“Oh, yeah,” said the clerk, a middle-aged man with a big gut who looked more like a doughnut-eating PI than a spy. “Get Smart novelty item. Customers love them.”
Staci crossed her fingers and sent Drew a mental message, hoping that as the two of them were still technically one, it would work. Please, oh, please buy me some!
“Gotta love fake fingers.” Drew threw them into the basket.
Yes!
Lucy turned to look at him, giving Staci her shot at freedom. She tore off the listening ear and bolted out of the shop. She walked to the bus stop so fast, she practically sprinted.
She was breathing hard as she took a seat on the empty bench and leaned out far enough to keep an eye on the spy shop entrance.
A few minutes later, Lucy came out and turned in the opposite direction, walking directly by their parked car. So that’s why Drew had sent Staci to the bus stop! Staci had been thinking it was because she didn’t have a key to his car.
How in the world was that man so darn observant? Sometimes he really gave her the willies with this omniscient power of his. Spies!
A few minutes after Lucy disappeared, Drew left the shop and joined her at the bus stop.
“A present for you.” He tossed her something as he approached.
She caught it and grinned. “Fake fingers! My hero!” She could have kissed him, but they both knew where that would lead. Sometimes sexual attraction was a real nuisance.
“You got everything?” She admired her fake cling fingers, which were nicely molded plastic versions that looked like hands clutching a ledge.
Drew rattled a large shopping bag. “It’s all here.”
“Great.” She was still studying the fake fingers. “You got me the girlie Ninety-nine fingers!” She held the fingers up against her own. “A little pink nail polish and these will look just like mine.” She smiled at him. “I hope you got yourself a Max pair.”
He grinned and shook his head. “You’re amused by the simplest things. Tell me again why I used to buy you jewelry?”
She grinned back at him and nodded toward the store. “Hey, that was a narrow escape in there.”
“Not by a long shot. That was a piece of cake.”
She glanced back at the spy shop. “I heard the clerk selling Lucy some keystroke-monitoring software.”
“Yeah, I saw you with the listening ears. Smart move.”
She beamed under his praise, though she couldn’t say why it made her so happy. “Should we go back and buy some keystroke-monitoring software?”
He shook his head no. “Attitude will have spyware-detecting software that will erase or block it. I have something better I can borrow from the Agency.”
Of course he did.
“What do you want to do now?” she asked. “Go home and train me how to use our new gadgets?” It sounded like a plan to her. “By the way—what’s the black light really for?”
“Illuminating body fluids,” he said, happily. “Used in conjunction with the Check Your Spouse kit, it’s highly effective in collecting physical evidence of betrayal.”
She didn’t even want to think about that. “Home, then?” Her voice was a little weaker and a lot more grossed-out sounding than she liked.
Drew laughed at her. “Squeamish?”
She frowned at him. “I didn’t know we’d be playing CSI.”
He laughed again. “Home can wait. I thought we’d get the ball rolling. Let’s swing by Linda’s. Show her how happy we are together. And while she’s distracted, I’ll install some of our great stuff. After all, I know how to use it.”
Staci froze. They could not go to her mom’s!
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“I don’t think this is a good idea. We’re not ready for this. We need a plan. Don’t we need a plan? You know, a strategy? A map of where we’re going to plant the bugs and cameras. We’re just heading out blind with a bag of gadgets.” Staci hovered over Drew as he spread out their new gear in the trunk of his bland sedan.
He hated this sedan, but at least no one would suspect a young middle-class couple in a car like this, parked in a strip mall parking lot, of being up to anything even mildly subversive. Or top-secret government work.
He shook his head. “What do you think I’m doing here? I’m putting together our plan.”
Staci glanced around the parking lot, looking as worried as if they were about to be caught building a bomb.
“You look furtive. Cut it out. Rule number one of effective spying—no furtive glances, no suspicious, nervous behavior.” He pulled one of the cameras out of the bag and took it out of its box. This was a deluxe model Emmett had sent. Not the cheap mass-produced variety. Emmett had left him a gold mine’s worth of gear in that store.
Staci hadn’t noticed, but he’d given the clerk at Spy Gear Seattle a code word. The clerk had then swapped out his stuff for what Emmett left for him. Funneling top-secret military-grade spy gear through a spy store. How audacious! Who would think it?
Yes, sometimes the Agency really did have a sense of humor.
Staci hovered around him, peering over his shoulder and biting her nails.
“Why don’t you take your hair out of those ponytails—”
“Dog ears.”
“—and fix your makeup and just let me take care of things here?”
“Are you saying you don’t like my plum eye shadow?”
Now, there was a landmine he wasn’t stepping on. “I’m saying your mother is going to tell you it’s not your color and wonder why you chose it. And then you’ll have to think up a lie to explain it. Is that what you want, more lies?”
“I don’t have any makeup remover.”
He whipped out his wallet and handed her a ten. “There’s a drugstore over there. Go buy some.”
She took the money, but didn’t move. “We haven’t even read the instructions yet.” Staci shook her head as if to emphasize her words. She looked gloomy.
“Give me some credit for knowing how to use a bug.” He took a deep breath.
“Stopping by Mom’s unannounced really isn’t a good idea. You know her. She hates surprises. Why don’t I give her a call?” She looked at him with way-too-hopeful-and-eager an expression as she pulled her cell phone out.
He reached out and grabbed her hand before she could dial. “Stace, we want the element of surprise. We don’t want Sam picking up and hiding evidence. We want to see the house as it really is when no one else is around.” He looked at her, watching to see if she understood.
“What if they catch you?” she asked Drew.
He rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit. They won’t catch me.”
Something was up with Staci. She didn’t want to go to her mom’s. At least not with him. There was something she wasn’t telling him.
“Besides, you’ll be playing lookout and diverting their attention.”
Staci’s phone buzzed in her hand. She flipped it open and read a text. A second later her fingers were flying over the keyboard as she typed a response, holding the phone so he couldn’t see.
Damn that woman, she had no spy subtlety. She was obviously hiding something from him. With one quick move, he snatched the phone from her.
It was a text from her mom that made it clear she didn’t know about the reconciliation.
He stared into his wife’s eyes. “You little liar. You haven’t told Linda yet.”
Staci blushed, but didn’t deny her guilt.
Now everything made sense, including her hesitation over going to her mom’s. He took a deep breath.
She turned to leave. “I’ll just go get that makeup remover now.”
He grabbed her arm. “Stace?”
She sighed and wore a crumpled, defeated expression as she stopped and looked over her shoulder at him. “No. I didn’t tell her. I meant to. But then she started telling me about Sam and there really wasn’t an opportunity. How could I just jump in with my ‘joy’ over our miraculous reunion when her heart was breaking?�
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He cursed beneath his breath, even as he begrudgingly admitted she had a point. He reached into his wallet and handed her an additional fifty. “Get your mom some flowers. What kind of gum does Sam chew? Get some of that, too.”
She frowned at him. “Gum? Now there’s a nice hostess gift.”
He laughed. “Think bugged gum. As in, in his desk drawer or briefcase.”
“Good thinking, Sherlock,” she said. “Should I text Mom that I’m on my way over?”
“No. Element of surprise, remember?”
Ten minutes later, she was back with the flowers and gum. Her hair was down and the plum eye shadow was gone. “I found some great nail polish, too. I think I’ll paint the cling fingernails later.”
Drew had things under control and ready to go. Fortunately, it was a cool May day. He had his sweatshirt on and loaded up with so many bugs and gadgets, he was armed to his espionage teeth. He unwrapped the black light.
“I’m not going to go through Sam’s underwear drawer with that black light,” Staci said, holding a bouquet of spring roses. “Why are you wearing a sweatshirt?”
“I have to hide the equipment somewhere.” He turned sideways and grinned at her. “Does all this spy gear make me look fat?”
She shook her head. “You look fine.”
To his surprise, she opened the car door, set the flowers and her shopping bag down, and came over and gave him a great big, tight, body-to-body hug. Breasts to chest. Thigh to thigh.
Damn, he wished she wouldn’t do that.
“To what do I owe this unexpected show of affection?” He was unsure if he was supposed to return the embrace.
She squeezed him tighter. “Feeling for spy gear. You know my mom is going to give you one of her squeezy, squishy hugs. I don’t want her coming in contact with a big gun.”
No, that only happened when Staci hugged him.
“Or the black light, the GPS tracking device, or anything else you might have strapped to your person.” She pressed herself more tightly against him and stuffed her hands in his back jean pockets, pressing her head against his chest.
“Well, you aren’t ticking,” she said.
Much more of this and they’d have to make long detour past their own house first. A guy across the parking lot winked at them.
“Stace, no offense here, but I don’t want to be arrested for displaying too much affection in public. Your mom isn’t going to grope me like this. At least I hope not.” He nodded toward a family walking across the parking lot. “There are children present.”
She pulled back and glared at him. “FYI, I wasn’t groping.”
“Did I pass the test?” he asked.
“You’re good. I didn’t feel a thing.”
The flush in her cheeks said she was lying. She felt something, only it wasn’t electronic.
He cleared his throat. “Remember, when we get to your mom’s, we’re the happy, loving, newly reunited couple under the influence of our unquenchable, undying love.”
She stared at him with an expression that said, Right. “You should really sign up to write greeting cards. That was awful.”
“You’re going to play the part, right?”
She slid her hands in her front jean pockets and shrugged. “I’m going to try.”
“Try?”
“Okay, do. I’ll do it. Because lying saves lies. But only until my mother finds out she’s been scammed by her only child. Then she’ll kill me and make a liar out of your saying.”
He shook his head. “Get in the car.”
They both piled in. Drew took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to be easy to bug Sam’s house. The place was loaded with security and monitoring devices. He’d have to use extreme caution. Be careful even mentioning spying, even of the spousal type, to Linda.
NCS had tried to bug Sam’s house three times already and every time their equipment had been swept out. This latest gear should get past Sam’s bug-sweeping equipment. Assuming Drew could get it installed.
“Have you and your mom talked about spying on Sam over the phone?” he asked Staci as they drove to Linda’s.
“No, why?”
He shrugged. “Just wondering.” He took a deep breath, wondering how to warn Staci without making her suspicious. He decided to appeal to his superior spy knowledge and experience.
“Not to be paranoid,” he said, “but I’d be cautious about mentioning spying on Sam anywhere in their house or cars. Or anything about Linda’s suspicions that he’s cheating on her.”
Staci looked at him and frowned. “Why?”
“For one, people who are cheating are constantly worried about being caught. They have their antennas up for any suspicions on the part of their spouse, family, and friends. We don’t want to tip our hand.
“And two, statistics show that people who are cheating on their spouses spy back on their noncheating spouse at least sixty percent of the time. It goes back again to not wanting to get caught. They have to know what their spouse is up to, so they check their spouse’s schedule, make sure they really are where they say they’re going. That kind of thing.
“And sometimes they spy to justify their actions by projecting their own behavior on their spouse, becoming suspicious themselves. Or to get evidence on their spouse should they decide to leave their spouse and divorce.”
“What?” Staci sat up straight and stared at him.
He had no idea if his “facts” were true or not. And apparently neither did Staci. Long experience had taught him that if you say something with enough authority, people will believe you. From the look on his wife’s face, Staci did indeed believe him.
He nodded to emphasize his point. “You can’t be too careful when dealing with a cheater. If the subject comes up, shut Linda down until you can move outside to talk about it. Anywhere that doesn’t have ears.”
Staci frowned. “You’ve been in the espionage business way too long.”
He shrugged. “Which has taught me caution.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “I guess even if you’re just being paranoid, it can’t hurt to be judicious.”
“That’s my girl.”
She frowned at him again, probably irritated he’d called her his girl.
Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of Linda’s Rose Hill home. There were no cars in the driveway.
Staci frowned. “Sam always parks in the driveway. No room in the garage. Maybe we caught a break and he’s out.”
She sounded as hopeful as Drew felt.
“Ready for our performance, Ninety-nine?”
She rolled her eyes. “I suck at drama. Remember, I was the girl in elementary school who was always stuck doing set design or part of a choral reading. In the back. Out of sight.”
“Just remember what it was like when we first fell in love. Act on those feelings and it will be fine.” He pulled the key out of the ignition and opened his door.
“Fine. But remember, you asked for it.”
* * *
Staci grabbed the flowers and stepped out of the car, trying to calm both her nerves and her anger at his insistence they tell her mother right now, right here. Her mom might expect the nerves, but anger would be out of place.
The last thing Staci wanted was to make goo-goo eyes at Drew, but that’s what she did. Because back in the day when she and Drew first started going out, they were inseparable and prone to too much public display of affection.
Sam used to call them DrewStaci. She had to channel good old DrewStaci again. If that’s what Drew wanted, that’s what she was going to give him. But it was a dangerous game she played. Pretending sometimes leads to the real thing. Just ask all the actors who’ve fallen for their costars. The last thing she needed was to let herself be in love with Drew again. Lust was one thing. Lust she could handle. Maybe.
Drew waited for her on the sidewalk, looking handsome and like the boy next door again. Like the man she fell in love with. Like the terrific son-in-law ready to t
ake care of Linda’s little girl. All until-death-do-us-part. Which, given his line of work and her mother’s reaction to being deceived, could be sooner than either of them wanted. He really knew how to pull one over on people. Her mother had always loved him.
Staci walked over, took his hand, and gave it a good, too-hard squeeze, hoping to see him wince. Or fight not to. His knuckles popped and his fingers turned blue beneath her grip. But wince? Not hardly.
He returned her bone-popping grip with a reassuring squeeze and flashed that killer, I’m so in love with you smile of his down at her. Her heart raced. Her pulse leaped. He could probably see it fluttering in her neck like a blinking beacon. The man was way too observant.
His smile seemed so genuine. Even she almost believed it. For a second. But knowing Drew, he was probably concerned her mother was already peeking through the front curtains at them.
“The show must go on,” he said, and leaned over to brush her lips with a kiss.
She was so stunned, she lost her tight grip on his hand and just stood there. That tiny flutter kiss that barely brushed her lips rocked her to her toes. Then she remembered DrewStaci and her role.
She leaned into him. Wrapped the hand holding the flowers around his neck. Pressed up against him. Parted her lips and kissed him as hotly, deeply, wetly, lingeringly, and expertly as any Frenchwoman had ever kissed a man.
He had the audacity to kiss her back. In exactly the same manner. Deeper. Smoother. Harder.
Damn it all! He was playing a kissing game of chicken. Of see who pulls away first.
She refused to lose. She ran her fingers through his hair and traced the tender top of his earlobe until he shuddered beneath her touch.
He kissed her harder and more deeply. At this rate, he was going to bruise her lips. To prove a point, she kissed him back.
He sucked her lip and that was it. She gave up and pulled away. She did not want a lip hickey. She stared at him. He stared back.
She was breathing hard. But so was he.
“Cheater,” she said.
He stared at her intently, like a man in love. But his eyes danced with the thrill of victory.
“I can’t believe I’m out on an espionage mission with you!” she hissed back at him. It was a good thing she had her back to the house.
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