Reach For the Spy Read Free Page A

pulled the
cereal box out of the cupboard in the dark and reached for the
fridge door.
    His hand closed around
my wrist. “Don’t. The light will be visible from outside, and I
don’t want any hint of activity on the cameras.”
    “Hmmph,” I agreed. I
turned back toward the table and felt him stiffen as I brushed
against him.
    I gazed up at him and
steadfastly resisted the urge to pull him down into a kiss. I’d
already done that last week. Then, he’d turned me down to protect
me. Now, I had to hold back to protect him, too.
    I realized he was still
holding my wrist and we were gazing into each other’s eyes again.
Shit.
    I pulled away and
stuffed a handful of the dry cereal into my mouth as I sat down at
the table. Stay occupied, keep the mouth busy.
    He stood silently at
the end of the table, watching me crunch my cereal. In a couple of
minutes, he checked his watch again and sighed. “See you tomorrow.
Lock the door behind me. And turn on your security system again. I
disabled it when I came through.”
    “Okay.” I followed him
to the door and locked up behind him.
    I tossed and turned for
the rest of the night, and got up feeling tired and edgy at six
o’clock. My mood was only marginally improved by a shower and
breakfast, and I shuffled irritably to my desk to do some of the
entries for one of my bookkeeping clients.
    I kept looking at my
watch, unable to concentrate. I wasn’t due to see my clients at the
Greenhorn Cafe until ten o’clock, and I was anxious about my first
afternoon at Sirius Dynamics, the business that concealed the
secret government defence research facility. Why hadn’t I told them
I’d be there in the morning instead of at one o’clock? The nervous
anticipation was killing me.
    The ring of the phone
made me jump. When I answered it, a male voice spoke in my ear.
    “You the
bookkeeper?”
    “Yes.”
    “Taking clients?”
    “Yes.”
    “Bill Harks at the
Silverside Hotel. When can you come?”
    “I’ll be in town this
morning. How about nine-thirty?”
    “Fine. Don’t be late.”
The phone crashed down in my ear.
    Well, that was short
and sweet. I’d tacked up my business card in the post office, and
I’d managed to get several clients since I’d arrived in March. So
far, all my new clients had ranged from pleasant to downright
delightful. Apparently the law of averages was about to kick in. I
frowned thoughtfully at the phone.
    Well, I didn’t need to
take his business if he was an asshole. But maybe he was just
pressed for time. Heaven knew there were days when I’d have
appreciated a concise conversation. I shrugged and went back to
work.
    By nine o’clock, the
jitters drove me out of my chair and into my closet to change. I
usually tried to overcome my natural slobbish tendencies when
meeting a potential client for the first time, but I surveyed my
neatly organized business clothes with distaste.
    Already, the heat of
the day was building in the light breeze that wafted through the
window. I would have loved to just go in the baggy jeans and ratty
T-shirt that I was wearing.
    I sighed and selected a
pair of beige dress pants and a cream-coloured sleeveless top that
set off my red hair. I’d leave it loose for first impressions. Most
guys liked long red hair, and the curt conversation I’d had with
Bill Harks suggested that any advantage would be helpful.
    I tossed the waist
pouch that served as my purse into a larger, cream-coloured
handbag, and headed out the door.
    I had a brief moment of
self-consciousness when I stepped outside and realized that I was
on camera, but I pushed it aside. The bugs had been in place for a
few days already, so undoubtedly the cameras had also been
recording my comings and goings. I’d just have to remember not to
scratch my ass or anything when I was outside the house. For most
women, that wouldn’t be a problem. Not so for me.
    In my garage, I
wistfully eyed my half-restored 1953 Chevy. Before Stemp had
decided that I was the