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HOT ZONE
By
P.J. Womack
© copyright by P.J. Womack, August 2007
Cover Art by Eliza Black, © copyright August 2007
ISBN 978-1-60494-073-3
New Concepts Publishing
Lake Park, GA 31636
www.newconceptspublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.
Chapter One
"You're late, and I’m not laughing, buster."
Jake Claypool took the cell phone away from his ear and considered tossing it out the window. This had to be the agent from Seattle. Obviously his new partner didn't like to wait.
He didn’t try to soften the edge of irritation in his voice. “Ma’am. Mind identifying yourself?”
"Special Ops, Jessica Fontana. I'm standing here in the airport terminal with a group of Boy Scouts who are trying to look up my skirt."
Jake glanced at his watch. The damned thing had stopped cold. "Look, Fontana. I apologize. Something came up and I'm running late."
"I noticed, Claypool. Would you just get here? Pronto."
Fontana was going to be a barrel of laughs. She’d probably been dumped a few times in her life, and now hated all men. How did all these hostile women find him?
“Yeah.” He closed his phone and clenched his jaw, eager to get to the airport so he could set his new partner straight on a few things.
At the moment, he was too busy jockeying for a spot in the slow moving tie-up to care if the lady was stranded at Dallas Love Field.
Once out on the highway, he made better time, trying to keep his mind on the traffic instead of a bitchy chick. Man, he was a magnet for women with hot tempers and cold blood. Curiosity crept into his mind like a wisp of smoke. Fontana had a sultry voice. And a razor-sharp tongue. He hadn’t even met her yet, and she already sounded too much like his ex-wife.
He shook off the memory of their last meeting, her obvious sexual leanings toward her attorney and his own vow to steer clear of hearth and home scenes. He said goodbye to her and hello to permanent bachelorhood.
After parking what seemed like a mile away, Jake trotted to the terminal entrance and stopped to refill his lungs with a couple deep breaths. The heat sucked him dry and his head pounded. He straightened at the touch of a hand on his shoulder, and noticed the Restricted Area sign.
“Move on, mister. You got no business here.”
Pulling his shield from his pocket, Jake identified himself to the Security guard. “Agent Claypool. HSD, picking up agent Fontana.”
Getting clearance was no problem. Finding Ms. Fontana probably would be. Jake walked inside and looked around. If she was as hot as she thought, the boys would still be trying to look up her dress.
He slowed his pace to scan the area. His mouth curved into a sarcastic smile as he took in the heartwarming scene on the opposite side of the building.
Ah yes, holy hell. That had to be her. Surrounded by a troop of pubescent Boy Scouts, Jessica Fontana seemed to be in no distress. The gray silk skirt she wore clung to her lean curves making it hard not to notice her.
She had style and everything about her radiated self-confidence. The warm smile she flashed over the group of google-eyed boys rippled his blood, and he warned himself. That babe was his partner.
Agent Fontana was slim and tall, hot looking, with dark, shoulder length hair and suntanned complexion. Probably had brown eyes, but he didn't care. There was a weapon under that short-sleeved jacket. Fontana was an agent and as far as he was concerned, she had a set of balls.
* * * *
Jessica noticed him standing at the terminal entrance, checking her out with his lawman eyes. Not bad to look at, well built, and she liked his rough-cut hair. He was too short for her taste. Being five foot nine, and wearing her three-inch heels, she’d be looking him square in the eye.
As he walked toward her, Jessica checked out his features. Mildly interesting. Lean jaw and chiseled lips. He looked short on words and heavy on action. Intense blue eyes and a slight hook in the bridge of his nose. Did his dark blond hair always look like it needed combing?
She picked up her flight bag and smiled at her group of admirers. "Okay guys. My driver's here." She shook hands with the braver ones. "You've been so sweet. Thank you, men."
They groaned in protest and scowled at Jake, hanging back to observe as the older guy took charge.
"Agent Fontana?" His voice was like fine sandpaper on her ear lobe.
"If you're Agent Claypool."
She gazed steadily at him, noting the tic in his cheek.
“No one told me you’d be a comedian.” He reached for her tote bag. "I’ll take that.”
She held it away from him.
"No thanks, I'll carry it."
"Suit yourself." He tossed another line at her over his shoulder. “The name is Jake.”
“Fine,” she said, not really caring what his name was.
They left the building, walking fast until she thumped his arm. "Is there a reason you can't get the car and pick me up here?"
He stopped and rubbed his chin. "Let me see. Oh yeah. You can't cruise around in this area." He reached for her bag again. "Give that to me. I have to get back to work."
Thrusting it toward him, she put a lid on her resentment. "You're not much on manners are you?" She caught his look of astonishment when she slipped off her heels and motioned for him to move. "Let's go. I have to report in sometime today too."
When he stood inches from her and pinned her with his blue gaze, the soles of her feet tingled. He looked so normal at that moment she almost forgot he was a jerk.
"No need to do that. I'll get the car."
He didn't wait for her to agree, leaving her to watch him stride off. Nice start. Her new partner seemed sour on the world, but she didn't care about his personality as long as he didn't get her killed. She was only on loan to this group because of her skills as a pilot and would head back to Seattle when the job, whatever it may be, was finished.
She looked up to see her troop of mini commandos piling into a yellow school bus. They yelled and waved from the open windows as the bus drove past. Wow. She was always a hit with kids and dogs. Her fiancé's goodbye kiss hadn't been half that demonstrative.
Thinking of him cooled her cheerful mood. Three years into their relationship, he’d attempted to put her in leg irons of refinement, and bring her to what he considered a more suitable lifestyle. His family wasn’t happy with her social ilk. Their dislike of her had brought out a controlling kind of nature she’d never seen in him before. He seemed determined to force her into a new mold.
To please his parents, Peter had begun a constant siege on her job with HSD and her burgeoning Air Parcel Delivery Company. He seemed to think both were a waste of time better spent doing charity work and furthering her education. She had come reluctantly to the conclusion he had been a true waste of time. But, she still had feelings for Peter. Exactly what, Jessica wasn’t sure.
Her edgy partner pulled up in a shiny black sedan and eyed her with something close to contempt. She opened the door, threw her handbag in the back seat, and then slid in beside him.
“So, what did you say your first name is, Claypool?”
“Fasten your seatbelt.” He drove away from the entrance but not before checking out her legs. “Jake.”
“Jake?” She liked his name. Plain and up front like him. “Okay.” She smoothed her skirt over her thighs.
“So.” His glance was brief but intense. “What do I call you?”
“Jessica.”
“Too girlie.” He looked at his watch, tapped it on the steering wheel several times. “While you’re with me, you’re Fontana.”
“Swell.”
Jessica relaxed in the comfortable leather seat, and after catching Jake’s second glance at her legs, she arched her brows and smiled knowingly at him. He wasn't shamefaced at all. Not much on conversation either.
"Fontana, how long you been in HSD?"
The question seemed reasonable, and she wanted to engage him in conversation. "You're trying to find out how old I am?"
"I know you're over twenty-one, and, if I wanted to know, I'd ask." He leaned over to push the AC into high gear.
His after shave brought to mind the rich scent of ginger jars and honey. That wouldn't be too bad to wake up to.
Jessica had no need to be coy with him and openly checked him out while he drove. If her steady stare bothered him, he didn't break under pressure. Taking a chance he might not be completely anti-social, she took up the conversation where he left off.
"I'm thirty-one. And you are...?"
"Twenty-nine." He grinned and looked straight ahead.
She gazed at him, eye’s narrowed in an assessing manner. “I'll bet you've been with the Department a long, long time. Since you became legal." She chuckled. "You still get carded, don't you?"
The question forced him into his true personality. "Just so you know, I'm plenty old enough to handle an older lady like you."
"Claypool." She couldn't help curling her toes when he practically rode the bumper of the car in front of them. “That’s the way I like it. Say what you mean. I won’t put your ass in a sling with a harassment suit if you don’t get insulted when I tell you I’ve spanked better boys than you.”
His jaw relaxed a bit while he thought over her proposition. “Sounds fair to me. Just so we understand each other, you get no special treatment because you’re female.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.” Jessica could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He could be taught that she would be one step ahead of him at all times.
He nodded in her direction. “We might get along after all.”
She doubted that but liked the fact their relationship was laid out and they could get on with business.
"Do you have any idea why the Department sent me down here?"
His glance in her direction was fleeting. "Beats the hell out of me." He tapped his watch on the dash. "Just want to see how I handle stress, maybe."
"I'll pretend you're joking." She turned her head and looked at the blur of scenery passing by her window. Putting up with Texas heat and Jake was no big deal. She’d been through worse. Back in Seattle, her world was crumbling, and she would have to make some hard decisions soon.
This was temporary. One mission and back home to Seattle.
Agent Claypool didn't engage her in conversation again until they drove into the agency’s underground garage. The place was like a cave, cool and dimly lit. She unbuckled her seatbelt and slipped her shoes on, arching her brows at his lack of manners. Jake got out, immediately forgetting her. He was involved in a personal phone call at the moment and paced in front of the car. She didn’t expect him to open her door. He didn’t.
She got out, noting a dozen gleaming, midnight blue sedans parked approximately four feet apart, wheels all tuned to the right.
Claypool opened the heavy glass door to the lobby of the building and waited for her to catch up with him.
“This way, Fontana.” He loosened the knot of his tie a little and looked at his watch.
He headed down a hallway, leading her into a small room. The walls were covered with maps and greatly enlarged aerial shots of rough terrain and mountains. A section was an obvious schedule for take off and landings for a variety of airplanes pictured next to the schedules.
“What’s the plane for? Coyote hunting?”
She finally had his attention.
"You're a pilot?"
"Damned good one."
"Bush or purist?"
"Either, but I prefer the challenge of the bush."
His lips twitched in a brief smile. “Yeah. I figured as much.”
Jessica didn’t take his words as a compliment. He probably meant she looked like a wild woman. She slid a quick glance to his profile, smiling at the thought he might dread flying with her.
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