the air right out of her lungs. “At first I didn’t think much of anything, because it felt like I’d been struck by lightning. When I finally came back to my senses, I thought…damn. Stop looking, ’cause this here’s the woman I’m going to grow old with.”
She scoffed. “I thought we agreed to be honest.”
“I am being honest.”
“That’s ridiculous. I didn’t even look anything like myself.” At the time, she was working undercover as an aide for a senator who was touring a secret military installation that wasn’t supposed to exist. She’d changed her hair, worn oversized eyeglasses, and dressed frumpy so people wouldn’t pay attention to her. By and large, it had worked, or so she’d thought at the time.
“It didn’t matter. I saw the real you just fine.” Jackson’s smile widened, sending hot tingles of awareness through her. “My turn. Same question.”
It would be so easy to lie. Resisting the urge, she drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I thought you were the kind of distraction I needed to avoid.”
He arched one eyebrow. “What kind of distraction?”
“You know exactly what kind of distraction I’m talking about. I had clearly defined mission parameters. Sneaking you into my room in the middle of the night would have been unprofessional.” They’d only talked during her time at the base, but the pull of attraction had been strong enough for her to agree to exchange phone numbers. It wasn’t until their third encounter that she invited him to her hotel room.
Jackson went quiet for a short time, his face growing serious. “Did you ever… you know…in the course of your job…” He made a vague gesture with his hands.
“No, I don’t know. How about you spell it out for me?” Actually, she had a pretty good idea what he meant, but if it was what she suspected, she wanted to make him experience the discomfort that came with saying it aloud.
With his skin tone, it was difficult to see, but a blush crept up his neck. Gaze averted, he shook his head. “Never mind; it’s not important.”
“This is about sex, isn’t it?” Might as well rip off the Band-Aid.
The blush spread to his face. Any other time, she would have found it endearing.
She supposed the question should have offended her, but it didn’t. Not much did anymore. So many movies and television shows perpetuated the myth of the femme fatale spy who spread her legs to accomplish her goals, as if women lacked the ability to succeed any other way.
Frankly, it was insulting and sexist. She’d never been willing to use her body that way. Not to mention the Agency had strict rules against that sort of thing. Even if they didn’t, she wouldn’t have considered that tactic. There was always another way. It just required a bit more creativity.
Essie crossed her arms. “Apparently, I wasn’t clear enough when we discussed this the other day. For the record, I never traded sex for information—or anything else— before, during, or after our marriage.”
His features visibly relaxed, confirming her suspicions and raising her hackles.
“Did you honestly think I was capable of that?”
At least he had the nerve to look sheepish. “Well, you’ve killed people.”
“Only when there was no other choice, and I never took pleasure in it.”
His gaze sharpened. “How many have you killed?”
