A Spy Like Me

  Eleven

  Malcolm.

  Relief flooded my limbs. I remembered how mad I was at him and how mad he might be at me, so I held the knife up and ready. We didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms, and yesterday I made it worse because I had no clue he was shadowing me.

  Malcolm sat relaxed in Dad’s kitchen chair, legs crossed, fingers tapping away on his laptop, eyes glued to the screen. Like he was alone in his bedroom or something.

  “Hey! What are you doing here?” I waved the knife. I’m known to be pretty loquacious but I couldn’t quite find the right words to express my shock. Normally, I loved when Dad left early for work. Today, I wished he were about to stumble from his bedroom.

  Malcolm smiled, his eyes glued to the screen. “Where else would I be?”

  Oh crap. He wanted revenge. I tugged on my T-shirt, trying to stretch it past my knees.

  He jotted notes on a small notepad on the table beside his laptop. “If you have a flash, I can download any documents.”

  What was he talking about? The whole shadow-me-for-a-day thing was over. What kind of revenge would an angry but still-cute waiter want? I had to get him out of our apartment. “My gosh, will you look already!”

  His gaze flicked up and locked on the knife. He snorted and moved his laptop as if it were a shield.

  I slashed the knife through the air like I was a sheik from Arabia. “Maybe you didn’t get the clue the other night that I’m not interested in you.”

  He closed his laptop. “Hope the coffee is right. I know you like it strong.”

  My hand wavered and so did my confidence. I mimicked his casual approach. “I can’t argue that you didn’t take time to get to know me before our date.”

  He smiled. “As a waiter, I notice these things.”

  “Right.” What else had he noticed? I was determined not to show that his surprise visit had me rattled. Why had Dad let him in? He sipped his coffee, his eyes still on mine. I tried to zap some common sense into my brain while staying in control of the conversation, but I fell silent and rested my hand with the knife on the counter. Thoughts of Aimee were constantly with me, hovering in the back of my mind.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  His cocky self-assuredness was gone and in its place was genuine concern. For me.

  I managed to swallow. “Just waiting to hear back from a friend.”

  He took his mug over to the sink and rinsed it out like he’d been living here for a year, then he rubbed his hands together. “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Not really. Unless you have a crystal ball or a magic wand.”

  “Sorry.” Malcolm shrugged. “Where do we go from here?”

  “We are not going anywhere.”

  I wouldn’t consider me almost getting him killed the start of an epic romance. The silence grew heavy with expectation as I struggled to find the right words. Maybe if I apologized he’d forget about the whole underwear thing. I was sure he was trying to lure me in for some sort of big revenge.

  “Hope you don’t mind spending a lot of time with me,” he said with mischief in his smile.

  I remembered the kiss. Again. His soft lips. But I don’t date anyone based on a kiss. Okay, screw that. A hot kiss totally makes me want a second date. It was what happened after the kiss that ruined everything. Who was he to waltz into my kitchen at this time in the morning? Why did he keep acting like we worked together?

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  His eyes widened and understanding flashed across his face. I waved the knife in the air to show I meant what I said. I mean, I really didn’t know anything about this guy.

  He stood and took a step closer. “The note explains everything.”

  Trust in my knowledge of the situation disappeared.

  “I thought you knew I was here.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost ten o’clock.”

  “Oh.” How could I have slept that long? And with Aimee missing?

  He smiled and glanced down at my lack of clothing. “That explains the outfit.”

  “You think I entertain all guests this way?”

  He smirked and opened his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. “Don’t answer that.”

  His face grew serious. “Your dad was supposed to leave you a note.”

  “I’m sure you noticed by the way I stumbled into the kitchen I’m not in the habit of looking for notes by my bed.”

  He raised his hands as if to show his innocence while closing the gap between us. My hand shook.

  “I met with your dad this morning. One of his employees left suddenly and he needed a quick replacement. I wanted an exciting job for some extra cash. It sounded perfect.”

  He might as well have taken the knife and plunged it into my heart. A replacement for Aimee already?

  “Don’t sign any contracts yet,” I said. “Because we still don’t have confirmation she really left. Hate to disappoint you.”

  “Already signed on the dotted line. I start training today. With you. Mornings only because most afternoons I still have to work at Les Pouffant’s.” He took the final step and grabbed my wrist. With his other hand, he gently eased the knife from my grasp and laid it on the table. “Sorry about your friend.”

  I tried to pull away, my hopes crashing. How could my dad sign someone so soon? He didn’t even wait a day.

  Malcolm pulled me closer, his fingers loosening their grip. My eyes lingered on the tiny flecks of charcoal in his eyes, the faint blush to his cheeks, and the way his hair fell just below his eyebrows. Okay, working with him might not be that bad.

  “I could really use your help with this whole spy thing. Please?”

  Damn. He was good.