Spy Candy

by Gina Robinson

  I dodged back to a spot near the door where I hoped Emma couldn’t hear me but I could still keep an eye on her, and flipped open my phone. No signal! Damn, damn, damn! Frustrated, I dropped the BlackBerry back in my purse and zipped into the next open stall to quell my mother’s voice in my head asking me if I’d used the bathroom.

  I’d just washed my hands and dug my Lip Venom out of my purse, intent on doing a reapplication, when Emma came out.

  “Ready for round two?” she asked as she washed her hands.

  Emma immediately dragged Fry back out on the dance floor.

  “Your glass is empty,” Torq said when I sat down. “This one’s on me.” He gave me a seductive, knowing grin as he flagged the cocktail waitress. He ordered himself a Tequini and turned to me. “May I?”

  I shrugged, giving him the go-ahead.

  “The lady will have the Orgasm Martini.” He looked at me with darkened eyes. Bedroom eyes. “That’s the natural progression, isn’t it? Flirt. Get dirty. Orgasm.”

  The drinks and the atmosphere of Hal’s made me bold.

  “Are you flirting with me?” I asked as the waitress disappeared. “Or is this another one of your tests, like in the classroom?” I put enough flirt in my own voice to cover the puppy-dog optimism I felt. I liked this spy boy … a lot. “FYI, in case this is a test, it’s way too dark in here to get an accurate AU reading.”

  He grinned and covered my hand with his, giving it a squeeze. “I like you, Dom.”

  I had absolutely no retort for that except a trembling smile and a happily racing heart.

  The waitress brought our drinks in a flash and Torq handed her a hefty tip.

  “The Tequini and the Orgasm are the two strongest drinks Hal makes.” He raised his glass. “This puts us on even footing.”

  “Not exactly,” I objected. “One drink tips someone of my height and weight into the DUI zone. You’re probably eighty pounds heavier than I am. I’m guessing it takes a few more than one to turn a Breathalyzer against you.”

  “I had one while you were gone.” He lifted his glass. “Cheers.”

  Okay, maybe he was trying to seduce me. Why? I don’t know. I wasn’t the most beautiful girl in the world. But he liked me. And I liked him. Sitting in Hal’s with my Bond-girl fantasies dancing in my head like sugarplums, no way was I questioning his taste in women or my good luck. I took a sip of my Orgasm and felt my tongue go numb.

  “Like it?” he asked.

  I was trying hard not to sputter. I took another sip and felt a pleasant glow settle in. “It’s got a surprisingly good afterglow.”

  “To afterglow.” He raised his glass and downed his Tequini with a flick of his wrist.

  I savored my Orgasm a moment longer while working up the nerve to get back to my questioning, only partly driven by my game with Emma. Mostly I just really wanted to know him. “So. When Emma interrupted, you were about to tell me why you left the CIA.”

  “I think it’s time to dance.” He acted like he hadn’t heard my question as he slid from the booth and held out his hand for me. “Come on. Just one.”

  I hesitated. I sucked at dancing, a consequence of being a lifelong, card-carrying wallflower. Yeah, I could tap, plié, and tendu. I’d had lessons for that. But spontaneous dancing? No.

  “Dancing with someone new requires a big leap of faith for me,” I said, trying not to sound as nervous as I felt. I made a gun with my finger. “Laugh at me and you’re a dead man. Bang! No sexy maiden’s chair necessary.”

  “No laughing. Promise.” Then he laughed anyway, grabbed my gun hand, and pulled me from the booth. Graceful me, I immediately stumbled, very maturely covering my embarrassment with a giggle. Torq grabbed my arm to steady me and led us to the dance floor.

  I was glowing all over. High on all kinds of hormones and pheromones and alcohol. Torq elbowed us some space on the crowded floor. The music was slow. My heart was beating fast. And the feeling of Torq’s arms around me put the pleasant tingles of the Orgasm to shame.

  Torq leaned down and spoke intimately into my ear. “You asked why I left the spook business. I left the CIA because I was tired of being someone else. I wanted to be me. Just me.” Torq’s hands heated my skin through my dress at the small of my back as he held me against him.

  His answer surprised me. And yeah, brought dopey sentimental tears to my eyes. Such a sincere, sensitive sentiment. Profound, really. “You’re lucky. Most of us wish we were someone else,” I said without thinking. I must have sounded wistful. Hadn’t I spent most of my life wishing to be more like Logan?

  “Why would a beautiful girl like you want to be anyone else?” he whispered in my ear as he tucked a stray wisp of hair behind it. Damned if he didn’t sound sincere, too.

  “Why?” I repeated his question, utterly flustered.

  His thighs brushed mine and I could barely think.

  “Because my life is pretty dull,” I said into his ear. “I’m single. I live alone. I go to work. I’m pretty much Moneypenny.”

  His pelvis pressed against mine. And yes, I could feel his package and it was obviously mission-ready and no longer covert.

  “Don’t knock Moneypenny,” Torq whispered as he nibbled my ear. “She’s as hot as any Bond girl. And loyal. And true. She loves Bond, knowing who and what he is. I’ve always thought Bond’s a fool to ignore her.”

  “Maybe James is just afraid to hurt a good woman,” I said, coming to Bond’s defense. But my eyes were misty with emotion and joy. I had to bite my lower lip to keep from murmuring, “Oh, James.”

  Torq nuzzled into my neck as his hands strayed south to cup my butt. My breath caught. I was riding a wave of romantic emotion and practically orgasmic at the same time … and we were just dancing!

  My knees went weak. I leaned into him for support.

  “Ummmm,” he murmured into my neck, like my perfume was giving him ideas beyond dancing. Torq pulled back and eyed my moist, tingly, Lip Venom-covered lips and his breathing slowed. He lowered his face to mine, hovering just above a kiss.

  “There isn’t a rule against instructors and CTs … um … dancing, is there?” I whispered, staring into his eyes with about as much longing as a girl can possess.

  “About a hundred,” he said, slowly closing the gap between our lips. “But I only pay them lip service.”

  “A man who can quote Bond—”

  His lips landed softly on mine, silencing me, but not my singing heart. No tongue. Just a sweet caress that left me wanting more … and more. I sighed and leaned into his kiss. He kissed me deeper … and deeper.

  His kisses grew hotter. The music moved faster, pulsating around us. We ignored it, dancing our slow dance and necking. Stroking. The music stopped.

  I pulled away awkwardly. “I think I need another Orgasm.”

  “I think we need some fresh air,” he said, leading me from the dance floor.

  Outside, the night air was warm and balmy. Stars winked overhead and I swayed against Torq as we walked across the parking lot toward the bus. A good deal of my Lip Venom glistened in the moonlight on his lips and neck. I was ridiculously happy. Almost delirious with it.

  “Dom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I had a really good time tonight.” He meant it, I could tell. But at the same time, he sounded almost regretful, like he had something to say and didn’t want to say it. Like he was calling the night off.

  “Me, too.” I cuddled into him, not wanting to hear more, not wanting the evening to end.

  We reached the bus door.

  He paused and tucked my hair behind my ears before brushing my lips with a light kiss. “Much as I hate to say this, you’ve had too much to drink. This is where the fun has to stop tonight.” Regret weighted his voice.

  “An agent and a gentleman,” I said, trying not to sound as disappointed as I felt.

  He grinned and kissed the top of my head.

  From out of nowhere came the squeal of tires. Torq suddenly stiffened and looke
d over his shoulder. I stared in horror as an inebriated Max staggered out into the aisle from between two parked cars directly into the path of a sedan that barreled toward him, and us, from the far end of the row.

  “Shit!” Torq shoved the bus doors open and pushed me up the steps as my purse went flying. “In the bus. Quick!”

  Over my shoulder, I caught a brief glimpse of Max silhouetted in headlights. He swayed on his feet in the middle of the aisle, totally unaware of a maniac behind him who apparently had no intention of braking.

  Torq yelled at Max to get out of the way, which had the opposite of a saving effect on Max. He froze.

  The sickening thud of Max becoming a hood ornament drowned out Torq’s shouting and curses. The car accelerated toward us with Max plastered on his hood.

  “Maaax!” I screamed.

  Torq gave me another push up the steps and followed me into the stairwell just as the car plowed by, missing us, and the bus, by inches. As soon as the car passed us, Torq yelled at me to stay down and stay put, and ran out after it.

  My Flirtini-fogged brain knew it should do something. Like get a license number. But it was dark and my eyes didn’t seem to want to focus properly. There was also the added disincentive—I really did not want to see a dead, pavement-pizza Max. I focused on the white blur of car. A white sedan—now that narrowed the field. It only described 90 percent of the vehicles in Arizona.

  As the sedan sped up the aisle, Max rolled off the hood into the road. I winced and felt my stomach lurch. The car sped off around the corner toward the road and out of sight.

  Torq took off at a sprint toward Max. I slid down the steps and fished my purse off the pavement before crawling back up into the stairs. I pawed through my purse, frantically searching, and cursing that no matter what you wanted, it always fell to the bottom of the bag. Where was my stupid phone? I peeked out and saw Torq with his cell phone already to his ear. Thank goodness! Then, miracle of miracles, Max sat up.

  I let out a pent-up breath I hadn’t even been aware of holding. If Max could sit, he wasn’t dead. That was good. I tried to stand, intent on going to Max and Torq, only the world swam and I decided against it. Waiting in the bus as instructed seemed the more prudent option.

  Within a few minutes, an aid unit and a squad car rolled into the parking lot. The paramedics examined Max.

  This waiting on the bus was the pits. The Orgasm was definitely catching up with me and impeding my thought process.

  After what seemed like forever but was probably only minutes, Torq returned with Fry, several CTs, and a cop. I heard them cursing crazy drunks. I was still sprawled on the bus steps, too dizzy, and scared, to move.

  Torq opened the bus doors. I hadn’t even realized I’d shut them.

  “Max is going to be fine,” he said before I could speak. “They’re taking him to the hospital overnight for observation.”

  “Being pickled saved his butt,” the cop said. “Loose as a goose. A real boneless chicken. A sober person would have tensed and broken every bone in their body.”

  “But Max bounced.” I giggled. There was nothing funny in the situation, but I couldn’t help myself. “Someone tried to run him over. Someone tried to kill Max!” I broke out into full-out laughter. “Go find him,” I said to the cop as I tried to appear more sober. “He was in a white car.”

  Torq and the cop exchanged a look. The other CTs and Fry looked sheepish.

  “She’s no help,” the cop said and walked off.

  “Oh, baby,” Torq said when he turned back to me. And it didn’t sound like a compliment. He took my hand and pulled me to my feet.

  “Whoa! Too fast.” My head swam. “I don’t feel so good.”

  He hauled me gently from the bus. “You need fresh air. Breathe deeply. I thought you said you could hold your liquor.”

  “Wine’s fine, but liquor’s quicker,” I said out of nowhere and laughed, feeling silly and unable to stop. “I lied. Didn’t Rockford say, ‘Don’t believe anything you hear'?” I swallowed hard against a gag welling in my throat. Was it just me or were my words slurring?

  “Uh-oh.” And I didn’t mean about the bad guys, or whoever, getting away. “I think the Orgasm did me in.”

  He looked at me like “if only.” I put a hand to my mouth as a wave of nausea welled up.

  “Damn,” he said, “I recognize that look.” He grabbed my hair and held it back while I wretched Flirtini and Orgasm all over an unfortunate cactus in the median.

  Chapter Nine

  I woke up in my own twin bed alone, dressed in my new-for-camp nightie. I dimly remembered the bus ride home and Torq carrying me Rhett Butler style, minus the ravish, to my room as Emma fussed over me. I think Torq and Emma left before the getting-into-the-nightie part. Even through my embarrassment, I smiled giddily at the thought of Torq. He liked me! Heavy sigh of happiness.

  I was glad I remembered the bus ride only as in a haze. Because what I did remember was pretty humiliating and I was hoping it would quickly fade into the dark depths of forgotten memories … for all of us. Throwing up in front of your mother is embarrassing enough. But in front of a hot guy you really liked …

  Plus I’m pretty sure the only orgasm either of us had was the one I drank.

  After my stint painting the cactus, Torq was gentleness and concern itself as he forced heinous quantities of water and a large bottle of Gatorade down me.

  “Dom, you need to rehydrate and replace your potassium and salt levels. Trust me.” He sounded sexy even when dispensing medical advice. And patient, not at all condemning or irritated with me.

  Not that he needed to be. I was irate enough for both of us.

  I think he threw in some acetaminophen and a vitamin C from the camp medicine cupboard for good measure, too. All part of the cure.

  I opened my eyes, bracing for the big headache and … nothing but mild, manageable pain. Hallelujah! The nausea was gone. The light didn’t even hurt my eyes … much. The man was a medical genius. I grinned, sat up, and slid my feet over the side of the bed, way too happy for the day after a drinking binge. I threw on my robe and met Emma in the bathroom.

  “Great! You’re up! You missed breakfast, but you’re up.” She nodded her approval, but the sunshine in her voice sounded forced and put on, which put me on red alert. “Good thing I snagged you a muffin and a piece of fruit. Have them in my room. I’ll just get them, shall I?” She turned to leave.

  Food didn’t really sound that bad, but Emma’s fake perkiness worried me. I put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong? Has something happened to Max?”

  “Max, that lucky idiot, is fine.” She sounded put out. “He’s already back at camp. He has a few bruises, but he doesn’t look much worse than you.”

  “That’s a relief.” And I meant it. “Someone tried to kill him.”

  “Someone was driving drunk,” Emma said. She still didn’t sound happy.

  “If not Max, then what’s wrong?”

  She sighed and dropped her head, turning back to give me a sidelong look. “Nothing.”

  “Come on,” I prompted. “Out with it.”

  Ignoring my demand, she looked me up and down. “You don’t look much worse for the wear for someone who was nearly run over by a drunk. Evidently, Torq knows what he’s talking about when treating hangovers.” The false brightness was back in her voice. “He wouldn’t let me give you a cup of coffee for the world. How do you feel?”

  “Not too bad, really.” Which was the surprising truth. “Now stop hedging.”

  “You’d better take this anyway. Torq asked me to bring it to you.” She handed me an acetaminophen and another tablet.

  “What is it?” I asked, momentarily letting her off the hook as I inspected the new drug.

  “KGB,” Emma said. “Key 2 Getting Better. It’s an old KGB cure for headaches. Torq asked me to tell you he was sorry he couldn’t find the KGB last night. He explained that it has some kind of acid that breaks down the acetal-something-hyde
that produces the gruesome effects of a hangover.”

  I stared at it in my hand. “What a really sweet thing for him to do.” My voice went as soft and gooey as a sticky bun.

  “Yeah.” Unfortunately, Emma’s voice sounded more like stale, dry toast.

  “Out with it.” I gave her my piercing look.

  “It was a game,” Emma whispered, looking dejected and miserable.

  “What was a game?”

  Emma heaved a heavy sigh. “The trip to the bar! The flirting with us!” She bit her lip. “Look, I didn’t want to tell you …”

  And I didn’t want to hear. Nooooo! No, no, no! What Torq and I had was real. It was real. We’d connected. I knew we had. He may be a master faker, but his smile had reached all the way to his eyes. It had. Even he couldn’t fake those involuntary micro expressions.

  Emma saw my stunned face and put a consoling hand on my arm. “I’m sorry. I … thought you should know. I overheard them talking at breakfast. That’s why it was so easy for us to win Fry and Torq over. It was all part of the camp. To see how free we are with information. How easy it would be for someone to play up to us and get us to blab our real identities.”

  I was still holding the KGB and feeling about as happy as if the real KGB had just cuffed me and thrown me in the gulag.

  “Don’t just stare at it. Drink it up.” She handed me a glass of water. “There you go.”

  Operating on automatic, I popped the pill. “The old ‘The Recruit double cross at the bar’ trick. That’s the oldest trick in the book.” I mimicked Max, trying to sound light but failing miserably, and feeling miserable, too. And stupid. And gullible. Had he really been faking it? My emotional side screamed no, but my logical side thought what Emma said made sense. I wasn’t the kind of girl a guy like him fell for.

  Emma pried the glass from my hand and set it on the counter. “In retrospect, we should have seen it coming.”