* * *
I am not in love with Sydney Bristow. Really.
After all, nobody can be in love with two people at once -- when I said that, I meant it. And there's no doubt in my mind that Syd is still in love with Mike. Which means she's not in love with me. Can't be. Won't be.
So it would be crazy to let myself fall for her. And whatever else you might say about me, I'm not crazy.
There's only one problem. We're on this mission together, Syd and I, all flashing diamonds and matching outfits (which reminds me, I'm gonna kill Ryan or Bryan or whatever that wardrobe guy's name is). And we're supposed to be posing as business partners. Only somewhere on the flight from LA, Syd decided it would look more convincing if we pretended to be lovers too.
Don't ask me where that idea came from. If Mike were here, I'd wonder if she were trying to make him jealous. But he's not, and I really don't think she is. Maybe she just wants to feel somebody close for a while, even if it's just pretend. Even if it's only me.
And now here we are, sitting together (make that very together -- she's practically on my lap), and I've got my arm around her and my fingers laced through hers, and our faces are so close that if she turned her head I could kiss her without having to move an inch -- not that I would, of course, because we're in the middle of an operation and I am not, I repeat, not crazy.
But I can smell the fragrance of her hair and the skin-warmed spice of her perfume, and it's an effort not to close my eyes and breathe her in.
Okay, I think two seconds later as I dip my head toward her neck and inhale, maybe a little crazy.
* * *
Thanks once again to ms_pie for being perceptive, helpful and just plain brilliant.