Our brightest blazes of gladness are commonly kindled by unexpected sparks. – Samuel Johnson

That was…unexpected. – Jase

“I have an idea,” Nessa assaulted Jase within ten minutes of his return to San Antonio. He hadn't even made it to his midrise front door, having driven through the gate, parked, and begun his ascent up the entry steps when she called his name from the direction of guest parking.

“Have you been watching my apartment?” he responded half in jest, turning to see her earnest face only a few feet behind him. He could still taste Amélie on his lips and felt inexplicably abashed in Nessa's presence. The realization angered him.

Her own sudden shyness implied her guilt in something, and Jase realized that she had in fact lain in wait for him. If he were honest with himself, her attention flattered him, but conceding as much would throw him back into a mental turmoil he had hoped to leave behind with New York. He quickly studied his environment, searching for something to seize upon as a distraction, both for her and for himself. When his eyes rested on the car he had seen her exit, Jase found his subject, and he grinned at the confusion that would follow.

Jase affected an obvious cringe. Following the direction of his gaze, Nessa turned to face her nondescript two-door, silver sedan

“What?” she demanded.

“I have to get you a new car.”

“I'm sorry?” She turned back to him, her befuddlement apparent on her face. His abrupt change of subject had succeeded in confusing her, and she had not seemed to grasp the intent of his expression. A moment later, though, she shook her head and glanced back at her car as if processing his words. “What are you talking about? My car is fine!” Nessa insisted petulantly. “I don't need to waste money on a vehicle when mine works.”

“If you consider needing four hours to drive across town 'working,' then I guess you're right,” he teased, still grimacing in her car's direction.

“Would you please focus, Jase? I was going to share my idea with you,” Nessa commanded, sudden irritation flooding her tone. “I'm not here to debate the merits of my car!”

Rather than respond, Jase turned his back on her without a word. The motion meant that Nessa would either have to stand forsaken in the parking lot or follow dutifully behind him. He had almost recovered his usual equanimity, and he only needed a few more seconds to settle himself completely.

Too, though he wouldn't admit it, he cherished the sense of power it gave him to leave her behind. He had cowed many more formidable foes than she, but somehow, dishing out a little irritation to her fed his ego just enough to soothe. He didn’t appreciate how she had the power to distract him.

After a few yards of stalking, Jase became aware that he did not hear her behind him. A moment of concern interrupted his forced calm, and he pulled to an immediate stop. Before he could turn to find her, though, he heard an exasperated intake of breath behind him. Jase spun to find her mere inches from where he stood. How, he wondered, had she managed to follow him so noiselessly? A reluctant admiration peeked out of his mind as he realized the level of skill required for such stealth.

“Jase, come on. Are you going to help me, or not?” she sulked. Jase didn't answer for a moment, still thinking about her noiseless approach. Apparently, however, Nessa's patience had simmered into vexation. “I could still ask Drew,” she leveled with a petulant tilt of her head, “but I was under the impression that you were a little better suited for what I need. Maybe I was wrong, though...”

A little better for what she needed? His back to her, Jase narrowed his eyes, suspicious that she had intentionally pricked his ego. Oh, I'm better for what you need, he shot back silently, a wicked smile twisting his lips. For a moment, he considered seizing Nessa and kissing her breathless, just to teach her a lesson, but he forced himself to turn toward the elevator, almost sure that going on the attack would communicate weakness to the insightful woman behind him rather than power.

Turning back toward her as they entered the elevator, Jase watched the most minute smile curve the corner of her own lips. Her eyes, too, wore a mocking gaze. He wondered if he would more lose his position of strength if he kicked her out of his elevator that moment or if he agreed to help her. Either way, she had won.

“Drew,” Jase tried to sound cool, but the name came out as if it carried disease, “could not have found the information that I secured last night.”

“No,” the smirk on her pouty lips deepened. “I guess he doesn't have access to the resources you have.”

She definitely infused the word “resources” with sarcasm, but Jase could not tell for certain the intent behind the irony.

“According to Drew, Amélie is very beautiful and has extensive knowledge of the inner workings of ProtoComm. Plus, he said you use her often,” Nessa paused, and Jase couldn’t miss the slight clenching of her jaw. “...for information, I mean.” Nessa had finally lost a modicum of her flawless poise.

“Is there anything else Drew said?” Jase huffed, as irritated as she could have wished. Drew had threatened slander by his words in New York, but Jase had imagined Nessa above such obviously juvenile attempts at posturing.

“No, not really,” Nessa drew out her words, a taunt lilting her tone.

When the pair finally entered Jase's apartment, though, Nessa abandoned her little attempt at a game, turning on him abruptly. The sudden change of tactics threw him off guard when she changed back to her original subject. As if she hadn't succeeding in causing him enough disorientation by her last few minutes of teasing, she dropped a bomb which effectively confounded him for the next several minutes altogether.

“What is it you want, Nessa?” he prompted impatiently.

“We need to call Nick Alexander,” she declared without ceremony.

Jase didn't quite register the words at first, his conscious mind unwilling to accept something so out of conjunction with possible logic.

There had been tension. Attraction between Jase and Nessa. Hadn’t there?

Nick Alexander? How did he fit in the moment? Was this her attempt to wind Jase up than smash him down? Was Nessa capable of such a thing?

When Jase finally realized what she had said, he blanched a shade whiter. Had Nessa lost her mind? What could have possessed her to introduce such a contentious idea? If Amélie had suggested it, Jase would have suspected a calculated attempt to punish Jase for some perceived affront, but he had never believed Nessa capable of such pettiness.

Nicholas Alexander was Felicity Miller's brother. Felicity Miller. Considering the history Jase shared with the Millers, he could not contact anyone in that circle of acquaintance, and the thought brought with it as much pain as he ever allowed himself to feel. Nessa had to know that. When last he had encountered the Millers, Jase had given up the only thing that he had truly cared about since his little sister had died. Of course, Nessa couldn’t understand that. No one knew.

Jase tried to repress the tempest of his thoughts. Nessa, however, seemed intuitively to divine something of his mind. With unfeigned gentleness, she placed a hand on his arm, and when she spoke, all hints of teasing had left her voice.

“I know that Nick is Felicity's brother. I know all about your history, and I wouldn't ask this of you under other circumstances. But this is Briel's life we're talking about. I can't escape the possibility that Briel is running toward her destruction instead of away from it. She intended to visit the Millers and then make her plans from there, so calling Nick will give us access to her recent activities and plans. Not even I feel comfortable calling up Felicity, but,” Nessa bit her lip in consideration, as if she didn't feel fully confident of her next sentence. “I have a hunch about Nick.” She paused before continuing.

“What?” Jase prompted. After acting so pushy, she had no business playing reluctant.

“Nick loves Briel,” Nessa leveled, “and I think the feeling is mutual.” She squared her shoulders confidently. “I'm sure of it.”

Jase didn't know how to respond, whether to laugh at the stupidity or gape in incredulity. Unbelievable. He didn't think to doubt Nessa, as astute as she always seemed with relationships. Instead, he moved directly to annoyance with Briel. For all the grief that sprightly woman had given Jase about Felicity, she had been just as guilty as he of stupid sentimentality. In the past, this realization would have dropped Briel a notch or two in Jase's regard. In light of his own recent failings, though, he didn't feel justified to judge. With Felicity, Jase had taken sentimentality and pushed it into the realm of insanity.

Nessa, too, seemed to share the quickened emotion, but she seemed shameless about it. Naive, Jase realized, but somehow naively charming. He studied her for a moment before he realized that she had stopped talking, and she studied him in return. Clearing his throat, Jase nodded his agreement.

“If you're right about Briel, that is a perfectly logical course. We can possibly glean some information from Nick's answers that he may have missed the significance of. Plus, if she has contacted him by phone or computer since she met with them, Nick can track her.” Jase spoke as in a daze, and he shook himself to regain his self-control. “You will have to call, though” he continued, “because I can’t risk that Felicity will answer.”

“Of course.”

“This is more difficult than I expected,” Nessa complained lightly, clutching the same list of contacts she had held in her hands for five days. The longer it took to contact Nick Alexander, the more Jase seriously questioned his own sanity in allowing it.

“I've contacted my friends at the bureau,” Nessa continued, “and they can't tell me anything. I've checked my hacker contacts, and while several have heard of him, none knows how to find him exactly. They suggest I send him an email - like that will get to him fast enough through all the filters he has.” She barely contained the acid behind her sarcasm. “We don't even know if we have the right address.”

“Well, it's been five days,” Jase offered. “It couldn't prove much slower than what you've used so far.”

Nessa shot him a glare, but then sighed, resting her chin on her hand and blowing a stray tuft of hair off of her face. The action drew Jase's gaze to the dark circles under her eyes and, he felt a sudden irritation with himself. For days, Nessa had hardly slept, though she claimed that she slept when she returned to her apartment at night. Seeing as she had stayed at his house until 3 a. m. every night then knocked on his door promptly at 8 in the morning, he couldn't imagine she had found much time for repose. When she arrived each day, she showed signs of minor grooming, so she could not have simply awakened and driven straight to him. The sleep-deprivation had begun to show, and her eyes had grown dull and darkened, her hair disheveled. “Nessa, you look exhausted. Why don't you take a break?”

The look she threw him would have riveted a lesser man to his spot and inspired him to hold his tongue. Jase, however, had never considered himself a lesser man. “Don't look at me like that,” he challenged. “If you get yourself sick or can't stay awake, you won't accomplish much on Briel's behalf.”

Huffing angrily, Nessa did not answer, but looked back at the laptop on the coffee table before her. She lately had assumed a regular spot, plopped unceremoniously down on the floor and sitting cross-legged in the middle of his living room for most of the day. Right now, she chewed on her pencil in consternation.

“I know,” she finally conceded. “I just feel like I need to find her today. She's been gone for almost a week, and who knows how she has fared. She's completely alone.”

“Nessa, she's an amazing operative.”

“And she has needed your help before, hasn't she?” Nessa's eyes flashed as she jabbed the air with her pencil. “We have no idea who is after her, so we have no idea if he or she can defeat Briel. If it's ProtoComm, we are up against something beyond Briel's ability to handle.”

Undeterred, Jase stood from his spot on the sofa and moved to seat himself on the table next to her laptop.

“You're right, Nessa,” he placated her, “but you're not invincible, and you won't help her if you're sick. Email Nick, then take a little nap on my couch. I'll watch for the reply and wake you when he answers. I'll order some food, too. When's the last time you've eaten?”

Nessa shrugged her shoulders as if the question didn't deserve a response and then turned back to the computer.

“Well, I will email him,” she conceded and her fingers flew agilely across the keyboard for a moment.

“Perfect,” Jase offered as she finished her hurried correspondence. Reaching across the laptop, he clicked the send button and slipped the computer shut.

“Wait,” Nessa began to protest, trying to reopen the computer.

Jase's hand flew to intercept hers. “You are tired, Nessa,” he insisted. “You need some sleep, and you've run out of ideas for now. Maybe rest will give your mind some more fertile soil for thought.

Glaring insolently up at him, Nessa tried to yank her hand away from his in a fit of irritation, but Jase persisted. He felt mildly shocked at the fact that so much resistance could emanate from such a seemingly easy-going girl; this added to his growing perception that he had misjudged her. Though initially he had thought her somewhat weak, she had proven to possess an indiscernible form of tenacity that slowly unfolded as he knew her better.

“You're not going to open that computer again, Nessa,” he commanded, adopting his most authoritarian voice, one that always worked with Amélie. “You are going to sleep.”

“Sleep? You want me to sleep right now?” Nessa thrummed with low intensity, a latent fervor leaking through her usual control. “Okay,” she conceded calmly, rising to her feet and successfully removing her hand from his grip. Then, she reached unexpectedly to her laptop and picked it up, turning toward his front door. “I'll work from home if you want to get rid of me.”

Stalking to the door, Nessa reached into her back pocket to remove the security card that would effect her exit. She froze suddenly, her expression betraying the futility of her actions. Jase quickly surveyed the room, and he soon recognized the reason for her dismay. The key card.

When Nessa turned toward Jase, she wore the most pathetic look of disappointment he had ever seen. He should have pressed her; he should have refused to help her, but faced with such a look, how could he possibly refuse her? He would have to be completely heartless. Instead, he pulled from his pocket the card that he had just swiped off the counter. Maybe he could find another way to convince her, but he had to remove that look. He slid carefully up beside her and grabbed her by the arms.

“Nessa,” he pleaded, his words escaping in a soothing hum. “Please, I'm not going to hold you here against your will. You set this on the counter.” He handed her the card, but did not release her arms. “But I don't want you to leave; I want you to rest.”

Why did he suddenly feel the urge to wrap her up in his arms? He could see the sadness, the anxiety on her countenance, and his desire to calm both emotions overwhelmed him. Perhaps unwisely, he followed his instincts.

Many times, Jase had seduced a woman, but almost always with a selfish and covert purpose, even if for no other reason than his own pleasure. This time, however, if he did consider seduction or manipulation, it was only to persuade Nessa to rest. Some conflicted nest of thoughts compelled him to act for Nessa's benefit. He slid his arms gently behind her back, pulling her to him.

At his touch, Nessa stiffened. Knitting his fingers through her hair, he pressed her cheek against the warmth of his chest and spoke to her softly. Instinct took over.

“Nessa,” he insisted, “you need sleep. I promise I will take care of Briel.”

Relaxing, Nessa melted against him for a moment, not leaning away from him when he raised his hand to her face. He stroked her cheek, relishing the satin texture that so differed from his own calloused skin. Almost like a drug, he began to feel the familiar chemical stirrings of excitement, and he dove in headfirst under the warm stream of sensation. Too long, he moaned internally. He assured himself that the experience meant nothing more than every other escapade from his past. He assured himself that it meant nothing of import to Nessa. She knew him; she had to expect that it would come to this.

Dropping his arm from behind her back, he grasped one of the hands that lay clenched by her side. He did not remove his other hand from her face, but pulled their interwoven fingers to his lips, brushing his mouth across her hand as soft as a butterfly kiss. If his conscience spoke to him, a nod to his friendship with Drew, Jase could not hear it.

Nessa's breath hitched at the touch of his lips, and her reaction propelled him forward. Finally satisfied with her rapid, shallow breathing, Jase slid the hand from her cheek to her hair, tilting her face up to his and gazing at her through half-closed lids. Her lips seemed to part in anticipation of a kiss, and Jase smiled a satisfied smile to himself at the predictability and ease with which he could manipulate any woman.

As he slowly, achingly closed the distance between their lips, a thought registered in the back of his mind: shock that he had not thought of Felicity since the moment he began his seduction of Nessa. The sheer unexpectedness of the realization almost stopped his forward progression, but he quickly extinguished the errant thought.

At last, he spanned the gap between his face and hers, tantalizing pain anticipating the pleasure of contact. He closed his eyes an instant before their mouths touched. When he pressed forward, he did not feel the warm collapse of her velvet lips beneath his own; he would not taste the culmination of his pleasure. At the lightest brush of his lips, Nessa turned her head, and his mouth slipped gently across her cheek.

“Stop, please,” she whispered.

Irritation welled within him as the earlier thought of Felicity reared its head once again. Images that he had suppressed rose to the forefront of his mind, the malaise of disappointed lusts, the view of Felicity's profile as she turned away from him. As she left him.

Jase breathed deeply to control himself. He managed to avoid snapping at Nessa or throwing her away from him in anger. Instead, he slowly slid his hand through her hair and back down to his side. Clenching his teeth, he forced out the one word whose answer held the only hope of restraining the flood of vitriol that simmered on his tongue. “Why?” he demanded, an echo of his earlier question to Felicity.

To his surprise, Nessa pulled away from him, as much anger in her countenance as he felt in his own. Certainly not like Felicity.

“Why?” she spat, her accent returning. “I don't think you really want to know why.”

Her little fit surprised Jase, and shock subdued his nascent irritation. Nessa for once seemed oblivious to his frustration, wrapped up in some personal affliction of her own. “I do want to know,” he insisted, though he held misgivings about what she might say.

“For one,” she began, jabbing the words at him like a pointed spear. “You know that I'm upset right now about Briel, and that makes me vulnerable. You are a cad for trying to take advantage of me like that.”

Jase couldn't restrain a smirk despite his annoyance. “A cad?” he questioned disbelievingly, finding her choice of words idiosyncratic.

“And,” she continued, not acknowledging his interruption, “you have no right to try to restrain me from doing anything I want. No right of friendship, no right of authority, no right of relationship. You have set your life up as a ship alone at sea, and you aren't beholden to anyone; therefore, you have no say in my life either.” Jase's odd amusement increased as he noted with pleasure a kind of coy exasperation on her last sentence.

His anger diffused by the comic nature of her tirade to this point, Jase began to relax his defensiveness. Perhaps if he tried again...

“And finally,” she seemed to steel herself, as if she did not wish to say what would next escape her lips and realized the pain it would engender. “I will not compete with Felicity Miller.” Jase felt like she had punched him. His lax easiness made the pain of Nessa's final accusation even more overpowering. If she sensed his difficulty, it did not stop her. “If you kiss my lips, I know you'll be wanting hers. When you embrace me, I know you're remembering the scent of her hair, the smallness of her waist, the feel of her in your arms...”

“I'm not -” he began, but Nessa cut him off, raising up to her full height. She glared directly into his eyes and snatched the key card from the end table where he had set it at some point in his attempted seduction.

“I may be kind and patient, and whatever else you've decided I am,” she asserted, “but when it comes to my heart, I am not a fool. I don't play games, and I won't settle for second place. If and when you want me and only me, then we might continue this discussion, but until that point, never try to kiss me again.”

With those words, she scanned the card through the reader and marched out Jase's door, leaving him stunned and frustrated, but somehow slightly exhilarated. He had certainly never suspected the existence of such fire inside of Nessa, and her words had intrigued him. “...when you want me...” she had offered. He would never have thought it possible, but her tirade had awakened the thought as a distinct possibility.

Jase had entirely underestimated Nessa Santiago., and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to torment her for her audacity or kiss her for being so beautiful. When, however, he considered the expression on his face as the door before him shuddered in its frame, he realized with surprise that he wore a smile.