OOPS! I'M A SECRET AGENT (Romance) Read online

  He disappeared back to wherever he’d come from, or been heading.

  ‘I think Alexavier is pleased with you.’

  ‘He was grimacing.’

  Jenkins laughed again. ‘He was, but I promise you, we’re very happy that you’ve joined us.’

  This was a first for me.

  ‘We have a proposition, a request, a…test I suppose, to put to you.’

  I steeled myself. Were they sending me off to some far away location to find secret codes and bring them back? By myself.

  ‘We were wondering how you’d feel about…going away for a little while. A month.’

  Where, how, why, what?

  He read each expression on my face.

  ‘We have a department up north, in Scotland. Hardly anyone outside of the department knows about it. It’s not on the website.’

  I’d brought up about them having a website when they were supposed to be secret. Jenkins had asked me if I had any questions at my initiation. He’d said that the website didn’t really tell anyone anything of particular significance. I supposed he was right.

  ‘Scotland?’

  ‘Glasgow. Our other department is in Glasgow. We’d give you accommodation and arrange for someone to check on your house while you were away of course. What do you think?’

  There was nothing in his voice that made me think that saying no would do me any favours. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ll start making arrangements. Pack a few things. We’ll pick you up tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’

  ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Eh, no, it’s just…soon.’

  ‘There’s no heel dragging here.’

  I nodded.

  ‘Take a break, Neve. And remember. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. You have to learn to keep our secrets.’

  I was good at keeping secrets. I’d lost count of the number of times I’d gone shopping and never told Rupert that the dress, coat, shoes or whatever had been a bargain when I’d paid full cost.

  I nodded again, got up from my desk, and grabbed my coat and bag. My heels resonated a fair clip on the wooden floor as I headed to the lift.

  Alexavier was in it.

  And so was I. Up to my neck in lustful thoughts, tucked into a tiny lift beside the most gorgeous man I’d ever met. Would my blushes give my thoughts away? Was Alexavier as insightful as Jenkins?

  Blue eyes watched me beneath long, dark lashes, sending sensations through me that caused me to blush like a giddy teen. At twenty–six I should’ve been better at hiding it.

  He smiled at me. A sexy, white smile that hinted he had dimples beneath those sculptured cheekbones of his when he let himself smile without restraint.

  Damn. He knew what I was thinking.

  His phone beeped. He read the message.

  ‘So you’re coming with me?’ he said, his deep voice resonating through my chest, my being, within the confines of the lift.

  Coming with him? To lunch, dinner, his house for the weekend, closing the doors and not coming up for air until Monday morning?

  I blinked at him. I went to say — ‘Glasgow, up north’, and then I remembered. I wasn’t to tell anyone. Perhaps this was a test of my ability to keep a secret.

  He sighed. Reading me again. Damn!

  ‘You can tell me, Neve. I’ll be accompanying you to Glasgow.’

  ‘Jenkins didn’t tell me any details.’

  ‘You’re Scottish, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I was brought up there, but I’ve made London my home for at least eight years.’

  ‘We need a woman for this assignment. Someone who sounds the part. You’re familiar with Glasgow —’

  ‘Yes, but I haven’t been back for years. It’ll have changed.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, and you’ve retained your lovely Scottish accent.’

  He’d paid me a compliment. My heart fluttered. An unusual response. Usually I don’t react quite so potently to a man, needing to get to know him. This type of instant attraction hadn’t happened to me before. I’d certainly never felt like that about Rupert who was quite an attractive man if you like slightly nerdish office manager types. Three years with Rupert and I’d felt more raw lust for Alexavier in two brief meetings. The urge to fan myself was overwhelming.

  Thankfully the lift juddered to a halt and I got out at the street level floor. I wasn’t sure how many levels the department’s burrows had, and the lift didn’t reveal them all. The department was a labyrinth. Alexavier was part of it. What type of man did that make him? An ambitious one. A clever one. A man who was so much more than his handsomeness.

  ‘Do you have any sexy dresses?’ Alexavier called to me as I made a big bid for freedom towards the front desk where everyone had to sign out with security.

  ‘Eh…I have a few dresses, I don’t know if I’d describe them as sexy. I tend to think that it’s the woman wearing the dress that makes it sexy rather than the dress itself.’

  He gave me a hot, smouldering look. Jeez, I wished I could just get some fresh air. He affected me so much. I had to think how to deal with him. How to hide my feelings and the effect he had on me.

  ‘I agree,’ he said, his deep voice pulling me back. ‘So any evening dresses you wear should have the desired effect.’

  He held my gaze and I didn’t know what to say. Was he meaning that I was sexy? Two compliments from him. Lovely Scottish accent and sexy. This was good, but it was bad. I had to maintain a professional relationship with him. I really was going to try and make a go of this job. Jenny the Jinx be gone!

  I clawed through my wardrobe like a woman possessed. Where the hell were those dresses I’d bought in the sale at New Year? I’d lied to Rupert about buying them, and hid them somewhere deep within the depths of the wardrobe.

  Ah, here they were, all wrapped up, never worn, four dresses of varying colour and sparkliness that the January sales had tempted me to purchase when Rupert had warned me not to be a spendthrift but to keep a look out for shirts for him. And ties. Selfish prat.

  I held up one of the dresses. They were all cocktail dresses. I’d been unable to choose between the pink sequin, royal blue, bronze and silvery grey, so I’d succumbed to them all, and hidden them from the man who shared my life but who never really knew me at all.

  A smiled formed at the corner of my mouth. I’d bought shoes to go with the dresses. I dug deeper into the large wardrobe that I’d refused to share with Rupert. Yes, three pairs of high heeled evening shoes were there where I’d left them.

  I tried on the dresses. They fitted even better than before. I’d lost around ten pounds during the year through sheer stress. Rupert and I had argued a lot, and I can’t eat when I’m upset.

  I looked at myself in the mirror. A bit pale. Where was my blusher? The tawny pink gave a natural blush that looked okay on wintry days. Somehow the bronze, sun–kissed look never flattered me when the weather was cold, and there had been a distinct bite in the air tonight.

  I peeked out the window. The pavements sparkled with a dusting of frost and the sky was clear, filled with stars. I wondered what would happen in Glasgow and if I’d like working there. I had missed Glasgow, and one of the reasons I hadn’t been back was because I wanted to avoid feeling homesick. Now I’d have to revisit the things I’d left behind. No people though, not any more. No one was left. A few acquaintances perhaps, but any friends I’d had were scattered in new lives abroad and we’d drifted years ago. Having never settled in a job in London I’d not made any real friends, just passing acquaintances. Rupert had been my one close friend, and now that we were finished, I felt quite alone in the world.

  With that cheery thought, I made myself a mug of hot chocolate, finished packing, threw out all the rubbish in the bin, emptied the fridge, and tried to get some sleep. Tomorrow I’d be heading to Glasgow with the most handsome man in the department. Neve the secret agent was on her way.

  I was up early, suitcases packed, and ready when the
sleek saloon drove up outside my house. I was driven to the airport, put on a plane and arrived in Glasgow for lunch. Someone met me at the airport and I was driven straight to the department’s Glasgow offices in the city centre. Hidden in the main hub of the city, it wore a similar disguise to its London counterpart.

  A secretary had a message for me. Alexavier had been waylaid and would meet up with me for dinner. A man called Montpelier was going to show me around the Glasgow department.

  I was still reading the note when a man approached me from the corridor. The department was all polished wooden floors, beige walls with the occasional painting of a cityscape from a bygone era. Potted plants added a hint of greenery to the otherwise staid decor, but I liked it. It gave me the impression of being a place where intelligence was valued over fashion. And coming from a shopper like me that’s high praise indeed. I’d worn black trousers, white blouse, black jumper and coat, though my coat had been hung up on a coat stand.

  ‘Welcome to the department, Neve,’ the man said, extending his hand. An elegant handshake sent a shiver of unexpected pleasure through me. His blond handsomeness was on a par with Alexavier’s looks. Aged mid thirties. Forget film stars. The secret halls of government intelligence hid more than secrets and spies. It had tall, and extremely handsome looking men.

  ‘Montpelier,’ he said, introducing himself.

  I gazed up at him. He had to be at least six–two. The expanse of his shoulders tapered down to a trim waist and long legs. The jacket of his impeccable suit was open, but there was nothing casual about this chap. His blond hair was precision cut, emphasising his classic features, aquiline nose and the palest grey eyes I’d ever seen. His lashes were dark blond, and his cheekbones bore a scattering of gold highlights as if he’d had a flying visit to some far off tropical place where the sun had touched his cheeks and brushed across his nose, before being snatched back to the cold Scottish winter.

  ‘I thought I could show you around and then we’d have lunch,’ he said, his Scottish accent making me wonder if he was from Edinburgh rather than Glasgow.

  I let him escort me from reception through to the equivalent of the burrows where my desk was pointed out to me. ‘Alexavier’s office is over there.’ He pointed to a room opposite my niche. ‘And I’m just down the corridor.’ He paused. ‘I’m sure you have lots of questions. Is there anything you want to ask me?’

  ‘Are you from Edinburgh?’ I said, wishing I’d asked something pertinent but nothing had sprung to mind.

  ‘Yes. I believe you’re originally from Glasgow though you’ve been in London for several years.’

  I nodded. I’m sure he knew all about me, every detail noted in some buff coloured file.

  ‘What made you apply for this type of work?’ he said.

  The sparkly barperson and poodle parlour assistant didn’t appeal to me? Rupert thought you’d never want me? A moment of sheer silliness that went too far? I needed a job and this was offered to me?

  ‘I thought it would be interesting.’

  He looked down at me as if I was interesting, and I felt no need for my blusher.

  He smiled and unhooked his gaze from mine.

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Neve. There’s nothing else here except unending corridors and offices. Unless you’re eager for the full tour, perhaps we can head out for lunch. I know this wonderful restaurant not far from here. It’s got a great view of the city.’

  He helped me on with my warm black coat and continued to show exquisite manners as he led me out of the Glasgow department into the heart of the city.

  It was a cold, frosty day. Tomorrow, it would be December. The streets were busy with shoppers, the shops ablaze with lights and Christmas decorations. In contrast, the sky was a vast blanket of muted greys. I hadn’t seen a sky like that since I’d left Scotland all those years ago. It looked dramatic, magnificent, as was the man walking beside me.

  Montpelier had put a stylish coat on over his suit, and as we walked along I saw quite a few women glance at him. I felt totally invisible, and forgettable, the type that Alexavier said I was and part of the reason I’d been hired.

  I couldn’t imagine how Montpelier could blend into the crowd. He towered above most of them in height and manner. I’d only ever seen men who looked and dressed like him in catalogues. Men who advertised menswear, expensive but stylish coats with silk linings, worn loose over well cut suits, and shiny shoes without any scuffs. Coiffed and cuff linked to perfection. This was Montpelier. I was walking along the street with a stunner.

  I wondered, was he really a spy?

  ‘Did Alexavier mention me to you?’ he said.

  ‘No, but I’ve barely spoken to Alexavier since I was hired.’

  ‘Really?’ His tone hinted at disapproval.

  ‘Yes, he’s been busy. Jenkins was my mentor.’

  ‘I’m sure Alexavier will make time for you here.’

  Why did I sense he was having a dig at Alexavier? Was there some rivalry I should know about?

  ‘Do you get along with him?’ I dared to ask.

  A flicker of surprise crossed his features. I sensed he wasn’t used to someone like me asking such a blatant thing, but I figured this was relevant.

  He smiled, clearly amused. ‘No, not really.’

  That flicker of surprise transferred itself to my face. I hadn’t expected such a bold reply.

  ‘Luckily we don’t need to,’ he said, ‘and he’s hardly ever up here. We thought you’d be coming here alone, to work with me. I guess he wants to handle the current situation personally.’ He threw me a look that hinted at more than work being involved.

  ‘Alexavier has no personal interest in me, I’m sure,’ I said.

  He laughed lightly. ‘Jenkins warned me that you were without guile.’

  I frowned. ‘Without guile?’

  ‘You speak plainly. I like that, though Alexavier probably won’t appreciate it, especially if you go under cover. Guile is a necessity.’

  ‘I can be wily,’ I assured him.

  He laughed, heartily this time.

  We arrived at the restaurant, and after helping me off with my coat, we were seated at a table with a great view of the city.

  ‘Has Glasgow changed since you were last here? I believe you haven’t been back for years.’

  I gazed out across my home city wondering if it had changed. I’d never seen it like this. The architecture, spirals, modern buildings, a metropolis of streets, parks, and the River Clyde arched with bridges.

  ‘I don’t know if it’s changed.’ Perhaps I had, and Glasgow had stayed strong and magnificent all the years I’d been gone. It was great to be back. I was sure of that.

  Montpelier looked wistfully out the window. ‘I’ve travelled to many places throughout the world, but Scotland, Glasgow, Edinburgh, still hold the same fascination for me they always have. There’s nowhere else quite like them in the world.’

  I agreed, but suddenly felt vulnerable. ‘Do you know why I’m here?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paused while our meal was served, and then continued, keeping his voice at a level no one could overhear. ‘Someone is selling us down the river.’

  My eyes widened. ‘Someone in the department?’

  ‘We trust not. But we think it’s someone in the halls of government. Someone in a position of authority and trust who is selling our secrets to our adversaries.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘You’ll be briefed back at the department.’

  I nodded and we continued our lunch while my mind ticked over the task ahead.

  ‘It’s never what you think it is,’ he said.

  I looked at him.

  ‘The spying business. Put any notions of high speed chases, dangling precariously from rooftops and such out of your thoughts. It’s mainly rather mundane, watching, waiting, reading through information gathered from other agents. It’s quietly fascinating.’

  I preferred his version of the job. I’d no des
ire to dangle or chase anyone. Or be chased.

  ‘That’s not to say we don’t have our...adventures. But you won’t be required to get involved in the physicality of the assignment.’

  ‘So you don’t anticipate any actual trouble?’

  ‘On the contrary. It could get brutal. Traitors have a tendency to cause maximum damage in a bid to elude us. But Alexavier and I will handle that.’

  ‘You don’t look like a brawler,’ I said before I could stop myself.

  He smiled, thankfully not insulted that I didn’t rate his chances in a bout of fisticuffs.

  ‘I didn’t mean to insinuate that you’re not fit. You look very fit and capable, but you’re very suave, and I don’t associate suave with fighting.’

  He smiled again. No elaboration of his skills. This made me think that he probably could fight like a tiger.

  ‘We have a gym within the department, and training facilities,’ he said. ‘You are welcome to use them. Though you may prefer to wait until you’re back in London. The department there has a similar set up. We’re encouraged to keep in shape and there are various instructors specialising in a diverse range of tutoring. Though of course I don’t remember ever seeing keeping fit by shopping listed on the activities.’

  I smiled. ‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’

  ‘No. But we’re all fascinated. We can’t fathom what it is you actually do. Lift shopping bags full of groceries? Run up and down store escalators?’

  ‘It’s easier than that.’

  He looked at me, attentive.

  ‘Trekking through the shops for...hmm...four hours at a time can be quite gruelling,’ I said.

  ‘I imagine it would be. I’m not into shopping.’

  ‘Most men aren’t. But my ex, Rupert, was an exception. He loved to shop. He could outshop most women. We’d go shopping in London after breakfast, stop for lunch, then continue shopping, even if only window shopping on my part while Rupert bought himself whatever he wanted, until around six. It’s like urban hillwalking. Plus carrying the bags. It definitely builds stamina.’

  ‘I must give it a try,’ he said.