Page 30 of Live a Little!

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“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKIN’SO happy about? Get laid last night?” Eddie from the loading dock shuffled past Cynthia in the corridor, a bleary-eyed leer on hisface.

“What kind of—” She stopped herself in the middle of a self-righteous rant, remembering Cyn would have those kind of earth-shattering experiences practically every night and not feel a bit embarrassed by her smug morning-after smile. She changed her tone to sultry, and threw in a little laugh. “What kind of girl kisses and tells?” She winked at Eddie and watched his complexion go even ruddier. Really, she was getting pretty good at this sexystuff.

“Mornin’, Mr. Percivald,” he said as he shuffled onby.

“Good morning, Eddie.” Neville Percivald’s voice came from just behind her. She felt herself blush. Darn it, how much had heheard?

“Good morning,Cynthia.”

She was forced to turn around, hoping she hadn’t shocked him. He didn’t seem shocked, though. He looked…interested.

She didn’t want Neville interested in her sexlife.

Last night, Cynthia Baxter had discovered she could have sex so mind-bogglingly fantastic she giggled every time she thought about it. She wanted to hold that special knowledge to herself, not bring it to the office withher.

She’d had so little sleep last night, she should be exhausted this morning, but instead she felt invigorated.Empoweredwas a favorite word in those self-help books she’d been reading, and that was how she felt this morning. Empowered. She could do anythingtoday!

Which reminded her. She had work to do, important undercover work, and following Jake’s rules about doing nothing but her job hadn’t helped her get any closer to discovering whether Oceanic was involved in drug smuggling, and if so,how.

Maybe it was time to use that newfound empowerment. Take a bit of a risk and see what she couldfind.

Today she could risk anything, do anything. She was Cyn the Bold! And she’d been bold last night in bed—bold in a way that should have made her blush this morning. Instead she felt a warm, sexy and invigoratingglow.

She smiled to herself. Having a man like Jake helpless beneath her and literally begging was the best kind of empowerment a woman could find. She could probably get a Ph.D. on thesubject.

Which would involve finding a pretty broad-minded university. Perhaps she’d be better off continuing her research in private, her dissertation fit for nobody’s ears but Jake’s. Perhaps, instead of the traditional thesis, she could do more of a one-on-one, performance-art kind of thing. She licked her lips as scenarios filled hermind.

She found herself back at her desk, her coffee mug still empty. How had she managed to walk to the break room and forget the coffee? Apart from her empty coffee mug, there was nothing more exciting on her desk than a routine stack of packing slips. She glanced at the first one. It was for another load ofchopsticks.

Oceanic seemed to be bringing in an awful lot of chopsticks, she thought idly, as she flicked through a stack of paper. She stopped and picked up a pencil, tapping the eraser end against herdesktop.

According to the documentation, these chopsticks had also come from Colombia. Excitement stirred in her belly. Colombia had cleaned up its image but, if the news was to be believed, the country still grew and exported more cocaine than any other country in the world. And a lot of that was being shipped to theUS.

The same boat had also shipped a large order of coffee. Her eyes widened in excitement. Jake had mentioned the practice of smuggling cocaine inside sacks of coffee, so the overpowering fragrance of coffee beans hid the smell of drugs from thedogs.

She glanced up at the Daytona 500 racing poster her predecessor had left behind, knowing she didn’t fit in at this company any more than that poster fit in her office. She had to take a more active role in this investigation or she’d be weeping from boredom. She stretched her legs out in front of her and admired the brand-new, strappy black heels. They were the most frivolous and expensive shoes she’d ever owned. She loved them. A woman in shoes like these didn’t worry about stepping out of thebox.

Sherose.

A woman in shoes like these made her ownrules.

She walked down the corridor and through the double fire doors into the warehouse. As she’d hoped, the guys were already moving the boxes, sacks and crates from the loading dock into the warehouse. She tripped up to Eddie, who was supervising a grunting, sweating crew, and gave him her best smile. She leaned against the wall of coffee sacks they werebuilding.

“Hey, Cyn,” Eddie greetedher.

“Eddie, I don’t know what to get Marilyn for a shower present. I’ve seen you two together a few times, so wondered if you might have someideas.”

“Present for Marilyn. Hmm.” Eddie leaned beside her, his freckled arms crossed over his massive chest. Damp sweat rings circled hisunderarms.

While he pondered, and it wasn’t a quick process, she began digging and twisting her brand-new, very expensive, pencil-thin heel into a burlap sack, trying to tear a hole big enough for the beans, and whatever else was in the sack, to come spilling out. It broke her heart to damage her brand-new shoes, but she was willing to make the odd personal sacrifice if she was going to help theFBI.

Trouble was, when she’d thought up this maneuver she hadn’t taken into account how tough burlapwas.

“A tablecloth could be good,” Eddiesaid.

“Do you know how big their table is?” She stabbed her heel harder, trying not togrunt.

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