Free The Spy Is Cast by Diane Henders Page A

tried the network, wearing
Robert’s skin. Again, I popped effortlessly into the void and
quickly backed out. This time I couldn’t suppress a grunt when
agony knifed through my head, and I hastily flushed the toilet to
cover the sound while I held my skull and hissed quiet but sincere
invective.
    When the worst of the
pain subsided, I moved to the sink, washing my hands and checking
my makeup. Nichele hadn’t lied about its quality. It was actually
staying put, and I looked the same as when she’d finished with me
hours before. Amazing. And I hadn’t even wrecked the dress yet.
    Kane was waiting for
me in the foyer. I glided over the slippery marble tiles,
concentrating fiercely on looking lithe and relaxed while keeping
my footing in the high heels. Apparently I succeeded, because he
eyed me appreciatively as I joined him. Or maybe he was just a
really good actor. I decided to call it a success regardless.
    I took his proffered
arm and we paused at the entrance of the enormous dining room. The
two large men were in evidence again, but they had split up,
hovering on opposite sides of the room. Their hard eyes searched
the crowd. Kane’s gaze drifted over them without a change of
expression, and I knew he was noting every detail of the room and
the crowd as well, but far less obtrusively than Harchman’s
minions.
    “Nothing like a nice,
intimate dinner for a hundred or so of your closest friends,” I
whispered. “I wonder if the Harchmans actually live here, or if
they secretly go to their real house when the party’s over.”
    Kane chuckled, looking
and sounding completely at ease. “This is their real house.”
    I shook my head in
disbelief.
    We took seats at a
table near the edge of the room, our backs to the wall, and I
resisted the urge to kick the shoes off my sore feet. I almost
never wear high heels, but I’m smart enough to know that if you
ever take them off, it’s really damn hard to put them back on again
for the rest of the night.
    I focused on keeping
my back straight and my knees together. The acrylic nails felt
thick and foreign, and I folded my hands casually in my lap, trying
to abstain from picking at them.
    “Talk to me,” I
whispered to Kane. “I’m losing it. If I don’t concentrate on
conversation, I’m going to get sucked into the network. And I’ll
create a simulation of me in my coveralls drinking beer and
tinkering with one of my cars.” The image was so inviting that I
smiled, relaxing unconsciously.
    I nearly leaped out of
my skin at the bite on my earlobe. “Aydan!” Kane’s baritone growled
in my ear. “Stay focused!”
    I jerked up straight
again, my heart pounding with the realization that I’d almost blown
my cover.
    Well, the heart rate
might also be related to the fact that a very sexy man had just
nibbled my ear. I met his eyes, looking deeply and letting him see
some of my reaction.
    “You’ve got my
attention,” I murmured.
    His eyes dilated, but
he gave his head a quick shake as he leaned back in his chair. “Are
you still renovating your house?” he asked casually. “Did you ever
finish that bathroom?”
    I switched gears to
polite conversation. “I finished the ensuite I was working on in
March. Now my main one is starting to have little problems here and
there. I’m not sure whether I’ll tackle it this summer or not. I’m
pretty busy with my garden and outdoor work.”
    We made innocuous
small talk until three other couples joined us at our round table.
I concentrated on the introductions and the impersonal conversation
that followed until the first course was served.
    As Kane had promised,
the food was truly superb. A rich lobster bisque was followed by a
light, crisp salad with hints of tropical fruit. A small portion of
delicate roasted butternut squash ravioli followed in a sumptuous
cream sauce. Our empty plates were whisked away, and a tomato and
sage sorbet arrived, cleansing our palates for the next course.
    I felt Kane’s gaze on
me, and