Page 21 of Undercover Hearts
Memories from the previous night flooded back—the confrontation, her desperate attempt at release, and then Jenna's unexpected entrance. What followed had been...
Michelle closed her eyes, unable to complete the thought even in the privacy of her own mind. Everything about it violated her carefully constructed professional boundaries.
She'd allowed it. Welcomed it, even. Her body had betrayed her completely, surrendering to Jenna's touch with an embarrassing eagerness that still made her cheeks burn.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Michelle pressed her palms against her eyes, willing the memories away. She needed to regain control, to reestablish the professional distance that had slipped so catastrophically the night before. Threeyoung women were dead. Their justice couldn't be compromised by her inability to keep her desires in check.
Standing, she moved to the door, listening for any sounds. Silence greeted her. She eased her door open, stepping into the hallway with uncharacteristic hesitation.
The sight that greeted her in the living room stopped her short. Jenna lay asleep on the couch, still fully dressed in yesterday's clothes, one arm flung above her head, the other draped across her stomach. She looked simultaneously vulnerable and defiant, even in sleep.
Guilt twisted through Michelle's chest. Jenna had chosen to sleep on the uncomfortable couch rather than return to her bedroom—giving Michelle space, most likely. The consideration in that choice made everything worse somehow, adding emotional complication to what should have been a simple physical release.
Michelle stood frozen, watching the gentle rise and fall of Jenna's chest. In sleep, her features softened, losing the sharp observational awareness that defined her waking presence. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, and Michelle's fingers inexplicably itched to brush it away.
The unexpected tenderness of the thought alarmed her. This was precisely the kind of emotional entanglement she couldn't afford—not just professionally but personally. Her career was littered with failed relationships, all casualties of her inability to balance intimacy with dedication to duty. Her divorce had simply been the most formal of those failures.
Shaking her head, Michelle retreated to the kitchen, deliberately making more noise than necessary as she prepared the coffee machine. The clattering of mugs and the grinding of beans would signal her presence without the awkwardness of having to wake Jenna directly.
As expected, the noise roused Jenna from her sleep. Michelle kept her back turned, focusing intently on measuring coffee grounds as she heard the rustling of movement from the couch.
"Morning," Jenna's voice was husky with sleep, betraying no hint of last night's intimacy.
"Coffee will be ready in five," Michelle replied, her tone deliberately cool and professional. She busied herself with rinsing mugs, still avoiding eye contact.
"Thanks."
The simple normality of the exchange grated against Michelle's nerves, the calm acceptance where she'd expected confrontation leaving her off-balance. She'd prepared for recrimination or awkwardness, not this matter-of-fact morning-after presence.
Finally turning, Michelle found Jenna standing near the breakfast bar, hair tousled from sleep but eyes alert and observant. No hint of embarrassment or regret showed on her face, just patient awareness as she studied Michelle in return.
"We need to discuss the operation timeline," Michelle said, reaching for neutral professional ground. "The PWC meeting isn't until tomorrow, which gives us time to solidify our cover details."
Jenna nodded. "What did you have in mind?"
The reasonable question shouldn't have felt like a trap, but Michelle found herself suddenly desperate to avoid any extended time alone in the apartment with Jenna. The walls seemed to be closing in, the air between them too charged with unresolved tension.
"We should be seen in public," she said, the idea forming even as she spoke. "Couples don't spend all their time at home. We need to establish our presence in the community."
"Makes sense," Jenna agreed, accepting the mug Michelle handed her. Their fingers brushed briefly in the exchange, andMichelle snatched her hand back too quickly, coffee sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
"The beach," Michelle blurted out, the suggestion surprising even herself. "We should go to the beach today."
Jenna's eyebrows rose slightly. "It's supposed to be warm. Good idea."
Michelle turned back to the counter, hiding the relief that washed over her face. The beach meant open spaces, other people, and a public setting that would force them both to maintain appropriate boundaries. More importantly, it provided escape from the apartment where last night's encounter seemed to linger in every shadow.
"We should leave within the hour," Michelle said, her voice steadier now that she had a plan. "Pack enough for the day. We can get lunch at one of the beachfront cafes."
Jenna nodded, sipping her coffee with maddening composure. "I'll get ready."
As Jenna disappeared into her bedroom, Michelle sagged against the counter, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She needed distance and perspective—both of which seemed impossible within these walls where memory of Jenna's touch seemed imprinted on her skin.
A day at the beach. Sun, sand, and most importantly, public scrutiny that would keep her behavior firmly in check. It was the perfect solution to avoid the conversation that hovered between them, unspoken but unavoidable.
Michelle pushed away from the counter, determination straightening her spine. Today would be about reestablishing control and refocusing on the operation. Nothing more.
She refused to acknowledge the small voice pointing out that running from the apartment was really about running from herself.
