Three Fates

and snarled. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t have played it the same way, but when you’ve already got low-self-esteem issues, having a guy fuck with you can really screw you up.”
    “That’s quite an analysis in a short order.”
    “You dance naked for a few months, you learn a lot about people.” She shrugged. “We’re going to like each other fine after we get to know each other better, sweetheart. I already like your baby brother, and your taste in women,” she added, nodding toward the bedroom door.
    “Later you can explain to me how dancing naked turns you into a psychologist, but for now . . .” Malachi banged a fist on the bedroom door. “Tia, where the devil are you going?”
    The door opened, and she hurried out. He caught the drift of the perfume she’d just sprayed on. She’d painted her lips as well, and slipped into a streamlined black blazer. A small and unwelcome curl of jealousy formed in his gut. “Who are you meeting for lunch?”
    “Anita Gaye.” She opened her purse to check the contents. “I can call the pizza in from a phone booth on the way.”
    “Cool. Thanks. Great jacket,” Cleo commented.
    “Really? It’s new. I wasn’t sure if . . . well, it doesn’t matter. I should be back by four or four-thirty.”
    “Just one bloody minute.” Malachi beat her to the door, slammed a hand on it. “If you think I’m having you walk out of here and have lunch with a woman we know hires killers, you’ve lost your fucking mind.”
    “Don’t swear at me, and don’t tell me what you’ll have me do.” Nerves hopped in her stomach and urged her to shrink back, but she held her ground. “You’re not in charge of me, or of this . . . consortium,” she decided. “Now move aside. I’m going to be late.”
    “Tia.” Since anger didn’t work, he switched smoothly to charm. “I’d be worried about you, is all. She’s a dangerous woman. We all know how dangerous now.”
    “And I’m weak and foolish and out of my league.”
    “Yes. No. Oh, Christ.” He held up a hand, though he was tempted to strangle her, or himself, with it. “Just tell me what you’re trying to do here.”
    “Have lunch. She called and asked me. I agreed. I assume she thinks she can pump some information out of me regarding the Fates and Henry Wyley. And you. I’m perfectly aware of her agenda, as she’s never spoken above twenty words to me before in her life. However, she isn’t and won’t be aware of mine. I’m not the moron you think I am, Malachi.”
    “I don’t think that of you. Tia—” He bit back an oath when he noted neither Cleo nor his brother had the courtesy to pretend they weren’t listening. “Let’s go up on the roof and talk about this.”
    “No. Now, unless you plan to wrestle me to the ground and tie me in a closet, I’m going out to have lunch.”
    “Atta girl, Tia,” Cleo said under her breath and earned an elbow in the ribs from Gideon.
    “Mal,” Gideon said quietly, “ease back now.”
    When he did, Tia wrenched open the door.
    “Don’t forget the pizza,” Cleo called out just before Tia slammed it in Malachi’s face.
    “If that woman hurts her—”
    “What’s she going to do?” Cleo demanded. “Stab Tia with her salad fork? Cool your jets a minute and think. This is smart. Odds are Anita thinks Tia’s a dork, when she’s the one who’ll be out of her league. Smart money says Tia comes back with a lot of information, while Anita slinks off with nothing.”
    “She’s bloody brilliant, Mal,” Gideon confirmed. “And we need her. You should relax.”
    “Right.” But he knew he wouldn’t until Tia came back.
     
     
    EVEN WITH HER active fantasy life, Tia had never imagined herself as a kind of spy. Sort of a double agent, she decided as she arrived exactly on time for lunch. And all she had to do was be herself to pull it off. Shy, jittery, anal and boring, she thought as she was shown to her table.
    Some secret agent.
    Naturally Anita was late because, in Tia’s experience, women who weren’t shy, jittery, anal and boring were most often late for appointments. Because they had a life, she supposed.
    Well, she sure as hell had a life now and still managed to be prompt.
    She ordered mineral water and tried not to look conspicuous and, well, jittery, as she sat alone in the quiet elegance of Café Pierre, for the next ten minutes.
    Anita swept in—there was really no other word for that stylish and urbanely rushed entrance—wearing a