Read Online Her Spy to Hold (Spy Games Book 2) by Paula Altenburg - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Paula Altenburg
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his taste in music funny if she wasn’t so hung over.
Or feeling so foolish. She’d told him he was beautiful. She’d let him kiss her. She’d kissed him back. Then she’d shut the bedroom door in his face.
Her friend Beverley gave terrible advice. If last night had proven anything, it was that Kale Martin was the last man she should go for. He was far too much…everything.
He was also lying to her.
She examined the facts. Her professional biography—out there for the entire world to see—clearly stated she’d graduated from high school at the age of fourteen. If he’d done any research on her at all, that was a fact he couldn’t possibly have missed. To her, that suggested his investigation wasn’t official.
But Detective Buchanan had confirmed Kale was with CSIS. And he hadn’t faked speaking Urdu. She’d been to Pakistan and he had the inflections down pat. He knew people too. He understood what motivated them. From the moment he first stepped into her kitchen he’d done his best to put her at ease.
And then to knock her off balance.
The thought of the kiss—kisses—they’d shared left her awash in a full-body blush that prickled to the roots of her hair. Those certainly had nothing to do with any official investigation. Not that she had a right to complain. She’d been an active and enthusiastic participant last night, and if he hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have either. That was another mark in his favor, although she gave it up grudgingly. She might not have initiated the kiss, but she wished she’d been the one to show some restraint.
OK. She believed he was legitimate when it came to his work. So what was his game? If CSIS wasn’t actively investigating her complaint, then why was he here?
That was the problem with spies. One could never be sure what they were really after. He was never going to tell her the truth so there was no point in demanding an explanation from him. Bottom line, she felt better about having him here. Safer.
But only up to a point.
She rolled to her side, tangling her legs in the cotton sheet she’d thrown off in the night. A tall glass of water sat on the bedside table, along with a roll of antacids. The gesture was thoughtful. The fact that he’d been in her room while she was asleep?
Disconcerting. She’d skipped pajamas and slept in a tank top and panties. He must have gotten an eyeful.
A glance at the clock said it was quarter to nine. She sat up and chewed four of the antacids before chugging the whole glass of water. Under-hydrating had been her biggest mistake of the night, but at least her stomach had settled. It rumbled at the smell of bacon wafting through the cracks around her door.
Footsteps in the hall, then a light knock on the door, made her sit up straighter in bed. The quiet sound of her name had her clutching the sheet to her chest.
“Irina? You awake?”
“Almost,” she called back.
A low rumble of laughter stirred up the butterflies already fluttering hard in her chest. “Breakfast is ready in ten minutes.”
Enough time to get decent. Not enough for a shower.
She sprawled on her back on the bed, one hand splayed on her stomach, the other arm flung over her head. She had an upcoming conference in Paris to prepare for. She was sitting on a panel with eight other scientists and needed to check her phone messages and email. They came from all over the world and most didn’t keep the same schedules. A lot of them couldn’t tell what time of day it was in their own area codes, let alone the day of the week, when they were involved in a project. She, too, was guilty as charged.
Her phone and laptop, however, were both in the bag Kale had left beside a chair at the kitchen table. She wondered if he’d tried to go through them. Everything was password-protected, but if he asked for access, she’d give it to him. She didn’t keep sensitive data on her personal hard drives.
She made a trip to the bathroom to rinse out her mouth
Or feeling so foolish. She’d told him he was beautiful. She’d let him kiss her. She’d kissed him back. Then she’d shut the bedroom door in his face.
Her friend Beverley gave terrible advice. If last night had proven anything, it was that Kale Martin was the last man she should go for. He was far too much…everything.
He was also lying to her.
She examined the facts. Her professional biography—out there for the entire world to see—clearly stated she’d graduated from high school at the age of fourteen. If he’d done any research on her at all, that was a fact he couldn’t possibly have missed. To her, that suggested his investigation wasn’t official.
But Detective Buchanan had confirmed Kale was with CSIS. And he hadn’t faked speaking Urdu. She’d been to Pakistan and he had the inflections down pat. He knew people too. He understood what motivated them. From the moment he first stepped into her kitchen he’d done his best to put her at ease.
And then to knock her off balance.
The thought of the kiss—kisses—they’d shared left her awash in a full-body blush that prickled to the roots of her hair. Those certainly had nothing to do with any official investigation. Not that she had a right to complain. She’d been an active and enthusiastic participant last night, and if he hadn’t stopped, she wouldn’t have either. That was another mark in his favor, although she gave it up grudgingly. She might not have initiated the kiss, but she wished she’d been the one to show some restraint.
OK. She believed he was legitimate when it came to his work. So what was his game? If CSIS wasn’t actively investigating her complaint, then why was he here?
That was the problem with spies. One could never be sure what they were really after. He was never going to tell her the truth so there was no point in demanding an explanation from him. Bottom line, she felt better about having him here. Safer.
But only up to a point.
She rolled to her side, tangling her legs in the cotton sheet she’d thrown off in the night. A tall glass of water sat on the bedside table, along with a roll of antacids. The gesture was thoughtful. The fact that he’d been in her room while she was asleep?
Disconcerting. She’d skipped pajamas and slept in a tank top and panties. He must have gotten an eyeful.
A glance at the clock said it was quarter to nine. She sat up and chewed four of the antacids before chugging the whole glass of water. Under-hydrating had been her biggest mistake of the night, but at least her stomach had settled. It rumbled at the smell of bacon wafting through the cracks around her door.
Footsteps in the hall, then a light knock on the door, made her sit up straighter in bed. The quiet sound of her name had her clutching the sheet to her chest.
“Irina? You awake?”
“Almost,” she called back.
A low rumble of laughter stirred up the butterflies already fluttering hard in her chest. “Breakfast is ready in ten minutes.”
Enough time to get decent. Not enough for a shower.
She sprawled on her back on the bed, one hand splayed on her stomach, the other arm flung over her head. She had an upcoming conference in Paris to prepare for. She was sitting on a panel with eight other scientists and needed to check her phone messages and email. They came from all over the world and most didn’t keep the same schedules. A lot of them couldn’t tell what time of day it was in their own area codes, let alone the day of the week, when they were involved in a project. She, too, was guilty as charged.
Her phone and laptop, however, were both in the bag Kale had left beside a chair at the kitchen table. She wondered if he’d tried to go through them. Everything was password-protected, but if he asked for access, she’d give it to him. She didn’t keep sensitive data on her personal hard drives.
She made a trip to the bathroom to rinse out her mouth
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