12
“Would you believe me if I said I’m not a spy?”
“No.” I slid off his lap and onto the seat next to him. “Why should I believe anything you say? You told me you were a private detective.”
“You told me I was a private detective.”
“You agreed with me.”
“I didn’t disagree with you. There’s a difference.”
“Only to a spook!” I straightened as much as I could in the soft, deep seat and looked haughtily out the window.
“And what would you have done if I’d told you I was CIA?”
I shrugged to indicate my total lack of interest in him or his lies. And then I made the mistake of looking at him to see how he liked the cold shoulder. The back seat of the limo closed us in a dim intimacy that put interesting shadows across his clean cut face and highlighted his bright, white smile. He smelled o
