“It’s faster if you don’t interrupt.” She caught his hand before he could get away. “First, we hold hands whenever possible and do those small, affectionate kisses.”
“Got it.” He took a half step, stopping when she held on. “There’s more?”
“I was breaking it down into physical stuff versus other.”
He checked his watch. “Tell me about “other” while we’re driving.”
“Fine.” He reached around, opening the door for her, and she climbed up into the cab and buckled her seatbelt. When he was settled in the driver’s seat she continued, “My only other rule is that you’ll accept it when I give you a compliment or do something thoughtful for you.”
His eyebrows took a hard dive and he put all his focus into backing out of the parking space. She barely kept her smile in check. Dean was confident about his work, but he had yet to master accepting praise gracefully. “As long as you make the same effort.”
Partnership. Mutual respect. “Okay, we’ll work on that together.”
“Am I allowed to set any of the ground rules?”
“Isn’t that what you just did?”
He sighed, but she caught the hint of a smile on his lips. She might exasperate him, but they enjoyed working together. “No sugary endearments. Wedding bands aside, this is a normal op for us.”
“No problem.” Did he think she’d suddenly start calling him darling or baby? “Teamwork makes the dream work,” she quipped.
“All I’m saying is we don’t really know the threats. That always puts me on edge.”
That was the last thing she expected to hear. “You think if I say something like, “watch the wind shear, babe” you’ll lose focus?”
“That sums it up.”
She didn’t believe it for a second, but it was more evidence his ex-wife had been awful. “Okay, Dean. I promise not to cross that line.”
“Thanks.”
Reaching the pass, they rode for several minutes with only the background noise of the engine and the wheels on the road.
“Did you have time for any background research?” he asked.
“Not really.” She would’ve pulled up the email on her phone, but she had a tendency to get carsick when she tried to read for too long. She did not want to be pasty and queasy at introductions. First impressions made a difference. “I figure we can make an assessment and then prioritize who might be the problem child.”
“If the problem child is in the scouting party,” Dean reminded her.
“True. The most likely explanation is the studio heard our amazing mountains are full of preppers and insurrectionists.”
“That’s not entirely off base,” Dean said with a low chuckle.
“I know we have our share.” It had been her first thought back in the office. “The studio probably hired protection to be sure Spalding doesn’t wind up in a ravine. His name on a project practically guarantees a box office blockbuster.”
“I guess so.”
Nearing the airport on the eastern side of the Springs, Dean followed the signs for the private charter arrivals. Two white SUVs were already waiting, both vehicles sporting magnetic signs with the studio’s logo.
“Guess we’re in the right place,” Mel said.
“Looks that way,” he agreed. “Do you think they’ll check our IDs?”
“That’s Security 101. I definitely won’t be happy if they don’t.” She stared at him, then looked to the console. The envelope Beck had given them was gone. “Do not tell me you forgot to grab your undercover docs.”
He patted his pockets, but he was already grinning. “Gotcha.”
“You did not.” She polished her sunglasses on the hem of her shirt and then opened the email on her phone for a quick refresher of names and faces. “Do us both a favor and don’t join any poker games this week, okay?”
“Yes, Mrs. Turner.”
She rolled her eyes. No way did she believe he was suddenly over his reservations about playing husband for this op. She enlarged the pictures and tilted the phone so Dean could see it as well. “We have the director, Neil Spalding—”
“The man not allowed to fall into a ravine.”
“Correct.” She highlighted Spalding’s face. “Hopefully that’s the biggest concern. Always makes me nervous when the client is cagey.”
“We’re professionals, we’ll manage,” he said.