My Spy by Christina Skye

Author:Christina Skye [Skye, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-48854-1
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 2002-01-21T20:00:00+00:00

THE COOKING DEMONSTRATION WAS A HUGE HIT.

Annie sat back with a sigh, watching Zoe orchestrate a fourcourse gourmet meal for twelve executive men and women who were one step closer to living a healthy, stress-free life, thanks to exercise instructions, gourmet recipes, and a sample of her lavender-glow kelp-and-marine-salt scrub for face and body.

But the only body Annie had in mind was lean, six foot four and drop-dead fabulous.

Right now that body was adding dangerously to her own stress level.

Smiling, she shook the last hand, and passed out the last sample of Summerwind Sea and Sand Body Glow. As she did, she tried not to think about the man in her casita who made her own body glow outrageously.

“I have one question, Ms. O'Toole.” The guest was trim and stylish in purple capris, pink sandals, and a leopard-print turban. Her white hair was impeccable, and she didn't look a day over sixty, though Annie knew she was closing in on eighty. “Yes, Ms. Sanderson.”

“Coco, please. I liked what you said about finding the moment and staying with it. But it's not always easy, is it?”

“If it were easy, there wouldn't be monasteries in Asia filled with people trying to get it right.”

“I suppose not.” The woman nodded slowly. “Well, my question concerns sex. Are you for or against?”

Annie crossed her arms, watching the guests crowd around Zoe and her amazing grilled salmon with corn relish and organic basil vinaigrette. The dishes smelled heavenly, but Annie wished the dry taste in her mouth would go away. After four hours, it was all that remained of her hangover. Or maybe it was the remains of Taylor's hangover remedy. “Are we being theoretical here, Coco?”

The tiny woman in purple stared out at the sea lions in the bay. “Sex is never theoretical. My first husband told me that the night we met, and he was right. I was in the chorus in a revival of Mame on Broadway. Frank was escorting a dozen shipping millionaires from Osaka. I still remember that flutter when he looked at me.” She turned back from the window. “Five husbands, six children, twenty-one grandchildren, and I still remember Frank and that first amazing flutter.”

Annie waited, trying to figure out the question. “A flutter is good.”

“It's good when you're twenty. It's not so good when you're sixty-three. Well, actually I'm seventy-nine, but that's no one's business.”

Annie heard the polite warning and smiled. “Damned straight. My lips are sealed.”

Coco tilted her head. “I like you, Ms. O'Toole.”

“Call me Annie, please.”

Coco nodded. “With pleasure. I won't take up much of your time, since I can see you're a busy professional woman dealing with her own points of stress.”

Was she ever, Annie thought. But the guest always came first. “Take your time.”

The slender woman looked out the window some more. “I've had five husbands. You'd think that would be enough.” She fingered her bracelet, a hammered slide of gold and platinum that probably cost about a mouth's stay at the resort. “But someone came into my life.

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