The Spy Is Cast by Diane Henders Page A

straightened, smiling down at me, and took
both my hands in his, palming the ring. Getting myself under
control with an effort, I smiled back and slid my hands down his
chest, dropping the ring into his pocket with the others.
    He offered his arm
again, and we turned and made our way into the lobby. Nichele
bounced up from one of the wing chairs, grinning.
    “Hi, Aydan!”
    I cut my eyes at her,
silently promising her a slow death. She smiled and extended her
hand to Kane. “You must be John,” she chirped. “It’s so nice to
meet you.”
    I sighed. “John, this
is Nichele Brown. Nichele, John Kane.”
    He took her hand
graciously and bowed over it, very European. Nichele’s expression
melted, and I knew I was in for some serious grilling the next day.
Assuming I let her live.
    At that moment the
valet appeared, oozing respect. “Your car is ready, sir.”
    Kane thanked him
courteously and discreetly handed him a bill. A large bill, judging
by the valet’s reaction.
    “Nichele, it was a
pleasure to meet you,” Kane’s baritone voice was pure velvet, and I
could see from Nichele’s tiny shiver that it had the same effect on
her as it had on me. “We need to get going now,” he added. “Have a
nice evening.”
    He drew me toward the
door, and my jaw hit the floor all over again. “You’ve got to be
kidding me. Your ‘wheels’ are an Audi R8?” I demanded. The sleek,
low-slung car purred sensuously at the curb. “Open it up, I want to
see,” I urged him softly.
    He shook his head,
smiling as he leaned close. “No,” he whispered. “In the first
place, you have to keep that dress clean at least until we get to
the party. And in the second place, elegant ladies don’t look under
the hood.”
    “Lucky there are no
elegant ladies present, then,” I whispered back. “C’mon,
please?”
    He shook his head
again, those sexy laugh lines crinkling around his eyes.
    “Tease,” I accused
him.
    He opened the
passenger door for me, grinning. I did my best to slide in without
flashing the bystanders, but my skirt slithered up my thighs when I
sank into the low seat. As soon as Kane closed the door, I buckled
in and tugged the skirt down again, willing it to stay put.
    He came around to the
driver’s side and got in, buckling his seatbelt, too. “Ready?” he
asked.
    “Ready as I’ll ever
be.”
    Delving into his
pocket as we pulled away, he fished out the rings and handed them
to me. “Let’s try this again.”
    “Sorry about that,” I
apologized. “I brought her in as a wardrobe consultant, but I
should have known she’d do something like that.”
    “It’s all right. The
end result was worth it.”
    I stroked my hand over
the dashboard. “How about if we skip the party and go for a joyride
instead? I can’t believe I actually get to ride in an R8. Is it
yours?”
    Kane shook his head.
“Are you kidding? No. Unfortunately. It’s just on loan for the
evening, same as the rings. But at least we’ll get to take it out
on the highway. Harchman’s place is out by Bragg Creek.”
    I beamed at him. “Life
is good.”
    While the fine
automobile devoured the miles, we strategized. “What exactly do you
need to scope out?” I asked. “Couldn’t you just pull floor plans
from the building permits?”
    Kane shot me a
piercing look. “Most people wouldn’t think of that.”
    I shrugged. “You must
have come across my stint as an architectural draftsman when you
were investigating me in March. I did practically nothing but
construction drawings and permit applications.”
    “We did. I just never
fail to find your career path… interesting. Draftsperson, computer
tech, bookkeeper. It’s an unusual mix.”
    I lifted a shoulder.
“The drafting certificate was quick and easy to get when I finished
high school and wanted to get a job. And I never really intended to
work with computers, I just took some courses so I could deal with
the network at the architectural firm. Bookkeeping is what I