Reach For the Spy (7 page)

I realized that while
we had been laughing and chatting, the Greenhorn’s tiny tables had
been draped in white linen, and sparkling plates and stemware had
been set out. Each table sported a single red rose in a tall vase.
Once again, Jeff and Donna had outdone themselves.

“Welcome, everyone,”
Jeff declaimed. “We’re going to get this show on the road, so it’s
time to pair up the dates. And now for our first firefighter: Chief
Wally Nodell!”

A grinning white-haired
man with a spectacular handlebar moustache strode to the front of
the room and turned to face the crowd, which promptly erupted in
cheers and shouts of friendly abuse.

His western wear was of
the authentic variety, faded and scuffed from long hours of daily
use. He slapped his hands against his keg-like gut. “What lucky
lady wants some of this?” he bellowed good-naturedly. The crowd
roared and stomped its approval, and Jeff whistled again to get our
attention.

“And Wally’s lucky date
is... Linda Burton!”

Linda bounced up to the
front amid laughter and cheers, and Wally swept her a magnificent
bow. “I’d say it’s like dating my daughter, but you’re not quite
old enough,” he chuckled. The crowd whooped and applauded while
they proceeded arm in arm to their table.

The next several
firefighters were introduced to somewhat more decorous applause,
but everyone was clearly there for fun. Laughter and friendly
insults abounded as each man was matched up with his date; or
mismatched, as was more frequently the case. Jeff hadn’t been
kidding. They really were all ages and shapes and sizes.

“Tom Rossburn!”

I scanned the crowd,
wondering who I’d be paired with. A tall, lean figure detached
itself from the wall and strode unhurriedly to the front. I caught
a glimpse of short brown hair and a blue denim shirt as he made his
way through the crowd. When he reached the front, he turned and
hooked his thumbs in his belt loops while he surveyed the room with
a crooked smile.

I felt my eyebrows go
up at the realization that he was one of the better-looking men
there. Not killer handsome, but a lean, good-natured face with blue
eyes framed by the kind of wrinkles that only come from long hours
squinting into sun and wind. His shoulders were broad without being
bulky, and his rolled-up shirtsleeves showed tanned, sinewy
forearms. Working muscle, not gym muscle. His jeans and boots were
pleasantly faded and well-worn.

“Aydan Kelly!”

I started at the sound
of my name and tried for a pleasant expression while I made my way
up to the front. The crowd applauded politely as he stuck out his
hand with a smile. I took it and accepted a firm handshake, his
callused palm rasping against mine. He offered his arm, and we
paraded ceremoniously off to our table in the corner.

“Nice to finally meet
you, Aydan,” he said as we settled ourselves in the chairs.

“Nice to meet you, too,
Tom,” I replied. “Um... what do you mean, finally?”

He leaned back
comfortably in his chair and smiled. “I think we’re
neighbours.”

“Oh? Where do you
live?”

“Six miles west and two
miles north of the stoplight.”

Like small towns
everywhere, directions originated at the town’s single stoplight. I
did the math.

“Oh, we are neighbours,
then. I’m three miles north.”

“I thought so. I’ve
seen you sitting out on the edge of the field a few times. I
couldn’t see your face at that distance, but your hair’s easy to
spot. It streams out like a copper banner when the wind blows.”

The poetic phrase was
incongruous with his down-home appearance, and I hesitated,
distracted, before I made the connection. “Oh, you ride your fence
line on horseback sometimes.”

“That’s me. You just
moved in the spring, didn’t you? How do you like your new
place?”

“Yes, I came in March.
And I absolutely love it. I lived far too many years in the city.
It’s so good to be out in the country again.”

“You’re a country girl
at heart?”

“I grew up on a farm. I
lived in the city the whole time I was married, but when my husband
died two years ago, I was ready to get out. There was nothing there
for me anymore.”

He nodded slowly. “I’m
sorry for your loss. It’s a little unusual for a woman to move out
to the country alone, though, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

I grinned at him. “I’m
a freak.”

He laughed. “I’d say
‘interesting’.” He eyed me for a few seconds before seeming to come
to a decision. “I heard you had some troubles back in March.”

Shit. Damn small
towns.

“Yeah.”

“I must have heard the
rumour wrong,” he said slowly. “I heard you’d had some trouble with
your ex-husband, and you ended up in the hospital. But you said
just now that you’re widowed.”

I shifted uncomfortably
in my seat. The psycho ex-husband had been my cover story back in
March, when I’d run afoul of Fuzzy Bunny for the first time. I
really didn’t want to repeat the lie, but I didn’t see that I had
much choice.

“Unfortunately, widowed
and divorced are not mutually exclusive. The problems were with my
first husband. They’re all taken care of now. He won’t bother me
again. I’m widowed from my second husband.”

His face cleared. “That
explains it. Well, I’m sorry you had a problem. If you ever need
any help, don’t forget you have neighbours.”

“Thanks, Tom. That’s
another thing I missed about living in the country.”

Our conversation
meandered easily over farming life while Jeff, Donna, and Eddy
served a delicious four-course meal, dessert, and coffee. We
discovered a common love of cars, and we were deep in a discussion
of Chevy big-blocks when Jeff’s whistle pierced the air again.

“Folks, thanks for
coming,” he addressed the crowd. “This is the end of the official
part of our fundraiser, but you’re welcome to stay as long as you
like. Or if you’re interested, there’s a dance out at the community
hall, and Eddy here has generously covered your admission. So go,
enjoy, and thanks again for supporting our firefighters.”

The murmur of
conversation started again, accompanied by the sound of chairs
being pushed back as a few people began to drift toward the
exit.

Tom gave me his
attractively crooked smile again. “What do you say? Do you want to
go to the dance?”

“I’m not much of a
dancer,” I told him regretfully. “I enjoy it, but I don’t know any
dances besides a waltz and a polka.”

“You don’t know how to
two-step?” He regarded me with mock horror. “Ma’am, ya cain’t live
in the country if ya cain’t two-step,” he drawled.

“Damn. So you’re
telling me I’m going to get ridden out on a rail?”

The weathered skin
around his eyes crinkled into the kind of laugh lines that never
failed to captivate me. “Your only escape is if you come to the
dance with me. I’ll teach you.”

“You don’t know what
you’re getting into. I’m a dangerous woman around unprotected
toes.”

He laughed and rose.
“I’ll take the chance.”

I shrugged and got up
with him. “Your loss. I hope your insurance is paid up.”

He ushered me out the
door. “Do you know where the community hall is?”

“I think so.”

“If you want, I could
drive us over and then bring you back here to pick up your car
afterward. It’d save us taking two vehicles.”

I considered that for a
moment. I’ve never been particularly trusting, and the last several
months hadn’t helped.

But it wasn’t like I
was going off with a stranger into the middle of nowhere. The
community hall was only a few minutes’ drive away, and everyone at
the fundraiser had seen us together. He’d have to be downright
stupid to attack me. And despite his laid-back country-boy
appearance, our dinner conversation had proven he was definitely
not stupid.

I looked up at him in
the long rays of the evening sun, realizing he was watching me
quietly. “Okay, that sounds good,” I agreed.

His crooked smile came
back as he guided me to a four-wheel-drive pickup truck and opened
the door for me.

We arrived at the hall
without incident, and I duly learned to two-step amid much laughter
and teasing from the friendly group. I even allowed myself a single
beer early in the evening. I was pretty sure I’d burn it off before
it was time to drive home.

The hours flew by while
we laughed and danced to the music of the talented local band.
Finally, the lights came up and the band began to pack away their
instruments.

Tom chuckled. “I guess
we’ve closed it down. Come on, I’ll take you back to your car.”

Our conversation flowed
easily on the short drive. Back in the deserted parking lot at the
Greenhorn, I turned to him in the dimness. “Tom, thank you. I had
so much fun.”

And it was true. I
couldn’t remember the last time I’d relaxed and enjoyed an evening
on the town. No pressure, no agenda, no spying, no threat of
torture or death.

I sighed inwardly at
the realization that those threats were likely to be part of my
life for the foreseeable future, but put the thought away and
smiled at him. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

“What’s wrong?” he
asked quietly. “You looked so sad for a second there,” he explained
when I raised a puzzled eyebrow.

“Oh.” I waved a
dismissive hand. “Nothing. I really had a great time. Thanks
again.”

I was turning to get
out of the truck when he took my hand in his callused one. “I had
more fun tonight than I’ve had in a long time, too,” he said. “I
couldn’t believe how lucky I was to be with the most beautiful
woman there. All the guys envied me.”

And he leaned over and
kissed me.

His lips were gentle
and unhurried. As he pulled back a few inches to look into my eyes,
I sat in stunned confusion. This was more than I’d bargained
for.

His mouth curved in
that crooked smile, and he leaned in and kissed me again, stroking
his fingers through my hair. This time the kiss lingered, and I
found my hands sliding over his corded shoulders. His denim shirt
was soft over the hard, lean muscle, and I felt a shiver of heat
start low.

He pulled me closer and
warning bells went off in my brain as my body responded
hungrily.

This was a bad idea.
Sooner or later, I was going to end up dead. Probably sooner. And
he could be in danger, too, if he was anywhere close to me.

Shit, shit, shit! This
was such a bad idea!

Breathless, I pulled
away and he let me go, watching me in the soft light from the
dashboard.

“Tom,” I began. I
sighed. Just end it. “I had fun tonight, and I like you. But I
don’t think this is a good idea. Good night.”

I got out of his truck
and headed for my car before I could change my mind.

The next day I was
finishing my lunch when the unmistakeable rumble of a Harley split
the quiet of the country.

I sprang up from the
table and dashed as soundlessly as possible for the front door,
mindful of the bugs. At the front door, I slowed to a more casual
pace as I stepped out onto my front porch and into camera
surveillance.

The bike pulled to a
stop in front of the house, and I took a challenging stance to
confront the burly tattooed biker grinning at me. One fist on my
hip, I raised my hand as if to shade my eyes. My arm should block
the camera’s view of my lips from that angle.

I spoke softly but
clearly. “Don’t look too friendly. I have a situation.”

His ugly face hardened
as his gaze darted around, checking out the house and surrounding
area.

I pointed forcefully
down the lane for the benefit of the cameras. “Turn your bike
around and drive halfway down the lane. Wait for me there. I’ll be
a few minutes.”

I blessed his keen mind
and private investigator’s instincts as he turned the bike around
without comment and rode away. I turned on my heel and marched back
into the house, listening to the receding rumble. It stopped, and I
hoped the bugs had registered it as fading in the distance rather
than as a cessation of sound.

I waited for a few
minutes before heading through the house to step nonchalantly out
onto my back porch. I picked up my hoe and wandered in the
direction of my garden.

Out of camera range, I
turned and circled the house, being sure to stay outside the
effective radius of the surveillance. As I walked up to him,
Hellhound swung off his motorcycle. He warily scanned the yard and
house before giving me a teasing grin.

“Ya said ya got a
situation? This the kinda situation where ya got a man in your bed
an’ ya don’t want him to see the competition? Guess I shoulda
called first,” he rasped.

I laughed and snuggled
up. “I wish it was that kind of situation.”

“It could be, darlin’.”
He bounced his eyebrows. “I was just out cruisin’ an’ thought I’d
drop in. See if ya wanted some company.”

“Oh, yeah, I definitely
want your company,” I assured him as I slid my hands under his
jacket, stroking his bulky, solid chest.

He pulled me closer and
kissed me. Lust poured through me at the touch of his tongue. If
there was a hall of fame for tongues, his would be in it. Deep. I
was panting by the time he broke the kiss.

“So what’s this
situation?” he asked.

“Huh?” I shook my head
and refocused with difficulty. “Oh. Um. I’m under surveillance. My
house is bugged and there are cameras all around the exterior.”

“
What?
” He
jerked upright, scanning the area again. “Aydan, what the fuck? Are
ya in danger again?”

I sighed. “More like
‘still’. And don’t worry, the bugs and cameras are being monitored
by the good guys. Well, kind of good guys. I guess. But I don’t
want them to know that I know they’re monitoring me.”