Identity Crisis. Kate Donovan

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      She shrugged as she signed. “What a week.”

      “I know. But you saved a little girl’s life. That counts for a lot.”

      “Not only that—” she began, anxious to tell him about McGregor’s call, but his secretary interrupted, buzzing him loudly on the intercom.

      “What is it, Beth?”

      “Someone named Jane Smith is on her way up. She claims she’s an old friend.”

      “Shit.” Ray inclined his head toward the door. “Excuse me, okay? We’ll pick this up again later.”

      “Who’s Jane Smith?”

      When his only answer was to arch an eyebrow in mock reprimand, she jumped up and saluted just as playfully. “I’ll be at my desk if you need someone to yell at later, sir.”

      “Get going, smart-ass.”

      His tone was light, but Kristie wasn’t fooled. He didn’t want her to be around when the mysterious Jane Smith arrived.

      Intrigued, she stopped at David Wong’s cubicle on her way to her own. “Hey.”

      “Hi.” He leaned back in his chair and studied her casual outfit, then arched an eyebrow. “Late night?”

      She nodded.

      “Hot date?”

      “Knife fight.” She plopped herself into his extra chair. “What do you know about a woman named Jane Smith?”

      “Why do you ask?”

      “Because she’s on her way up. And Ray won’t tell me who she is.”

      David glanced toward the glass-walled office. “It’s need-to-know information. And you need to butt out.”

      “Lovely.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m not leaving until you sing like a canary. Starting with the name. It sounds fake.”

      He shrugged. “I never met her. She worked with Ray a long time ago. That’s all I know. Honest.”

      “There she is.” Kristie watched intently as a tall woman with shortly cropped brown hair emerged from the elevator and strode toward Ray’s office. The visitor’s navy blue pantsuit was smartly cut, and she appeared to be in her midthirties. Not particularly pretty, but so confident she immediately owned the place. “Good grief, David. I never met a real dominatrix before.”

      “Shush.”

      “Tell me about her. Please?”

      “I don’t know anything,” he insisted. “And even if I did, I’ve got work to do. And that ringing in your ears is your operative line, if that matters to you.”

      She jumped up. “McGregor! I’ve got to get that.” Sprinting for her cubicle, she managed to grab the receiver one instant before the call rolled over to voice mail. “McGregor?”

      “Goldie? Great. I was about to leave a message on your voice mail, but wasn’t sure whether to address it to you or Melissa.”

      She sank into her chair, delighted to hear his sexy voice, but also a bit sheepish over answering her SPIN line as informally as she’d done. “Did it go well last night?”

      “Better than well. Manny was so relieved about the car, he showed up at the bar just as it was closing.”

      “And? Did you commiserate together?”

      “I didn’t want to overplay it, so I just slipped out of the place without even talking to him. But the bartender got an earful from me before that. If we’re real lucky, he filled Manny in. If not, I’ll do it tonight.”

      “Perfect.” She moistened her lips. “The car will be ready today, but I’ll delay delivery until Friday. That should give you plenty of time to bond.”

      “Yeah. I think this will work.”

      A shiver of pride coursed through her. “Call me tonight, okay? I won’t be able to sleep until I hear how it went.”

      “It could be three in the morning your time,” McGregor protested. “You’d better learn to pace yourself, S-3. This could go on for weeks, you know.”

      “Kristie!” It was Beth, calling to her from across the room, then motioning toward the closed door to Ray’s office. “He wants to see you right away.”

      Kristie could see through the half-opened blinds that Jane Smith was still in Ray’s office. Conflicted, she murmured, “McGregor? I have to go. But I’ll call you back—”

      “Not necessary. I just wanted to say thanks. Take it easy, Goldie.”

      She winced as a click echoed through the phone wire. He had sounded so final.

      And after all we’ve meant to each other, she reprimanded him, only half joking. But as frustrated as she was over the FBI agent’s attitude, she had to admit that the prospect of meeting Ray’s mysterious visitor was a great consolation prize.

      She only wished she hadn’t dressed so casually today of all days. But there wasn’t time to change into the spare suit she kept hanging in her cubicle, so she settled for smoothing a few loose hairs back into her French braid, then hurried to Ray’s office.

      “Come on in, Kristie.” He motioned for her to take a seat at the round conference table in the far corner of his office, where his visitor was already sitting. “This is Jane Smith. She runs a counterintelligence unit for the CIA.”

      CIA. Kristie tingled as she joined them at the table, but quickly reminded herself that six short months ago, the initials F-B-I had impressed her, too, and now it was just another acronym.

      “Nice to meet you,” she told Jane Smith.

      She could see now that the woman was older than she’d appeared from afar, perhaps in her midforties. Fine lines surrounded her pale blue eyes, and a few gray hairs were sprinkled among the chestnut ones.

      But it was the agent’s attitude that really made an impression on the spinner. Take-charge, despite the fact that this was someone else’s turf.

      “May I call you Kristie?” the woman began.

      “Yes.” She was tempted to ask if she could call the agent Jane—assuming that was her real name, which seemed doubtful.

      The visitor arched an eyebrow. “You’re getting quite a reputation. Did you know that?”

      “A reputation?”

      Smith nodded. “Your skill as a profiler makes sense, since you concentrated your studies on abnormal psychology. But your talent for strategizing. Improvising. Creating opportunities out of thin air. That’s impressive. To what do you attribute it?”

      “Curiosity maybe?” Kristie shrugged. “I’m pretty eclectic in my interests, and СКАЧАТЬ