style="font-size:15px;"> “Because I was afraid you wouldn’t hear me out.”
“You were right.” He stood up. “You’ll have to find somebody else to do this job.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Dooley asked as Brock headed toward the door.
He slowly turned around and moved back to the table, his jaw clenched. “I’m not going to steal from the Talaveras. I’m not going to lie to them, either. And you know I’d have to do both to do this job.”
“I know it,” Dooley said bluntly. “And I know they’re important to you. Hell, that’s why I came to you first. You know better than anybody that I don’t tell my people how to do their job. If someone else goes out on this assignment, then it’s completely out of my control. They’ll use whatever methods are necessary to get the skirt. And you know what that means.”
Dooley didn’t have to spell it out. Brock knew all too well that Kate or any of the Talaveras could possibly be hurt in the process. Kate’s home could be ransacked. Or worse.
“Hell, Dooley.” Brock raked one hand through his hair. “I don’t want to do this.”
“That invitation to the anniversary party is the perfect opening. Make a vacation of it. Catch up with some old friends.”
Brock shook his head. “No way. I’m going to find the skirt and get out of Seattle. If I’m lucky, none of the Talaveras will even know I was there.”
“Does this mean you’re taking the mission?”
“Do I have a choice?”
Dooley squinted up at him, his head cocked to one side. “You always have a choice. You can just walk away. Pretend I never even brought it up.”
But Brock knew that would be impossible now. “Do I have any competition to worry about? Did the second caller go looking for a better deal?”
“It’s possible,” Dooley said slowly. “Did you know the Weasel is going solo now?”
Brock nodded. “I heard something about it.” The Weasel was a mercenary who had worked for a top agency in London. But he was too volatile, so they’d let him go. Now he was working out of the U.S., making cut-rate deals to drum up business. The Weasel didn’t care who he hurt to accomplish a mission. Brock didn’t even want to think about what would happen if Kate Talavera got in the Weasel’s way.
All his old memories about the Talaveras came flooding back. Part of him wanted to see them again, although he knew Tony was in Brazil now, working for an export company and recently married. How would Tony feel if he knew Kate was in possible danger? And that Brock had turned his back on her?
Brock picked up his mug off the table and drained it. “I’ll take the mission.”
“Good.” Dooley held up his beer. “To success.”
Brock had never failed at a mission yet. The key was proper planning and keeping a cool head. Tomorrow, he’d catch a plane to Seattle. Then he’d scope out the territory. The first item on his agenda was locating Kate’s residence. Hopefully, she’d be in the telephone directory, making his job a little easier. If not, well he still had a few contacts in Seattle. He’d find her place one way or the other.
After that, his job would be simple. He’d wait until the house was empty, then search the place until he found the skirt. If he was lucky, and he’d depended on luck more than once in this job, he’d be on an airplane to Calabra by tomorrow night.
So why did Brock have a sinking sensation that his luck had just run out?
2
KATE STOOD in front of a long mirror in her old bedroom, staring at the new secret weapon in her fashion arsenal. The skirt she’d caught at Gwen’s wedding fit perfectly. She turned to the side, thrilled that the mended seam was invisible, thanks to her mother. The thread she’d used was almost an identical match. Almost.
The question was, did the skirt still work?
Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was her lunch hour. A meeting planner for one of the biggest hotels in Seattle, she normally munched on leftovers from business brunches. But the hotel was full of prospective models today, interviewing for a local talent agency, so the catering menu had been limited to baby carrots, assorted dried fruits, and bottled spring water.
A diet she’d endured herself during her college years, trying to shed all those unwanted pounds she’d carried around as a teenager. A combination of low self-esteem and an Italian mother who loved to cook had led Kate to balloon up to almost two hundred pounds by the time she was fifteen years old.
Now she was a perfect size ten, the same size, ironically, as her petite mother, who never gained an ounce from the high calorie meals she made. Kate smiled to herself, remembering how Rose had entreated her to move home again after Kate’s apartment building had been sold to a condominium developer. She’d gained five pounds just thinking about it. So instead, she’d chosen to stay in a suite the hotel made available to its employees.
But she didn’t intend to stay there much longer—if the skirt still worked. She smoothed down the silky black fabric, the key to winning the man of her dreams. Todd Winslow had been the golden boy at her high school—football captain, senior class president, National Honor Society. He’d been her next-door neighbor since they were both in elementary school, and was always unfailingly polite to her. Not like so many other boys who heckled her about her weight.
But he’d never really noticed her either. And she’d forgotten about him after high school, when he’d moved to California. Until six months ago, when Todd, who owned a successful home shopping network, had invited three of his most influential teachers to appear on the show. Rose Talavera, a retired high school math instructor, had been one of the three.
Upon her return, Rose raved about both the trip and Todd Winslow. Gushing over the courteous way he’d treated her and hinting broadly to Kate that he was perfect husband material. Kate had seen Todd on the show and agreed. He was even more handsome now than he had been in high school. With her mother’s glowing recommendation ringing in her ears, Kate had made an impulsive decision to invite him to the anniversary party. She’d been shocked when he’d accepted the invitation. Especially since he would have to travel over eleven hundred miles from Los Angeles to attend.
Todd had sent his RSVP via e-mail, and they’d been corresponding that way ever since. His messages were both funny and flirtatious. Kate had never thought that she could attract a man like Todd—but now she had the skirt. The altered skirt.
How could she find out if it still worked? The sound of a jackhammer pounding the pavement outside gave her the answer. She’d stroll the sidewalk and see if the construction workers noticed. Of course, a few of them had made catcalls and whistles when she walked into the house so it might be hard to tell. But it was still worth a shot.
Taking a deep breath, she turned and opened her bedroom door, running straight into the man who stood on the other side of it. Lurching back, she screamed as he reached out and caught her by the shoulders.
“It’s all right. I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s me. Brock Gannon.”
Her heart beating
