Just a Bit Shameless (Straight Guys 8)

“It isn’t my job,” Nick conceded, looking at him intently. “I want to do it. Please indulge me?”

Jess suppressed the urge to smile as the redhead blushed and dropped his gaze, his long eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks.

Seriously, they were the cutest!

“Jessica?” Nick said, glancing at her nametag.

Realizing that she still hadn’t returned his card to him, Jess flushed and did just that. “Thanks for shopping here! Please come back.”

Nodding politely, Nick picked up the bags and steered Sammy out of the shop with a hand on the boy’s lower back.

Jess smiled to herself as the door closed after them.

At moments like this, she almost wished she were into men. It would have been pretty nice to have a nice older bloke who would shower her in expensive presents and treat her like a princess.

Jess chuckled. No amount of nice clothes would make her like cock.

It was a good thing she could always find a nice older woman.

* * *

Sometimes being the Head of MI6’s HR department could be tedious, mused Rachel Longwood as she knocked on the door. She wished she could delegate this visit to one of her assistants, but none of them were equipped to deal with Agent 11. Debora would no doubt let him sweet talk her into agreeing with whatever he wanted while Alan… He was a competent assistant and sweet person, but Rachel had to admit he lacked the spine to handle Agent 11.

The door opened, revealing a redhead who looked only vaguely familiar to her. Rachel had seen him only in passing, since it was Debora who handled trainees. Rachel hadn’t been surprised when the boy had filed his resignation form a few weeks ago—many trainees did, unfortunately, unable to handle the pressure or the physical training. But she had been very surprised this morning when Agent 11’s handler had informed her that apparently the boy was still living with the agent.

“Ma’am?” Sam said.

“Hello.” Rachel smiled. “Is he home?”

“You know I am,” Agent 11 said, coming up over Sam’s shoulder. His inscrutable eyes studied her for a moment. “What a surprise, Rachel. But come on in.” He touched the boy’s shoulder gently and Sam walked away. He sprawled out on the huge brown couch and picked up the iPad that lay there. The boy didn’t look their way as Agent 11 motioned for Rachel to sit on the couch on the other side of the room and dropped himself in the armchair opposite her.

“Well?” Agent 11 said, looking at her expectantly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

As the Head of HR, Rachel knew his real name was Dominic, but he had never invited her to call him by his first name, and, truth be told, she couldn’t think of him as Dominic. Although he was younger than her, Agent 11 had been with MI6 longer. He had always been Agent 11 to her, a handsome but aloof agent she had always had trouble reading. He could be such a chameleon if the mission required it—confident, shy, arrogant, humble, flirtatious, serious—that it was hard to tell which of his personalties was real.

Rachel raised her eyebrows, glancing toward the boy lounging on the other couch. “You can probably guess why I’m here.”

Agent 11’s expression didn’t change. “I fail to see how my guests are of any concern to MI6’s HR.”

Sometimes Rachel forgot that Agent 11 came from an aristocratic family, his bloodline as old as the Queen’s. Looking at his haughty expression, she could easily believe it, but then again, perhaps that casual arrogance stemmed from the agent’s confidence in his abilities. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

In any case, she absolutely refused to be intimidated by his flat gaze, loathing the fact that she no longer felt as confident as she had been. That wouldn’t do.

“Non-disclosure clause is in your contract for a reason, A11,” she said. “Your guest isn’t cleared to know anything about your job, and yet he’s living with you while you’re conducting a classified mission. He can’t live with you now that he isn’t with us. He can’t be privy to classified information.”

The boy snorted from his couch, confirming her suspicion that he wasn’t as engrossed in his iPad as he was pretending.

Shooting Sam a look she couldn’t quite read, Agent 11 leaned back in his chair. “Sammy, why won’t you come here and tell the nice lady what you think?”

The redhead was by his side in a matter of seconds. Crossing his arms over his chest, the young man perched himself on the armrest of Agent 11’s chair. Nearly losing his balance, Sam grabbed the agent’s shoulder and peered at Rachel with bright green eyes. “Look, unless you can make me magically unlearn the classified information I already learned before I quit MI6, what’s the point? Isn’t it smarter to keep me where you can have an eye on me instead of letting me leave and sell your precious classified information to someone else?”