Mr. Nice Spy Read Online Free PDF Page B

policy?” I raise my eyebrows, though I’m not sure whether I’m more impressed with her research or the guy’s on-the-money-and-the-landing-rights position.
    Talia mimics my expression, making it into a perfect inside joke. I swear, for a second, this is way more than a coworkers’ connection.
    And then Will’s door swings open. “I’ll work on the next step,” I say.
    She returns to her desk. What’s the next step? Not eavesdropping on another meeting at the ambassador’s, and there’s got to be something that’ll yield results faster than listening to the Emirati ambassador’s fireside chats with his wife.
    If they’ll all be at this reception . . . maybe we can watch a little more closely there. Maybe, maybe , we’ll get a step closer to the Emiratis’ hotline to the heart of our embassy.
    Not ten minutes later, I’m trying to get Talia’s attention again — and I catch it. No, I catch her . She’s still grinning, but this time it’s like she doesn’t know she’s doing it. Like she’s remembering something and can’t help that little shadow of a smile.
    She finally catches my telepathic signal and checks the office. Everybody’s absorbed in their files. After a minute, she makes a silent show of needing a break and strolls to my desk.
    “Whatcha got?”
    I switch to the browser tab showing the agenda for this week’s only diplomatic-sounding reception: a gala for the end of the summit on human rights. Talia leans over my shoulder to navigate around the gala site. I act like the contact doesn’t give me the slightest chills.
    My automatic guilt reflex kicks in, flashing Shanna’s face across my brain. I never, ever want to hurt her. Ever. But she’s the one who wants to get away from me. I mean . . . right?
    “Looks perfect,” Talia half-murmurs. “Just need an invitation.”
    “What, now you’re too good for the service elevator?” Pretending to be an anonymous handyman to slip in sometimes works, but this long after normal repairman hours, it’s likely to raise more than eyebrows.
    “What about someone else who doesn’t need to be on the guest list?” She gestures at my screen. “A step up from the jump-suited masses.”
    The entertainment. “You up for karaoke?”
    “Uh, no.” She leans a hip against my desk, and my eyes trail down to those legs.
    I catch myself before she can and cover with questions. “Then what? Stupid pet tricks? Your traveling magic show?”
    “I’m sure you’re the next Criss Angel,” she says. “Closest I’ve got is piano.”
    Didn’t know that. “You any good?”
    “Been playing for twenty years.” But she furrows her brow.
    I glance at the schedule again. “Think you can pull together something for twenty minutes?”
    Her tough exterior cracks, the usual confidence we all try to put on in the office faltering for a minute, revealing the smallest nerves. “Enough to impress these people?”
    I give the standard answer. “Enough to make sure they don’t really notice you.”
    “Guess I can do that.” Talia smirks, and I grin back. A couple phone calls, and I’ll have our in.
    Now we have to figure out our real objective.

     

    That same little smile is still lingering on Talia’s lips by the time I finish my phone calls half an hour later. This time I head to her desk. “You’re all lined up. Seven forty to eight.”
    Her smile hides behind a grimace for a second. “Better get practicing.”
    I jerk my chin at her. “What’s got you all giddy?”
    “Hm?” One hand instantly lands on the back of her neck, and Talia can’t hide the blush. She knows exactly what I’m talking about.
    “You keep drifting back to La La Land whenever you’re working, and no case is that good.”
    “I — ah — no idea what you’re talking about.” She turns to her computer way too quickly.
    It’s like watching a movie you’ve seen a thousand times, only with the sound off or the colors inverted. I know Talia better than anybody here,