I realized it was him before he even laid eyes on me. How did I not notice his name on the goddamn door; I’d only looked at it a thousand times the night before. Ethan Stowe. My heart was racing so fast, I thought I might pass out, right then and there.

One time. One time in my entire life, I sleep with a guy I don’t know, and he turns out to be the guy I’m supposed to work with and share secrets about collecting intelligence for national security? Fuck me.

Once he recognized it was me, the same girl he'd fucked eighteen different ways on Saturday night, he got up and shut the door. I didn't say a word. I didn't know what to say, honestly. It was almost funny, but not quite. It's not like we worked at a donut shop; we worked for the Department of fucking Justice and Homeland Security. So, it was more than awkward. He sat back down at his desk and examined me.

“I thought your name was Kallie,” he said, breaking the thickest tension in the world.

“It is. Sort of.” I shrugged. I mean, what else could I do?

“Sort of?” He looked down at the paper in front of him, which must have had my name on it, then turned his glance back to me.

“My name is Kalliope. I go by Kallie to almost everyone. Nobody calls me Kalliope.”

“Kalliope,” he muttered quietly.

"Yeah. So, nice to meet you, Ethan Stowe. Looking forward to working with you this week. Should be really great. Not awkward at all, in fact," I said sarcastically, trying to be funny.

His blank stare spoke more than his voice. He didn’t reply, just stared at me, clearly trying to figure out what to say.

“Look, this is awkward. No denying that. But I have a job to do, and so do you. So, let’s put that other stuff aside for right now, and maybe just focus on that, shall we?” His continued silence was starting to irritate me.

As if he’d read my mind, he shook his head a bit and cleared his throat. “Right, yes. You’re absolutely right… Kallie.”

“Ok, now that we have that settled, what exactly is the plan for this week, or even just for today? My Commander made it clear to me that I’m to share the processes I go through, as well as the systems I currently have in place for intelligence gathering and review for Delta Force. This way, we can compare what I’m doing to what the Central Intelligence Agency is doing, and see if there are any gaps, or areas that we could learn from each other. Is that your understanding of my purpose here?”

I was trying to be as professional as possible. He still seemed a bit flustered, and realistically, I was freaking out on the inside, but work is how I handle anxiety. I can’t change what happened. If I could go back in time, I’m not even sure I would change it anyway.

This may be one of the single most uncomfortable moments in my life; however, the previous thirty-six hours were some of the most amazing. I shifted in my seat and crossed my legs when the thought of screaming out his name worked its way out of my subconscious and into the forefront of my mind, where it definitely didn't belong at that moment. I was getting turned on just thinking about what he did to me Saturday night, and this was neither the time nor the place for that memory to pop up.

“Yes. Yes, that’s my understanding as well. I received the email you sent, outlining some of your procedures, and I have some questions for you.”

“Ok, do you want to go over them now?” I asked. I wasn’t given any itinerary for this entire week, which is probably typical CIA behavior, but I needed some direction here. Specifically now, under these circumstances. My luck couldn’t be worse.

“Hmm, no. Let’s go over them later. Let’s talk about what’s going on here right now.”

Come on, really? I had to pretend it was no big deal, but it was a big deal. “Ok, what would you like to talk about?”

“What would you like to have for dinner tonight?” he asked.

What? We couldn’t have dinner. No way, not now. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. We have all week to talk about work.” He folded his arms over his chest and smirked at me. I couldn’t figure out if he was fucking with me, or if he was for real.

“We can’t see each other again… socially. We have to work together!” I exclaimed, in the most hushed tone I could muster.

“Why the fuck not? We don’t actually work together, Kallie. We’re doing a bullshit Public relations assignment for a week. You and I both know that. So, now that we know who the other one really is, let’s have some fun this week. We’ll get the work done, and we’ll both submit our reports to our superiors. Everyone comes out looking like we can play in the sandbox together and at the end of the week, we go back to our regular jobs. What do you say?”

His reasoning was valid. It was crazy but valid. He was so hot and so charming, and now that I knew he was fucking CIA agent, he was even hotter. I don't care how that sounds. He's a spy, and it's sexy as hell. "Fuck it. I'm in."

He practically lunged across the desk, and scooped me up into his arms, crushing his lips against mine, taking my breath away. Butterflies, the kind you feel in high school with your first kiss, fluttered inside me, and I dropped the pen I was fidgeting with and ran my hands through his perfectly neat hair. He devoured my mouth, his tongue exploring every inch, and when we came up for air, we both let out a small laugh.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I left you at the hotel last night.”

"I'm glad you did." I attempted to fix my lipstick and smooth out my hair. Whatever it was about him, I couldn't resist it. Maybe it was that he was so smart, he was clean-cut and classically handsome, and then there was the whole spy thing. He was the complete package, that's what made him irresistible.

“All right, we do have to do some work, but now we can have some fun with it. Wanna learn how to be a spy?”

“Umm, yeah, I do. Has anyone ever said no to that question?”

"I never asked anyone before. You're the first." He winked, and after adjusting himself, sat back down in his chair across from me. The fact that I turned him on as much as he did me, made me want him even more.

The rest of the day, he went over the chain of command at the CIA and walked me around to meet a few of his colleagues, as well as his supervisor, who must have arranged this with my Commander. I shared our chain of command as well, which he was already familiar with, and explained my role with Delta Force.

As an intelligence officer, I had a purposefully generic title, that meant different things for different assignments, but also protected my identity and safety as well. It sounded like a low-level desk jockey, but much of what I did was assist in the planning of missions for Delta, based on the intelligence that we'd gathered. I explained who and what we were dealing with, and made my operational and tactical recommendations, based on the possible outcomes. These outcomes were determined using mathematical algorithms and were graded by level of risk in two areas. The risk to the success of the overall mission, and risk of casualties.

Ethan listened intently as I explained a typical day leading up to an operation. “So, in your line of work, while it’s a support role, do you carry a weapon?”

“I do.”

“Did you carry here?” he asked.

“I did not. My Commander and I agreed that flying armed was a hassle with TSA, since I’m still a civilian, and it didn’t seem like I’d need it here.” In retrospect, avoiding hassle is akin to taking a shortcut, which I probably shouldn’t have done.

“I think you should be carrying. So, we’re going to go down to the armory, and take out a loaner weapon for you for the week.”

“That’s not necessary, I don’t really need it.”

“It wasn’t a request. I’m insisting that you do. Almost everyone here carries, myself included. While we’re locked down pretty tight, we rarely go anywhere unarmed, particularly not to work, which could be a target for terrorism at any time.”

Once again, he made a valid point. “Ok, I see your point. But, you weren’t carrying last night, were you?” I undressed him myself and he didn’t have a gun that I found.

“No, I wasn’t. Because I knew I was going to have a few drinks. That’s the only time I don’t carry, and it doesn’t happen very often. I had a pistol in the car with us, though.”

This day was really turning out to be something unexpected. Looked like the whole week was going to be an adventure. Well, I’d wanted to expand my horizons. So, while maybe it wasn’t the most conventional approach, it was expanding them nonetheless.