Dating a Spy Isn't All Fun and Games

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Excerpt: Dating a Spy Isn't All Fun And Games

I suddenly felt very alone with someone following me to work. I didn't have to just feel it, because it was true, terrifying me.

I snapped back to reality. It was possible the guy worked in the same area where I worked and I just hadn't seen him before. I was probably over-reacting and it was all Mitch's fault, because beauty queens could be naïve, according to Mitch.

Flipping my hair back from my shoulders, I walked upstairs from the subway through Union Station, passing shops and out to the street, a little over a block from my office. My phone vibrated and rang in my pocket, so I grabbed it and opened the thing. Glancing at the caller id, I saw the name of my true love, Shawn, and pushed the talk button.

"Good morning, sweetheart," I said. "How's work going?"

"I've been here since three this morning and nothing's working. Tell me you're beautiful and wearing a sexy red dress with your diamond tiara from your beauty queen days? You are meeting me for lunch, right?"

I glanced around behind me, walking toward my office building. "Yeah, but no red dress. I left the tiara at home. Try black slacks and a light blue blouse."

"Close enough." He listened for a moment. "You're out of breath. What's going on?"

"I seem to have an issue."

"Issue?" I heard him take a bite of something, probably a breakfast bar. He loved breakfast bars, but, to me, they tasted like cardboard and bark. He really needed someone to cook for him, and I really wanted to be that one.

I lowered my voice. "Someone's following me."

"Where are you?" His voice sounded serious.

"I have about a block to go. I just left Union Station."

"Keep walking. I'll take care of it." He ended the call and I stared at my phone. What could he possibly do? He worked as a computer analyst in a governmental contracting firm closer to Dupont Circle. Lately, his hours were horrible, working seventy or more hours a week with one day to completely crash, usually at my place so I could take care of him. I knew how to cook well, so he'd relax and I'd wait on him. It was kind of fun, because he was really a nice guy.

I headed toward the building where my job as a mathematical statistician for the Bureau of Labor Statistics was located. I may have been blonde and an airhead, but I wasn't stupid.

As I walked, I saw my building within running distance. However, I also saw the mime group heading toward me—white faced, gloved, and all wearing black and white striped outfits with black hats. Of all times for the tourists to interfere. There were at least fifty of the beasts heading my way, making believe they were pulling on ropes, stuck in a room, or walking across a tightrope. My life could be on the line and these people were acting stupid. I could run out into the street, but I'd learned that the fastest way from one point to another was in a straight line. Besides, there were so many mimes; they were also walking in the street, winding between stopped cars at the red light. I had to get past the mimes. Not a fun thing to do.

Quickening my pace and dodging mimes, I was certain the scary man was following me, because every time I glanced back, he was getting closer and closer. As I made my way through imaginary ropes and balancing sticks, I realized these people were just weird. I hated mimes, now more than ever. They weren't on my 'world peace' list, either. But I kept my mind on the prize—getting away from the man stalking me.

Glancing behind me, I saw the stalker getting closer. I kept walking as fast as I could, stopped suddenly by a stupid mime with some sort of weird fetish. His face met mine as I ran into him, turning my head. He acted extremely surprised, overacting, as usual. He embraced me, and as I tried to get out of his grasp, he planted one right on my lips.

"Watch it, buddy!" I pulled away and glanced backward. The man on my tail was mere inches from me, his arm outstretched to touch me, being held back by a tickling mime. I took off running, glad I was wearing my required governmental sneakers every female employee wore, to save their good shoes from wear and tear on the sidewalks.

When I was about ten feet from my office door, I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Lauren McDonald." He spun me around and reached for my earlobe. Just as I tried to back away from his scary dark eyes, a black unmarked car screeched to the curb and two men in black suits jumped out. They grabbed the stalker, threw him into the back seat and sped away.

Every single one of the mimes put their hands to their mouths, overacting their surprise, while the rest of the crowd, mainly governmental workers, began clapping for the mimes. The crowd cheered them on, not realizing my stalker had just been kidnapped.

I stared, not sure what to think. The man knew my name, he touched my shoulder and he looked driven—scary driven.

My cell phone rang the familiar tone of Shawn's call, the talent song of 'Jingle Bells' from my beauty queen days. I reached down and opened my phone, still looking around to make sure I was safe. "Hello?"

"How are you doing, sweetheart?"

"I don't know. There were these stupid mimes—" One of them passed me, lifted his nose and crossed his arms as if offended, but I continued talking. "This man just touched my shoulder, and now—"

"Don't worry about it," Shawn said. "I've got your back and saved you."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothing for you to worry about. I want you to do me a favor."

I looked up into the sky and at the streetlights, trying to figure out how he had my back. "How did you know to save me? No, how did you save me at all? Did you know those guys who stopped and grabbed the stalker?"

He ignored me. "Go to the brewery and restaurant on the next corner. I'll be right there to make sure you're okay."

I was suddenly surrounded by mimes making fun of me. I guess if you tick off one mime, they have this psychic link to let you know you're in trouble.

I kept talking to Shawn on the phone. "I'm fine, I think, other than these stupid mimes mimicking me." One wagged his finger at me, while another mimicked paddling me. If I didn't have this sense of style, thanks to the beauty contest, I'd be kicking their butts.

"I'll meet you in about thirty seconds." Shawn ended the call and I checked my watch. I had ten minutes to get to my desk. It was weird, to say the least, but I had to meet him or some other unmarked black car might hunt me down. For some reason, I had to think he was linked to the black car, but had no real way of knowing.

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