Read Online The Spy Is Cast by Diane Henders - Free Book Online Page A

designed to complement the layout and
landscaping.
    Kane tucked my hand
into the crook of his arm and moved forward, rousing me from my
daze. I glanced up at him. He looked confident and relaxed, his
face pleasant and open. There was no sign of the intense focus I
knew existed behind his eyes.
    Nervousness skittered
down my spine. Kane was a highly trained secret agent, putting his
life on the line to protect national security. I was an idiot
civilian. What the hell was I doing here? My ineptness could kill
him. Could kill both of us. And if we failed, a lot of other
innocent people could get hurt, too. I sent out a mental plea to
whatever gods might be listening.
    Please, please, don’t
let me screw up.
    I willed the tension
out of my body and pulled on my ‘polite company’ personality like
an objectionable second skin. I let the high heels and slithery
dress take over, changing my usual stride into the smooth,
undulating movement Nichele called my supermodel walk.
    As Kane and I strolled
down the walkway, I straightened my spine and heads turned as we
passed. I felt a moment of misgiving. Kane’s breadth of shoulder
and his six-foot-four height drew immediate attention, and I was
over six feet tall in my heels, too. We weren’t exactly
unobtrusive.
    Another uniformed
staff member was stationed halfway down the path, guiding the flow
of guests. “Welcome,” he greeted us. “Please join us in the
gazebo.” He gestured toward the two-storey building by the lake,
and Kane thanked him graciously as we followed the pathway
down.
    I struggled to control
my face when we arrived at the so-called gazebo. It was an enormous
structure. Each level sported a full bar, and it had tables and
chairs enough for at least fifty people per floor. Waiters and
waitresses circulated with trays of hors d’oeuvres and drinks. With
difficulty, I suppressed my natural impulse to dive into an
immediate feeding frenzy. As I nibbled noncommittally on an
appetizer, a waiter appeared beside us, offering white wine from
the tray of glasses that he carried.
    I met his eyes,
creating a personal connection. “What is the grape?” I murmured,
pitching my voice so that it would only be audible to him.
    “It’s our house
white,” he responded. “It’s a Chardonnay.”
    I let the faintest
breath of disappointment tinge my “Oh.” I smiled politely at him.
“Thank you.”
    As I reached for a
glass, he said quickly, “If you’d prefer something else, I’d be
happy to bring it for you.”
    I let my smile reach
my eyes. “That’s very kind, but I don’t want to trouble you.”
    “It’s no trouble at
all, ma’am,” he assured me. “What would you like?”
    I let my voice go a
little husky. “I’d love a Sauvignon Blanc.”
    He swallowed visibly
and turned to look up at Kane. “And for you, sir?”
    “Do you have any
single-malt scotch?” Kane asked him politely.
    “Yes, sir, I believe
we have several.”
    Kane nodded
satisfaction. “Don’t bother bringing our drinks, then. We’ll go up
to the bar so I can see what you have, and we’ll get the wine
there, too.”
    The waiter hovered
indecisively. “It’s no bother. I’ll check with the bartender about
the scotch and be right back.”
    Kane shook his head.
“It’s quite all right. Thank you.” He discreetly laid a twenty on
the waiter’s tray and put his hand on the small of my back to guide
me through the crowd. As we made our way slowly toward the bar, I
noticed our waiter weaving his way expertly through the crush. He
caught the bartender’s attention and indicated us with a nod.
    I smiled up at Kane.
“Nicely done.”
    When we arrived at the
bar, the bartender greeted us cheerfully. “I hear you’re looking
for a Sauvignon Blanc,” he addressed me.
    “That would be lovely,
thank you,” I responded, giving him full eye contact. He smiled
warmly and reached for a bottle.
    Beside me, a short man
in a tux turned, his gaze locking onto my boobs before