No More Secrets by Terry Towers Page B

up on some classified assignment and wouldn't be home for the holidays, so it couldn't have been. Besides, Grant does top secret, covert missions for the government, if he was spying on me, there's no way in hell I'd be able to see him unless he wanted to be seen!
    Trying to put the crazy idea that Grant was watching her out of her mind, she attempted to push her thoughts of him on a back burner once more. Just because she had no intention of going out with this guy again didn't mean she couldn't at least try to have a good time. Did it?

    ****

    Shit did see me? What am I doing? Spying on Nikki! Fuck, I'm such an asshole. I need to just go over there and take her home with me . But he couldn't seem to make himself. Instead, he peered through the glass window of the kitchen door and into the dining room.
    This was one of the first times, in many, many years that he actually felt somewhat out of control. He always kept his emotions in check, but the thought of another man with Nikki had him fighting to remain calm and not overreact to the situation. He didn't like the feeling - not one bit.
    "Hey buddy, you can't be in here," a deep male voice stated from behind him.
    Turning towards the voice, Grant eyed the large, balding man in the chef's uniform, as he pulled his CIA badge from the inside pocket of his three-quarter length black leather jacket. Flipping it open, as one would see an agent do in the movies, he plastered a stern look on his face. "I need to be here, sir. It's a matter of national security."
    The balding chef frowned and peered over Grant's shoulder and looked directly at Nikki and her date. "Ron's girl? Nikki?"
    "Oh, yes," Grant confirmed slipping an arm around the chef's shoulder and ushering him away from the door, he found himself grateful that the chef, with whom Grant was certain he’d gone to high school, didn't appear to recognize him as Ron's younger adopted brother.
    "What did she do?" The chef whispered, allowing himself to be led away from the door.
    "Not her, sir; the man she's with." When the chef's face took on a concerned look Grant gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, I have things under control, the situation is contained, just go about your business and make like I'm not even here."
    "What did he do?"
    "It's a matter of national security, sir. I'm not at liberty to discuss it." Grant had to force himself to keep a straight face as he assured the worried chef. "It'll be over before you know it."
    "Alright, whatever you say," came the hesitant reply, but the worried look remained in the chef's eyes.
    Heaving a heavy sigh, Grant made his way back to the kitchen exit and peered out through the small window to watch Nikki once again. The schmuck is touching her hand ! Jealousy reared its ugly head and he couldn't keep a low growl from rumbling in the back of his throat. He found himself fighting the urge to go barrelling out of the kitchen when Nikki snatched her hand out of his grasp and placed it onto her lap.
    That's my girl. Catch the hint college boy; She's not interested. Again, he found himself thinking that his behaviour, at the current moment, was extremely juvenile.
    He was watching so intently that he hadn't noticed her glance up in his direction until their eyes locked. Fuck! He pulled back from the window, but it was too late, she was already up and out of her seat and making her way towards the kitchen.
    Shit!
    "I was not here, I was never here," he advised the chef and staff, who all nodded and mumbled their agreement as he hustled his way out of the back exit of the kitchen and into the cold, winter night.
    Crossing the parking lot, he rushed over to the Lotus. He unlocked the door and slid behind the wheel. "Shit, what am I doing, spying on Nik ," he muttered to himself turning on the car and heading back to his brother's house.
    Ten minutes later he was about to pull into his brother's driveway again when the urge to spy some more became just a little too