UNEXPECTED PROSPECT -- Coninued -- Page 3

Thinking about it was agony. His words regarding her good nature last night made her begin to question where her loyalties lie.

On one hand, her interaction with Sark before their current mission was most times terrifying. Not only for her, since Sydney had the strong backbone, also for one of her best friends. The reaction from Will when she told him Sark had joined SD-6 was heartbreaking. She fully expects him to remember his ordeal at the hands of Mr. Sark for many years to come.

Then there's the other hand, the more complex of the two.

This morning as she was getting dressed, she realized the excitement felt around the idea of a day on the water with Sark, no less. His essence is that of an enigma, so many riddles and questions none with a simple answer. But as she's sitting in the passenger seat of the rented Jaguar XK8 he's driving, she attempts to decipher what she can.

A fan of power, with a tendency to taunt in order to test one's reaction, she can only assume.

Lover of fine wines and flashy cars, his rumored choice of Merlot and in L.A a black convertible Mercedes attest to that.

Lacking emotion in combat, she's seen him fatally shoot another point blank without a blink or flinch.

Most women would have some sort of reaction to his resume, but her experiences have desensitized her to a point. Out of the corner of her eye, she takes another glance as he comfortably rides in the body conforming bucket seat.

Just as she had the color red, he wore the color blue flawlessly. The snug short sleeved t-shirt and lightweight denim jeans brightened his blonde hair, while icing his blue eyes quite nicely. His demeanor, alas, had resembled his eyes since their first encounter this morning.

Whoever trained this man, did a damn good job, his coldness and curt statements were that of a by the book agent.

Back to the decoding, with over six songs played on his burnt CD, Sark is a disciple of classic rock. Most of the songs she remembers from her youth, played at late night parties her parents would throw. Without their knowledge, she would sit just outside her bedroom door, monitoring the festivities from afar.

She smiles as the first few notes of Metallica's 'One' are played, "Big Metallica fan?" Sydney asks. Realizing she's snapped him out of deep thought, she almost wishes she had kept quiet.

"I remember hearing this song when I was younger and was amazed with how Lars played," Sark discloses.

Sydney relaxes a bit after the small insight, "I agree, but I pictured you more of a guitarist, not a drummer."

Sark playfully smiles given the wide-open opportunity, "You're saying you've pictured me then, Sydney." They look at each other smiling, except Sydney's is in slight embarrassment. Unable to respond without the conversation turning flirtatious, something she isn't fully ready for, she faces back ahead as they're nearing the marina.

It was a mild day on the water. The sixty-four foot Sunseeker Manhattan they cruised on moved leisurely in the water, giving The Espinoza's the opportunity to show their new friends, The Binoche's some sights, including their waterfront home. Putting almost all the others to shame, their grand abode sat on numerous acres of land, only a few hundred feet from their own light, sandy beach.

Only one oddity stuck out, the awkwardness Sydney had to conceal while sunbathing on the bow of the yacht.

The black string bikini in which she was clad wasn't the problem, for she's fairly comfortable with her body. Uncertain what his intentions were still, she was surprised to watch Sark come to the area the ladies were positioned.

"Dear, you forgot your sunscreen," she remembered him saying as he presented the new bottle. Expecting him to just hand it to her, her nerves were activated as he clicked the lid and proceeded to spread a substantial amount of lotion on her.

At the first touch of his hands on her bare back, Sydney felt a titillating sensation zip through her. It headed through every fraction of her, above all the sensitive tip of her breasts. Expertly, he moved the warm cream up to her shoulders then back to the curve of her lower back, until it disappeared. He even had a three-minute conversation with Consuela to which Sydney couldn't give the topic of, let alone recite one word. She found her feelings torn once it was complete, also panicked that a part of her didn't want him to stop.

But that was over five hours ago, since it was practically sundown now. The sky bursting with all shades of blues, pinks and yellows that were near dispersed, Sydney views the display from just outside the cabin of the vessel. Having finished a catered dinner less than fifteen minutes back, all parties were still content on the docked boat.

Wanting a closer look at the peaceful water, Sydney heads to the stern of the boat and the nearest cushioned seat. Immersed in thoughts of nothing in particular, she's startled by a voice that comes from her backside.

"It's magnificent, isn't it," Sark sees the beauty through her eyes. She can't help but sigh, having the opportunity to enjoy the moment simultaneously.

Just behind him, The Espinoza's take the seat on the other side of the boat, "This time of night has got to be my favorite," Consuela coos as Marcus slides his arm around her.

Following their lead, Sark takes a seat on the same cushion behind Sydney. In a possessive manner, he wraps his arm around her just below her neck, pulling her to recline and rest on his chest.

In a moment of weakness, Sydney finds her emotions running rabid and is almost on the verge of tears. Sark's arms make her feel so secure almost loved, like nothing could ever harm her again as long as he was around. What scares her enough to fight back those tears is the fact this man could be the person to literally destroy her. Her dire revelation causes her to shiver slightly.

"Are you cold," Sark asks, feeling the slight shake.

Afraid to speak, Sydney shakes her head no. Even with her negative answer, Sark still runs both his hands up her arms in a warming motion.

After a few moments of the couples sitting in silence, Marcus speaks, "Since you two are due to leave in two days, we were hoping you would come to our Christmas party tomorrow night. It's going to be relatively intimate, just a few close friends."

A bittersweet gesture since the invite to their personal quarters was the next to last step of their orders, Sydney snaps herself back to reality. "We'd love to come." Any sign of sadness absent from her voice.

"Perfect," Consuela chimes in, "Dinner is at seven and is black tie. We can send a car for you if you'd like."

Knowing that might not be the best idea, Sark responds to the offer, "Actually I'll probably take the rental back tomorrow night afterwards so we don't have to deal with it while departing."

"Sure," Marcus answers.

Left to sit in silence again, Sydney is overwhelmed with the situation. Perfectly executed, they received access to The Espinoza's residence and one of Espinoz's main computers exactly as planned. If only everything else had gone accordingly.

Sydney's aware those were her words that told Sloane to remind Sark this relationship was a complete front, only in place to complete the op. She gave the pushback on starting this mission and now she's the one that doesn't want it to end. Internally forlorn, Sydney watches the moonlight as it bounces off the rippled water, a weak attempt to distract her.

****************

As expected, that night is practically sleepless for her. Hours spent switching from right to left, blanket to none. The velvet cover and supple mattress that had been so comforting in her first sleep, now felt rigid. Near giving up, Sydney swings her legs to the floor then proceeds to sit on the windowsill that just happened to be long enough to use as a bench. For comfort, she brings her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them.

Gazing over the darkness of the city sprinkled with nightlife, Sydney can’t help but wonder where to go from here. Things couldn’t ever be the same between her and Sark, no matter how you put it. In her eyes, it was close to the awkwardness a woman might feel the morning after a one-night stand. She knows her grandest weakness, her feelings and detests the fact they always choose the most inopportune times to surface.

“Can’t sleep,” she hears Sark ask from just inside the bedroom.

Obviously startled, Sydney gasps as she jumps slightly, “You scared the shit out of me,” she exclaims. With the open curtain, she sees all. The few strands of his hair disheveled by rest, the definition of his bare arms and chest flexed as he scratches the back of his head, his nakedness covered by only a loose pair of shorts. Chemistry was a fucked up thing sometimes.

“Sorry, I figured you would be sleeping by now,” he answers, looking unsure if he wants to continue a conversation with her.

Fully aware she’s only wearing her white tank and brief set, Sydney feels exposed again, “Just going over some last minute details.”

“At two thirty in the morning,” he lightly mocks her.

Normally his banter would provoke her to respond, but not tonight. Now that she knows where her nervousness was derived, she’s unable to, “We all have our routines.”

Sark eyes her, sensing something’s a bit off, but doesn’t press it, “That’s true,” he agrees while walking into the bathroom. When the door shuts, she makes her way back to the bed, hoping she can at least get a few hours rest.

When dressing up, she is a girl’s girl. The feel of satin, velvet or silk as it rubs against the body can be heavenly. Tonight’s choice, black A-line, chiffon halter dress with tiny specks of sparkles and drooping neckline clung to her body just right. Her hair swooped up in a loose twist with a few tendrils surrounding her face, finished the elegant look.

On time, as she checks her watch reading five past six, Sydney exits the bathroom ready for the last of this. All day they’ve barely spoke, having done their own thing since there was no longer a need to keep up appearances. It was better that way, for her at least.

Sydney enters the front room, finding Sark tying his black tie with aid of a mirror. As she walks in, she notices his attention switch to her through the mirror. Avoiding his stare, she takes her clutch from the table and loads it with necessities. Anxiety starting to build inside her, she lets out a relatively loud sigh.

“Everything okay,” Sark asks as he faces her.

Unaware she had been so noisy in letting it out, she backtracks “Just a bit nervous about tonight, that’s all.”

“These people are clueless about what we’re going to do,” Sark scoffs at their intelligence. “It’ll be a breeze.”

Sydney places a reassuring smile on her face, but is thinking about her attachment to the couple. She genuinely likes The Espinoza’s they’ve accepted a strange couple into their circle of friends without a second thought. With his last statement another display of what she feels normal “Sark” behavior, Sydney grabs her wrap and heads to the door. 

“Claudette, Julian,” Consuela exclaims as the two walk through the foyer, “I’m so glad to see you both.” The Binoche’s approach the striking woman who is wearing a soft pink satin strapless gown that trails slightly behind as she walks over from inside the dining area. Sydney exchanges kisses on the cheek when Consuela reaches them.

“Consuela, your home is just lovely. It reminds me of some of the properties Julian had on hand in France,” Sydney adds.

Playing the perfect hostess, Consuela leads them to the bar set up next to the buffet style spread, full of fine cuisine. “The bars fully stocked, all at your disposal,” Consuela invites. Upon another couple entering the room she smiles, “Excuse me, I’ll be back around in a few.”

Sark hands her a glass of Merlot, he takes a dark colored liquor on ice. Sipping, to ensure a sober mind, she starts on the glass. “After dinner should be the best time, you think,” Sydney asks.

“Of course, why pass up the opportunity for food and spirits,” Sark speaks close to a whisper. The two make their way around the dining area, admiring the fine art displayed on the walls.

The time they had at dinner compared to no other she can remember. Thirteen couples from various parts of the world all sharing bits of their life experiences. Laughter and playful, teasing comments lightened the atmosphere allowing her to find some serenity in what they had to do.

After dinner just as planned, Sark spilled a small amount of wine on his white shirt giving him the opportunity to excuse himself to find the main computer, attach the device allowing SD-6 access to K-Directorate information subsequently finishing the op. That was twenty minutes ago, Sydney wasn’t worried though, he’s always proven to be quite self sufficient in his work.

Now she just waits, engaged in conversation with Consuela. “So when does your plane leave tomorrow,” Consuela inquires.

“Twelve fifteen, another thirty hour trip back to the states,” Sydney complains.

Consuela finishes her wine, “That ride is a bitch, I’ve made it many a time.” Marcus walks up to his wife a mischievous look in his eye. He whispers something in her ear, causing a wide smile to appear on Consuela’s face. When he finishes, he kisses her cheek and returns to mingling.

“Your husband is adorable, obvious with his affection for you,” Sydney compliments.

Flattered by the comment, Consuela responds, “I guess if anyone knows what that’s like it would be you. Spending these past few days with you and Julian re-ignited a little spark in my marriage. His romantic gestures, public displays, the way he watches you when you’re not paying attention, I haven’t seen many men as devoted to loving his wife as him.”

Such kind words about something rooted in a lie, Sydney hides her disappointment, “Reciprocation of such feelings is everything I’d dreamt of since I was young and finding it is the greatest gift one could ever receive.”

“I agree. Excuse me again,” Consuela tells Sydney, “looks as if a few of my friends are leaving.”

When Consuela is gone, Sydney looks around the room finally catching eyes with Sark as he walks around the corner from the back of the house. Strolling with his hands inserted in his pant pockets, he steps just inside the dining area. The corner of his mouth turns up as he finishes the walk to her. He shifts his eyes to the front door, informing her things are finished.

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