Page 9 of The Eagle (Spy Girl 2)
"I'd love to." I set my coffee on his nightstand. "I'm sleepy, but I can't sleep."
He holds his arm out, so I can snuggle up to him. The gesture causes my heart to do a little flip.
I should leave.
All my instincts and training are yelling at me to leave.
But I don't want to.
So I lie down next to him and enjoy the feel of his arms wrapped around me and his lips pressed against my temple. When I turn to face him, he kisses me. It's a slow, tentative kiss. Like he's dipping his toes in a pool to determine its temperature. When I run my hand through the back of his hair, he must decide it's warm and dives in, his tongue tangling with mine.
Our kissing quickly becomes heated, his hand sliding under my robe.
"Um?"
He stops kissing me, but his hand continues to caress my bare skin.
"Is my show of affection making you uncomfortable?"
"No, I just--"
"Do you wish I halt my advances?"
"Yes . . . no . . . maybe."
"Which is it, my sweet?"
My body, which had tensed, relaxes when he calls me that. I want to just sigh with happiness. What would I do if I weren't a spy? Probably allow myself to fall head over heels in love with him only to get heartbroken. Regardless of how dreamy he is, his reputation is for loving and leaving them.
Which makes me wonder why I don't just love him?
Not like fall for him, I mean experience him, sexually.
His hand glides down my arm. "You are not so uptight. You like words of love?"
But I can't do that, either. It was only a few days ago when I was last with Daniel. Even though sex is supposed to be only about pleasure, it doesn't feel right. I start to rise. "I think I better go back to my room."
"Don't go, Huntley," he says, holding his hands up in defeat. "I enjoy the pleasure of your company. Do you not wish to have a physical relationship with me?"
"I have a purely physical relationship with Daniel. It suits my lifestyle."
"And you aren't interested in a purely physical relationship with me?"
"I could never have a purely physical relationship with you, Lorenzo. The only reason I slept with Daniel on the yacht is because I thought we were over."
"So are we to start anew? Am I--as you Americans say it--back on first base with you?"
I laugh but feel like crying. I reach out and touch his handsome face then shake my head. "I can't have a physical relationship with you, because it would be my undoing."
"You already have me completely undone. I long to experience more with you. Every kiss is precious and exquisite," he says, his thumb tracing the line of my collarbone then moving to caress my face. When his knuckles graze my lips, I squeeze his hand and press my lips against it, enjoying the tenderness of the moment.
Then I jump off the bed, tears in my eyes. "I'm sorry. I have to go."
I run to my room, flop across my bed, and allow myself to dream of a different life.
Then I shake my head to clear my silly thoughts and get in the shower.
I'm just getting dressed for the day when I get a text from Terrance. Just a single dot. Like maybe it was a butt-text. But then I run into the closet, grab my handbag, and pull out the phone he gave me.
I have seven missed calls from him over the last few days. I hadn't bothered to check it while I was on vacation.
I quickly choose his number--the only number--from the speed dial list.
"Sorry I missed your calls."
"We need to talk," he says. "About the thing you gave me. There's a bar in the Hay-Adams hotel called Off the Record. I'll be at a table by the fireplace. I was going to tell you to dress in a suit and blend in, but after last night, that's not possible. You might as well wear something outrageously sexy. Sit next to me on the couch, your back against the wall. Bring a big enough purse that I can put something into it. Then we'll have lunch and flirt."
"Okay. What time?"
"I'm already here."
A quick Google search tells me the hotel is directly across from the White House and often filled with congressional leaders. Upon arrival, I'm directed downstairs. Terrance was right, most everyone I've seen so far is wearing a suit.
I chose a grey spaghetti strap dress with a swingy skirt in a slinky jersey fabric. The front of the dress is a crossover style, and there is a small triangular cutout at the waist that adds to the sex appeal. On the hanger was a little card that suggested for daytime I pair it with the Valentino Rockstud butterfly-embroidered tie-dye tote and the multi-color trim, wedge-heel Louboutins.
So I did.
When I pulled the pieces out of the closet, I didn't think it all matched, but I have to admit, it looks good together. And I may be slightly obsessed with how cute this tote is.
I spot Terrance in his seat by the fireplace and quickly scan the room for potential threats and possible exits. Then I stop myself. I can assume that Terrance wouldn't be here if he didn't feel it were safe, and I shouldn't look calculating as I walk through the room. I am Huntley Von Allister, new billionaire heiress, who has not a care in the world other than how to spend her money. I'm making my way through the lunch crowd when I hear my name and turn to see Senator Bill Callan waving at me from the bar.
I walk over to greet him.
"Huntley, my dear, how are you?"
"I'm well. Did you and Sissy have a pleasant time in the Caymans?"
"It was enjoyable, but I'm afraid we cut our trip short and came home when the President was shot."
"It's just horrible," I say. "I can't believe this happened in our great country."
"Me either. I was actually going to try to reach you today. Are you and Aristotle staying at your late father's home here in D.C.?"
"Yes, we are."
"I'd like to invite you to a dinner party my wife and I are having in Georgetown tonight. Are you and your brother free?"
I try to think of a way out of it. I can only imagine how boring one of his weeknight parties would be. Although, he's a senator, and the more contacts we make, the better for our cover, right? "Yes, I believe we are."
"Perfect. I will have Sissy messenger the invitation to your home." He turns to the man seated next t
o him, who I instantly recognize from my studies. "Where are my manners? Huntley, I'd like to introduce you to the Director of the CIA, Mike Burnes."
I put on a big smile and try not to look nervous. "Wow. I guess the write-ups about this bar were correct. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Burnes."
"Mike will be at the dinner party this evening. I sincerely hope you can join us. You and your brother were delightful dinner companions."
"Thank you. We'll see you then. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm supposed to be meeting someone."
They say goodbye, and I work my way through to the back of the room where Terrance is waiting.
When he stands to greet me, I kiss his cheek and whisper, "Did you see who I just spoke to?"
"I did. If anyone asks, we met at the Montrovian Royal Casino," he whispers back.
"It's so good to see you again," I say, knowing that we have to be careful.
"So, Huntley, remember that vintage bag you wanted me to track down for you when I told you I was an internet whiz?"
"Um, yes." I go along with his ruse, knowing he's talking about the locket not some stupid bag. "Did you have any luck?"
"I did."
A waiter interrupts him and asks for our drink order. I pause for a second. I'm not of legal drinking age, but Huntley Von Allister is and she would order something.
"What do you think I'd like?" I ask the waiter flirtatiously.
He doesn't miss a beat. "I'd go with the pear martini."
I smile and give a little clap. "Oh, that sounds yummy."
"Would you like a sugared rim?"
"Of course," I reply, even though I know the drink is just a prop and I won't take more than a few sips.
"And for you, sir?" he asks Terrance.
Terrance raises an eyebrow in my direction. "You buying?"
"Sure. Why not?"
"Then I'll have the JW Blue Label," he says. "And we'll share the macaroni and cheese fritters and the salted caramel creme brulee to start." While he's ordering, he discreetly slides an envelope into my handbag then switches to sit across from me. "So I can stare into those gorgeous eyes of yours," he says, before the waiter leaves. Terrance looks quite dapper here, dressed in a navy suit, white spread collar, and a traditional red tie.
"Rumor has it the man can read lips," Terrance says. "So I'll talk and you say random things in reply to make it look like we're having fun. And keep an eye on him. Don't let him sneak up on me."
