Wyatt returned his thoughts to the project. “We need a private organization to go into the country and acquire a piece of information.”

“What she didn’t hear before or what she didn’t tell you, you mean?” Charley asked.

“Yes.” His boss had assured him about the team, but Wyatt’s doubts grew.

He knew the beauty of being privatized gave them flexibility. Overseas, across borders, and into places the government wasn’t allowed to step, they could go with immunity.

“Is she an operative?” Cael asked.

“No. Innocent bystander. About a month ago, she overheard a conversation. After a few too many drinks, she started sharing.”

“With whom?” Charley cocked her head.

“Me.” Wyatt mirrored her tilt. As he did, he remembered the same move-a habit of a girl’s in a relationship long since over.

“I think I got this now. You need us because this scenario plays out very close to, but across the border from, the great U S of A. You need me because of the way my mind works and my ability to… ah… dress appropriately.”

“Yes.” Wyatt shook his head. “I have to ask, Ms. Randall. I’m sure you’ve noted our subject’s height?”

“I have.”

“How do you propose we account for a four-inch difference?”

“We’ll handle that,” Lily said-quiet until that point.

Wyatt noted she’d jumped in before Charley, but Cael’s lips twitched. Does he understand how they would?

“Why is this information critical?” Charley brought Wyatt’s gaze back to her.

“Our reasons for this mission are classified.”

“Then how am I supposed to know what else to learn?”

Wyatt coughed into his fist. “You have a photographic memory for both sight and sound, correct?” Charley nodded at him. “We’d like to keep you wired for both and have you tell us everything you see-what we won’t be able to.”

“A play by play?” Cael asked.

“Yes, in debrief, also.”

“And to be successful in this, I have to become a six-foot, blonde pole dancer at an American club in Montreal. There’s no other way?” Charley held her hands out, palms up. She’d shifted toward him, her elbows on her knees, the folder beneath them wrinkled.

“No. We’ve explored every avenue, including the engagement of Miss Candie by the United States, as she’s a U.S. citizen.”

“But, that would be downright stupid.” James’s comment came by way of a throat clearing, to which Wyatt nodded.

“While we’ve found her information credible and sound, to keep the element of surprise, we must exclude her from project participation.”

“You mean, she’ll spill the beans to the bad guys if she knows what she knows is worth knowing,” Lily said.

Wyatt nodded, but the smile that escaped came in response to Charley.

She’d bumped her shoulder into Lily’s and let out the smallest of laughs. Her smile brought up those old memories again-ones he couldn’t place. It would eat at him if he didn’t ask, but to do so would be just plain rude, as his mother always advised.

“Can we go in as customers? Investors? Hire her for a private dance inside the club?” Cael asked.

Wyatt smirked. Cael knew the answers to all his questions as he’d been briefed before their meeting, but Wyatt would humor him for the rest of the group’s sake. “We’ve thought of that. The problem lies in Candie’s status at the club. She is one of their more… ah… popular dancers. We actually need to get her out of the club first.”

“You’ve tracked her movements?” James asked.

“Yes, for about a month. We have her habits expertly noted. The issue we’ve run into is that the men Candie heard the information from will be back at the club tonight.”

“And you call us now?” James straightened like a whip-switch, fury emanating from him. The knuckles of his hand grew white with his hold on the chair.

“I apologize for the late notice, but we only learned their plans to return again this morning. This could be our best, and potentially only, opportunity to gather this intelligence.”

“It sounds simple enough, James.” Charley said.

The way she held herself, how her eyes met Wyatt’s, and the way she softened when they did rang those bells again. Is she about to agree to this?

“While I’m not keen on learning to pole dance, I’m sure it can be accomplished. You’re aware of our fees?”

He’d been told to call, hire without question, pay whatever they asked, and get the job done. “I have been advised.”

“And that my team will accompany me?”

“Yes, with the exception of Mr. Aldrige.”

“What?” Charley stood. “This is my team! We do not separate for any project-including but not limited to government work-”

Nope, not going to agree. “Ms. Randall, may I explain?”

She waited with a tap of her toe, her teeth ground together.

No documentation, organizational charts, contractor clearance or other material indicated she governed their team, but her tone conveyed the message well enough.

“Mr. Aldrige is a member of a government that has no authority or rule in the nation to our north. In order to remain under the radar, our group must remain small and tight knit. Therefore, they’ve asked that I be sent in his place.”

Charley’s shoulders relaxed, her hands unclenched. He’d have sworn she softened. Why and how, he didn’t know, but a sense of déjà vu pervaded 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 carefully onto shelves.

“Props, girl. Props.” Lily smirked.

Charley rolled her eyes. “All of it?”

She hadn’t expected ten potential outfits, let alone the lack of material that went with them. She’d imagined skimpy, but not invisible.

“Oh my god, Lily!” Charley hissed. “What is that?”

“A costume.” Lily held it up, though she needed no more than a finger to show off the entire ensemble.

“That is not an outfit.” Charley shook her head. “No. No. No. No. No.”