anything else. Ever.”
Kristy’s eyes welled up, and she reached across the table just as Risa drew her arm out of reach of the comforting touch. “That’s just awful. You poor thing.”
“I liked it, mostly. I helped people. What I did was important.”
“And you’ve had these blackouts since your accident?”
Risa nodded. “They’re supposed to go away in time. That’s what Dr. Laslow said.”
“He’s your physician?”
“He was the doctor who took care of me since I was born. My mother, too.”
Kristy sat back, clearly astounded and processing the information. “I can’t imagine—you went on missions? Like a real spy?”
“Sort of. I was never really trained as a spy. They just needed me to ask people questions, you know, to find out information.”
It had, of course, been much more involved than that, but she’d already said more than she should, and was feeling anxious about her revelations. Risa had been trained to keep secrets, but it seemed the point of “girl talk” was to tell all, something she wasn’t free to do.
“So, you know all kinds of top secret stuff?”
Risa shifted uncomfortably. “Some. But you know the old line. If I told you about it, I’d have to kill you.”
Kristy smiled at the cheesy joke, and shook her head in amazement. “I still don’t understand about the files and the video—why do you monitor everyone who lives here?”
Risa had the grace to blush. “It just seemed like the natural thing to do—strange people, strange environment. I was at a major disadvantage. When I lost my ability to read people, to hear their thoughts, I became isolated, like I was in a vacuum. Knowing what was going on around me made me feel safer. I really didn’t mean to intrude, you know, I never watched anything…private. And I’d spent so much time living on government property, and having most things I needed at hand or taken care of, that it’s been difficult adjusting. And I had some experience with electronics, so…”
“So wiring into all of our apartments allowed you to keep track of us so, for instance, you knew I was heading out to the store when you called me to pick up groceries for you,” Kristy deduced, frowning slightly.
Risa nodded, feeling distinctly ashamed.
“Yes, I’m sorry for that, too. I’m just not equipped for—” she looked around, waving her arms and letting her frustration show “—this. Everything. The world.”
It felt so good to finally talk to someone. Risa had never really had a female friend before. Or a male friend, for that matter. After her parents died, she’d confided her secrets and fears only to Buddy. So far, Kristy was taking what Risa told her in relative stride.
“I could help, you know.”
“You have helped, getting my groceries, listening. But you don’t have to do that anymore. I wouldn’t ask that of you.”
“What I mean is I can help you get back into normal life. You know, for instance…” Kristy assessed Risa closely, making her feel like squirming in her chair. “Are those black pants and shirts all you have to wear?”
Risa looked down at her clothes, the government-issued casuals she’d always worn.
“Yes. They’re all I need.”
“Oh, honey, with your figure you can carry the cat burglar look off nicely, but with your coloring and that amazing auburn hair and those blue eyes—you should be wearing something much more striking.”
Kristy’s mental makeover was setting Risa’s nerves on edge. She wasn’t sure she was ready for this, and Kristy had a definite gleam in her eye. Risa didn’t need her former powers to sense that her new friend was getting very excited about influencing Risa’s life.
“And you have no good furniture, nothing on your walls. The place is stark. No personality. We have to get more of your style in here—what do you like?”
“What do you mean?” Risa could only stare.
“You know, what are your favorite colors, for a start?”
Risa paused for a long moment. She’d never really been asked that before. She thought about Buddy, the rich chocolate-brown of his fur, and remembered the scarlet sweater her mother had been wearing the day she’d brought Buddy home. Her mother had always worn bright colors—why hadn’t Risa remembered that until now?
“I like brown. And red.”
Kristy pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Well, I’ve always been more of a pink and yellow girl myself, but we can work with that—earthy tones, I guess. Like clays and fire. Yes, that does seem right for you.” She looked at the clock, “Hey, I’ll tell you what. I have the day off, why don’t we go catch some lunch and hit the stores? It’ll be fun.”
“Hit the stores?” Risa wasn’t quite keeping up, still wondering how all of this had happened.
“Yeppers. C’mon, ex-spy lady. We’re going shopping.”
2
DANIEL WATCHED Risa from a discreet distance, following the actions of the two women closely. Even though he’d spent thousands of hours doing surveillance, watching Risa felt different. More intimate. Maybe because each new outfit she tried on distracted him from his purpose, among other things. It wasn’t as if she were trying on anything particularly sexy, no low-cut dresses or skintight bodysuits—like the ones he’d seen her wearing on missions—clinging to every curve. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and his interest wasn’t completely professional.
He swallowed deeply, trying to ignore the way his pulse picked up when she stepped out of the dressing room, looking to her friend for reassurance that the low-rise jeans and raspberry T-shirt fit.
Oh, man, did they ever fit. The woman had an ass like two perfect scoops of ice cream.
The shirt exposed a delicious sliver of her flat, toned belly, and the stylishly faded denim hugged the gentle sway of her backside in a way that had him imagining cupping his hand over the pocket.
Her friend nodded enthusiastically, obviously having good taste. Risa received the approval awkwardly, stuffing her hands in the pockets of the jeans, looking furtively from side to side as if worried about being seen. Was she self-conscious or was she worried?
Daniel turned his attention to her shopping partner. His quick background check identified Risa’s friend as Kristy Louise Kelly, twenty-five, a Boston native, MIT grad and an oceanographic intern at Woods Hole. He’d seen them sitting at Risa’s utilitarian kitchen table that morning, talking over a breakfast that neither one of them touched—but talking about what?
He hadn’t had an opportunity to bug the apartment—Risa was always there. This was the first time he’d seen her leave, and opted for following rather than a search. He’d assumed if she were venturing out, it must have been important—he’d never have guessed clothes shopping.
However,
