Sex, Spies, and Sapphires

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An Excerpt From: SEX, SPIES AND SAPPHIRES

Copyright ? SHELLEY MUNRO, 2007

All
Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Sarah Walsh zipped her red convertible into a gap
between a sedan and a black London cab and sped down Bayswater Road,
heading toward Notting Hill. The wind tugged at her dark curls and the
early spring sunshine made her feel pleasantly warm. She warbled a few
notes of a top-ten hit then stopped to laugh with the sheer pleasure of
being alive. It was a great day to be in the spy business.

Shifting down a gear, she made a left turn and five minutes
later pulled up in Drayson Mews. Sarah leapt from her vehicle, grabbed her
bag and strode over to the sparkling white door. She stabbed the polished
brass button to the right of the door with her finger and leaned forward to
speak into the intercom. ?It?s Sarah. I?ve come to see grandmother.? Code
to announce she had arrived for a meeting with Mr. Mark, the London head of
Spies Anonymous.

She waited, a smile playing across her lips when envisaging the
young male who would answer the door. Cute in a scholarly kind of way,
Chester always blushed in her presence, especially if she flirted or
teasingly leaned close and brushed a kiss across his freshly shaven cheek.

Footsteps sounded and the door flew open. Full of devilment,
Sarah puckered up ready to give him the kiss of his life. But it wasn?t
Chester on the other side and her kiss landed on the lined cheek of Mr.
Mark, her boss.

?Oops.? Sarah made a moue of disappointment even as she
secretly laughed at the red imprint her lipstick had left. Mr. Mark was no
fun, but maybe not all was lost. She glanced past her boss. ?Where?s
Chester??

?About time. Come along, Walsh. My office. Now. We have a
matter of grave national importance before us. No time for your
shenanigans.?

Sarah sobered rapidly, her curiosity piqued by his words. What
would this particular mission bring? She followed him up the narrow
carpeted stairs to the luxurious office on the first floor. One of her
fellow operatives and very good friend Thomas MacIntyre lounged in a cream
leather chair. He straightened and stood when they entered the room,
winking at Sarah when Mr. Mark wasn?t looking. A traditionally tall and
delicious man with military short dark hair, a profile that spoke of power
and a jaw that hinted at determination, he was also a lot of fun, if a
person made an effort to chip away at the aristocratic reserve first. Sarah
grinned, a zinger of awareness spearing through her body. A great deal of
fun. Thomas? dark gaze dropped to her breasts for an instant before rising
again to study her mouth. To her consternation, Sarah felt her nipples
tighten against the silky fabric of her new red camisole. In an effort to
hide the reaction, she turned to toss her handbag until she required it again.
The black leather bag flew in a graceful arc, strap landing on the coat
stand seconds before Sarah took a seat beside Thomas. Yes!

?No time for your games, Walsh.?

Thomas? dark eyes twinkled. ?Sarah thinks life is one long
game.?

?Of course it is.? Sarah gave an emphatic nod. ?Where?s the
fun in being serious all the time??

Mr. Mark scowled his disapproval but refrained from speaking
again. Instead, he moved behind the large oak desk dominating the room and
dropped into an executive leather chair. He came straight to the point, his
serious mien highlighting the importance of the mission he was about to
give them. ?Last month, the Commonwealth Heads of State meeting was held in
Sydney, Australia. Yesterday, sources informed us that senior members of the
British party had compromising photos taken of them during a?ah?private
moment. The people responsible are demanding we withdraw our troops from
Mundavia, plus they want three billion Euros in exchange for the photos and
negatives.?

Mr. Mark dimmed the lights and flicked a switch to open a
small screen on the wall to the side of his desk. Images of Julie Mortimer,
the British prime minister, and Toby Longstreet, her senior aide, flashed
up on the screen attached to the wall. Their faces were close. Julie wore
an intimate smile that took her from studious and clever to sex siren while
Toby Longstreet appeared plain besotted. It was very obvious they were more
than coworkers.

?I interrupted my game of golf for this?? Thomas drawled,
fiddling with one of his gold cufflinks. ?Why don?t they just suck it up
and deal with the tabloid speculation??

Sarah remained quiet even though she agreed with Thomas. She
couldn?t see what the problem was since both the prime minister and her
aide were single and unattached.

Their boss clicked on a button of his laptop computer and the
image changed. This time there were three people in the picture. In
addition to Julie Mortimer and Toby Longstreet there was another man.
Sarah?s breath caught as she studied the second male.

?Ah, I see you recognize our third player.? Mr. Mark sounded
smug.

Sarah willed herself to remain impassive while inwardly she
cursed the small sound that had given her away. She knew better than to
give Mr. Mark an opening like that. ?Flynn Wangford. We clashed during my
last assignment.?

?