Secret Agent Affair

by Marie Ferrarella

  “The ambassador from Jordan’s daughter is coming here for brain surgery sometime next week.” The exact day and time were being kept a secret from all but the key figures involved in the surgery to cut down on the risk. “This is part of his security detail, here to check out Patience Memorial.”

  “Part?” he questioned innocently, wondering just how much she knew about the situation.

  Marja nodded. “So I hear. Tania’s been asked to be one of the three assistant surgeons and she hasn’t been told when it’s supposed to take place yet, just to be flexible.” These days, the new, improved Tania—which is how she saw herself since she’d become engaged—liked to have everything mapped out. A nebulous fact like the surgery thrown into the mix made her crazy.

  “Three assistants?” he questioned. The more people in the operating room, the greater the chance that one of them had their loyalties elsewhere. “Isn’t that a little excessive?”

  According to Tania, the chief of surgery had already gone over all the details and decided this was the way to proceed. “It’s a very delicate operation and they’d rather err on the side of caution. Besides—and I know it sounds a little cold to say this—but witnessing this kind of surgery is a great learning opportunity for a neurosurgeon.”

  “Is that what your sister is?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “A neurosurgeon?”

  Tania had started out wanting just to be a general surgeon. But she’d started to hone in on a specific field. Which had meant more classes, more training. Tania juggled it all.

  She smiled at his question. “I think Tania wants to conquer as many fields as she can. Makes me feel as if I’m a slacker, just being content to be a family practitioner.”

  Is that how she saw herself? As a slacker? She was one of the hardest-working physicians he’d ever seen, handling one and a half times as many cases as any of the other doctors on duty. “Not from where I’m standing,” Kane commented.

  She looked at him, forgetting all about the somber men who had just turned down the corridor. “Is that a compliment, Kane?”

  He heard the surprise, mingled with pleasure, in her voice.

  It was a warning sign.

  Too close, he was getting too close. But right now, it couldn’t be helped. He really had no choice, he silently insisted. He needed the insight, the connections she afforded. Plenty of time to bail out later, after the situation was defused—if there was a situation. The chatter, according to his handler, hadn’t started up again after it’d stopped.

  “Just an observation,” he replied matter-of-factly with a careless shrug.

  She still smiled as if it was a compliment.

  The next afternoon at five found him on her doorstep, ringing her bell. It was the tail end of an unproductive day and he was beat. Sometimes doing nothing was more tiring than doing something.

  And then she opened the door.

  He didn’t know which took his breath away more, the sight of Marja in cutoffs and a skimpy top that highlighted more than it hid, or the sight of her dressed up, wearing a navy-blue, curve-hugging sheath, the hem of which was intimately flirting with the middle of her thighs.

  The way his hands suddenly itched to be.

  It took him a second to find his tongue. When he did, he cleared his throat. “You didn’t say this was going to be formal.”

  The way his eyes swept over her made her feel warm. And extremely sexy. She liked feeling sexy around him. For half a second she entertained the idea of being fashionably late and bridging the time from now until then with what had so recently become her favorite indoor sport. But she’d said she’d be there early and Mama would come looking for her if she didn’t show.

  “It’s not,” she answered, “but I thought I should wear something besides my scrubs and my white lab coat. And if I went in my cutoffs, my father would throw one of the tablecloths over me so no one would see his daughter ‘half without clothes,’” she said, doing a perfect imitation of her father’s voice. She spread her hands out before her. “A dress was my only other option.”

  Grabbing her purse, she went out the door in front of him, then turned to lock it. Tania had spent last night at Jesse’s and they were going to the restaurant from his apartment.

  Turning around to face Kane, she let herself take full inventory. She liked what she saw.

  “You clean up nicely,” she told him. He was wearing a light blue shirt that he’d left open at the throat and a sports jacket that looked fairly new. Had he bought it just for the occasion? she wondered. Jeans completed the outfit and he’d managed somehow to make them look casual and formal at the same time. Not to mention very, very good.

  “You, too,” he murmured.

  He was obviously uncomfortable with compliments from either end, receiving or giving. Kane Dolan was a very complicated man, she thought. She had a feeling that he was capable of being much more than just an orderly. What turns had his life taken to bring him there? She wanted to find out, but she knew that asking him wouldn’t get her any answers.

  “You know, your lips really won’t fall off if you say nice things,” she told him in a pseudo-confidential whisper.

  He put his hand to the base of her spine, guiding her to the elevator. “I know that.” When they got to the elevator, he pressed the down button on the wall. “How long did you say I had to stay?”

  He was worried about being examined under a microscope, or at least definitely not looking forward to it, she amended. She had already threatened everyone in her family with bodily harm if they gave Kane even the slightest indication that they were evaluating him. She’d threatened her father twice since he and her mother were always the biggest offenders. Her mother, thank God, was going to be caught up in all the last-minute details involved in the opening.

  Stepping inside the car, she slipped her arm through his. The doors sighed closed. “Not a second longer than you want to,” she promised.

  When she put it that way, sounding so magnanimous, she obligated him to stay for more than a few minutes. Kane had more than a passing suspicion that she knew it, too.

  Why that didn’t stir feelings of rebellion or resentment within him, or at the very least make him angry, worried Kane.

  Deeply.

  Chapter 11

  They took the 59th Street Bridge into Queens. Marja gave him directions from there.

  After a lifetime of being frugal, her mother could not bring herself to pay the higher rental prices in Manhattan. Besides, since she’d lived in Queens ever since coming from her native Poland, she decided that Magda’s Kitchen should be located in the borough, as well.

  “Mama says she likes the pace better in Queens,” Marja told Kane after they’d finally found a parking spot three blocks from the restaurant. Thinking of her mother, she smiled fondly as they approached the massive, wooden double doors. There were characters carved in the wood, depicting scenes from old Polish fairy tales. The doors were a labor of love from her father. “She thinks it’s not quite as fast here as it is in Manhattan.”

  Kane nodded, not in agreement but to indicate that he’d heard her. As far as he was concerned, when it came to New York City, it was a matter of fast and faster. The word “slow” didn’t really begin to depict life here.

  Wrapping his hand around one of the large, solid brass handles, he yanked open the door.

  Warm air and the sound of a hundred or more voices rushed up to greet them. Kane didn’t like crowds as a rule—unless he was trying to lose a tail. In general, it was harder keeping track of things when there were so many variables to take into account. The fact that this was a social evening didn’t really change his perception of things. He was always on his guard.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marja smiling broadly, like a woman savoring a triumph. She caught him looking at her and explained, “And Mama was afraid no one would come.”

  He recognized a few faces from the hospital. Apparently word had gone out.

  “Looks like
half the borough is here,” he commented. Beneath lids that appeared indolent, he quickly scanned the dining area beyond the hostess desk. It was inherent in his training. At it so long, he had no idea how to stand down. Sleeping with one eye open was second nature to him.

  Several more people entered. He shifted over to one side with Marja. The group closest to him spoke in some foreign language. It sounded Slavic to his ear, although he couldn’t quite place what country.

  Glancing back toward him, Marja could see the somber look of concentration on his face. She guessed at the question crossing his mind. Leaning in closer to him, she said, “Polish.”

  “Oh.” Makes sense, he thought. Her parents were Polish. Stood to reason their friends would be. “You speak it?”

  Marja shook her head. “No, but I can understand it. The words don’t quite come to my tongue,” she explained. God knew her mother had tried, just like she’d tried to teach her to cook, but she’d always been too busy to take the time to learn. Maybe soon, she promised herself. “But I know them when I hear them. C’mon—” she grabbed his hand in hers “—let’s go find the woman of the hour.”

  Without waiting for him to agree, she made her way through the throng like a slow-moving bullet determined to hit its target.

  His first instinct was to pull his hand away, to maintain his autonomy. But he left his hand in hers and let her take the lead. Tonight was about his assignment only insofar as further establishing and maintaining his cover went.

  Marja noted happily that all the tables were filled and a line of people waited to be seated. She knew most of her parents’ friends and these faces weren’t familiar to her. These were unsolicited customers.

  Mama, I knew you could pull this off.

  “Looks like your mother’s grand opening is a success,” Kane addressed the words to her back. She turned, apparently not hearing what he’d said, just the sound of his voice. The quizzical look on her face had him repeating his comment.

  When he did, he was almost dazzled by the smile that rose to her lips. Damn, she was too beautiful for her own good. And definitely his.

  The sound of the crowd all but swallowed her laugh. “She’ll be successful as long as she doesn’t give the food away,” she told him, raising her voice. “Mama likes feeding people,” she added. “Goes back to when she was a little girl. Her family was really very poor and she remembers all of them being hungry all the time.”

  Her mother didn’t like to talk about those times, preferring to deal in the present and the future. When all of her “Doctor Daughters” as she sometimes called them, were married with children of their own.

  Marja judiciously kept the last part to herself. No sense in making the man bolt yet.

  They finally made it to the rear of the restaurant. She couldn’t wait to see her mother. But when she pushed open the swinging double door that led into the kitchen, Marja was stunned. There was her mother, all right, moving like a whirling dervish. Nothing new about that.

  But rather than a full complement of assistant chefs milling about, following Mama’s orders, Marja saw her sisters, aprons spread over fashionable dresses, tending to different pots simmering on the five stoves that were lined up next to one another. Sasha’s apron was stretched to the limit, vainly trying to cover her girth.

  Mama was everywhere at once, issuing orders like a seasoned drill sergeant, tasting and testing. And looking incredibly concerned.

  Marja saw her father bring over a sack of potatoes and deposit it on the nearest counter, a chopping block.

  “What happened?” Marja asked.

  Seeing her for the first time, Josef’s face brightened for a moment. “The assistant chefs, they are having trouble coming. One is sick, one had an emergency at home and one called five minutes ago. He is being in a car accident. Not hurt,” he added quickly with a sigh of relief, “just being late. Oh, and a waitress is not coming, why we are not knowing.”

  Despite the situation, he appeared undaunted. Josef was an optimist. He had managed to escape from a communist regime with his wife. Everything after that was a gift. And if a particular moment was difficult, he merely focused on a time that would be better.

  Josef gestured around the bustling area and he smiled proudly. That things wouldn’t ultimately work out well never even crossed his mind. “You sisters, they are helping.”

  “You, too,” Magda announced, all but roller-skating over to where they were standing. She thrust an apron toward her youngest daughter. “I need help with the potatoes.”

  Marja looked at her with dismay. She was more than willing to help, but getting her to cook wasn’t going to be the answer to anyone’s prayer. “Mama, you know I can’t boil water.”

  Magda brushed back a strand of wayward dark hair that insisted on falling into her eyes every few minutes. “I know you are not boiling water.” Standing between her daughter and the tall stranger with her, she looked up at him, the dilemma in her kitchen placed on hold. “Hallo,” she greeted as her eyes quickly took measure of him.

  “Hello,” he answered. Instinctively sensing that he couldn’t just stand idly by, Kane asked, “What do you need?”

  She eyed him, her dark eyebrows coming together over the bridge of her nose, as if perplexed by the question.

  “I boil water,” he explained, a slight smile curving his otherwise serious mouth.

  Magda breathed a sigh of relief and grabbed both of his hands as if they had known one another forever. “Good, come. I have something for you to do.”

  And just like that, she whisked Kane away, for all intents and purposes, shanghaiing him.

  Alarmed, uncertain, Marja quickly followed the duo. “Mama—” she began in protest.

  Able to read her daughters’ tones the way others read books, Magda didn’t bother to turn around. “He is volunteering,” was all she threw over her shoulder. “Marysia, go help your father.”

  In the end, it was indeed a family—and almost-family—effort that went into making the first night of business at Magda’s Kitchen such a success.

  There was no lull, no break in the flow, not even for a moment. Unable to assist creatively in the kitchen, Marja finally donned an apron and helped bus the tables, bringing in the dirty dishes and setting them up to go through the dishwasher. Two of her brothers-in-law and Tania’s Jesse all pitched in, as well. Only Tony was missing out on the action. She didn’t realize he was missing until more than half the evening had gone by.

  Two of the errant assistant chefs finally showed up, but there was more than enough work to go around so her sisters and Kane continued manning the kitchen with her mother.

  By the time the doors closed at eleven and the last customer had left some twenty minutes later, leaving a profusion of complimentary words in their wake, everyone was exhausted. But it was an extremely good exhausted.

  One by one, as they emerged from the kitchen, they sank down at the tables closest to the swinging doors, more than a little worn around the edges.

  Sasha groaned as she lowered her ever-widening girth onto a chair. The look on her face indicated she might never get up again.

  Kane shifted his chair so that she might have a little more room.

  Watching him, Marja couldn’t begin to describe the feeling that snaked through her. She was surprised, impressed, happy, pleased and a whole host of other things flowing through her. Kane had gone above and beyond what she thought he was capable of.

  She had no idea how to begin to thank him. Leaning forward, she whispered, “That was very nice of you,” in his ear.

  Her breath shimmied along his skin. It was all he could do to keep from shivering. Instead he shrugged off the compliment. He couldn’t have explained what it was that had made him pitch in just then. Maybe because something about the older woman reminded him of his own fantasy as a boy, the one that revolved around having a mother who was a positive role model instead of the one passed out beside his equally unconscious father.

  Or maybe he
hated to have people come so close to their dream and not be able to grasp it through no fault of their own. It really didn’t matter. He’d done what he had done and it was over.

  “Needed doing,” was all he said.

  Magda came out of the kitchen just then, carrying a large tray before her. Her husband followed in her wake, carrying an equally large, loaded tray. The two assistant chefs brought up the rear with two more trays. All four trays had piping-hot plates of freshly made chicken à la king spread over steaming white rice.

  Magda proceeded to distribute the plates to her daughters and the men with them.

  “You did not eat,” she reminded them. “You all came here for dinner and instead, you are working. I cannot tell you how blessed I feel to have you all in my life.” She stopped by Kane, placing the plate before him.

  “And you, you are helping with the vegetables and I do not even know your name.”

  “Kane,” he said, rising in his seat. “Kane Dolan.” The last name burned a little on his tongue as he uttered it. Lying to the older woman seemed to bother him even more than lying to Marja.

  What was that all about? he couldn’t help wondering.

  Resting the empty tray on the edge of the table, Magda brushed her hand along her apron to make sure it was dry before she extended it to Kane.

  “Well, Mr. Kane Dolan, I am happy to be meeting you. I am Magda and that handsome man behind me is Josef.”

  After working beside her all evening, it felt a little odd shaking the woman’s hand as if they had just met, but Kane had a feeling that protocol was an important part in this couple’s life. Nodding at Marja’s father, he shook the man’s hand when it was offered. Josef, he noted, had a hearty grip, as if all his feeling went into the gesture.

  “We are usually more organized than this,” Josef apologized, emphasizing the last part of the verb with feeling so that it came out “organize-ed.”

  Magda shook her head, lightly swatting at her husband’s shoulder. “He is knowing this. You do not need to—”