In Deep with the FBI Agent (7 page)

“Yep. Total nerd fest.”

She gave him a sideways glance, not sure how to read his comment, and saw he had a mischievous light shining in his eyes, and she elbowed him gently. He caught her arm and pulled her into his side, making her realize how tall he'd grown. Her shoulder fit under his perfectly and the scent of his aftershave or soap floated into her nostrils at this close distance. He smelled…nice. Almost sexy, and now she knew she needed to eat some food, since she was obviously light-headed if she was having amorous thoughts about Sam Cooper.

She followed Sam to his dark sedan in the lot after he promised to bring her back to her car after dinner. “Where to?” he asked, sitting in the driver's seat. She appreciated that he wanted to let her pick the restaurant. “You know this neighborhood better.”

“Actually, I'd prefer not to go out in this neighborhood. Too many school families live nearby. I hate running into them outside work. It's always awkward, and since I'm the director of development, they barely say hi. It's as if they think I'm going to make them write a check if I run into them in aisle four of the supermarket, or I'm going to judge that they're at a fancy restaurant when they could only give a little bit to the annual campaign.”

“I hear you,” Sam said. “So where to?”

She named a restaurant that was far enough from the school, it'd be unlikely they run into anyone she knew, but close enough that returning for her car wouldn't be a pain.

At dinner the conversation was light and easy. They discussed old high school friends, the weather, and movies. Neither of them had seen a movie recently, so that conversation died quickly for lack of kindling.

“You know I finally watched
Buffy the Vampire Slayer
,” she said.

“You did?” He sat straighter.

“Binge watched it over a snowy weekend.”

“Obviously you liked it.”

She smiled, but didn't confirm. The fact that she'd watched several seasons over the course of days spoke for itself.

“Are you Team Spike or Team Angel?”

“Angel,” she said, leaning slightly across the table, knowing her cleavage was on display and enjoying Sam's flared eyes as he took in the view. “I'm over bad boys. Spike is fun for the short term, but I'm a long haul kind of girl.”

“Interesting,” Sam said. “Obviously some things
have
changed since high school.”

She let her gaze wander over his face and down his wide chest. “Obviously. What about you?”

His eyes widened. “Um, neither. I kind of had a thing for Buffy.”

“No, silly.” She laughed. “I meant are you in a long-term relationship? You were seeing someone last time I saw you.”

His voice got low and his smile straightened. “You remember that?” He frowned. “We broke up our junior year.”

“What about now?”

His hand reached for hers, and she let his palm warm her skin for a minute. “I date occasionally now. I'd like to be in a committed relationship, but I haven't met anyone worth getting serious with in a while.” His gaze met hers and held her eyes steady as if to say, “Until now.”

Casey shifted in her seat. She was enjoying herself, but was nervous that she'd gotten on a roller coaster ride that would end with her and Sam in bed and she'd somehow wind up sharing things she'd overheard Nancy say about getting hacked. She didn't want to lie. After spending four years of high school telling white lies about everything from her clothes to her SAT scores to why her mom never came to school events, she'd made a promise to herself to favor honesty. However, she hadn't decided how she was going to handle overhearing her boss talking about her school hack yet, and possibly her job was at stake.

Her sudden nerves had her picking at her food. She'd been enjoying talking with Sam so much, she'd nearly forgotten he probably only wanted to pump her for information about Montgomery Prep. Her nutrition counselor wanted her to eat a certain number of calories per day, and Casey hadn't reached her quota yet, but the food was tasteless because of the part of her brain that was anticipating him asking her about whether or not her school had been hacked.

Their easy conversation died out, leaving her poking at her plate with her fork. Finally, she couldn't stand the silence. She put her fork down on her plate with a clatter. “Sam, if I tell you something, can you promise not to tell anyone? I mean it. I could lose my job.”

He placed his fork down also, though with more care and deliberation. His gaze met hers, but she glanced down at her uneaten dinner. “Casey, I'm in law enforcement. If you tell me there's a dead body in the trunk of your car, I have to report it.”

A relieved burst of laughter escaped her. “No, no dead bodies. Only mine if you let this get public.”

He reached again across the table to place a comforting hand on her clammy fist. “How about this? I will not tell a soul unless I absolutely have to. Does that work?”

She looked at their conjoined hands, thinking how right it both looked and felt to have Sam touching her. Her girly parts got tingly even as she relaxed at his words.

She thought about it and slowly shook her head. “I think you're going to have to tell. That's the problem.” Her lipstick definitely needed refreshing thanks to her chewing it off instead of eating her dinner.

“Well, will people have to know the source? Can't I say I learned whatever you're going to tell me from someone else?”

“Maybe,” she admitted. “But I'm the obvious suspect.”

“Casey, I can't help you unless I know more. I'm a pretty good problem solver. Let me help.”

Because she'd known Sam for a lot of years, and what he'd said about him problem solving was true, she decided to rid herself of her burden. She hadn't been sleeping well for days. If anyone could help her, it was Sam. Unfortunately, he was also in the position to hurt her the most. Her boss had specifically said she didn't want a call from the FBI, and Sam was FBI.

“I think our school was hacked,” she finally blurted. “I overheard the head of school and our IT director talking about it. But you can't tell, because my boss, Nancy, doesn't want the parent body to hear.”

“Oh.” He leaned back and looked too relaxed for someone who'd heard his alma mater had a security breach. “Is that all? You didn't want to tell me. Is that why you didn't eat your dinner? Because you were scared to tell me? I thought you had an eating disorder or something.”

“Don't make jokes.” Especially not about eating disorders, though Sam could have no way of knowing how on target he'd hit the bull's-eye. She pushed back from the table, fighting the tears stinging her eyes. She strode past the other diners, her thighs brushing tables' edges, and narrowly missing knocking over a waiter with a full armload.

“Casey, wait. Why are you running?”

She couldn't answer, she only knew she had to get out of the restaurant.
Dammit
. She'd been doing well. Food hadn't been a trigger for nearly two years, and she'd maintained her healthy weight, but now with becoming a whistle-blower, the upcoming reunion, and Sam Cooper in her life, it was as if her worst anorexic freshman year of college were back. She couldn't go back. She couldn't.

Sam caught up to her when she had one foot out the door to the restaurant. He tried to pull her back inside, but she shook him off, and he followed her outside.

“They're going to think we did a dine-and-dash,” Sam said. “I have to go back in to pay. But what the hell happened? Did I say something wrong?”

She brushed away the tears that dared to dampen her cheeks. “I don't want to talk about it, Sam. Can you take me back to my car? Please?”

He didn't say a word for a long minute, and she stood bravely fighting her tears and looking him dead-on.

“Fine.” He ducked back into the restaurant and reappeared a few minutes later. He looked down at the cash in her hand. “What's that?”

“My share of the dinner.”

“I invited you. Hell, I practically kidnapped you for dinner, and for the record, I was hoping this was kind of a date. When I ask a woman out on a date, I pay. Put your money away.”

Maybe it was his unwitting comment about what she'd eaten for dinner, but she was feeling petty and mean. “It wasn't a date, Sam. I wouldn't date you. We have too much history.”

She started walking toward the car, feeling his hurt radiating off him, which only compounded her own pain. Dammit, this night had started off well and gone to hell. Sam silently followed her to his car and they got in.

“Want to talk about it? Why is it such a big secret Montgomery Prep got hacked? If it's true, they'll have a legal obligation to inform the parent body.”

“Start the car, Sam.”

“Casey, I don't understand what happened. I was having a good time at dinner, and I promised I wouldn't tell your secret unless I had to, and then you were running out crying. If this were a first date with a woman I'd just met, I'd chalk it up to crazy and we'd be done. But I've known you for fourteen years. You're not crazy. You're hurting.”

“Sam, start the car.
Please.
”

Finally, she heard the beautiful sound of the ignition turning over and she relaxed a fraction, but then he kept the car idling.

“You're killing the environment, Sam,” she said.

“It's a hybrid. It can wait until I find out why one of my oldest friends looks like she is going to go home and cry herself to sleep.”

At last, she turned her gaze away from the windshield and onto him. His expression of concern and worry was her undoing. “Am I one of your oldest friends?” she asked. “I don't see how you can say that when I was such a bitch to you in high school.”

“I think you had your reasons. I never understood them entirely, but you were never that mean to me. Mostly you ignored me.” There was a tiny amount of humor threaded into the quiet concern of his tone.

“You were too nice, and you had too much of a crush on me.”

“Is there such a thing as too much?” he asked softly.

She released a puff of air from her nose. “Yes. You never stopped staring at me, and you'd leave those notes in my locker…”

He grinned. “You knew it was me?”

She rolled her eyes, and for a moment she felt like sixteen-year-old Casey again. “They were typed notes, Sam. No other teenager typed locker notes.”

His wide grin flashed and then was replaced with a look of concern. “Case, what's wrong? Tell me, please. Why do you think you're going to be fired for telling me? As your friend, even if you weren't always a friend to me. I'm here for you.”

She took a deep breath and then decided,
What the hell? Who better to trust with your secrets than someone who's known you since you wore a training bra?
“The head of school and the board think the parents will freak out if they find out about the security breach, so they're keeping it totally secret. They had us all change passwords, but they're not telling us anything else.”

She glanced over to see how he was taking that bit of info. He looked thoughtful. “I wonder if there are other schools doing the same thing,” he said. “Is it possible I'm missing a huge chunk of data?”

“I think it's wrong of them,” she said, “and I tried to tell my boss, Nancy, that I knew an FBI agent who could help. She did
not
take me up on my offer.”

“Got it,” he said and swiveled to face her. “I appreciate it a lot that you trusted me. I won't betray you. I'll figure out a way to look into it without cornering you.”

She released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. “I appreciate it.”

He squeezed her bare knee and a shiver crept up her spine. “Now, why don't you tell me why you ran out of the restaurant? You were worried about your job, but not enough to make a scene like you did.”

She folded her arms protectively across her chest and tried to loosen the knot that had tied her empty stomach into a hard ball. She'd already spilled one big secret, so why not go two for two tonight? “I freaked out about what you said when you made the joke about me having an eating disorder, because it's not a joke to me. I'm anorexic, Sam,” she said. “Actually a recovering anorexic,” she corrected.

“Shit. Oh, shit,” he said, then fell silent.

When he remained silent, she swiveled even more in her seat. “Aren't you going to say something?”

“Yes,” he said, but still remained silent a lot longer. Finally, when she was about to scream his name, he said, “I never realized how many jokes people make about eating and starving themselves until now. Me included.”

That was not the response she'd been expecting.

“That's what set you off, isn't it?” he asked. “When I joked about you having an eating disorder.”

Slowly she nodded and wrapped her arms tighter around her torso.

“People say that kind of shit all the time, not realizing that it's not funny, that there are real people struggling with a real disease. I'm sorry—I'm incredibly sorry—I made a joke like that.”

Her lips parted to say—what, she didn't know—but he kept talking, halting her.

“Had a buddy back in college. He suffered from depression and anxiety. Took meds for it, something he shared with me privately one day in a weak moment. After that, whenever I was with him in a big group, I noticed how insensitive people were about mental illness. Like during exams, they'd joke that they need Prozac to get through it. Or they'd say something like the professors needed therapy if they thought they could hand out that much work. As if Prozac and therapy were jokes.”

“I'm not mentally ill, Sam,” she said sharply, but kept silent about the fact that her mother suffered from depression. One personal revelation in an evening was enough. If Sam was smart, he'd run from her messed-up life.