secretary replied.
Moments later, Mary appeared in the doorway. Instead of handing her the letters right away, Caroline pretended to sort through all the papers on her littered desk, chatting with the secretary and feeling like a fool at deceptively delaying her until Nick arrived. Caroline was glad when he finally showed up.
“Caro baby…oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t alone, Ms. Fortune,” he uttered contritely as he stuck his head inside the doorway, feigning momentary confusion and discomposure.
He did it so well, seemed so practiced at subterfuge, that for an instant, Caroline could not help but wonder if the INS really was right and if Nick really was a former KGB agent. Then she realized how ridiculous an idea that was.
Because if he were, he certainly wouldn’t have come to the United States and taken a job as a chemist at a cosmetics company. He would surely have sought a position at something like an electronics or aircraft company, or as a government official or a politician, so he would have access to the kind of information that would be valuable on the open market—to foreign governments and terrorists.
While rival cosmetics companies might be interested in finding out that Fortune Cosmetics was going to call its new shade of red lipstick and matching nail polish Maraschino Cherry, Caroline simply couldn’t imagine that anybody else would pay highly for that knowledge—or that it would attract the attention of a secret agent.
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