But there she was, in the director’s chair, naturally, beneath the large awning that had been erected to protect the fair skin of those with huge egos. Nicole’s tiny legs were crossed daintily, her red hair hanging in soft layers around her face, as if a stylist had just arranged it. She was accompanied by a couple of Starlets who had already glommed onto her. They were all having a grand time laughing it up with the production boys.
“Michael!” Nicole called out the moment she saw him, waving him over.
Damn damn damn . . . Michael shoved his hands in his pockets and said, “Hey, Nicki.”
“Well look who’s here,” she said, checking him out with a smile of amusement. “The spy who shags me, and I didn’t even know he was an international man of mystery.” Her little Starlet crew squealed with laughter.
Smooth. She’d just given the impression that they were still together. There was a reason she was considered one of the world’s most successful actresses. “I wouldn’t be very mysterious if you knew, would I?” he drawled.
“Oh Michael, you are so funny,” she said, her smile brightening. “Why don’t you sit down?” she asked, looking at the chair next to her that was inhabited by a Starlet, who instantly popped up. “We haven’t had a chance to talk today.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, wincing sorrowfully. “But I’ve got some work that can’t wait. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” And before Queen Nicole on her throne could say a word, he walked on.
In hindsight, he had to admit that dating Nicole, however briefly, was not one of his better moves.
A couple of hours later, he found Jack on the edge of the field, going over the obstacles with his group again. When he sent the girls out to run the course, Jack and Michael stood side by side, their arms crossed over their chests, watching five women hop daintily and very slowly through a roped hopscotch course.
Jack groaned when one of them tripped but then righted herself before she hit the ground. “This is never going to work. They run like girls. We are never going to get them to look like they know what they’re doing out there. This is going to be the biggest disaster in the history of T.A., man. I feel it in my bones.”
“They’re fine. So . . . did you do it?”
Jack glanced at Michael, then at the women again. “Just who is Leah to you, anyway?”
“Just someone I used to know. Why?”
“Because when I told her you really were an ex-operative, she said, ‘Really?’ like she was surprised by it. And I said, yeah, that you really were, and that I knew you then, because I had done some flying for the Air Force, and that we’d worked together.”
“Great. So now she believes me.”
“Not so fast. She asked if we’d been on any dangerous missions, and I said some of them were dangerous. And then she asked me what you did, exactly, and I said I didn’t really know that much, as we were from different agencies, and it was all covert operations, so strictly on a need-to-know basis. Then she asked where you were stationed, and again, I said I didn’t really know, that you’d sort of show up when it was time to go, and—you get the picture. There were just a lot of questions. Women ask a lot of questions in general. I dated a woman once, and it was six months of one long question. Where are you going, who were you with, when will I see you—”
“So what happened?” Michael asked, cutting Jack off before he could catalogue all his dating woes.
“What happened is that in the end, she said it was all very impressive, and that she was totally blown away, because she couldn’t imagine how we managed, and I asked her, ‘Manage what?’ And she said . . .” Jack paused there, slanted a look at Michael. “And she said it must have been hard to operate with phones in our shoes, but at least our cameras were in our watches, and that was probably more convenient, and then she laughed and trotted over to her friends and apparently said the same to them, because the next thing I know, they are all laughing at me.”
“Shit,” Michael said.
“You’re on your own, pal,” Jack said. “I’m not getting in the middle between you and any of your female acquaintances. Marian! Pick up your feet and run!” he shouted at one woman who was strolling through the roped hopscotch.
Michael sighed and peered across the ropes field. Damn it if Leah and her three pals weren’t looking at him now. They burst out laughing when he made eye contact, then shot forward at once, their heads together, talking and clearly enjoying themselves.
Okay. No more playing around. Leah didn’t have to accept his apology—shit, she didn’t even have to hear it. But she had to believe this about him—his pride was at stake now.
He knew what he had to do.
At the end of the workday, Michael walked out to his car, rolling his eyes for every Bye, Double-Oh-Seven! and Where are you going, another Mission Impossible? HA HA. Everyone was a goddam comedian. He slid into his T-bird, stuck his Blackberry in the hands-free set, and dialed a number he hadn’t dialed in a couple of years.
Chapter Eight