Free License to Thrill by Elizabeth Cage

knocked over by someone barreling out of the suite.
    â€œCor blimey!” she exclaimed as she looked up into the nearly unrecognizable face of Jonathon Nicholson. His once friendly smile had been replaced with a nasty scowl. “You almost knocked me over, there,” she finished weakly.
    â€œWell, you should watch where you’re going,” Jonathon growled, shooting her an icy glare.
    â€œLooks like some bloke got up on the wrong side of the bed,” Caylin said, her heart pounding anxiously. Deep inside, she was certain his mood had nothing to do with a bad night’s sleep. The veins bulging at his temples and the white in the knuckles of his close-fisted hands told her only one thing: that he had found the bugs. Operation On The Rag was a bust, pure and simple.
    â€œI don’t have time to talk to the hired help,” he said, his eyes slits.
    â€œWhat’s your bloody problem?” she asked, drop jawed.
    â€œI don’t have a problem. Just stay out of my way!” he warned, stomping down the hall.
    â€œDon’t worry—I wouldn’t want to be within a hundred feet of your rude self,” she muttered. But he was already gone.
    She opened the door slowly, holding her ragged breath. With tightly crossed fingers she tiptoed into the bathroom. When she spotted the tiny black bug, she breathed a sigh of relief. She checked for the bugs one by one, only to find each firmly in place.
    â€œWhat’s Jonathon’s deal?” she muttered. If he hadn’tfound out about the bugs, he must have found out something. But what?
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    I really need a mental health break, Jo thought. She leaned back from the desk and closed her eyes, ignoring the boring Portuguese document in front of her. She felt a light tap on her arm and jumped. She glanced up, ready to apologize to Sandra for loafing. Instead she stifled a gasp. The eyes she was looking into belonged to none other than Jonathon Nicholson!
    â€œYes?” she asked, trying to act clueless over his identity.
    â€œI don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended a hand and flashed her a smile. “Jonathon Nicholson.”
    Jo struggled to keep the displeasure off her face. Slimeballs like Jonathon made her want to blow chunks. “Um, Natascia Sanchez,” she said, shaking his hand and noticing its silky smoothness, the firm grip. Boy, do I have mixed feelings about this guy, she thought. Like someone took my emotions and tossed them in a Cuisinart or something.
    â€œIt’s a pleasure,” he replied, then looked around at theother translators. “Excuse me, everyone. I need to know if anyone here speaks Arabic.”
    â€œUm, a little,” Jo lied, tentatively lifting her hand skyward. If Jonathon bought her baloney, she figured that could get her into a face-to-face meeting with the ringleader of this whole shebang. She could always get The Tower to wire her to a real Arabic translator or something so no one would ever be the wiser. She certainly couldn’t do that this very second, however. “I’m . . . I’m pretty rusty, though, and I’m also totally busy with this document—”
    â€œYes, I can see that,” Jonathon said, a look of genuine relief flooding his handsome features. “Well, I don’t need your services just yet, but I’ll definitely be in touch.”
    As he departed, Jo bit her lip. She was happy her boss wasn’t in to witness her white lie, but she really hoped she wasn’t in over her head.
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    â€œTGIF,” Caylin said, kicking off her shoes the moment she entered the hotel suite. “Ugh! Thank goodness I’ve got Monday off. I don’t think I can take much more of this.”
    â€œYeah, we’ve got Monday off too,” Theresa said witha wave, her eyes glued to the TV set. “What’s this bank holiday thing all about,