The Spy Is Cast (8 page)

The perfidious skirt
slithered up my thighs again, but not far enough to expose anything
but a tiny sliver of the lace at the top of my stockings. I kept my
face pleasantly composed while Kane and I strolled away from the
car.

“I’m going to kill
Nichele,” I grated through my teeth as I smiled genteelly up at
Kane.

“I’m going to write
her a thank-you note,” he rumbled in my ear. “You’re stunning in
that dress.”

I managed a more
genuine smile, hiding the shiver of heat that raced through me.
“Thanks.”

Kane turned over the
keys to the valet and we proceeded along a paved walkway, cresting
a gentle slope. We both paused, taking in the layout. I resisted
the urge to gawp open-mouthed.

To our right, an
enormous fountain splashed lavishly over a well-endowed bronze
mermaid. The walkway meandered in curves down the side of the
slope, past two sprawling slate-clad buildings with copper
roofs.

A small lake nestled
at the bottom of the slope, surrounded by a boardwalk. Several
fountains played in the lake, their spray modulated and
choreographed to the music that emanated from speakers embedded
every ten feet or so along the low wall that defined the
walkway.

Beside the lake, an
open two-storey structure seemed to be the focus of activity, with
tables and chairs set up on both levels. Other buildings dotted the
landscape, each expertly designed to complement the layout and
landscaping.

Kane tucked my hand
into the crook of his arm and moved forward, rousing me from my
daze. I glanced up at him. He looked confident and relaxed, his
face pleasant and open. There was no sign of the intense focus I
knew existed behind his eyes.

Nervousness skittered
down my spine. Kane was a highly trained secret agent, putting his
life on the line to protect national security. I was an idiot
civilian. What the hell was I doing here? My ineptness could kill
him. Could kill both of us. And if we failed, a lot of other
innocent people could get hurt, too. I sent out a mental plea to
whatever gods might be listening.

Please, please, don’t
let me screw up.

I willed the tension
out of my body and pulled on my ‘polite company’ personality like
an objectionable second skin. I let the high heels and slithery
dress take over, changing my usual stride into the smooth,
undulating movement Nichele called my supermodel walk.

As Kane and I strolled
down the walkway, I straightened my spine and heads turned as we
passed. I felt a moment of misgiving. Kane’s breadth of shoulder
and his six-foot-four height drew immediate attention, and I was
over six feet tall in my heels, too. We weren’t exactly
unobtrusive.

Another uniformed
staff member was stationed halfway down the path, guiding the flow
of guests. “Welcome,” he greeted us. “Please join us in the
gazebo.” He gestured toward the two-storey building by the lake,
and Kane thanked him graciously as we followed the pathway
down.

I struggled to control
my face when we arrived at the so-called gazebo. It was an enormous
structure. Each level sported a full bar, and it had tables and
chairs enough for at least fifty people per floor. Waiters and
waitresses circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. With
difficulty, I suppressed my natural impulse to dive into an
immediate feeding frenzy. As I nibbled noncommittally on an
appetizer, a waiter appeared beside us, offering white wine from
the tray of glasses that he carried.

I met his eyes,
creating a personal connection. “What is the grape?” I murmured,
pitching my voice so that it would only be audible to him.

“It’s our house
white,” he responded. “It’s a Chardonnay.”

I let the faintest
breath of disappointment tinge my “Oh.” I smiled politely at him.
“Thank you.”

As I reached for a
glass, he said quickly, “If you’d prefer something else, I’d be
happy to bring it for you.”

I let my smile reach
my eyes. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at
all, ma’am,” he assured me. “What would you like?”

I let my voice go a
little husky. “I’d love a Sauvignon Blanc.”

He swallowed visibly
and turned to look up at Kane. “And for you, sir?”

“Do you have any
single-malt scotch?” Kane asked him politely.

“Yes, sir, I believe
we have several.”

Kane nodded
satisfaction. “Don’t bother bringing our drinks, then. We’ll go up
to the bar so I can see what you have, and we’ll get the wine
there, too.”

The waiter hovered
indecisively. “It’s no bother. I’ll check with the bartender about
the scotch and be right back.”

Kane shook his head.
“It’s quite all right. Thank you.” He discreetly laid a twenty on
the waiter’s tray and put his hand on the small of my back to guide
me through the crowd. As we made our way slowly toward the bar, I
noticed our waiter weaving his way expertly through the crush. He
caught the bartender’s attention and indicated us with a nod.

I smiled up at Kane.
“Nicely done.”

When we arrived at the
bar, the bartender greeted us cheerfully. “I hear you’re looking
for a Sauvignon Blanc,” he addressed me.

“That would be lovely,
thank you,” I responded, giving him full eye contact. He smiled
warmly and reached for a bottle.

Beside me, a short man
in a tux turned, his gaze locking onto my boobs before struggling
upward to my face.

He held my eyes as he
leaned toward the bartender. “Don’t give her that plonk, Dave. Open
a bottle of the good stuff.”

“Yes, sir, Mr.
Harchman,” Dave responded, and vanished behind the bar.

I let an intimate
smile spread over my face. “Mr. Harchman. Our host for this lovely
event. How nice to meet you.” I infused the word ‘nice’ with a
warm, husky undertone as I surveyed him as though we were the only
two people in the room.

He stretched to his
full height, which I guessed to be about five-seven, his pot belly
winking with diamond shirt studs. Enormous diamond rings glittered
on his pudgy fingers, and the strength of his cologne turned my
stomach. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I could see the plugs in his
thinning blond hair. His pale blue eyes slithered south to my
cleavage again.

He seized my hand,
planting a wet kiss on my knuckles. I detected a brush of tongue,
and clamped down my reflexive shudder with every bit of control I
owned.

“Please, call me
Lawrence,” he murmured, still clutching my hand in a moist grip.
“And you are?”

“Aydan Kane,” I
introduced myself. “And this is my husband, John.”

I turned to discover
Kane had faded away. I spotted him some distance down the bar,
apparently discussing scotch with the bartender. I tossed my head
and turned back to Harchman.

“It seems I’m
temporarily without a husband.” I gave the comment a meaningful
intonation and watched Harchman’s avid response with carefully
concealed distaste.

Dave the bartender
arrived with a glass, and I used the opportunity to disengage my
hand from Harchman’s clingy grasp.

“Thank you, Dave,” I
said warmly, and he smiled and nodded. I swirled the wine around
the glass, inhaling its aroma, and then sipped, savouring it.

“What do you think?”
Harchman inquired eagerly.

“It’s quite unusual,”
I told him, realizing as I spoke that Kane had reappeared behind
me. “I’ve never had an oaked Sauvignon Blanc.”

Harchman nodded
enthusiastically. “Do you like it?”

I sipped again,
slowly. As I lowered the glass again, I flicked the tip of my
tongue against the rim of the glass, catching a tiny drop of wine.
“The oak gives it just the right amount of… texture,” I purred. “I
always think a touch of roughness makes things so much more
interesting, don’t you?”

A flush rose above
Harchman’s collar as his eyes glazed over. Nice to know I could
still do that. I leaned languidly back against Kane, glancing up at
him over my shoulder. “John, this is Lawrence Harchman. Lawrence,
I’d like you to meet my absent husband, John.”

Kane’s arm went around
my waist in a proprietary gesture as he extended his hand to
Harchman. “Mr. Harchman. Pleasure to meet you.”

Harchman straightened.
“Please call me Lawrence. And you’re with…?”

“Kane Consulting,”
Kane informed him. “I’m looking forward to your presentation
tonight.”

Harchman nodded and
his eyes drifted back to the circulating guests. I leaned toward
him, dislodging Kane’s arm, and reached for his pudgy hand again.
“Lawrence,” I murmured intimately. “It was lovely to meet you. And
your home is magnificent.”

His gaze darted
between Kane and me, assessing us. Then he smiled and leaned closer
to me. “This is just the gazebo,” he said. “Wait ‘til you see the
house.”

I did my best
wide-eyed admiration. “I’d love to. I always wanted to be an
interior decorator. I’d love to see everything you’re willing to
show me.” I almost gagged as I said it, but apparently Harchman was
full of himself to the point of being totally oblivious.

He gave me a slimy
smile. “I’d be happy to give you a personal tour later.”

“Thank you, I’ll look
forward to it,” I lied. “And now I suppose we shouldn’t keep you
from your guests any longer.”

Harchman nodded. “Come
and find me after the presentation.”

“I will,” I
murmured.

He wove his way out
into the crowd, and I sipped the wine again, relaxing against the
bar and letting my eyes roam casually across the gazebo. As soon as
Harchman vanished in the crush, I stepped back beside Kane.

“I think I’m going to
puke,” I whispered.

He chuckled. “You did
fine. You’re full of surprises. I didn’t know you were an
oenophile.”

“I’m not. I’m a
dedicated beer drinker. I learned the lingo so I didn’t look like a
total idiot at Robert’s business dinners.”

“Well, you had me
fooled.” He put his arm around me and leaned down, hiding his lips
in my hair. “Try the network.”

I slipped my arm
around him and leaned my head on his shoulder. Concentrating on
being Robert, I stepped into the void, then immediately backed out,
heart pounding. Pain slammed into my head and I controlled my face
and reflexive profanity with a supreme effort. Kane’s arm was tight
around me, and I stood on my own feet again as quickly and
unobtrusively as possible.

Kane smiled down at
me. His facial expression and body language were casual, but his
eyes were filled with concern. I smiled back, linking my arms
around his neck as I stood on tiptoe to place my lips near his
ear.

My mind went
momentarily blank when his arms closed around me, pressing me
against his hard-muscled body. I refocused with difficulty.

“It’s here,” I
whispered. “Broadcasting right out here. What the hell are they
doing?”

He shook his head as
we drew apart. “Let’s circulate.”

Kane moved confidently
through the crowd, greeting people he apparently knew as business
associates and making small talk. I followed, thankful I hadn’t
seen anyone I recognized. I laughed and chatted with a couple of
people, channelling my alien business persona with more ease than
I’d expected. Funny how the skills you never wanted to learn are
the ones that stay with you.

I was turning to snag
a curried shrimp from a passing tray when a movement at the
entrance caught my eye. Kane and I exchanged a glance at the sight
of the two large black-clad men who moved purposefully through the
crowd, their eyes in constant motion while they scanned faces. They
both wore security earpieces, and when one of them turned sideways
to avoid a guest, I glimpsed a holster under his suit jacket.

My heart kicked my
ribs when the second man’s intent gaze fell on me, and I tried to
hold my face in a pleasant expression. I smothered a sigh of relief
when his eyes roamed past without reaction. Kane’s arm slipped
around my waist, and I managed a plastic smile while he introduced
me to yet another person I wouldn’t remember in ten seconds.

The two men concluded
their walk-through and vanished, and Kane leaned down. “Okay?” he
whispered against my ear.

I gave him my best
confident smile. “Fine,” I said, and concentrated on slowing my
pounding pulse.

Willing calm, I
nibbled a few more of the delicious hors d’oeuvres and finished my
wine. No sooner had I drained the glass than the waiter appeared
with a fresh one. I thanked him, Kane tipped him again, and I
raised my glass in thanks to Dave the bartender as well.

The evening dragged
on. My feet hurt and my face was stiff from smiling by the time
dinner was announced.

I sighed silently as
we made our way arm in arm up the walkway toward the main house.
Kane must have felt the rise and fall of my rib cage, because he
leaned down to my ear. “Hang in there. The food’s going to be
excellent.”

I gave him my first
sincere smile of the evening, my spirits rising. He knew the way to
my heart.

When we entered the
magnificent foyer of the house, I let go of Kane’s arm. “I’m going
to go and freshen up.”

He nodded, and I moved
across the marble-paved space in the direction I’d seen other women
take. Sure enough, there was a powder room a short distance down
the hallway. I chatted politely with several other women while I
waited my turn.

Once inside, I sat on
the toilet, balanced carefully, and tried the network, wearing
Robert’s skin. Again, I popped effortlessly into the void and
quickly backed out. This time I couldn’t suppress a grunt when
agony knifed through my head, and I hastily flushed the toilet to
cover the sound while I held my skull and hissed quiet but sincere
invective.

When the worst of the
pain subsided, I moved to the sink, washing my hands and checking
my makeup. Nichele hadn’t lied about its quality. It was actually
staying put, and I looked the same as when she’d finished with me
hours before. Amazing. And I hadn’t even wrecked the dress yet.