tell from the picture?
J.J. would never give Tony the satisfaction of knowing, but he’d hit that nail on the head. At the age of thirty-two, she’d never suffered a severely broken heart thanks to her gift. It protected her from dating liars for longer than an outing or two. Except for this one.
Grayson Chance was known as “Six” to his friends and the many victims of his smash-and-dash. Six could light a fire with the heat from the sexual vibe he radiated. Tall and chiseled, his body was carved from a mass of perfection. His face was sweet as sugar cane; he was Easter Bunny brown…and equally hollow. He could donate a sliver of his ego to every living person on the planet and still have enough left over to rate pompous asshole.
He’d been recruited by the CIA in college and became a counterintelligence case officer when he graduated from The Farm, the CIA’s training academy. For the last ten years, he’d been both a case officer and security officer, mostly serving in overseas embassies and consulates. His job was to catch CIA case officers cooperating with foreign intelligence services such as the Russians, thus a joint investigation at the Agency a few years ago brought J.J. and Six together.
They shared a torrid on-again-off-again affair. She was drawn to his mystery, his charm, his sense of humor. Nobody had ever made her laugh more...except Tony perhaps. They shared moments when their souls connected on heights she’d never before allowed herself to reach. And the sex! He did sensuous things to her body that made her shiver at the mere thought. One or two of his moves might be illegal in every state except California and Kentucky. The problem with their relationship? He couldn’t stop living his legend, always undercover. The real Grayson rarely stood up and the legend always lied, so she always itched. Couldn’t stand to be around him except when their time together didn’t involve speaking, which was often, but not often enough. His career and lifestyle forced them onto separate paths. Her path led to sanity, his path led to the land of ill repute. Six’s career consumed him. Somewhere along the line, he lost himself...and so he lost J.J. The break-up was difficult, at least for J.J. Six, on the other hand, possessed an ice-cold resilience when it came to failed relationships. But, all in all, J.J.’s decision to let go was probably the best for both of them. Probably.
She still battled moments of doubt, the instances of which had nearly disappeared unnoticed until…
“His name is Six. And why’s he got to be a douche bag?” She snatched the frame from his hand and replaced it on the shelf. For some time now, she’d been planning to take the damn thing down. But with Tony Snoopers in the house, she’d have to wait until he departed for the evening. She refused to give him a second’s pleasure of thinking that his sneers had any effect on her decision to remove it.
“What kind of name is Six, anyway? His folks hadda give him a name he could spell?” Tony drew the number six in the air with his index finger.
“Ha, ha, ha! You’re so funny. No. He graduated Summa Cum Laude from Princeton. I assure you he has no problems with his spelling,” she said, avoiding an explanation she didn’t want to provide.
“So what’s with the ‘Six’ already?”
“If you must know, Six is a nickname he received because he can bounce a quarter on his six-pack,” she joked, patting her stomach.
Tony rolled his eyes and pretended to vomit. “Oh. I thought it might be his rating in the sack.”
“No. If that’s what it stood for, they’d call him Ten. ” A pregnant pause followed shortly behind her quip, a testament to the jab’s effectiveness. J.J. kicked off her shoes and squiggled her feet into the plush carpet. “What’s it to you anyway?”
“Hey, it’s your business. I was just askin’.” He carried the trash bag toward the dining room table, ran his finger across the surface,
J.J. would never give Tony the satisfaction of knowing, but he’d hit that nail on the head. At the age of thirty-two, she’d never suffered a severely broken heart thanks to her gift. It protected her from dating liars for longer than an outing or two. Except for this one.
Grayson Chance was known as “Six” to his friends and the many victims of his smash-and-dash. Six could light a fire with the heat from the sexual vibe he radiated. Tall and chiseled, his body was carved from a mass of perfection. His face was sweet as sugar cane; he was Easter Bunny brown…and equally hollow. He could donate a sliver of his ego to every living person on the planet and still have enough left over to rate pompous asshole.
He’d been recruited by the CIA in college and became a counterintelligence case officer when he graduated from The Farm, the CIA’s training academy. For the last ten years, he’d been both a case officer and security officer, mostly serving in overseas embassies and consulates. His job was to catch CIA case officers cooperating with foreign intelligence services such as the Russians, thus a joint investigation at the Agency a few years ago brought J.J. and Six together.
They shared a torrid on-again-off-again affair. She was drawn to his mystery, his charm, his sense of humor. Nobody had ever made her laugh more...except Tony perhaps. They shared moments when their souls connected on heights she’d never before allowed herself to reach. And the sex! He did sensuous things to her body that made her shiver at the mere thought. One or two of his moves might be illegal in every state except California and Kentucky. The problem with their relationship? He couldn’t stop living his legend, always undercover. The real Grayson rarely stood up and the legend always lied, so she always itched. Couldn’t stand to be around him except when their time together didn’t involve speaking, which was often, but not often enough. His career and lifestyle forced them onto separate paths. Her path led to sanity, his path led to the land of ill repute. Six’s career consumed him. Somewhere along the line, he lost himself...and so he lost J.J. The break-up was difficult, at least for J.J. Six, on the other hand, possessed an ice-cold resilience when it came to failed relationships. But, all in all, J.J.’s decision to let go was probably the best for both of them. Probably.
She still battled moments of doubt, the instances of which had nearly disappeared unnoticed until…
“His name is Six. And why’s he got to be a douche bag?” She snatched the frame from his hand and replaced it on the shelf. For some time now, she’d been planning to take the damn thing down. But with Tony Snoopers in the house, she’d have to wait until he departed for the evening. She refused to give him a second’s pleasure of thinking that his sneers had any effect on her decision to remove it.
“What kind of name is Six, anyway? His folks hadda give him a name he could spell?” Tony drew the number six in the air with his index finger.
“Ha, ha, ha! You’re so funny. No. He graduated Summa Cum Laude from Princeton. I assure you he has no problems with his spelling,” she said, avoiding an explanation she didn’t want to provide.
“So what’s with the ‘Six’ already?”
“If you must know, Six is a nickname he received because he can bounce a quarter on his six-pack,” she joked, patting her stomach.
Tony rolled his eyes and pretended to vomit. “Oh. I thought it might be his rating in the sack.”
“No. If that’s what it stood for, they’d call him Ten. ” A pregnant pause followed shortly behind her quip, a testament to the jab’s effectiveness. J.J. kicked off her shoes and squiggled her feet into the plush carpet. “What’s it to you anyway?”
“Hey, it’s your business. I was just askin’.” He carried the trash bag toward the dining room table, ran his finger across the surface,
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