Blood Orchid (Holly Barker 3)

“Where are you living?”

“I rented a house on the beach, a few doors north of you, through an agent. I didn’t even see it until yesterday.”

“So what’s your cover? What did you tell the agent?”

“I made a bundle with an Internet company and sold out before the collapse of tech, Net stocks—the company exists, and they’d back me up if anybody checked. I’m thinking of permanently locating around here, and I wanted to rent for a while first to see how I like it.”

“How long is your lease?”

“Three months, with an option to renew. It’s a very nice house, well furnished. The owners are traveling in Europe for a year.”

“Is it as nice as the Mercedes?”

“Yep.”

“Good for you. Looks like the way to live well in the Bureau is to go undercover.”

“Not necessarily. My last assignment was as mate on a charter fishing boat out of Key West. I had to grow a beard, which itched, and I smelled like fish for eight months.”

She laughed. “You got a nice tan, though.”

“I get that walking down the street in Miami; it’s genetic.”

“Did the clothes belong to the Colombian gentleman, too?”

“Nope; they’re my own. I’m fortunate in not being entirely dependent on my Bureau salary. I try to hide that from my colleagues by dressing the way they do on the job. They’re suspicious enough of me already because I’m a bachelor.”

“Me too,” Holly said, sipping her gimlet. This really did not feel like business.

Dinner came, and they talked as if they had known each other for a long time. This is a date, Holly thought, any way you slice it. Thank you, Harry Crisp.

17

They lingered over coffee and brandy, and Holly hadn’t enjoyed herself so much for a long time. This was different from last night’s dinner with Ed Shine: her companion was an eligible male of the proper age and more than proper mien. She found herself thinking improper thoughts.

Grant paid the check with a black American Express card, which, she noted, had his cover name emblazoned upon it. He linked his arm in hers as they walked to the car, and when they were inside and headed south on A1A, he made his move. “Would you like to stop and see my new place, have a nightcap, maybe?”

Yes, she certainly would, Holly thought. “I’m afraid tomorrow is a school day,” she said. “Rain check?” She’d had a fair amount to drink, and she didn’t trust herself.

“Sure.”

She was glad he sounded disappointed. “Anyway, you don’t want to take this undercover thing too far, do you?”

“There’s Bureau time and my time,” he said, “even when undercover.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “This is definitely my time, and Harry Crisp doesn’t get a report—at least not an honest one.”

“Why couldn’t you give Harry an honest report?” she asked. “It’s not as though we did anything but have dinner.”

“Oh, I’ll report that—this time—since Harry made the date for us, but I won’t tell him what I was thinking all evening.”

She laughed. “I’m glad I don’t report to Harry,” she said.

“Why? What were you thinking?”

“There are some thoughts a girl doesn’t share on a first date.”

“It is a first date, isn’t it? Doesn’t feel like one, though.”

“This is getting terribly close to a line,” she said. “Pretty soon you’ll be telling me we met in a past life.”