His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3)

by Paula Altenburg

  She had her cellphone in her hand and was preparing to call for service when Harry reappeared.

  “I’ll drive you home,” he said.

  His tone indicated this was one of those times she should choose her battles with care. Besides she was tired, and the thought of waiting for a taxi late at night in these shoes held zero appeal.

  She walked with him to his car, gripping his arm because of her heels. Harry unlocked the car door, and without a word, held it open for her. She smoothed her skirt underneath her as she slid into the passenger seat. He walked around the hood and got in behind the wheel. His continued silence picked away at her nerves.

  Since he could remain quiet far longer than she’d ever manage, she didn’t bother to try and compete. “You were trapped and I had to do something. I told him you’d asked me to introduce myself to fellow Canadians,” she said.

  “That was quick thinking.”

  His neutral tone belied the sincerity of his praise. But she’d already decided that fighting with him was counterproductive, and if she wanted to change her strategy, they’d be better off working as a team. To do that they had to be honest with each other and Harry was holding back information. What he’d told her about Vanderloord’s interest in him didn’t bear weight. She’d brought Harry’s name into their conversation and gotten little to no reaction beyond what she’d expect from someone pursuing business opportunities, legal or otherwise. Harry’s distaste for the other man was what confused her most.

  She took a shot in the dark. “Why are you so obsessed with the fact that Vanderloord is trying to get close to you? I know it’s partly because of your position with the embassy and your contacts in National Defence, but you’re paid to cater to people like him and of course he’d try and take advantage of that. It’s what businessmen do. To me, your dislike of him seems a little too personal.”

  Harry tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as he stared straight ahead through the windshield. A crowd of teenagers swept past the parked car while Lies waited for him to frame a response.

  Despite what Harry believed, this neighborhood was no safer than the one CSIS had picked as a base for its operations. One boy had a gang tattoo climbing up his neck to his jaw. She could see it by the light of the street lamps, ugly and crude, obviously done by an amateur. He’d regret that in a few years, assuming he didn’t already. Another boy had what looked like a knife in his right front jeans pocket. The outline was visible, and yet another reason she was glad she’d accepted Harry’s offer of a ride. She liked the diamond studs in her ear and preferred to keep them.

  “He was the reason Alcine and I broke up,” Harry said.

  Her attention snapped back to him. She vaguely recalled him once mentioning that he’d recently split with his girlfriend. He’d seemed over it at the time and so she’d forgotten about it. A tiny spark of jealousy—as unwanted as it was unexpected—flared that it continued to bother him. There was only one reason it could irritate Harry so much.

  “She cheated on you.” He said nothing and she knew she’d guessed right. He was honest by nature and he’d insist on it from the people closest to him. Her jealousy flipped to indignation on his behalf and unease on hers. She dallied with the truth every day, stretching its limits and rearranging boundaries. “You deserve better.”

  The pad of his thumb continued to drum against the leather steering wheel. “She thought she did too.”

  “I take it her relationship with Vanderloord didn’t last.”

  “Alcine came to warn me when he began expressing too much interest in my connections at the trade commission and the embassy. She’s been around diplomatic circles long enough to know which types of questions are inappropriate.”

  “And yet she didn’t know it’s also inappropriate to begin a new relationship before ending a current one?”

  She needed to dial her indignation back a notch. She had no business being this invested in his private life. Not when she was in no position to cast stones.

  “That doesn’t mean she’s a terrible person or we can’t remain friends. We really weren’t suited, Lies. If it hadn’t been Vanderloord it would have been someone else. I don’t have to like it though. Or him.”

  “Do you still love her?” Lies asked. The question was nosy and none of her business, but it was important. She couldn’t imagine Harry, of all people, being able to kiss her the way he had if he harbored unresolved feelings for another woman. While she’d underestimated him in some areas, she refused to believe she’d misjudged him.

  “No,” he said. “I don’t think I ever did. She didn’t love me either.”

  The level of relief that washed through her was unwarranted and she chose not to examine it. “How long were you together?”

  “Three years.”

  “Three years?” Lies tried to wrap her head around that. “And you didn’t love each other? Not even in the beginning?”

  Harry shrugged, as if to say he couldn’t be certain, and what did it matter?

  “Have you ever been in love?” he countered.

  “Lots of times.” She began ticking them off on her fingers. “Timmy Bryant in kindergarten. He had these adorable dreadlocks. Louis Anders in grade three. His eyelashes touched his eyebrows. Mr. Humphries in third period English my junior year, although in fairness to him, that was one-sided. He was the soul of propriety.” Not unlike Harry. She hastened past that. “Pete in grade twelve. He broke my heart. I slowed down in college and spent more time on my studies and career. There was James my fourth year, and then no one until—”

  Damn. She should have stopped at James.

  “Until?”

  “Never mind.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t pursue it. “My point is,” he continued, “you understand how subjective and fleeting love can be. There’s the initial attraction stage, then building the relationship. You start to talk about a future together. Then you enter the honesty stage, and from there, you move on to stability. Alcine and I were never really honest with each other. Things began to go stale whenever we talked about our futures. They never aligned. And rather than confront the problem we ignored it. Our relationship was doomed from the beginning.”

  “That’s a very scientific approach to choosing a life partner,” Lies said. “I can’t imagine why she wasn’t swept off her feet.”

  “Care to tell me why this ‘until’ of yours was so different? At what stage did you two part ways?” His expression changed, as if an unpleasant thought had intruded. “Unless you’re still together.”

  “We’re not.” Lies hesitated. Harry, who possessed an acute sense of right and wrong, could be judgmental and she wasn’t sure how much she was willing to tell him. The man she thought she’d loved had been a role Michael played. It had been painful enough having to admit to her bosses that she’d gotten involved with someone who’d never really existed. “That honesty stage you speak of should probably come first.”

  Tension seeped into the confines of the car. “You got involved with someone you were investigating.”

  Her stomach plunged. “John told you.”

  “He didn’t have to. You aren’t as mysterious as you think. It’s obvious you like to test boundaries.” Then, Harry surprised her. “Everyone makes decisions they regret at some point in their lives. But if you never make any decisions, or only choose the safe options, then you aren’t really living. To be honest, I envy you. I suppose in some ways, I envy Bernard Vanderloord too. Alcine is only a small part of the reason why he rubs me the wrong way. Maybe not even the real reason at all.”

  Lies had wanted the truth from him and he’d given it to her. More of it than she’d expected him to. She owed him something in return. It all boiled down to whether or not she trusted him with something so personal, and Harry being who he was, she didn’t see any harm.

  “I wasn’t investigating Michael, although he was part of the operation. I took an entry-level position at a company owned by an uncle of his who was suspect
ed of laundering drug money from western Mexico. Once I was in place, I arranged to bump into Michael in a bar CSIS knew he spent time at. He took the bait exactly the way he was supposed to. We started dating.” Her hands had grown cold. She folded them on her lap. This wasn’t a story she was proud of. “Unfortunately, I got a lot more invested in our relationship than he did. It turns out he was good at faking those stages of love.”

  “John sent you here to get you back in the saddle.” Harry said it as if he’d made a brilliant discovery. “That’s why he wouldn’t send someone else.”

  “I knew you asked him to replace me.”

  “Of course I did. I’m not in the habit of prostituting women in exchange for information.”

  She knew so few gentlemen in her line of work. Harry was a baseline for morality. She liked that about him, even if it proved inconvenient at times.

  “Neither is CSIS. There are, however, some cases better suited to women than men. And vice versa. There’s also an agent’s background to consider. You forget that I speak the languages here. Not many intelligence officers do.”

  He had no argument for that. He faced her more fully, the frown in his eyes expressing the depth of his concern over the entire situation. “So do your job in a way that won’t have me worrying you might be in danger.”

  He’d make a terrible agent. He was too protective. Too disapproving. He’d give too much away. And yet she was charmed.

  “We can start by being upfront with each other,” she said. By each other she meant him, but he didn’t need to know that. “I can’t tell you what I learn from Vanderloord, but I can say where I’m going to be when I’m with him. In return, you’re going to have to let go of the notion you’re somehow responsible for me.”

  He shifted in his seat, shrinking the small space between them another few inches, reminding Lies of the kiss they’d shared in her kitchen, and that while Harry might not be cut out for intrigue, on the whole his nerves were just fine. What was easier to forget was her resolve. She wanted to kiss him again.

  Rather, she wanted him to kiss her. He couldn’t possibly understand that the real danger she faced wasn’t from Bernard Vanderloord.

  She didn’t understand this attraction to him herself.

  * * *

  His frustration with Lies and her games made him foolish.

  He shouldn’t have told her about Alcine. They weren’t potential lovers, exchanging past sexual histories. And this wasn’t information he wanted to show up in some CSIS file to be scrutinized by strangers, then saved for future exchange in case it proved useful someday.

  It wasn’t only frustration addling his brain. Everything about her was so at odds with her profession. Her age. Her gender. She could pass for a schoolteacher or an athlete. Her face was mobile, its expressions easily readable.

  But in reality the expressiveness was all an act, each lift of her brow or tilt of her chin carefully calculated to convey any meaning she wished. Despite the mistake she’d made with the mysterious Michael, Harry had no doubt she was good at her job. He’d watched her open, casual friendliness with Vanderloord and would never have believed she was the same woman who took such pleasure in goading him to this level of unrelenting sexual awareness. Awareness crackled between them. There was nothing casual or friendly about it.

  He wasn’t letting go of his responsibility for her. He’d feel the same way about anyone he’d brought into this situation. She was no different to him. He didn’t have the kind of patience it would require to become too involved. “Don’t forget that Plan A means I have a vested interest in you.”

  “Only in public.”

  Her hands resided on her lap. She’d turned her upper torso toward him while speaking, causing the daring neckline of her gown to slip aside and reveal a fair amount of pale, smooth breast. Her large, thick-lashed eyes, their crystalline blueness masked by shadows, fixed on his face. More specifically, his mouth. They said she hadn’t forgotten that kiss either.

  Now he could think of nothing else.

  “Playing a part isn’t as easy for me,” he confessed. “I can’t simply flip a switch and pretend to care one minute but not the next.”

  She didn’t try to use his dilemma against him, preying on his weakness, as he’d come to expect. If anything she seemed sympathetic.

  “It’s never easy,” she said. “At least it shouldn’t be. It takes training and practice. That’s why it’s a game.”

  Harry worked in business and politics so he was well used to games. He hated to think how far she’d go to win the one she was playing with Vanderloord. She claimed the man she’d fallen for, this Michael, hadn’t been under investigation, but that he’d been a part of it told Harry the boundaries she operated under could become very blurred in her mind.

  His were better defined.

  And yet, even though he hated games of this sort and she was a player, he still wanted to kiss her again, which spoke volumes about him and his own strength of character—none of it flattering. A month ago, before he’d found out about Vanderloord’s activities, he would have walked away from a woman like Lies.

  Now, after having Lies thrust on him against his will?

  He’d begin a game of his own. His would be more direct. She could use the reminder that, if she planned to pursue men like Vanderloord, at least one of her boundaries should be inflexible. Sympathy was about to become her mistake. She believed him trustworthy.

  Well, he was a man too.

  He slung an elbow over the back of his seat, allowing the knuckles of his dangling fingers to gently stroke the smooth skin of her naked upper arm. His gaze dropped to her partially exposed breast, remained for a second, then flicked back to her face.

  She went very still. Her eyes turned to pools of blue ice. “I didn’t mean for you to practice on me.”

  They were sitting in his car on a side street in the hub of the city. Although it was late at night, and the street deserted, privacy was hardly assured. Nevertheless, he tossed down the gauntlet. “You can stop me anytime you like.”

  “Nobody’s stopping you.”

  She sounded so complacent. So confident she’d best him. He almost relented. Instead, he tracked the tips of his fingers along the length of her shoulder to the base of her throat, then upward to her jaw. The pulse leaped beneath his light touch and he was glad he’d persisted. Some responses couldn’t be feigned. He tucked the crook of his finger beneath her chin and angled it upward, bringing her mouth more in line with his. Seated, without the advantage of heels, she wasn’t nearly as tall.

  He bent forward, pressing his lips to hers. He eased his right hand behind her head and placed his left hand on her hip, tugging her body slightly toward him. If not for the stick shift and console between them, she’d be on his lap. He skimmed his hand lower to the top of her thigh, then beneath the whisper-thin fabric of her dress until his palm cupped bare flesh. He felt the sharp inhale of her breath, then caught its soft, fluttering release as she exhaled. Her arm slid beneath his jacket, curled around his waist, and her fingers dipped beneath the band of his trousers at the small of his back.

  Excitement coursed through him, exchanging coherent thought for a mixture of base sensations—the scent of her hair. The taste of her skin. The touch of her hands and lips. She’d closed her eyes. He took a second to admire her lovely face, and to try and decipher her expressions, hoping to find a trace of the real Lies in an unguarded moment. Her lashes fluttered apart. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of challenge, trust, and an unmistakable heat, gazed into his. When would she call a halt? How far was she willing to go?

  Because he had no plans to end this. Not yet.

  He trailed his mouth down the side of her throat, nipping with his teeth and making her gasp, then touching the tip of his tongue to the vee at its base, waiting for her to say enough. He squeezed her thigh with his fingers, a light touch of warning, before inching them upward to the tiny scrap of fabric covering her mound. He ran his thumb over the triang
le, testing the spring of tight curls pinned beneath it. Her fingers fisted against his back. Her other hand clutched at the front of his shirt and she arched her hips, inviting a more intimate touch. Desire exploded at the front of his skull. He lowered his mouth to the gap where her dress had exposed part of her breast, nudging it open, and the soft moan of pleasure that escaped her as his mouth found her nipple, teasing it with his tongue, was all the encouragement he needed to ignore that this was a game and what he was doing crossed every single one of his boundaries.

  At the edge of incoherent, desire-driven thought, his conscience rapped sharply. Despite all her confident talk of past boyfriends, it was painfully obvious that Lies was far less experienced than he. He was the one going too far.

  And on a public side street no less.

  A palm beat on the windshield. Harry lifted his head as a blurry face appeared in the steamed-up passenger window, jeering at him. It was one of the young thugs who’d passed the car a short time ago. Behind the boy, three of his friends issued catcalls of encouragement, obviously enjoying the peepshow Harry and Lies were providing.

  He withdrew his hand from the slit of Lies’s skirt, and straightened the fabric over her breast and thigh with a calm nonchalance he was far from feeling. He ignored the aching strain of his groin as he reached for the ignition and started the engine.

  Then coolly, as if being caught making out in his car with a beautiful woman was an everyday occurrence for him, he flipped the laughing boys his middle finger before pulling away from the curb.

  Chapter Six

  A pair of tickets had been left on Lies’s desk along with a note:

  You said you were a fan. Please enjoy the tickets. Bernard V.

  Lies picked up the tickets and examined them. Tiësto. They were for the VIP area at a concert on the upcoming weekend that had been sold out weeks ago. As she held them, wondering what their purpose was, her phone rang.