Read Online Claimed by the Secret Agent by Lyn Stone - Free Book Online Page B

necessary evil, usually boring as hell and uncomfortable, too. Gallons of coffee consumed in order to stay awake presented the problem of bathroom breaks. Having a partner helped. Of course, the person you were paired with made a difference.
    He and Marie had already discussed the downside of the duty, listed their pet peeves and laughed about them. She hated humming, smoking and tongue clicking. He steamed over slurping, drumming fingers on the dash and incessant throat clearing.
    Conversation quickly gave out as a general rule and left little other than the annoying munch of whatever snacks were involved and the interminable sighs of discontent. Surprisingly that was not so this time.
    He certainly wouldn’t classify Marie as a chatterbox, and neither was he. They spoke occasionally when a topic occurred, but it didn’t seem forced, and the silences were agreeable, even comfortable. Points for her.
    He liked that she didn’t try too hard to be charming and sound smart. She was both without any effort at all, and he wished he could tell her that without sounding as if he were coming on to her.
    Her soft laugh drew his attention. “What?” he asked, smiling at her delighted expression.
    “Look there.” She pointed to a couple on bicycles across the street. They must be eighty if they’re a day!”
    The two were stealing glances at each other as theypedaled and giggled about something one of them must have said. Grant watched them until they rode out of sight. “Statistics prove older people are happier. Did you know that? You’d think it would be the other way around, wouldn’t you?”
    “Oh, I don’t know. I guess most of your problems are either solved or accepted by then. You needn’t worry so much about impressing people anymore and can just be yourself.”
    Grant thought about that and what made her say it. “You worry about impressions?” He had been thinking the opposite about her only moments before.
    “Only relating to the job. You know, ditzy blonde so that I’m underestimated. Party girl so I can flit around, eavesdropping.”
    He nodded and slid a glance over her dark jeans, black sweater and the cap that covered her hair. “Androgynous spy.”
    She laughed again. “Androgynous?”
    “Not exactly. The bumps on the front sort of give you away.” And the beautiful features, the graceful hands and that rounded little butt that filled out those Calvin Klein’s to perfection, he didn’t add.
    “Ah, you noticed the bumps?”
    “Nice bumps. Who wouldn’t?”
    “Well, thanks. I think.”
    “You’re welcome. Seriously, do you run into many problems on the job? I mean, you must get a lot of unwanted attention with that butterfly thing you do. Propositions and such. Isn’t your cover sort of an open invitation to hits?”
    “The worst part of the job, but I’m getting pretty good at duck-and-run with a smile over the shoulder. Gets dicey sometimes,” she admitted.
    Grant couldn’t help the stab of anger at men who would take advantage of a young woman who appeared guileless and not too brainy. “That’s dangerous ground, Marie. Maybe you should rethink your approach and tone it down a little.”
    Her smile faded to a stony frown. “And maybe you should do a little review on your own training. Whatever weapon works best at the time, you use it.”
    “Mind my own business, huh?”
    “Got that right.” She pouted for a little while, then blew out a sigh and shifted in her seat. “Is there any more coffee in that Thermos?”
    Grant handed it over and watched her drink from the cup top. She slurped noisily, intentionally, her gaze locked on his, deliberately trying to annoy him, daring him to comment. He knew she wanted a fight, so he merely smiled, clicked his tongue and said. “Lovely manners.”
    She finished the coffee quietly and screwed the cap back on. “Okay, truce?”
    “Truce,” he agreed.
    It was a long shift and he’d rather spend it with her than alone or with anyone