Paige laughed. “You’re not wrong. Come in before it melts.” It was a good choice, and Randi’s favorite, so he’d get some points for that.
She lowered her voice as he passed by. “Randi will undoubtedly pepper you with questions. I just want you to be prepared.”
He stepped inside, the faint scent of sea and citrus following him. “I shall do my best to persevere,” he whispered back.
Randi was bringing the water pitcher from the kitchen. She assessed him with the same cool curiosity as she had on thebeach. She set the water pitcher on the table and turned toward him.
Her eyes were on the bakery box. “Did I hear you say that was key lime pie?”
He smiled easily. “I did, indeed. Does that meet your approval?”
“Very much. It’s my favorite.” She glanced at Paige. “Did you tell him that?”
Paige shook her head. “I promise I didn’t.” She took the box into the kitchen, set it on the counter, then checked the oven temperature.
“Interesting” Randi said, arms folded. “Did you use your special skills to figure that out?”
“My special skills?” Graham asked.
“You know, because you’re a former spy.”
Paige nearly choked on air. “Randi?—”
Graham’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Formerintelligenceofficer,” he corrected mildly. “MI6 sounds far more dramatic than it ever was.”
Randi tilted her head. “Right. Because working for British intelligence out of the embassy in Washington iscompletely ordinary.”
He gave a soft laugh. “Point taken. But mostly it involved reports, diplomacy, and ensuring certain important visitors didn’t accidentally start international incidents after too many Mai Tais.”
Paige pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. “That sounds like South Florida in a nutshell.”
Graham nodded. “Precisely. I traded classified briefings for the far more perilous business of Florida drivers.”
The oven dinged that it was at temperature. Paige put the asparagus in and got started on the steaks. She’d need ascreaming hot pan to sear them properly. She cranked on the induction stove and put the pan on the burner.
Of course, Randi wasn’t done asking questions. That probably wouldn’t stop until Graham left. “What made you retire? Did you get bored saving the world?”
He slid her a look that managed to be both serious and amused. “A little of that, I suppose. I realized I’d spent years collecting secrets but very little peace. After my wife passed, I decided I preferred the latter. So here I am, unwilling to face the gray drizzle of London any longer. Besides that, my son is in Manhattan.”
“Makes sense then. But I’m sorry about your wife,” Randi said.
“Your condolences are appreciated,” Graham replied.
Randi lifted her glass. “And I like that you upgraded from espionage to dessert duty.”
Graham did a little bow. “It is far less dangerous, unless you think carbs are the enemy.”
Randi laughed. “You’re funny.” She leaned forward. “Do you still have contacts in, like, London or MI-whatever?”
“Only the kind that send Christmas cards,” Graham said dryly. “These days I answer to no one except my doctor and your mother’s dinner schedule.”
That earned another laugh from Randi and a glance from Paige. Randi wasn’t being nearly as nosy as Paige had imagined she’d be. In fact, Randi seemed to really like Graham. That was good.
When the food was ready and they were all at the table, Graham raised his glass. “A toast to your hospitality. Thank you both for including me in your evening.”
“You’re welcome,” Paige said.
They all tucked in. Dinner was going well—better than Paige had hoped. The steaks were perfect, the conversation easy, and Randi hadn’t once rolled her eyes in a bad way.
