Laced Impulse Read Online Free Page B

second, the doors opened, spilling out its riders. Three men, smelling of wine and liquor passed her while speaking Portuguese. She stepped on board, only to be stopped by one of the men. He spoke to her using his native language, then he corrected himself, by addressing her, speaking French instead.
    "My friends and I are celebrating. We are in high spirits. Won't you join us?"
    In field work, improvisation is a necessity. She recalled her characters description, then like magnets pulling themselves together. Bianca did the same. She embraced the idea of the spy games.
    In French, she supplied her answer.
    "I'm happy for your good fortune but I already have plans for the night."
    Further down the hall she could hear boisterous voices. His comrades calling him in between their drunken laughter.
    "Pity." He said with a frown, then he smiled, stepping away from the elevator sensors. As the doors closed, he said...
    "If you change your mind...” His hopeful expression implied his meaning. But she couldn’t join him. She had more important things to do.
    Bianca had studied the hotels floor plans after she’d arrived. There were three lounges. One on the top floor, with a roof balcony and table seatings. Then there were the two lounges on the main floor. She headed for the lounge where she'd been told to meet her contact. Bianca walked in, purposely avoiding faces. She pretended to absorb the rooms ambiance and doing this came easy. The room was done up in rich leather furnishings, some black and others a deep shade of burgundy. The woods were dark shades of brown and the mingled smells complimented the other. There were tables with high back chairs; perfect for groups or quaint romantic rendezvous. Along the walls were booths with lush love seats and large comfortable sofas. Bianca didn't choose any of these places to sit. She skirted around the tables then headed for the bar. Heads turned, just like her handler had said they would. Men gawked while women whispered, obviously jealous of the attention she’d gained. The length of her dress hugged her luscious toned thighs and the height of her heels did wonders for her calves.
    She'd only been settled in her seat at the bar for less than a minute before the complementary drinks began to arrive. A glass of Chardonnay, vodka and tonic. One man paid for a glass of Dom Perigean, then insisted she have what remained in the bottle. She raised the flute, stealing a sip primarily because she'd never savored expensive champagne. The attention her presence received made her head spin. And she'd only been seated at the bar for less than five minutes. But her attempts to maintain an aloofness washed away the moment she sensed his presence from behind.
    "You're late. What took you so long?"
    His sensuous voice hinted of impatience but his hands relieved her of guilt. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, warming her body from behind. Words flashed in her head. She told herself, she'd arrived at the pre-agreed time. She even wore the dress suggested by her handler, yet her mouth couldn't form the words too defend herself. She was flooded by his alluring aroma. A mix of man and woodsy musky smells. She steadied herself, because she didn't dare over think this scenario. Yet, his touch and his smell aroused her body entirely. She still had not formally addressed him, by turning around to face him. But when his fingers relaxed, she took the cue. Bianca stepped free from his loosened hold to face him. She morphed her expression to mask her surprise. Mot. His name echoed in her brain.
    "Dance with me." He said loud enough to be overheard by the few people seated at the bar. Bianca had been so focused when she walked into the room. To the point of not hearing any music. Her attention had been centered on her feet. She'd mentally coached herself. Walk with your head held high. Keep your eyes trained on objects and not faces. She'd even counted her paces, so as not too make her entrance appear