Chapter 2

I shook myself out of my introspection and hurried to the bar before Susan returned. She wouldn’t be pleased if I didn’t have her drink ready for her.

* * * *

McVey was dancing with his wife, so Susan stayed by my side, all the while gazing around the room avidly.

“Do you think that distinguished man over there is a spy?” she asked, her voice breathless.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea.”

“Humph.”

“What do you think about that man?” I pointed discretely toward Vincent.

“Really, Quinton. Anyone can see he’s a total nonentity.”

I choked back a laugh. She seriously thought so?

Fortunately, she disregarded the WBIS agent. “What about that man?”

“I haven’t seen him before.” He could very well be a new agent or officer, but I had no intention of admitting I knew any spies. I did find it interesting Susan didn’t seem to be at all willing to entertain the possibility some of the women attending this ball might also be agents.

My lack of knowledge led to her becoming bored, so when Langdon, one of my colleagues from State, approached to ask for a dance, she hurried off with him, no doubt hoping he would reveal who was who.

That was how I came to be alone propping up the wall when the tall brunette joined me. “Mr. Mann.”

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“No, but Mark pointed you out to me.”

“Mark?” Surely she didn’t mean—

“Vincent.”

I couldn’t help blinking at her, unsure if I should take this as a compliment or not. “Is he your date?”

She burst into husky laughter. “Not in the least. We’re…old acquaintances.”

“I see.”

“I’m without a partner just now, and I was wondering if you’d care to waltz with me?”

“I’d be delighted, Ms.…?”

“Call me Gabriella.”

I gave a slight bow and offered her my arm. I didn’t know if she was a party girl or had accompanied one of the men—or women—here as their date, but in either case it hardly mattered. My parents had raised me to be courteous to all women. Which could be one of the reasons I hadn’t told Susan our relationship would go no further than friendship.

Once we were on the dancefloor, she stepped into my arms, and we began to glide across the floor. “I hope you don’t think it was too forward of me to ask you to dance.”

“Not in the least. I’m flattered. Although I must say I’m surprised.”

“Why? You’re an attractive man, and you’re a very smooth dancer.” She leaned down. “I’ve been watching you.”

“Have you? Should I be alarmed?”

Her laughter trilled out. “May I tell you the truth?”

“Please do.”

“I’m here to persuade you to reveal all your secrets.”

It was my turn to laugh. “I can’t imagine why you’d think I had any secrets.”

“Everyone does, Mr. Mann.”

“Call me Quinton.”

“Quinton,” she repeated.

“As I was about to say, Gabriella, you can try, but I assure you I don’t. I’m just an ordinary assistant to Undersecretary Sinclair.” The music changed to a Latin beat. “Would you care to continue?”

“I’d love too. You are an excellent dancer.”

“Thank you. May I say the same to you?”

“So charming,” she murmured, and she smiled when in spite of myself, I blushed. I wasn’t used to hearing myself referred to in that manner.

I returned her smile, though, twirled her into a spin, and we began to rumba.

* * * *

The band eventually stopped to take a break. “May I get you a drink?” I asked.

“Thank you, I’d like that.” She took my arm, and we strolled over to the bar. “I’ll have a Blood and Sand, if you please?” she murmured.

Before I could wave over the bartender, however, Susan approached. “Quinton.” Icicles dripped from her voice, and she sank her nails into my forearm.

Gabrielle released my arm and stepped back.

“Susan.” I pried her fingers from my arm. “May I introduce Gabriella?”

“Hello.” Susan ran a disdainful glance from Gabriella’s sequined heels to the ink-black cap of curls that covered her head.

Gabriella gave her a nod. “Miss Burkhart.”

“That’s Ms.”

“Of course.” Gabriella turned to me. “Never mind about that drink, Quinton. I see my date is looking for me.” She held out her hand. “It’s been a pleasure.” She said in a teasing tone, “Perhaps next time I’ll wheedle out your secrets.”

I laughed, brought her hand to my lips, and pressed a light kiss to it.

Now it was Gabriella’s turn to run a glance over Susan. “You might want to keep him close, Ms. Burkhart. You don’t want to lose him. He’s an excellent dancer. Good night. Happy New Year.” She leaned close as if to brush a kiss across my cheek but instead whispered, “Not to sound catty, but you can do better, Mr. Mann.”

And then she was gone, gliding across the room to join a man I hadn’t seen before.