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Fitting in had never been easy for me, even before Beau’s death. He’d once asked me what the hardest emotion for me to convey was.Likehad been my answer.
With his sole exception, and now Spider’s to a certain but different extent, I didn’t let people in. I didn’t desire friendships, either with people I worked with or outside of my job. I was perfectly happy being a loner. The only longing I did feel was for my dead husband.
I looked over and realized Spider was studying me. Too intently for my comfort.
“You look beautiful tonight, Casper.”
I felt my cheeks flush and lowered my gaze. I wanted to punch his arm and tell him to knock it off, like I would’ve in seventh grade. Instead, I thanked him.
“You look nice too, Spider.”
I’d definitely noticed how attractive he was the first time we met. Besides his height, he was as buff as any of the other agents I’d worked with during my time with the CIA and subsequently. While he looked nothing like Beau, there was something about his eyes—their warmth, I suppose—and the way his blond hair always looked like he’d just gotten out of bed that appealed to me on the same visceral level as my husband’s appearance.
“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” he said like he had so many times before. Typically, I had a snappy—or bitchy, as some considered it—comeback for him. Not this time.
“I’m wondering why you invited me to dinner.”
“As I said, there’s something I want to run by you.”
2
SPIDER
Women didn’t make me nervous. In fact, the vast majority annoyed me. Two rattled me, though. The first was Winslow Greer, a woman—really more of a girl when we were first introduced—I’d been on the Olympic ski team with. The second was Calla “Casper” Rey.
While Winslow had always been friendly, Casper was the opposite. And yet, her icy demeanor challenged me. The woman was hauntingly beautiful, with jet-black hair and intense violet-blue eyes the color of a blue jay’s feathers. Her dominating personality also reminded me of the bird widely accepted as aggressive.
“Now, I wish I knew what you were thinking.”
I blurted the first thing that came to mind when the last thing I wanted was to tell her I’d been mentally comparing her to a bird. “How’d you get your code name?”
“My husband.”
Maybe it was the vodka I’d downed on an empty stomach lowering my inhibitions, but rather than respect her usually obvious unwillingness to talk about the man, tonight I asked the question I’d so often wondered. “Why?”
Her scrunched eyes bored into mine. Would she refuse to tell me? If so, I wasn’t planning to let her off easy. I’d wait until she said as much or answered.
She huffed more than sighed. “He said I entered rooms silently, like a ghost.”
“So why not Phantom or the Bell Witch or even Bloody Mary?” I teased.
“I don’t know. Maybe he thought by referring to me by the name of a ‘friendly’ ghost, I’d become more so.”
“It obviously worked. At least with him, since you were married.” Something about her vulnerability spurred me to continue a topic of conversation she typically shut down before it began. Shamelessly, that vulnerability also turned me on. “How long did you know him before he proposed?”
I could feel her tension. “I don’t remember.”
I downed the vodka in my glass and poured another for each of us. “I don’t believe you.”
“What’s with all the questions tonight?”
“I’m curious.”
“Yeah, well, my marriage has nothing to do with why you invited me to dinner.”
“Maybe it does.”
Casper shot the vodka in her glass like I had. “Then, I’m not interested in hearing whatever it is.”
