The Fidelity Files (Jennifer Hunter #1)(6)

Not yet, anyway. But I have high hopes.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. He grasped my hand tightly and began to lead me down the hallway toward his room, a playful smile artificially painted on my face.

This is a very crucial time in the process. The game is nearly over, but it's no time to be careless. Any slight mistake, change in character, wrong word could trigger suspicion and, inevitably, an aborted mission. Raymond was far too distracted to be suspicious, but you can never be too sure. No matter how predictable someone is, they can always surprise you. And therefore I can never lose my concentration. My true identity must always be concealed.

Backing out is one thing, but a blown cover is quite another.

He let go of my hand just long enough to fish his hotel key out of his back pocket. I giggled nervously as I watched him fiddle with the electronic lock. Trying it once, getting a red error light, and then trying it again. If only he had stopped long enough to read the red light and respond to its obvious implication.

There are always signs; most just fail to see them.

The green light finally illuminated and he turned the handle and pushed the door open with his back. He reached out his hands and grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in after him.



"THERE'S JUST one more thing..." Mrs. Jacobs had said to me as I was packing up my things to leave.

I tucked the photograph of Raymond Jacobs that she had given me into the pocket of my portfolio and placed it in my bag. Then I looked up at her. "What's that?"

She fidgeted in her seat, the inevitability of her forthcoming question making her visibly uncomfortable. But it was a question that needed to be asked. And she knew she would have to ask it eventually.

I, however, already knew what it would be.

Because it was the same question that always came at this point in the meeting.

The same disturbing image that would perpetually haunt her for the rest of the week, and possibly the rest of her life, unless it was addressed.

"What about sex?" she finally managed to get out. "Do you actually have sex with the...um..." Her voice trailed off. She was unable to even think about it, let alone say it aloud.

"Absolutely not," I said, without even the slightest waver in my voice. This point has always been nonnegotiable, so it was important that I presented it as such.

She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

I smiled warmly. "Mrs. Jacobs, I assure you, my test is based on an intention to cheat only. There is no sex involved."

She shifted again in her seat. "Intention to cheat," she repeated to herself.

"Yes," I confirmed with an emphatic nod of my head.

"So how does that work exactly?"



RAYMOND AND I stumbled clumsily through the extravagant, top-floor suite, his lips on my mouth, my neck, my face. Anywhere they could find.

As we fell onto the bed, I made sure that I was on top. It's a much easier escape route when the time comes to escape.

His hands immediately came up and landed on my ass. I moaned with pleasure.

He liked it.

They usually do.

He continued to kiss me as he slid my suit jacket over my shoulders. Then he went for my shirt. Unbuttoning the buttons one by one. I didn't protest. The shirt came off. He took one look at my lavender lace Balconette push-up bra and let out an appreciative sigh. Sure, it was flattering. How could it not be? But tonight, like every other night, the focus wasn't on me. And therefore, I usually took little notice of their "appreciation."

Next off was my skirt, revealing the matching Boyshorts I had on underneath. He touched my hip bones and squeezed. I shivered with believable excitement.

My fingers started unbuttoning his shirt next, stroking his chest and sliding it seductively off his shoulders.

He quivered with anticipation. "Oh my God, I want you so bad."

"Really?" I asked softly, still as demure and unsure as ever.

"Oh, yes," he replied. "You are so sexy."

"Good," I whispered.

And with that I rolled off of him, slid to the edge of the bed, and callously started gathering up my items of clothing. Without a word, I quickly located my skirt on the floor, reached down to grab it, and then stood up to put it back on.

"What are you doing?" he asked with more than a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I'm leaving," I replied blankly, stepping into my skirt and pulling it up around my hips.

He sat up, seemingly too quickly, either because of one too many drinks or a lack of blood flow to the brain... possibly both. He put his hand to his head to steady the room. A look of total bewilderment stretched across his face. "Why?"

I knew exactly what he was thinking. That this part was definitely not in the script he had come to memorize. Boy meets girl. Boy buys girl drink. Boy invites girl to hotel room. Girl accepts. But girl certainly does not just change her mind and leave for no reason.

"Because I'm done here," I said matter-of-factly, sliding my arms into the sleeves of my shirt and proceeding to button it up.

And I was done.

He shook his head. "I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?"

I shrugged. "I guess you could put it that way."

This threw him off even more. The look on his face was one I'd seen many times. It was an expression of someone tracing steps back in their mind, trying to reassemble a pile of amorphous puzzle pieces that had absolutely no possibility of ever interlocking.