Free My Soul to Keep by Carolyn McCray Page A

screen. No new calls or texts. But what had she expected? She knew Kent couldn’t tell her where he was going or how long he would be gone. It was part of the deal when you were a consultant for the CIA, DOD, and half a dozen other three-initial agencies. Though technically Kent was still a Special Agent with the FBI, he seldom found himself in an office. His skills were better put to use out in the field.
    So this was what it was like to have a partner that wasn ’t really a partner… in more ways then one. Lord knew he tried, but Kent just wasn’t cut out to be the “bring home flowers” kind of lover. He was more the “Hey, I picked up a cadaver arm so that we could practice dissecting the ulna nerve,” kind of guy.
    After having a dozen or so “flowers” kind of boyfriends, Kent was actually refreshing. Disturbing, but refreshing.
    The treadmill beeped as it started the cooldown cycle. As her pace slowed, Nicole glanced around the nearly empty gym. It was late in the morning, so the “before work” rush had already bled from the exercise area. Since she was going over cold cases while Kent was gone, there really wasn’t much reason to fight the “before work” crowds. She might as well go in late and get home late if there was no one home to miss her.
    Across the room , a woman about Nicole’s age worked on a “lat” machine. She smiled at Nicole. Before thinking, Nicole smiled back, then realized she didn’t think that smile was just a friendly one, as the woman winked.
    Crap. W hat had she gotten herself into? Glancing away, Nicole tried to pretend the exchange didn’t happen. Not that she was homophobic, she just wasn’t interested.
    Tsk, tsk, tsk. Are you really going to pass up this opportunity?
    She heard the memory of Kent’s whisper. He wouldn’t want her to take the woman up on the offer, but he certainly would want her to use this experience to fine-tune her seduction skills. Who knew that seduction was one of the most powerful ways to crack a suspect?
    Nicole took a deep breath. Not from fatigue , but to work up the nerve. Non-verbal cues were not her forte. Which is exactly why Kent would want her to practice.
    Glancing up, she f ound the woman concentrating on the proper form of her repetitions. Thank goodness. But then the woman looked up and a slow grin spread across her lips. The edge of one lip tugged up more than the other. Nicole knew that indicated interest, but could she replicate it?
    Not replicate… she heard Kent correct in her head.
    Respond .
    What had Kent taught her? Channel her own experiences into the exchange. Forget that she was in love with the profiler. Forget that she was heterosexual. Forget that she would never pick up anyone at the gym.
    Remember only desire. W ant. With Kent gone for two months, that wasn’t much of a stretch of the imagination. What would her response be if Kent flashed her that patented “I’m only arrogant because I know I am that good in bed” smile?
    Well, she ’d flash him her “And I am one of the few who can keep up with you,” grins.
    Keeping her eyelids hooded and letting the workout weigh down her features, Nicole smiled back hoping to emulate bedroom eyes. It appeared to work , as the woman’s smile grew and she worked the machine harder and harder. Clearly she wasn’t having to fake anything on her end.
    Nicole ’s phone vibrated on the handlebars as she worked up the nerve to walk over and talk to the woman.
    Saved by the bell, so to speak.
    She snapped the phone from its case and hit the “accept” button. Her fingers, slick with sweat, nearly dropped the phone. As she scrambled to catch hold of it, she could hear her partner’s tinny voice.
    “ Nicole? Nicole?”
    Finally , her fingers got traction on the rubber backing and she brought the phone up to her ear. But not before noticing the woman’s stare. Her smile widened to show her pearly whites. She probably thought that Nicole fumbled the phone because of her.