his memories.
Why isn’t she pissed anymore? “Ms. Randall?”
“Please … call me Charley.” She sat.
Surprised at the less formal request, Wyatt blinked. “Charley.” He shifted. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.” She kicked back against the couch.
“Have we met before?”
• • •
He did notice . Charley suppressed her smile and wondered how long it would take to figure her out. The mere thought of a revelation both intrigued and unnerved her.
She slumped into the couch. “We’ve done a lot of work for the government.”
Wyatt waved a dismissive hand. “That’s probably it. I’m sorry to pry.”
“It’s okay. You know …” She leaned forward again. “They say everyone has a twin … somewhere.” She kept her gaze locked on his, her purpose deliberately unclear.
How much did she want to reveal? How much could she?
While she’d acknowledged her photographic memory, knowledge of her other, more unique abilities remained in the hands of a select few.
“So.” Charley slapped her palms on her knees, prepared to stand. “Shall we get started?” She caught James’s, Lily’s and Cael’s eye, passed over Sheila and stopped on Wyatt. At his nod, she stood. Is he surprised I’ve agreed?
“What do you need from us?” Sheila rose, clipboard in hand.
“At this point, just a space to learn.” With less than thirteen hours, Charley had a lot to accomplish. “Wyatt? Do you have a more private room for Lily and me?”
He nodded. “Sheila? Will you escort them to the study? We’ve got it all set up for you.”
Confidence. Love it. “Wait. You have it ready-ready?”
Wyatt hesitated. “Ah …” He turned to Cael.
“I told him to go ahead.” Cael crossed his arms over his chest.
Bastard . Charley smiled—that polite, you-are-so-in-the-dog-house grin. “Thank you. And will you please provide James with a rundown of the plan, the layout of the club, you know—the miscellaneous details?”
“Don’t you need that information?” Confusion reigned with the incline of Wyatt’s head and how he slid his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll get it on the plane. If I’m going to dance as Candie, I need to get ready.” Charley pointed to James and Cael and followed after Sheila with Lily in tow.
Charley caught the slight turn of Wyatt’s head as Sheila’s heels clipped through the bright room. Three doors and two hallways later, they entered the study. Books lined the walls at least ten feet high. Charley counted eight shelves from floor to ceiling and at least ten sets of them. Walnut or cherry, she couldn’t tell, but their beauty befit the home. Within the room, couches and comfortable seating held court. In the center, the pole.
“Can we move furniture?” Charley asked.
Sheila pushed at the back of a chair. “Absolutely. Whatever you want or need.”
“Thank you, Sheila.” Wyatt stood at the door, holding Charley’s bags in both hands. “I thought you’d need these.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.” Lily walked over, hefted the bags in one move and placed them in the opposite corner.
“Wow,” Wyatt said. “Those were heavy.”
“We girls aren’t as wimpy as we appear.” Charley added a wink in his direction.
Wyatt blinked, held his palms up and backed out the door.
“You told him.” Lily giggled. “He knows something.”
“I didn’t say a word.” Handsome, rugged, muscular and observant. What else could a girl want?
Charley strolled around the room. Bronte, Roberts and Dickens—an eclectic mix of authors and writers graced the shelves. Whoever the owner, they had great taste. With one finger, she snuck one off the shelf, let it rest in her palm, the cover soft against her skin. She stroked the bound leather like one would a lover—of books.
“Charley?” Lily asked.
Charley slipped the book back in its place. “Yeah? Are we ready?”
“Yup.”
She noted the items Lily laid out along tables, over the backs of chairs and hooked
Why isn’t she pissed anymore? “Ms. Randall?”
“Please … call me Charley.” She sat.
Surprised at the less formal request, Wyatt blinked. “Charley.” He shifted. “May I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure.” She kicked back against the couch.
“Have we met before?”
• • •
He did notice . Charley suppressed her smile and wondered how long it would take to figure her out. The mere thought of a revelation both intrigued and unnerved her.
She slumped into the couch. “We’ve done a lot of work for the government.”
Wyatt waved a dismissive hand. “That’s probably it. I’m sorry to pry.”
“It’s okay. You know …” She leaned forward again. “They say everyone has a twin … somewhere.” She kept her gaze locked on his, her purpose deliberately unclear.
How much did she want to reveal? How much could she?
While she’d acknowledged her photographic memory, knowledge of her other, more unique abilities remained in the hands of a select few.
“So.” Charley slapped her palms on her knees, prepared to stand. “Shall we get started?” She caught James’s, Lily’s and Cael’s eye, passed over Sheila and stopped on Wyatt. At his nod, she stood. Is he surprised I’ve agreed?
“What do you need from us?” Sheila rose, clipboard in hand.
“At this point, just a space to learn.” With less than thirteen hours, Charley had a lot to accomplish. “Wyatt? Do you have a more private room for Lily and me?”
He nodded. “Sheila? Will you escort them to the study? We’ve got it all set up for you.”
Confidence. Love it. “Wait. You have it ready-ready?”
Wyatt hesitated. “Ah …” He turned to Cael.
“I told him to go ahead.” Cael crossed his arms over his chest.
Bastard . Charley smiled—that polite, you-are-so-in-the-dog-house grin. “Thank you. And will you please provide James with a rundown of the plan, the layout of the club, you know—the miscellaneous details?”
“Don’t you need that information?” Confusion reigned with the incline of Wyatt’s head and how he slid his hands into his pockets.
“I’ll get it on the plane. If I’m going to dance as Candie, I need to get ready.” Charley pointed to James and Cael and followed after Sheila with Lily in tow.
Charley caught the slight turn of Wyatt’s head as Sheila’s heels clipped through the bright room. Three doors and two hallways later, they entered the study. Books lined the walls at least ten feet high. Charley counted eight shelves from floor to ceiling and at least ten sets of them. Walnut or cherry, she couldn’t tell, but their beauty befit the home. Within the room, couches and comfortable seating held court. In the center, the pole.
“Can we move furniture?” Charley asked.
Sheila pushed at the back of a chair. “Absolutely. Whatever you want or need.”
“Thank you, Sheila.” Wyatt stood at the door, holding Charley’s bags in both hands. “I thought you’d need these.”
“Thanks, Wyatt.” Lily walked over, hefted the bags in one move and placed them in the opposite corner.
“Wow,” Wyatt said. “Those were heavy.”
“We girls aren’t as wimpy as we appear.” Charley added a wink in his direction.
Wyatt blinked, held his palms up and backed out the door.
“You told him.” Lily giggled. “He knows something.”
“I didn’t say a word.” Handsome, rugged, muscular and observant. What else could a girl want?
Charley strolled around the room. Bronte, Roberts and Dickens—an eclectic mix of authors and writers graced the shelves. Whoever the owner, they had great taste. With one finger, she snuck one off the shelf, let it rest in her palm, the cover soft against her skin. She stroked the bound leather like one would a lover—of books.
“Charley?” Lily asked.
Charley slipped the book back in its place. “Yeah? Are we ready?”
“Yup.”
She noted the items Lily laid out along tables, over the backs of chairs and hooked
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