The Spy Is Cast Read online

  I hate shopping for dress-up clothes. Especially when I haven’t a clue what will be appropriate. Throw in a deadline, and the whole experience ranks right up there with a root canal performed by an inebriated chimpanzee.

  The budget I’d been given for clothing and accessories had stunned me. It was more than I spent on all my clothes in a year. Granted, I’m not exactly a clotheshorse. My boutique of choice is Mark’s Work Wearhouse, but I had a feeling Mark’s wasn’t going to cut it this time.

  I cruised the mall, circling through the stores without committing. It had been months since I’d set foot in a fashion mall, and to my chagrin most of the dresses were pink, purple, or black, with fussy ruffles. I hate ruffles. And my pale skin and red hair demand green, gold, or brown.

  Annoyed, I retreated to the food court to ease my sorrows with ice cream. Thus fortified, I attacked the mall with renewed vigour.

  By six o’clock, I’d done the first mall. I drove to the next one, hope fading. At eight o’clock, I shuffled out to my car in defeat. Clearly I needed a different strategy.

  Back at my hotel, I flopped onto the bed and punched a speed dial on my cellphone. When I heard the lively hello on the other end of the line, I smiled, feeling better already.

  “Nichele! It’s Aydan. Long time, no talk!” We chatted for a few minutes, catching up, before I broached the subject. “I need some serious help.”

  I heard her smile over the line. “Ya think?”

  “Smart-ass. No, I need some wardrobe-related help.”

  “Oooh, shopping! You have sooo called the right person.”

  “I need a cocktail dress for a black-tie gala,” I explained. “For tomorrow evening. No pressure.”

  “Oho! You’ve got a date,” she teased. “Give me the dirt, girl.”

  Shit. I should have thought this through before I called.

  “Um, it’s not really a date,” I mumbled. “It’s kind of more like a business thing.”

  “Are you going with somebody?” she prodded.

  “Um, yeah.”

  “And…?”

  “And, um, well, he’s just a guy I met through my business. It’s just going to be a boring presentation on software.”

  “Names! Details! Spill it!” she demanded.

  I sighed. I really didn’t want to have this conversation. Especially when I had to lie through my teeth.

  “His name is John. I don’t really see it going anywhere. It’s just a business thing. Can you help me buy something tomorrow?”

  “Girl, leave it to me. You’re going to look so hot by the time I’m done with you, he’ll be on his knees before you even get to the party.”

  Now that was an enticing image. I shook my head forcefully to banish it.

  “Thanks, Nichele. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning. What time, nine-thirty?”

  “Perfect. Get ready to kick some fashion butt.”

  Chapter 7

  I ate an excellent breakfast in the morning, delighting in the knowledge that I wasn’t paying for it. Buoyed by food and optimism, I faced Nichele’s cheerfully prurient questioning with good humour and fabricated evasive answers until she gave up.

  By eleven o’clock, she had marched me into several exclusive downtown boutiques, and I realized the wardrobe budget had been well within reason. Yikes. The sad thing was that I knew I’d end up wrecking the outfit. Nice clothes just don’t stand a chance around me.

  Finally, I came out of the dressing room, and she nodded decisively. “That’s the one.”

  I looked down at myself. I loved the colour, green with an unusual bronzy shimmer that made my skin look creamy and brought out the hint of green in my brown eyes. The fine soft fabric slipped over my body like water, and the halter style was definitely flattering, emphasizing my boobs while skimming over the extra weight around my middle.

  “But, Nichele,” I said tentatively, “It’s pretty short, isn’t it?”

  She snorted. “It’s barely above your knees, girl. You gotta show off those long legs of yours.”

  “It’s not my legs I’m worried about showing off,” I complained. “The skirt pulls up so high when I sit down, I’ll be sitting on my bare ass. And you know I can’t remember to keep my knees together.”

  “Suck it up, buttercup,” she commanded. “Come on, buy it. And hurry up. We still have to get shoes and purse and makeup and jewellery.” She grabbed my hand and recoiled at the sight of my nails. “And you need a manicure. We’ll get you some acrylics.”

  I gulped and handed over my credit card.

  I’d had little hope for the shoes, but to my amazement Nichele actually managed to find me a pair that were reasonably comfortable, the right colour, and on sale.

  As I walked back and forth in the store for Nichele’s approval, she nodded. “Those shoes are hot, girl. And I don’t know how you manage to walk like a supermodel in them when all you ever wear is running shoes.”

  “The only other alternative with heels this high is to stick my ass out and waddle like a duck. I’m thinking that’s not a good look for me.”

  She shrugged, her eyes twinkling. “Your date probably wouldn’t mind if you stuck your ass out.” I gave her a mock glare, and she returned an unrepentant smirk. “Here, buy the purse, too.”

  I paid up, and we left the store. “Next stop, jewellery,” Nichele said determinedly.

  “No need. That’s covered.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she challenged. “What have you got?”

  “I’ve got a heavy gold necklace with a big honkin’ emerald in it,” I told her. “It should be fine with the dress colour, and it’ll work with that deep halter V-neck.”

  She eyed me quizzically. “Where did that come from? I don’t remember ever seeing you wear anything like that.”

  I did my best nonchalant shrug. “When was the last time you saw me dress up? Robert bought me lots of beautiful things. I just don’t wear them very often.”

  All true, though completely unrelated. I really hate lying.

  “Okay,” she agreed. “You’re right, the emerald will probably be fine. What about earrings? You need some nice ones. You’re going to wear your hair up.”

  “I am?”

  “Yes.”

  I sighed. “Yes, ma’am. Take me, I’m yours. Find me the perfect earrings.”

  By three o’clock, I had everything I needed and I was getting jittery. “Nichele, you know, this is such a pain in the ass. I hate dressing up,” I whined.

  She stopped in her tracks. “You’re nervous! You really like this guy, don’t you?”

  “No! I mean, yeah, I like him, but it’s not, you know…”

  I shut up. Better she should think I was nervous about my date. I could hardly explain I was nervous because I was going to spy on international criminals and lives could be at stake. Including my own.

  She bounced her eyebrows, giving me a conspiratorial look. “Come on, take me back to your hotel and I’ll help you get ready. You’re going to knock him dead.”

  “I hope not,” I muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Back at the hotel room, she pushed me into the bathroom. “Shower.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I came out wearing a towel. “Don’t you have a robe or something?” Nichele scolded. “You’re going to freeze while I do your hair.”

  I shrugged. “I never wear night clothes at home. I didn’t think to bring any.”

  “But what if your date goes well?” She nudged me, leering. “You should have some sexy little thing to slip into.”

  I showed her my teeth. “If my date goes well, I’ll tear off his clothes and bang him up against the wall. No lingerie required.”

  “You’re such a savage,” she chided, grinning.

  I wrapped up in a blanket while she fiddled with my hair. When she was done, I eyed the simple, elegant updo in the mirror. “You’re sure about this?”

  “I’m sure.” She cracked open the makeup bo
ttle.

  I grabbed her hand. “Don’t put that shit on my face. I hate it. It all goops up and falls into my wrinkles. I look like a half-melted topographical model of the Grand Canyon. And I’m afraid to move my face all night in case a piece cracks off.”

  She shook her head. “Trust me. Makeup has changed since you were a teenager. Which is probably the last time you wore any.”

  “And?”

  “And you should try this. If you really hate it, there’s still time to take it off.”

  “Okay.” I let her work on me without comment for a while. “Nichele?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks. I’m sorry I’m being such a bag. I just really hate this.”

  “It’s okay,” she assured me. “But why are you going if you hate it? Do you really like this guy that much? Do you think it’s smart to pretend you want to do this?”

  I made a face. “He knows I hate it. He probably hates it, too. We just have to go. It’s a business thing.”

  “You live a very strange life.”

  “You have no idea,” I agreed.

  Chapter 8

  “Scram.” I pushed Nichele affectionately out the door. “He’s going to be here in ten minutes, and I’m nervous enough without you hovering.”

  She patted my arm. “You’ll be fine. Just be yourself. Have fun. You look super-hot.”

  “Thanks to you. See you.”

  I closed the door on her smile and wandered over to look in the mirror. Calling Nichele had been a smart decision. She had worked wonders with my hair and makeup. I actually looked like I might belong at a black tie gala.

  Now if I could just restrain my normal temperament and vocabulary, everything would be fine. Being myself would definitely be a bad idea.

  I had a sudden mental image of letting fly with a rip-roaring fart halfway through the elegant meal, and snickered.

  “You behave,” I said severely to my reflection, struggling to quell its wicked grin.

  A soft knock made me jump. When I opened the door, my jaw dropped. Kane filled the doorway, clad in a charcoal suit expertly tailored to his broad shoulders and taut midsection. His silvered temples looked impossibly distinguished with that short, dark hair. His freshly shaven square face looked rested, and I caught the faintest whiff of citrus. Not even the scar through his eyebrow and the bump from his badly healed broken nose could detract from the whole package. The man was breathtaking.

  “Wow,” I said inadequately.

  Kane looked like he was doing a bit of deep breathing, too, and his grey eyes darkened. “Wow, yourself,” he said finally, his deep baritone a little husky. We exchanged an awkward smile.

  He reached into his pocket. “Don’t forget this,” he said, opening the velvet box. He lifted the necklace out and placed it around my neck, brushing my skin. As he took his hands away, he let one of the tendrils of my hair slide through his fingers.

  He took a step back.

  “Oh,” he said after a short pause. “Rings.” He reached into his pocket, withdrew a heavy gold band, and slipped it on his left ring finger. He held out his closed hand. “For you.”

  I held out my hand, and he dropped two rings into my palm. One was a plain band, the other an enormous diamond. I gazed up at him wide-eyed. “Holy crap, does this thing come with a bodyguard?”

  He grinned. “Me.”

  “I’ve already got a ring,” I told him, showing him the one I wore. Robert had had it custom made for me, a top-quality half-carat in a simple, sophisticated setting. It looked tiny beside the one in my hand.

  “That’s a nice ring, but it’s not quite the bling we need for tonight,” he said. “Put that one on your other hand.”

  I slipped on the pair of rings and mimed dragging my hand. “I’m going to have one arm longer than the other after tonight.”

  He laughed. “Let’s go.”

  I grabbed my new purse, already regretting that it wasn’t big enough to carry my waist pouch, and sighed as the door closed behind me.

  When the elevator doors opened on the lobby, Kane offered me his arm and I took it, smiling up at him. Even in my high heels, I was still a good three inches shorter than he was. I relished the novelty. If I’d worn these heels when I was with Robert, I would have towered over him by six inches.

  When we entered the lobby, I froze.

  “Shit!’ I swung Kane around and hid behind him. “Take off your ring, quick,” I hissed as I put my hands on his chest, yanking the rings off my finger and dropping them into his breast pocket.

  He slid his arms unhurriedly around me and leaned down. His lips brushed my ear. “Relax,” he whispered, his breath sending a rush of heat through my body.

  Behind my back, I felt him remove his ring. He straightened, smiling down at me, and took both my hands in his, palming the ring. Getting myself under control with an effort, I smiled back and slid my hands down his chest, dropping the ring into his pocket with the others.

  He offered his arm again, and we turned and made our way into the lobby. Nichele bounced up from one of the wing chairs, grinning.

  “Hi, Aydan!”

  I cut my eyes at her, silently promising her a slow death. She smiled and extended her hand to Kane. “You must be John,” she chirped. “It’s so nice to meet you.”

  I sighed. “John, this is Nichele Brown. Nichele, John Kane.”

  He took her hand graciously and bowed over it, very European. Nichele’s expression melted, and I knew I was in for some serious grilling the next day. Assuming I let her live.

  At that moment the valet appeared, oozing respect. “Your car is ready, sir.”

  Kane thanked him courteously and discreetly handed him a bill. A large bill, judging by the valet’s reaction.

  “Nichele, it was a pleasure to meet you,” Kane’s baritone voice was pure velvet, and I could see from Nichele’s tiny shiver that it had the same effect on her as it had on me. “We need to get going now,” he added. “Have a nice evening.”

  He drew me toward the door, and my jaw hit the floor all over again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Your ‘wheels’ are an Audi R8?” I demanded. The sleek, low-slung car purred sensuously at the curb. “Open it up, I want to see,” I urged him softly.

  He shook his head, smiling as he leaned close. “No,” he whispered. “In the first place, you have to keep that dress clean at least until we get to the party. And in the second place, elegant ladies don’t look under the hood.”

  “Lucky there are no elegant ladies present, then,” I whispered back. “C’mon, please?”

  He shook his head again, those sexy laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.

  “Tease,” I accused him.

  He opened the passenger door for me, grinning. I did my best to slide in without flashing the bystanders, but my skirt slithered up my thighs when I sank into the low seat. As soon as Kane closed the door, I buckled in and tugged the skirt down again, willing it to stay put.

  He came around to the driver’s side and got in, buckling his seatbelt, too. “Ready?” he asked.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Delving into his pocket as we pulled away, he fished out the rings and handed them to me. “Let’s try this again.”

  “Sorry about that,” I apologized. “I brought her in as a wardrobe consultant, but I should have known she’d do something like that.”

  “It’s all right. The end result was worth it.”

  I stroked my hand over the dashboard. “How about if we skip the party and go for a joyride instead? I can’t believe I actually get to ride in an R8. Is it yours?”

  Kane shook his head. “Are you kidding? No. Unfortunately. It’s just on loan for the evening, same as the rings. But at least we’ll get to take it out on the highway. Harchman’s place is out by Bragg Creek.”

  I beamed at him. “Life is good.”

  While the fine automobile devoured the miles, we strategized. “What exactly do you need to scope out?” I asked. “Couldn’t you j
ust pull floor plans from the building permits?”

  Kane shot me a piercing look. “Most people wouldn’t think of that.”

  I shrugged. “You must have come across my stint as an architectural draftsman when you were investigating me in March. I did practically nothing but construction drawings and permit applications.”

  “We did. I just never fail to find your career path… interesting. Draftsperson, computer tech, bookkeeper. It’s an unusual mix.”

  I lifted a shoulder. “The drafting certificate was quick and easy to get when I finished high school and wanted to get a job. And I never really intended to work with computers, I just took some courses so I could deal with the network at the architectural firm. Bookkeeping is what I really like to do.”

  “We already have all the floor plans and the site plan,” he informed me after a short pause. “Webb also managed to quietly obtain the installation diagrams for the security system.” He grinned. “Don’t ever try to hide anything from Webb. That kid can sniff out information you don’t even know you have.”

  I laughed. “He’s pretty amazing. Lucky he works for the good guys.”

  Kane sobered. “You can say that again. But to answer your original question, I’m going to be looking at the position and distribution of security personnel. I’m also going to be watching for anything that looks like a structural change from the registered floor plans. And I’ll check to see if there’s any additional electronic or physical security besides what we already know about.”

  “Do you have a copy of the plans with you?” I asked. “I’d like to take a look, too.”

  “No, sorry. I should have shown them to you earlier. I didn’t want to have anything with us that could arouse suspicion, so I left them at home.”

  I shrugged. “Oh well. So what’s your strategy for wandering through somebody’s private residence without arousing suspicion?”

  “That’s where it gets complicated,” he admitted. “It’s not just the private residence. There’s a guest house and several other lavish buildings on the property. It’s quite an ostentatious layout.”

  “Excellent. That helps.”

  “Why do you say that?” He eyed me with interest.