for the bus.
Peewee scowled his answer and headed for the backseat of the small, airporter-type van.
I fell into a seat across from Jim, my eyes glued out the window on Van. Whoever he’d called hadn’t been the chatty type. I’d bet his callee wasn’t a woman. My relief shouldn’t have been so palpable, but I was a woman only potentially on the make. Until I could at least fully commit to the chase, I didn’t need any competition from unseen women on the other end of phone calls. Things were complicated enough.
I watched Van appreciatively. The man had such fine running form, my toes curled. Ask anyone. I’m a sucker for gracefully moving muscles and sinew. I watched a lot of track and field. I loved instant replays in slow motion. Anyway, Van was barely breathing hard as he swung into the stairwell and boarded the bus.
Jim cleared his throat. “Get the Chariots of Fire theme out of your head, girl.”
“ Chariots of Fire , are you kidding? I’m not that sentimental,” I said, grinning as I turned my attention from Van to him. “Where do you think Huff is?”
Jim shrugged, noncommittally.
“Huff has a flare for the dramatic,” Cliff chipped in with amusement, and only a slight hint of annoyance, in his voice. He flashed a knowing, and undeniably pleased, look at Jim that could have doubled for a wink. “He’ll probably be waiting for us at the warehouse.”
“Or show up late in a limo to make a grand entrance,” Jim added, also in good humor.
I wondered at their apparent pleasure in Huff’s absence. Just what did they know?
Van walked past. “All taken care of,” he said as he took the seat behind me.
“Where do you think Huff is?” I asked him, sounding like a one-question-wonder, as he settled in and pulled out a pocket-size Sudoku book.
“Swimming with the sharks.” He was grinning.
“Stop it,” I said. “I’m worried.”
He arched a brow. “You think he’s in trouble?”
Despite Cliff and Jim’s buoyant mood, I was concerned that something horrible had happened to Huff. Something in the form of retribution from a celebrity trainer gone mad. Accepting a public hug and dance with Huff yesterday had been flirting with danger.
“Why wouldn’t he show up for the exciting first day of spy camp? Tell me that. This is the premier, action-packed vacation in the country. The brochure says so.” I gave Van a pointed look.
“He hasn’t missed the day yet.” Van opened the book and pulled out a nub of a pencil. “Maybe he doesn’t like buses.”
“He never mentioned it.”
Van gave me a look that could have been construed as either slightly jealous, or just plain sarcastic. “Lying in a ditch syndrome.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You sound like my brothers.”
“Yeah? Probably because I have a mother and two older sisters who are always imagining the worst. Can’t say it’s an attractive trait.” He grinned and pretended to be engrossed in his puzzle so that he could ignore my glare.
Which left me to admire the top of his head, covered as it was with his thick, wavy, finger-stroking good hair. “It’s better than indifference.”
Van grinned and gestured toward his book, making me an offer. “Puzzle?”
I ignored his meaning. “Yes. This business is, isn’t it? Now if only we could work together to solve it.” I put a finger to my lips, posing in the thoughtful look. “But wait! That would require your participation.”
He refused to rise to the bait. “Sure? Numbers will keep your mind off your troubles.”
I gave him a seriously skeptical look. “The only numbers I want right now are the four-one-one.” I leaned over and whispered again, nodding toward Peewee behind Van. “What do you make of Peewee? He’s been huddled back there looking like the Black Spy and making secretive phone calls since we boarded.”
Van didn’t even look up. “Everyone has their own way of killing time.”
I thumped back in my seat. “You’re no help, you
Peewee scowled his answer and headed for the backseat of the small, airporter-type van.
I fell into a seat across from Jim, my eyes glued out the window on Van. Whoever he’d called hadn’t been the chatty type. I’d bet his callee wasn’t a woman. My relief shouldn’t have been so palpable, but I was a woman only potentially on the make. Until I could at least fully commit to the chase, I didn’t need any competition from unseen women on the other end of phone calls. Things were complicated enough.
I watched Van appreciatively. The man had such fine running form, my toes curled. Ask anyone. I’m a sucker for gracefully moving muscles and sinew. I watched a lot of track and field. I loved instant replays in slow motion. Anyway, Van was barely breathing hard as he swung into the stairwell and boarded the bus.
Jim cleared his throat. “Get the Chariots of Fire theme out of your head, girl.”
“ Chariots of Fire , are you kidding? I’m not that sentimental,” I said, grinning as I turned my attention from Van to him. “Where do you think Huff is?”
Jim shrugged, noncommittally.
“Huff has a flare for the dramatic,” Cliff chipped in with amusement, and only a slight hint of annoyance, in his voice. He flashed a knowing, and undeniably pleased, look at Jim that could have doubled for a wink. “He’ll probably be waiting for us at the warehouse.”
“Or show up late in a limo to make a grand entrance,” Jim added, also in good humor.
I wondered at their apparent pleasure in Huff’s absence. Just what did they know?
Van walked past. “All taken care of,” he said as he took the seat behind me.
“Where do you think Huff is?” I asked him, sounding like a one-question-wonder, as he settled in and pulled out a pocket-size Sudoku book.
“Swimming with the sharks.” He was grinning.
“Stop it,” I said. “I’m worried.”
He arched a brow. “You think he’s in trouble?”
Despite Cliff and Jim’s buoyant mood, I was concerned that something horrible had happened to Huff. Something in the form of retribution from a celebrity trainer gone mad. Accepting a public hug and dance with Huff yesterday had been flirting with danger.
“Why wouldn’t he show up for the exciting first day of spy camp? Tell me that. This is the premier, action-packed vacation in the country. The brochure says so.” I gave Van a pointed look.
“He hasn’t missed the day yet.” Van opened the book and pulled out a nub of a pencil. “Maybe he doesn’t like buses.”
“He never mentioned it.”
Van gave me a look that could have been construed as either slightly jealous, or just plain sarcastic. “Lying in a ditch syndrome.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You sound like my brothers.”
“Yeah? Probably because I have a mother and two older sisters who are always imagining the worst. Can’t say it’s an attractive trait.” He grinned and pretended to be engrossed in his puzzle so that he could ignore my glare.
Which left me to admire the top of his head, covered as it was with his thick, wavy, finger-stroking good hair. “It’s better than indifference.”
Van grinned and gestured toward his book, making me an offer. “Puzzle?”
I ignored his meaning. “Yes. This business is, isn’t it? Now if only we could work together to solve it.” I put a finger to my lips, posing in the thoughtful look. “But wait! That would require your participation.”
He refused to rise to the bait. “Sure? Numbers will keep your mind off your troubles.”
I gave him a seriously skeptical look. “The only numbers I want right now are the four-one-one.” I leaned over and whispered again, nodding toward Peewee behind Van. “What do you make of Peewee? He’s been huddled back there looking like the Black Spy and making secretive phone calls since we boarded.”
Van didn’t even look up. “Everyone has their own way of killing time.”
I thumped back in my seat. “You’re no help, you
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