Page 27 of A Spy is Born
"Made of?" he asks. A horn honks behind him.
"Yes, the material."
"I'm sure it's just painted metal. Not real gold or anything."
Was that code? Sounded pretty reasonable.Crap.I take a breath and try again. "What is it tempered with, do you think?" Tempered sounds like Temperance right?I want Temperance to call me.Is that message getting through?
"Sorry, but I don't know, Angela."
"Do you know anyone who might? Maybe they could call me."
"It's just a trinket from a vendor on the street, nothing of value."
"But…I want to know what it is..."
"I can try to find out, I suppose," he relents.
"That would be great," I say, enthusiasm lifting me to my feet. "I don't want it turning my skin green…or giving me a rash." I let out a small, genuine sounding laugh. "Or killing me. You never know with things you pick up off the street."
"Of course, but I'm sure it won't hurt you."
"You're sure."
"Positive."
"What if I was allergic to it? I mean, what if I gave it as a gift to a friend?" I'm pacing now, my brow furrowed.
"I doubt it—" A truck rumbles by, swallowing anything else he says.
"Right, okay, but, maybe you could try to find out. Just to be sure."
"I'll do my best."
I don’t want to hang up, but this is going on too long, I'm coming off like a nut bar. We say our goodbyes, and I take a deep breath. It's time to get dressed.
I have work to do.
Chapter Seven
The partyat the American consulate is black tie—very fancy and sophisticated, as one might imagine a diplomatic reception to be. Our entire entourage is invited, and Julian escorts me up the long, elegant stairs into the grand entryway. The last rays of the sunset cast a pink glow over the handsome, early 20thcentury building and the other guests making their way into the event.
Julian is in a tux again, looking dashing. My black dress, edged in gray satin, has a tight bodice that pushes me up and clings to my waist and hips, cupping my ass before fanning out into a classic mermaid silhouette.
The designer, a young man based in LA, fitted me personally before the trip. "This silhouette was invented for bodies like yours," he said, marveling at me in the mirror. Clearly gay, his appreciative gaze was all about form and artistry.
But as we walk up these stairs, pass through the high doorway into the large and crowded entryway, the gazes that roam over me—staring at my breasts, my flat stomach and tight, high ass—feel almost like hands touching me, hungry for the feminine form, not as art but as sex.
I finger the ring, careful not to press the clasp but desperate to make sure it is still there. If I lose it, I fail. Temperance didn’t call. I still have no idea what the stone is made of, but I guess it will dissolve quickly. That I won't be caught because of a malfunction.
The danger here is me—my own failing.
Julian leans over and speaks into my ear. "You're absolutely stunning. No one can take their eyes off you."
I smile and raise my eyes to him. "You're pretty stunning yourself."
"Can we have that dinner soon? Just the two of us."
I'd been putting him off—scared of myself, of Temperance…of this whole thing. How could I agree to dinner with a man? More than dinner really. Julian’s made it clear he isn’t looking forjustan affair. The man is serious about me.Patient.And isn’t that just the sexiest thing ever?
