Code Name: Dove. Judith Leon

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СКАЧАТЬ an effort to fancy up, Nova, you’re really…well, really mesmerizing. Great legs. Fabulous eyes. That jet-black hair. You should have men hanging around here like bees after nectar.”

      “Don’t be silly, Penny,”

      “Don’t be falsely modest, Nova.” He paused, scanned her face, then looked away. “I watch you. The men buzz around, all right.” He fluttered his fingers to mimic busy bees. “But when they zero in to land, you close up your little petals, like you’re afraid they’re going to steal something.”

      His words brought a sudden pang, a quick rapier-thrust to her heart. Candido Branco had left no visible scars; her stepfather had always avoided making wounds that would leave traces on her skin. But the scars on her soul were another matter.

      Penny planted both hands on the balcony rail. “I’ve known you nearly twelve years. You’ve not had one serious attachment. Not since— How many years is it now since the amazing Ramone took off?”

      “I’m not pining for Ramone Villalobos. The man did a lot for me. I was—” She started to say, Headed for big trouble, but switched. “He introduced me to travel and photography.” She didn’t add that he’d also recruited her for the CIA. “Unfortunately, I foolishly thought he loved me when he was just having a good time.”

      Penny straightened, crossed his arms. “I worry about you now and again, love. Maybe I better shut up, though, before I say something I’ll regret.”

      An eerie feeling raced through her, hot and electric, a feeling that Penny was about to hand her the key to the dark rooms of her past. She felt her pulse quicken at the base of her throat. “No, don’t shut up on me.” Penny would say words that would explain why she was unable to trust. No. She knew why she couldn’t trust any man. But Penny would say words that would tell her how she could trust again and then she’d be free from the past. “Say what you’re thinking.”

      His gaze flicked to her face, apparently checking to see if he should continue. He plunged ahead. “I don’t get it. You meet lots of men on the tours you lead. You’ve never once said you’ve slept with one. Maybe you just wouldn’t tell me that.”

      He paused, still searching her face. She waited, afraid to interrupt.

      “I can’t imagine leading the macho, high-adventure tours you do and not meeting men by the planeload. You think you’re honestly open to offers?” He grinned. “You’re thirty-three and not getting any younger.”

      Oddly, as suddenly as the mysterious feeling had hit, it fled; she felt as though she’d taken a six-floor drop in an elevator. Penny didn’t have a magic key after all. “I don’t know. Maybe not.”

      “Come to my party Saturday. You can practice opening up and I’ll critique your man-baiting techniques.”

      She threw him a look of mock horror. “That sounds perfectly awful.”

      Penny turned toward his door, then looked back. “Just say you’ll come and deliver a few nice words to the good admiral and the wealthy attorney.”

      She smiled. “Okay, okay.”

      “Saturday. At eight.”

      “I’ll be there.”

      She moved toward her door, but Penny was still plotting. He stopped, his hand on his doorknob. “Wear emerald-green. That skimpy flowy silk that matches your eyes.”

      “Yes, yes. I promise.”

      “And I’ll do your hair. Something flashy. Black hair can be so dramatic.”

      Penny hated her ponytail.

      “This is going to be a great party.” Penny glided toward his door.

      As he disappeared into his condo, Nova fished her key from the pouch Velcroed to her wrist. Sitting like a Sphinx on the chaise lounge next to the door, Divinity waited, staring northward along the sweep of the Pacific. Nova scooped up the white Angora, kissed the top of her head. One sapphire-blue and one emerald-green eye stared back. Now here was someone a woman could rely on.

      “Hi, sweet thing. Penny insists I need a man. Anyone worthwhile drop by?” She draped the cat over her forearm, unlocked the door, felt a buzz saw of purring on her wrist. As she dropped the key onto the entry table beside the door, the state of the room snagged her attention.

      “Diva, dear, our home looks a mess.”

      Her dark wicker furniture was arranged so dining was done Oriental fashion around a low table in front of the living room picture window. Ten overstuffed green-and-blue lounge cushions reclined in crazy disarray on the carpet or against furniture or walls. Last night’s birthday dinner for ten-year-old Maggie had been a hit, especially Nova’s own gift: a 3-D video game.

      She could almost feel Maggie’s small hand in hers. She loved all three of Star’s kids. When they called her “Auntie Nova” she felt like putty. But in Maggie she saw her own tender self before fate had set her feet on this…this bizarre life path.

      She rearranged the pillows. When they were in place, things felt right. The condominium was the part of the world over which she had absolute control. And keeping things neat, even too neat according to her sister, gave her that sense of control that she had never felt for too many years of her childhood. She retrieved Diva from the couch and, sauntering down the hallway toward the bedrooms, glanced at the telephone answering machine. No messages.

      In the master bedroom she spilled Divinity onto the comforter. The cat became a white puff of fur against the pattern of white, green and yellow swirls. A swath of sun suddenly lanced through the bay window. Two quick sets of sit-ups and push-ups, then she stripped. She took her shower hot and steamy.

      Toweled but damp, she slipped into her carmine robe. The usual five brush swipes ordered the straight hair that fell to her shoulder blades. Two more straightened her bangs. She picked a pair of red earrings and tilted her head to locate the always difficult hole in her right earlobe. For some unfathomable reason, she always felt incomplete without earrings.

      She picked Divinity up as the phone in the dining-room-converted-into-office jangled. The answering machine clicked on. She stepped into the hall. “Hello, Nova. It’s Leland. Give me a call. This will be a long trip.”

      The line went dead.

      A bolt of excitement and fear pulled her head up and, unthinking, she stroked too hard. Divinity leaped to the floor, her claws digging into Nova’s arm.

      Leland Smith managed Cosmos Travel. He was also her Company contact. They had a code. “Hello, it’s Smitty” meant “CIA business, call in as soon as possible.” “Hello, it’s Leland” he’d used only twice before. It meant urgent, she would have to leave now.

      “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

      Her excitement quickly settled to resolve. The grim truth was, the CIA never called unless deaths were involved. The photo contest, the cougars, they all faded to insignificance. “You know how it is when the Company rings. He only says ‘Leland’ when things are especially bad.”

      Penny’s admiral and lawyer were going to be disappointed. So would Penny. She wasn’t going to make the party after all.

      Anchorage, СКАЧАТЬ