CHAPTER 9
Carly walked down the much-too-narrow metal stairs of the jet and clutched the railing for dear life.
She could kill Trey. She knew he was walking just behind her, watching her ass in the tight black low-rise leather pants as she tried to walk in the stripper’s four-inch heels that were a size too big.
“You’re a dancer, remember? Try to be a little more graceful,” he whispered behind her.
She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “We’re off the plane, remember? No more talking.”
He was trying hard not to laugh at her and she was trying harder not to whack him with the stripper’s giant leather purse full of the makeup and hairspray he’d made her put on. She looked like a clown, or worse, the cocktail waitress at work.
“Ooo. I hate you right now.” Her stomach roiled with frustration.
He made a mock hurt face. “But, sweetheart, I love you so.”
Turning away from him, she focused all of her concentration on the downward descent, hoping this assignment would get better, which wasn’t very likely.
Finally reaching the bottom of the stairs and the solid ground of the tarmac, she found it a bit easier to maneuver in the heels.
She hated to admit it, but Trey was right. She’d have to learn damn quickly how to walk more naturally in these death trap stilts or she’d blow it for both of them. How the hell did strippers dance in these things?
Next to her again, Trey draped one arm casually around her shoulders as he pulled the suitcase on wheels behind him.
His clothes were just fine. He got to wear a black silk shirt and fitted gray trousers that made his ass look incredible. She nearly had to shake her head to clear the image of his cute butt from her brain.
This was her own fault. If she hadn’t sworn off men, perhaps she wouldn’t be finding Trey so irresistibly attractive.
Glancing up, she caught him looking down her cleavage, which was huge and totally exposed thanks to the stripper’s taste in tiny tops. Sure, Carly wore the occasional tight T-shirt at the bar. It increased her tips by a laughably large amount, but she never wore anything as revealing as this.
Worse, this was actually the shirt with the most coverage among what she had found in the suitcase. All the others exposed her belly button as well as her boobs.
Carly huffed out a breath. She couldn’t even reprimand Trey for looking down her shirt. Playing his happy and horny bride, she should enjoy this kind of lascivious attention.
Actually, on the plane during that kiss she had gotten the horny role down pretty well. She buried the thought quickly. Too bad the ache inside her wasn’t as easy to dismiss.
How was she ever supposed to go back to casually serving this guy beer at the bar when she’d never forget the feel of his hand on her breast? She should have said no to this thing.
The commander’s words echoed in her head.
Sixty percent chance of success without you.
She couldn’t have backed out and doomed Trey to a forty percent chance of failure, possibly death, because she couldn’t control her overactive libido around him.
Carly tried not to dwell on the fact the commander had estimated there was still a twenty-five percent chance of failure even with her there. If she didn’t keep her mind on the task that number would probably get even worse.
With all this introspective thought, she’d missed what Trey had just said.
She forced herself to focus. “I’m sorry. What?”
“There’s the limo the email said would be waiting for us.” He was staring in the direction of a long black car whose driver was leaning against the hood.
Her heart kicked into double time.
The driver walked forward to greet them, taking the bag from Trey. “Mr. Smith, Mrs. Smith. I hope you had a pleasant flight.”
The names of the people they were impersonating sounded even more stupid and fake when the driver said them. Carly would bet a year’s tips they were fake.
The driver continued, “Welcome to Kosovo.”
Kosovo? Wow. That explained why the flight was so long and why it looked like it was already night here. She tried to remember anything she’d seen or read recently about this particular hotbed of discontent.
If she ever got out of there alive, she swore to pay more attention to current events.
Carly spotted the bulge of a concealed weapon under the driver’s suit jacket. It nearly stopped her dead in her tracks. Only sheer force of will coupled with Trey’s gentle nudge kept her teetering onward.
Undercover in Kosovo—when she chose to do something crazy, she sure did it in a big way.