awesome.”
“Thanks.”
Jessica spent some time fidgeting with her hair and makeup. She changed earrings three times. Finally, she decided that she'd done all that she could with her appearance. She grabbed her purse and keys and went to her car.
She nervously drove to the hotel, adjusting her hair the whole way. She really wanted to look good and she just wasn't sure her hair was cooperating today.
Why couldn't I have hair like Amber's? Her hair is always perfect.
Jessica pulled into the parking lot, gave her car keys to the valet and walked into the hotel. She'd never been in such a nice hotel before, and the Ritz-Carlton was simply beautiful. It was tastefully elegant, with brown décor that looked comfortable, rather than imposing. The hotel also appeared to be very expensive.
Apparently, being a spy does pay well after all, she thought.
Ryan met her at the door, and Jessica nearly melted when she saw him. He looked great in his Polo shirt and matching slacks. He had a day or two of stubble, just as he had on the beach that day in the Caymans.
She thought that little bit of stubble made him look so sexy. He also looked incredibly fit.
How does he find time to work out? Where does he work out?
It didn't matter, really. He looked great, and Jessica was tickled to see him again.
“Jessica. You look beautiful. I love that dress,” he said as he gave her a quick kiss.
“It's nice to see you again, Ryan. I was wondering if I was going to hear from you again.”
“Like I said, I've been busy. I'll fill you in over dinner.”
The maître d ' showed them to their table, which sat in a corner of the dimly lit restaurant. Jessica's black dress really stood out against the white linen tablecloth.
The restaurant was decorated in brown leather, with a floor-to-ceiling wraparound wine display. They ordered steaks and a bottle of wine and got caught up with each other's lives.
“Did you say that you wrote a book about me?” Ryan asked.
“Well, I wrote a book that was inspired by you. The hero is a guy who's like you, but he's not exactly you. I did take a bit of artistic license, especially since I still don't really know all that much about you. I know even less about your work or how you go about it.”
Ryan looked a bit embarrassed. “Why me? I'm not that interesting, really. Neither is my job.”
“You don't think being a spy is interesting work?”
“I think people misunderstand what I do. I'm not like James Bond or anything. I don't topple governments or blow up top secret facilities.”
“No? That's what I thought spies do. Well, the spy in my book leads a pretty exciting life.”
“Not me. Most of what I do is pretty boring. You want to know what I've been doing recently? Retrieving a stolen chicken recipe.” He took a bite of his steak and let her ponder that last statement while he chewed slowly.
“A chicken recipe? Who would care about a chicken recipe?”
“I'm sure you're familiar with Cousin Tom's Tennessee chicken, right?”
“Sure. The one with the dozen secret spices or something?”
“That's the one. A big part of the company's marketing involves this 'secret recipe.' Supposedly, only two people know the recipe, and it's written down on a piece of paper that's locked up in a vault. Well, somebody managed to steal it, and they were going to sell it to a company in Europe.”
“If two people already know the recipe, then why is the stolen one such a big deal? Can't one of those people write it down?”
“It's a little more complicated than that, Jess. The company isn't trying to get the list of ingredients back; they want the original, handwritten document back.”
“What's so special about it?”
“Well, a recipe is really just a list of ingredients, and you can't copyright
“Thanks.”
Jessica spent some time fidgeting with her hair and makeup. She changed earrings three times. Finally, she decided that she'd done all that she could with her appearance. She grabbed her purse and keys and went to her car.
She nervously drove to the hotel, adjusting her hair the whole way. She really wanted to look good and she just wasn't sure her hair was cooperating today.
Why couldn't I have hair like Amber's? Her hair is always perfect.
Jessica pulled into the parking lot, gave her car keys to the valet and walked into the hotel. She'd never been in such a nice hotel before, and the Ritz-Carlton was simply beautiful. It was tastefully elegant, with brown décor that looked comfortable, rather than imposing. The hotel also appeared to be very expensive.
Apparently, being a spy does pay well after all, she thought.
Ryan met her at the door, and Jessica nearly melted when she saw him. He looked great in his Polo shirt and matching slacks. He had a day or two of stubble, just as he had on the beach that day in the Caymans.
She thought that little bit of stubble made him look so sexy. He also looked incredibly fit.
How does he find time to work out? Where does he work out?
It didn't matter, really. He looked great, and Jessica was tickled to see him again.
“Jessica. You look beautiful. I love that dress,” he said as he gave her a quick kiss.
“It's nice to see you again, Ryan. I was wondering if I was going to hear from you again.”
“Like I said, I've been busy. I'll fill you in over dinner.”
The maître d ' showed them to their table, which sat in a corner of the dimly lit restaurant. Jessica's black dress really stood out against the white linen tablecloth.
The restaurant was decorated in brown leather, with a floor-to-ceiling wraparound wine display. They ordered steaks and a bottle of wine and got caught up with each other's lives.
“Did you say that you wrote a book about me?” Ryan asked.
“Well, I wrote a book that was inspired by you. The hero is a guy who's like you, but he's not exactly you. I did take a bit of artistic license, especially since I still don't really know all that much about you. I know even less about your work or how you go about it.”
Ryan looked a bit embarrassed. “Why me? I'm not that interesting, really. Neither is my job.”
“You don't think being a spy is interesting work?”
“I think people misunderstand what I do. I'm not like James Bond or anything. I don't topple governments or blow up top secret facilities.”
“No? That's what I thought spies do. Well, the spy in my book leads a pretty exciting life.”
“Not me. Most of what I do is pretty boring. You want to know what I've been doing recently? Retrieving a stolen chicken recipe.” He took a bite of his steak and let her ponder that last statement while he chewed slowly.
“A chicken recipe? Who would care about a chicken recipe?”
“I'm sure you're familiar with Cousin Tom's Tennessee chicken, right?”
“Sure. The one with the dozen secret spices or something?”
“That's the one. A big part of the company's marketing involves this 'secret recipe.' Supposedly, only two people know the recipe, and it's written down on a piece of paper that's locked up in a vault. Well, somebody managed to steal it, and they were going to sell it to a company in Europe.”
“If two people already know the recipe, then why is the stolen one such a big deal? Can't one of those people write it down?”
“It's a little more complicated than that, Jess. The company isn't trying to get the list of ingredients back; they want the original, handwritten document back.”
“What's so special about it?”
“Well, a recipe is really just a list of ingredients, and you can't copyright
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