The Spy Is Cast (6 page)

“I’d guess most people
there would be in the thirty to sixty age range. And I’d say
probably cocktail dress. But wardrobe isn’t exactly my area of
expertise.”

I sighed. “Mine
either.”

I glanced at his tired
face and felt a tug of sympathy. “Why don’t you see if you can grab
a nap? That’s all the questions I can think of at the moment.”

“Just one more thing
we need to talk about.” He hesitated. “We need to clear the air
between us.”

I frowned puzzlement
in his direction. “Okay. What’s on your mind?”

“I owe you an
apology.”

“For…”

“For my inappropriate
behaviour at your house before I left in March.”

“Oh.” I grinned at
him. “I don’t recall any inappropriate behaviour. I thought it was
all very appropriate.”

Kane shook his head.
“I should never have kissed you.”

“Yeah, you really
forced yourself on me.” I chuckled at his expression. “Come on,
John. Don’t tell me you thought I wasn’t into it.”

His lips crooked up,
despite his obvious seriousness. “Well, I didn’t exactly feel
unwelcome.”

I shot him a humorous
look. “Good. Because if you thought I was shocked and horrified,
we’d have to have a pretty serious talk about how to interpret body
language.”

He paused. “I’m sorry
I didn’t call.”

“Huh?” I frowned
confusion at him. “When?”

“After we… parted…
that way. Most women would expect at least a phone call.”

I laughed. “There you
go with that ‘most women’ thing again. I’m not most women. And I
know what you do for a living. Half the time you don’t even get to
eat or sleep, let alone call for a chat.”

He blew out a breath,
his shoulders easing. “I’m glad you’re not upset. But it was still
inappropriate, and it won’t happen again.”

“Damn.”

“You see, that’s what
I’m talking about,” he said gravely. “We need to set some
boundaries. In March, I thought… Well, it doesn’t matter. Now we’re
working together, and it can’t happen again.”

I sobered. “I guess I
can see where you’re coming from. You’re a big guy. All it would
take would be some female co-worker saying she felt too intimidated
to tell you to back off, and you’d get crucified in court.”

He nodded slowly, and
I thought he was about to say something else, but he remained
silent.

“You don’t have to
worry about that,” I assured him after a short pause. I took my
gaze off the road momentarily to meet his eyes, making sure he was
listening. “Look, you should know by now I’m hard to offend.”

“True,” he allowed
with a quirk of his eyebrows. “If you liked Arnie Helmand, you’ve
got to be hard to offend.”

I laughed. “Right. So
don’t worry. If we’re going as husband and wife, some physical
contact is pretty much inevitable. If I feel uncomfortable with
anything you say or do, I’ll tell you. Trust me to do that. And
I’ll trust you to do the same.”

I saw him relax in my
peripheral vision. “Okay. Deal. Thanks, Aydan.”

When we approached
Calgary’s city limits a couple of hours later, I spoke his name
quietly and his eyes snapped open, instantly alert.

“We’re just coming
into town,” I told him. “Where do you live?”

“I’m down in Sundance.
Just take the Deerfoot south and come up from 22x.”

I followed his
directions, eventually pulling up in front of an apartment-style
condo building. “Should I take you to a grocery store or anything?”
I asked. “If you’ve been in Europe for the last four months, the
pickings are probably pretty slim in your kitchen.”

He shook his head.
“I’ve got wheels here. Do you still have my cellphone number?” When
I nodded, he added, “Call me as soon as you’re checked into your
hotel. I’ll pick you up there tomorrow night around five-thirty.
And call me if you need anything else in the mean time.”

He unfolded himself
from the car, stretching. I popped the trunk so he could retrieve
his suitcase, and he gave me a wave and strode toward the
building.

I let the car idle
beside the curb while I dialled my cellphone. “Hey, Spider, where
am I staying?”

He gave me the name
and address of a hotel on Macleod Trail, and I drove directly there
and checked in using the information he had given me. As soon as
the room door closed behind me, I called Kane. I figured he had a
hot date with a pillow as soon as humanly possible, and I didn’t
want to keep him up. Even after his nap in the car, he still looked
exhausted.

That done, I
reluctantly headed for the mall.

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.”

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 bottle.

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.

“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.