His Spy at Night (Spy Games Book 3) (11 page)

“Exactly. So you can see how Plan A will have to be altered. It will be far more believable if I’m into you rather than you pretending to be into me. I’ve got truth on my side.”

“Because I’m such a…bad boy.” He stumbled as he said it, trying hard to keep a straight face. He was very close to a smile, which spurred her on.

“Come on, Harry. Admit it. You were being pretty bad at the time.” She canted her head to the side and studied him. “Although one could argue that you were also very, very good.”

The tips of his ears turned a dull red. “Why do I suddenly feel like the one who’s been violated?”

“See? There’s your problem. You’re making a big deal out of nothing. Neither one of us has been violated.” Lies pushed away from the door. She went to the chair in front of his desk and sat down, crossing her legs. She folded her hands on her knee, swinging the toe of one shoe. “We both got caught up in you proving a point. You think I don’t know when to stop, but I assure you, there’s a limit to how far I’ll go for my country.”

His expression hardened again. She’d told him about Michael. It hung between them even though Harry was far too much of a gentleman to bring it up. At least not directly.

“What, exactly, is your limit?” he asked.

He made this so
easy
.

She studied her nails. “It’s on a case-by-case basis. And quit being judgmental.”

He took offense to that. “I’m not judgmental.”

“You most certainly are.” It was time to be serious. “I’m not into men whose livelihoods are built on the premise that other people are expendable. There’s no gray area in that. No lack of understanding on their part. They can dress it up however they like, but at the end of the day, men like Vanderloord are criminals, not businessmen. That’s my limit.”

And that was a big part of the reason why Harry appealed to her. When it came to his beliefs about right and wrong, he had no gray areas. No matter how much she provoked him, or what lesson he was trying to teach her, or how carried away they’d both gotten, if she’d made the slightest show of resistance in the car the night of the theater, he would have stopped instantly. Harry was completely trustworthy.

She was the one who was not. She liked flirting with danger. And the danger he represented was to her career.

What did that say about her?

“Why don’t we play it by ear?” Harry suggested. “Let people speculate about our relationship? It’s not as if they aren’t already talking.”

He was right. It was obvious there was something between them. The mystery was over who’d instigated it and she didn’t have the answer to that.

“Fair enough,” she said.

She returned to her desk.

Then she picked up the phone and called Yasmin. Those VIP tickets weren’t going to waste.

* * *

Most people only cared that Bernard Vanderloord was honest in his business dealings with them. They didn’t look past the surface to see what his true agenda might be. He was the type of man Harry despised most.

Pride entered into the equation. This would be their first private, face-to-face meeting since he’d found out about the affair. He was glad Lies would also be in attendance. He could hardly—at least not as the defense trade commissioner—punch the other man in the face.

It would be almost as satisfying to see him end up in jail, his reputation in ruins.

“Why don’t you join us?” Harry asked Lies, striving to make the invitation sound spur-of-the-moment and not something they’d choreographed in advance. She’d ushered Vanderloord into his office and was making a production out of unwrapping the sandwiches and serving the coffee, taking her time, waiting for him to pick up his cue, which he’d missed. “There’s too much food here for two people.”

She displayed both eagerness and a charming uncertainty, playing her part much better than he did. Her gaze slid back and forth between him and Vanderloord. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“A beautiful woman is never an intrusion,” Vanderloord interjected.

Harry clenched his back teeth. Alcine and Dita had fallen for this nonsense. And if Lies’s story about a past lover was to be believed, she was equally susceptible to charming men.

The thought of Vanderloord touching Lies in the same manner he had, even if it was only to help establish her cover, didn’t sit well. There was very little he could do about it however. He’d have to trust that she really did know what she was doing and she’d meant it when she said criminal behavior was where she drew the line.

“Lies is interested in a career as a foreign services officer,” Harry said. “She’s proving to be a good student and a pleasure to work with.”

She pulled up a chair next to Vanderloord’s and balanced her plate of sandwiches on her lap. She’d worn a loose-fitting dress with a flirty skirt that was so short it rode indecently far up her long legs when she crossed them, a fact that hadn’t escaped either man’s attention. Her open-toed, leather platform ankle boots showed off pretty pink nail polish. She’d clipped her blond curls away from her face and the diamond studs she always wore glittered on the exposed rim of her ear. Her blue eyes widened with interest as she listened to the two men discuss Canadian industrial and regional benefits policies and the requirements for second-tier suppliers. She even asked the occasional question that betrayed her supposed ignorance for the subject matter but also a keenness to learn.

She sounded exactly like a young woman eager to advance her career.

Harry was impressed by her acting abilities. He was also disquieted by them. Fooling Vanderloord was one thing. How was Harry supposed to know what was real and what wasn’t?

The men finished the coffee and sandwiches and the meeting began to wind down.

“So you want to work as a foreign services officer. Where did you go to university?” Vanderloord asked Lies.

“McGill. I majored in political science,” she replied promptly, which Harry suspected wasn’t true. She’d been evasive about her background from the start, even with him, no doubt so she could change it to suit her purposes whenever necessary.

Like now.

“I studied political science and international law at McGill, although it would have been well before your time,” Vanderloord said.

That was why she’d said McGill. She already knew Vanderloord had attended the Canadian institution. She really was good at her job.

“I didn’t know you studied law,” Harry said to the other man.

“I’ve never practiced. I got involved in a business opportunity straight out of university and here I am.” Vanderloord shrugged. “The rest is history.”

Lies’s face was alive with eager interest. “What kind of business opportunity? How did you know it was the right career path to take? Weren’t you at all sorry to give up on your education? I mean, you must have intended to practice law when you took it.”

Her excitement and enthusiasm were exactly the right level for someone young and ambitious and in search of a mentor, and Vanderloord wasn’t any more immune to it than Harry would have been if he’d been in his shoes. His responding smile was warm and lingered on her in a way that had Harry tightening an imaginary fist.

“A degree only starts you out on a life path. You have no idea where that path will eventually lead. A friend came to me with an idea for exporting goods. He knew my family had connections in shipbuilding in the Netherlands. We spoke to a few other friends whose families also had foreign connections. Things progressed from there.” Vanderloord stood. He addressed Harry. “I should be going. I know you’re busy and I have another meeting in twenty minutes. It will take me that long to make my way through traffic.” He reached across the desk to shake Harry’s hand. “Thank you for your time. It was very generous of you on such short notice.”

Lies jumped to her feet, the skirt of her dress swirling around her thighs. She practically glowed with adulation. “I’ll walk you out.”

She returned ten minutes later, just as Harry began to worry that she was taking too long and wonder what she and Vanderloord might be talking about.

“He invited me to a wine bar Sunday evening so I can tell him how Tiësto was,” Lies announced, looking pleased.

Harry was not. “You’re going to a rave by yourself?”

“No. I’m taking my cousin Yasmin, the one who lives in Haarlem. I would have thought you’d be more interested that I’m meeting Bernard Sunday night,” she added.

He’d thought so too. But his worry had shifted. “You’ll be safe enough in public with him. I’m more concerned about two young women going to a concert alone.”

“I asked you to go with me and you said no. You weren’t concerned then,” she pointed out. “I believe your exact words were, ‘Not even at gunpoint.’”

“Because I didn’t think you were serious about going at all, let alone by yourself.”

“I’m not going by myself. I’m taking Yasmin.”

They were talking in circles and it was getting them nowhere. He had to leave for the airport where he was meeting up with a trade mission of contractors and government officials arriving from Canada, here to check out shipbuilding operations.

Harry considered his options and chose the one he could live with. “I’ll pick you up after the concert and see that you both get home safely.”

“I’m not turning down a free ride, so thank you.”

Her quick capitulation raised his suspicions. He’d been preparing for an argument. Why hadn’t he gotten one?

“What time does the show end?”

“It starts around eight o’clock, so my best guess is 2 a.m.”

Now it made sense. She was teasing because she thought it was too late for him, but the six-hour time difference meant the Canadian trade mission delegates he was hosting would take the weekend to adjust to the change and get some sightseeing in. They’d be out drinking until well after midnight on a Saturday night, and having to drive her home later on gave him an excellent excuse to stay sober.

“I can forgo my nine o’clock bedtime this once.” He adjusted the cuffs of his shirt so they aligned properly with the sleeves of his suit. “I’m sorry the lunch meeting with Vanderloord wasn’t more productive.”

“Nice try,” Lies replied. “I’ve told you where he and I are going to meet. That was our agreement. What I learn from him is off limits.”

He’d agreed to nothing, which unfortunately made no difference. She didn’t answer to him. He hated this.

Hated
it.

The plane with the Canadian delegates was due to land in thirty minutes. They’d need time to clear customs, but he also had to find parking. He edged his chair aside with his shin and came around the corner of his desk. Lies stood between him and the closed office door.

She’d been so frustratingly unfazed by what had happened between them in the car the other night, when he’d lost his head. She’d accepted his apology and even shouldered a portion of the blame. He’d thought she was inexperienced, but that could well have been part of an act. Did nothing bother her?

How was a man supposed to know where he stood?

There would be no honesty stage in a relationship with her. There’d be no trust either. He’d lose his mind worrying not only about her safety, but who she was with and what they were doing, and this wasn’t like him. He’d never been jealous or possessive before. No woman had ever confused him as much as she did. Even now, knowing better and despite where they were standing, he longed to back her up against the wall and slide his hands under the short skirt of that dress.

Her blue eyes were on his face, reading his thoughts far better than he could read hers.

He reached past her for the door handle. “Text me after the concert tomorrow night when you’re ready for me to pick you up. I’m looking forward to meeting your cousin.”

He was curious to see how Lies behaved when she was with family.

To see who she really was.

Chapter Seven

Harry was as good as his word.

Lies texted him a half hour before the concert ended to give him a head’s up, as well as the option to change his mind if he wanted. He’d sent her a reply that he was already waiting for them on a street that bordered the town square where the venue was being held.

When she and Yasmin finally tumbled outside with the dispersing crowd, he was already parked beneath a streetlight where he couldn’t be missed. The bored expression he wore as he scanned the throng surging toward him said he was out of his element and unbothered by it. Boredom changed to alertness when he singled her out, separating her from the masses in a way that snatched the air from her lungs. She waved to acknowledge she’d seen him too.

Yasmin pulled up short when she spotted Harry’s black luxury sedan. A side-eyed lift of one brow said she wasn’t impressed.

“What kind of personal assistant job gives you a high-end flat and a boss who drives you around at three o’clock in the morning in a car such as that? Would your parents approve?”

Lies, her sense of humor enhanced with the help of a few drinks, found it hilarious that she was being chastised by a younger cousin with worse taste in men than her own. She pressed a forefinger against her upper lip in a wasted attempt to stave off a fit of giggles. “I told you. The flat was vacant and since I’m only here for a few months, the embassy said I could use it. And as for the type of boss Harry is…” This hyperawareness of him was private, not something she wished to discuss. She wasn’t about to bring it to Yasmin’s attention. “Once you meet him you’ll see how ridiculous you sound.”