Page 8 of Undercover Hearts
The transformation was startling. Gone was the rigid captain, replaced by someone more approachable, genuinely curious. Jenna adapted instantly, shifting her own demeanor to match.
"Yes, at GreenTech Industries in Meridian Heights," she replied smoothly. "I was assigned as her executive assistant five years ago. She was heading the marketing division at the time."
"And when did things change between you?" Michelle pressed.
"After she left GreenTech. She was passed over for the CMO position—political nonsense, really. She deserved that promotion." Jenna infused her voice with protective indignation. "She started her consulting firm, and a month later, I joined her. We told ourselves it was strictly professional, but after those late nights working on client proposals..." She let her voice trail off with a small smile.
Michelle nodded. "What convinced you to leave corporate security for a startup with your former boss?"
"I believed in her vision," Jenna answered without hesitation. "Michelle saw how women in business were being sidelined and their ideas appropriated. She wanted to create something that would actually change that dynamic." She held Michelle's gaze. "And I wanted to be part of it."
The improvised answer hung in the air between them. For a moment, neither spoke, caught in the unexpected authenticity of the exchange.
Then Michelle smiled—a genuine smile that transformed her face, reached her eyes, and did something peculiar to Jenna's heartbeat. "You'd have made an excellent actress."
"Theater minor in college," Jenna admitted, surprising herself with the personal disclosure. "Never thought it would be relevant to law enforcement."
Michelle laughed, a warm sound Jenna hadn't heard before. "I took a semester of improvisation myself. Professor insisted it would help with public speaking."
"Did it?"
"Mostly taught me how ridiculous I look trying to mime being trapped in a box."
Jenna laughed, and for a brief moment, something easy and unguarded passed between them—a glimpse of the women they might be outside their professional roles.
Almost immediately, Michelle straightened, professionalism sliding back into place like armor. "Your recall is excellent. We'll need to develop more specific details—favorite restaurants in Meridian Heights, vacation spots, how we handle disagreements—but the foundation is solid."
Jenna nodded, disappointed by the renewed distance but understanding its necessity. "I'll research Meridian Heights tonight. Corporate culture, neighborhoods, local hangouts."
"Good." Michelle gathered the photographs, movements precise and controlled. "Tomorrow we'll practice physical proximity protocols. Couples have unconscious patterns of movement around each other. We'll need to establish those patterns for the cover to be convincing."
The clinical description of intimacy should have been comforting—a professional approach to a tactical requirement. Instead, Jenna found herself unexpectedly aware of the space between them and the controlled way Michelle kept that distance consistent.
Earning Michelle Reyes' professional respect was clearly going to be challenging. Earning her trust would be harder still. But Jenna was determined to do both—for the success of the operation, for justice for the victims, and increasingly, for reasons she wasn't quite ready to examine.
"I won't let you down, Captain."
Michelle paused, meeting Jenna's eyes directly. "I know you won't, Detective. That's why you're here."
It wasn't quite praise, but it was acknowledgment, and Jenna found herself unreasonably pleased by it as they left the training facility at twilight.
Morning light spilled through the windows of Michelle's office, illuminating the evidence board now temporarily covered with a sheet. Jenna sat across from Michelle's desk, both women reviewing the relationship timeline they'd constructed over the past hour.
"So we began dating fourteen months ago," Jenna confirmed, "after the Meridian Heights Chamber of Commerce event where I defended our business model to that skeptical investor."
Michelle nodded, making a final note. "And we moved in together eight months ago, after deciding to relocate the business to Phoenix Ridge for expansion opportunities."
The timeline made professional sense. The emotional underpinnings—how they'd supposedly fallen in love—felt more delicate territory. Jenna found herself oddly invested in these fictional details, as if crafting the most convincing version of a relationship she'd never have.
"We should discuss physical boundaries," Michelle said. "The PWC leadership will be watching for inconsistencies. Couples develop unconscious patterns of touch, proximity, physical awareness."
Jenna nodded, maintaining her professional composure despite the intimate subject matter. "In my experience, established couples have a physical shorthand—hands on lower backs when passing, touching arms during conversation, standing closer than social norms typically allow."
"Precisely." Michelle adjusted her posture, squaring her shoulders as if preparing for an unpleasant duty. "We'll need to establish those patterns to appear natural. Hand-holding, casual touches, perhaps an occasional kiss if the situation demands it."
The clinical language couldn't quite mask the reality: they would need to become physically comfortable with each other, quickly. Jenna found herself unexpectedly warm at the thought.
"I'm comfortable following your lead on physical boundaries," she offered. "We should establish a signal if either of us needs to create distance."
