The Espionage Effect(54)

Alec glanced at his watch as he returned, then pressed a soft kiss to my temple. “Ten more minutes.”

Right. Back to business. I gave a quick nod and handed over his jacket. Then I blew a calming breath through tightened lips, willing my still-charged body to get back with the program.

As he slipped his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, then shrugged it over his shoulders before gripping the lapels to straighten the fabric, he began to peruse the vertical acreage of wine bottles. His open palm hovered inches from the down-sloping corks as he stalked the undulating wall. He concentrated on the inverted angled labels on each bottle as he passed column after column.

He paused midway into a curve, touched an index finger to the edge of one bottle’s label, then slid his fingertip down toward the cork before he began to grip the slender neck.

“Wait!” I warned as a schematic diagram suddenly flashed into my head. “It’s alarm coded!”

His hand froze, then he glanced over his shoulder. “I knew your being here was an excellent idea.”

“Uh-huh,” I groused. “Had I not ignored your protests and accepted a random invitation, you’d be going it alone down here, sp…bud.”

My eyes widened. I’d almost said “spy guy” loud enough for any listening device to detect. Thankfully, anyone eavesdropping on us would only think I’d meant him going it solo about the sex. My lips twitched in amusement at the thought as I crossed over to the end of the row where he stood.

“Spud?” He shot me a teasing look, giving me the sense that he’d picked up on the near blunder. “As in…potato?”

I shook my head, lips curved into a smile as I ignored him and focused on the softly illuminated grid that I’d not made any sense of until now. Each section’s outermost curve had faint markings on a metal support between two vertical columns. The left side of the grid had five circular depression areas with faint white numeric markings on the brushed-steel surface, numbering one through five. The middle had six through ten. The right: eleven through fifteen.

The wine cellar’s security was digital-keypad driven. I scanned along the wall, floor to ceiling, counting the number of bottles within this section. Satisfied I had the correct number, I reached forward. But then I paused, uncertain. I stepped back, assessing the entire collection as a whole to determine whether the one I stood in front of monitored Alec’s bottle or the section curving beyond us to my right.

Alec watched me intently, silent and unmoving, as I blew out a relieved breath and stepped to the end of the adjacent column to my left. Then I depressed the 3 followed by the 8.

Almost instantaneously, a soft pneumatic release sounded and Alec’s chosen bottle shifted up and forward by two inches, its neck sliding into his palm.

“Well done, Pink.”

I gave a sharp nod. “Anytime, Spud.”

About eight of those ten minutes Alec mentioned had passed. “So now what? We slam back a bottle of wine?”

“No.” He cradled the bottle, then spun it over his palm, presenting its label to me. “It would be a shame to treat a fine vintage such as this with callous disregard. I have better plans for this bottle.”

He grasped my hand and led me back up the curving stone steps. When we reached the landing, I glanced back down into the impressive cellar with fondness, certain I wouldn’t be back, but grateful for the memory I’d always have.

As Alec reopened the door, leading us from the place where we’d killed time in the most amazing way, renewed anticipation thrummed hard and fast through my veins. Whatever his mission had originally been, I’d become a part of it. Pink to his Spud—Watson to his Sherlock.

I only hoped I could handle whatever challenge came our way.





We exited the wine cellar through the same roughhewn wooden door and slipped back into the hall. Alec casually held the wine bottle in one hand as he wove his fingers together with mine with his other. Before we moved from our spot, he stared down the long corridor from where we’d originally come, flicked a quick glance toward both corners nearest us, then looked at me. He paused and took a deep breath as his eyes searched mine. His brows twitched together, and his lips parted.

I leaned closer, sensing that he hesitated, like he struggled to express something rare and important.

Suddenly, soft laughter chimed out from down the hall, then quickly grew louder.

“Bingo.” His expression instantly blanked, and he gave a decisive nod. Then he tugged me toward the sound. When only two yards remained between us and the end of the corridor, a couple in their midthirties appeared. The man pressed her against the wall, then kissed her until her body grew lax and she groaned.

I nudged Alec, whispering. “Part of the plan?”

He gave a slight headshake. “Fortunate coincidence.”

“Gotta love those,” I murmured. My vacation had been sprinkled with plenty of them where he’d been concerned.

Alec cleared his throat as we approached.

The man spun around, then chivalrously blocked his woman from sight behind him.

“Care for some wine on your adventure?” Alec asked.

The woman pushed her man aside, peeking out from behind him.

Alec tugged on my hand again, strolling us a few steps forward. “We ‘borrowed’ this from the wine cellar. But my date insists she’s had enough.”