Spy Games by Gina Robinson Read Free Book Online Page B

because I feared I was bringing danger their way.
    I hated being scared and vulnerable. By the end of camp, I intended to be a stronger, more confident woman.
    I eyed the adjoining door. Thinking of Van getting ready for bed on the other side, I smiled.

Chapter 5
    Breakfast at 0700 seemed cruelly indecent after the night I’d had. The beer-daiquiri drinking mix from the night before was a definite do-not-repeat combo. Dreams of Van are best not interrupted by visions of Ket in slasher mode. I woke frustrated and tired. And too scared to go to the hotel weight room for my usual morning exercise.
    I preferred getting up, working out, and grabbing breakfast—an energy bar and a skinny, nonfat, sugar free, vanilla latte—on the fly. I’ve never been haute couture or world class and maybe my eating habits explained why.
    I would have bagged breakfast altogether and headed for the bus at 0730, but I got the feeling that I’d need a protein hit to get through the day. Plus I didn’t like the thought of all the macho men being at breakfast, leaving me to a mostly deserted hotel floor.
    So I dragged my butt out of bed, pulled my hair into a high, intimidation ponytail, and hit the showers. When I got out, I dressed in my form-hugging 3D black, moisture-wicking tee, combat boots, and BDU. I decided against the natural look in makeup and went with smoky and hot. One thing I’d learned from my modeling days was how to apply makeup for just about any occasion. When I was satisfied that I looked reasonably like Lara Croft, Tomb Raider, and was ready to kick some spy-wannabe boy butt, I prepared to head out.
    But first, I locked my purse in the in-room safe. I tucked my key card and a lipstick in one of those travel neck pouches and slid my cell phone in my pocket. Now I was ready.
    When I opened my room door, Van was lounging just outside it, waiting for me.
    “Ohmygosh! You scared me to death,” I said, hand to heart. And it was only a slight exaggeration. I don’t know what was worse, the fact that Van had caught me jumpy or realizing that Ket could have just as easily been lying in wait. “What are you doing skulking in hallways?”
    “Waiting to walk you to breakfast.”
    “Oh. Thanks.” If I hadn’t been annoyed with myself, I would have tried to sound more appreciative. Maybe even flirted.
    Van looked tousled and dewy-eyed and I liked my men that way. He looked way more attractive in his BDUs than I did in mine. Face it. BDUs were designed with the male physique in mind.
    “You shower and clean up quickly…for a woman.” He was grinning.
    I didn’t have to ask how he knew that. He’d probably been listening to the shower.
    “I didn’t wash my hair,” I said to be flippant. “When we don’t have to wash, condition, and dry yards of hair, we can be just as fast as men.”
    “That’s what I’m counting on,” he said. Only the way he said it implied another meaning.
    I ignored him and ran off at the mouth. “If you want to keep hair healthy, you should only wash it two or three times a week, tops.”
    “I didn’t know. Oprah tell you that?” he said as we walked to the elevator. “You forgot to complain about how women have to put on makeup. If they went barefaced, that would save a lot of time, too.” He pushed the button to call the elevator. “I’m not complaining. I like what you did with your eyes.”
    I couldn’t help smiling. At least that effort hadn’t been wasted.
    Breakfast was supposed to be served in a small, private dining room off the main restaurant. To get to it, we had to take the elevator down from our floor and walk through the lobby.
    When the elevator doors opened, I barely recognized our stop. The lobby looked like the invasion of the Seattle Women’s Fair—wall-to-wall ladies, hundreds of them and more arriving by the minute, their lavender-wheeled suitcases and sample bags trailing behind them. A welcome table had been strategically placed by the hall to the main