Black Ops (Presidential Agent 5)

"Now I'll never have to worry that you say you love me only because of my money."

"Actually, you have certain other attributes that attract me."

"Oh, God, when you do that, I go crazy!"

"I've noticed."

[TWO]

Double-Bar-C Ranch

Near Midland, Texas

0715 8 January 2006

Svetlana decided to let her Carlos sleep. She knew that he was exhausted both emotionally and physically, maybe especially physically. And not only because he'd done all that flying all over in such a short period of time.

My God, I love that man!

After their last romp--whenever that had been; three, three-thirty, four in the morning--he had rolled onto his back, closed his eyes, and not moved since.

He hadn't even stirred when the airplane landed, making enough noise to wake her from her sound sleep.

Svetlana did not know what time it was. She had been confused by the one-hour time difference between Fort Lauderdale and Pensacola, which were both in the same state. And then, when they had flown west in the Lear--which Carlos had said was even faster than his bigger Gulfstream--she had been confused again, because they had covered far more distance than inside Florida--and logically that would indicate several time zones--yet Midland and Pensacola shared the same time.

The only thing she knew for sure was that she desperately needed a cup of tea and maybe a piece of toast or something. Then she would come back to bed and go to sleep again, curled up against her Carlos.

Carefully curled up, so as not to wake him.

In this situation, not only would taking a shower be unnecessary, but the noise it would make would almost certainly wake him. When the water closet flushed, it sounded like a fire hydrant exploding.

That then raised the question of dress. It simply made no sense to get dressed to sneak quietly into the kitchen and make a cup of tea and maybe some toast, then come back to the bedroom only to get undressed again.

She went snooping, and the solution she found pleased her.

In the first closet she came to, she found a bathrobe hanging from a hook. It was old, well-worn and frayed, but it was wonderfully soft to the touch, and when she held it up and examined it she saw that it was clean, too. And then she was even more pleased to finally recognize it for what it was--from Carlos's military college. It read "USMA" in large letters on the back, and there was an insignia, sort of a coat of arms, on the breast.

She put it on, and smiled warmly at the thought of wearing Carlos's military college bathrobe.

Is nice.

Intimate. . . .

She did not put on any underwear. She disliked putting on underwear once she'd taken it off, and it really didn't make much sense to put on fresh linen without showering first, only to have to take it off ten minutes later.

She opened the bedroom door and looked and listened before finally going into the corridor. Then, barefoot, she ran down it until she reached the kitchen.

She listened at the door to make sure no one was inside, then quickly stepped inside, quietly clicking the door closed behind her.

Then she turned--and came face-to-face with three unfamiliar people who were sitting at the kitchen table.

One was a very large, swarthy man. The other two were women--a dark, attractive Latina a little younger than the man and an erect, silver-haired lady who appeared to be in her late sixties, maybe a little older.

Svetlana smiled awkwardly and nodded.

The older lady stood and smiled back. "Well, my dear. I see that Randy was right on the money. He said you were 'a real looker.' "

Svetlana said nothing.