At the Merest Glance by M. L. Buchman

Author:M. L. Buchman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Buchman Bookworks, Inc.

Chapter 11

Anton lay awake in his bed at the Ship Inn.

He’d had no sleep in two nights, and now it was noon in Mousehole. Which was seven a.m. in San Antonio, by which time he’d be finishing his morning workout and scouting around for breakfast. His body definitely didn’t know which way was up.

And his thoughts wouldn’t shut up.

It wasn’t the kind of problem he normally had. As a kid, Michelle would lose a night’s sleep, or several nights’ worth when she was worrying at something. He’d always felt that it was his brotherly duty to rub in the fact that it never happened to him.

But now, when exhaustion should have dragged him under long ago, his thoughts were swirling.

He’d tried pretending it was analyzing the mission.

It had shifted like slippery ice. One moment their assignment was about testing the various cables’ security in the UK. And the next it was about just who Chas Thorstad might be and what in tarnation he was up to.

Colonel Gibson had probably started them out on the wrong beach intentionally, just to see how long it would take the average person to unravel what was going on. But they weren’t the average team, especially not since he’d spotted Katie watching the badgers. Without that, they might not have picked up on Chas as a target.

Chance?

Yet chance had played strongly in Shadow Force: Psi’s favor more than seemed likely. He was sure that Isobel would have some deep thoughts on that, but he had no idea what they could be.

Chance or whatever weird force that was acting in their favor had also brought Katie into their circle. He had no more complaints about that than a hound dog at a hamburger joint.

He sighed.

No real question about what was keeping him awake.

Chas Thorstad could have a ship’s mast up his butt for all Anton cared.

Katie Whitfield. Damn but that woman had the sweetest kiss. He’d wanted to invite her back to his room when they returned to Mousehole. Or maybe he should have offered to escort her to hers to…make sure she got back safely? Like Mousehole was such a dangerous place. The main hazard he saw was a chance of collapsing into a state of semi-bucolic bliss and never moving again.

But if he had, maybe she would have invited him in.

Or was it too soon?

Or—

“Shit but you’re a mess, Anton Bowman.” No one argued with his assessment.

Sleep.

If he could just stop thinking and sleep, then he’d—

A fist thumped on his door. He’d recognize Michelle’s graceless knock anywhere. She didn’t just breeze into his room.

“Yo.” He was too tired to do more, but it was enough.

She swung the door just partway open, then peeked in carefully. “You’re alone.”

“Don’t sound so damned surprised.”

“Why didn’t you just jump her?” Michelle came the rest of the way in and sat at the foot of his bed.

“Because I’m a decent, thoughtful kind of guy.”

“Since when?”

“Since…” Well, he tried to be decent and thoughtful, though he’d never found it difficult to entice a woman into his bed.

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