Free Austensibly Ordinary by Alyssa Goodnight

cocktail glass.
    â€œAny of the good ones?” I pressed, completely amused with myself and him. I was all but oblivious to the homage going on around us. All but those damn birds.
    â€œWhat are the good ones? Charm? I’d say I’ve got a bit of that, more if I try. Rugged, manly good looks? I’m obviously relatively secure in my mojo, or I wouldn’t be out in the city in my pajamas—even if it is Austin. Charisma? I’m guessing that’s the only reason you’re sitting here right now. And oh yes, virility. I’d say that’s a question that will have to be answered on its own.”
    I was full-out grinning now, I couldn’t help it. He was crunching into his focaccia, looking confidently insecure, as if he knew who he was but couldn’t guess if I’d drawn the same conclusion. Far from being finished playing hard to get, I figured he deserved a little thumbs-up. It was just good sportsmanship.
    I tipped my head down and bit my lip. On any other night, my ingrained shyness would have been calling the shots, but tonight flirty seduction was the name of the game. “It looks as though I’m sitting in exactly the right spot,” I said, edging out a wide close-lipped smile.
    It wasn’t long before Will and Oli sidled up in their catsuits, purveyors of Linzer cookies served facedown, the jam from the cut-out “windows” smearing bloodlike on the stark white plates, a nod to the classic Hitchcock Rear Window. They brought coffee too, steaming hot in old-fashioned diner cups.
    We were quiet for a minute, letting the coffee and our flirtation cool off a little bit. Jake glanced at his watch—his very expensive-looking watch—glinting in the candlelight.
    â€œIt’s closing in on midnight. . . . I’d offer to drive you home, but we both know the logistics of that would be crazy. It’s a shame we aren’t staying in adjacent rooms at the same hotel.”
    Seeing my eyebrow shoot up in curiosity, he quickly added, “That’s the Cary talking . . . remember To Catch a Thief ? The man could work an angle.”
    â€œHe worked it better in North by Northwest,” I countered. “He ended up sharing her train compartment.”
    â€œThe man is a legend.”
    I sipped carefully and felt the zing of caffeine spiral through my blood, causing trouble. I tamped it down with strict instructions from a certain high school teacher who had to be in her classroom by seven-thirty A.M.
    â€œHow about,” I offered slowly, “I give you my number and you can call me when you think we could work something out.” Even I didn’t know what I meant by that, but it felt suitably vague and surprisingly seductive. It was also possible the evening was getting to me—that I was on sensory overload and needed to get back to the Bat Cave to regroup. I reached into my purse for the little pad of paper and pen I’d intentionally planted there and dashed off the memorized burner phone number, folding the paper in half, very for-your-eyes-only.
    This was the perfect moment to slip out and away, keeping to the shadows, but I’d let my emotions come into play: I wanted one of those Linzer cookies, and I wasn’t leaving without one.
    While Jake Tielman was eyeing my phone number, and me over the top of it, I slid a delicate cookie off the plate sitting between us on the table and indulged in a tiny bite, letting the buttery crumb dissolve on my tongue as a flurry of powdered sugar fluttered down around me. My cover was undeniably blown—it was literally impossible to be taken seriously as a femme fatale, not to mention a spy, with a dusting of powdered sugar covering your person. I used my napkin and subtly licked my lips, not wishing to get the flirtation started all over again, but evidently I wasn’t thorough enough.
    I was easing myself into the good-byes when Jake reached almost negligently across the table,