The Agent's Proposition. Lyn Stone

language and so forth.”

      “Fascinating. How did you study for that?”

      She frowned and looked away. “That’s getting really personal.”

      “Hey, working together as closely as we will is personal. Trust is necessary. It pays to know your partner as well as you can.”

      “I suppose you have a point. As long as you reciprocate, I guess it won’t matter. After all, we’ll probably never even see one another when the mission’s over. Unless you go to work for us.” She had leaned back against the headrest and spoke as if she were talking to herself. “And if you do, we’ll need to be…acquainted. All right then.”

      Cameron realized how hard it must be for her to share information about herself, but she was doing it, anyway, because she thought he was right.

      Her voice was totally unemotional. “During my early childhood, I began to acquire the knack for it, mostly out of self-preservation. When my mom crossed her arms over her chest and her lips tightened so much they almost disappeared and her eyes narrowed, that meant Dad had it coming. When he’d pace like a caged tiger, stopping only to throw back his head and grit his teeth, I ran to hide.”

      “They were abusive?” he asked, guessing.

      “Oh, no, not at all. My parents never struck me or unleashed their anger directly at me, but I watched their arguments from a place of safety. Under the dining-room table was my favorite place. Anyway, that was the beginning of my fascination with physical clues to what people were thinking and planning to do.”

      Cameron sighed. “I guess we take inspiration wherever we find it.”

      She offered a little lopsided smile to that but still didn’t look at him as she continued. “Later, when I could choose my own books from the library, I studied everything I could find on the subject. Nuances of behavior became things to watch for. So did breathing patterns and variations in facial muscles. By the time I reached high school, I was convinced I’d become an expert.”

      “Had all those teachers pegged, did you?”

      “Absolutely. Excelled on the debate team, too. Knew when I had ’em on the run. I began to concentrate on eyes in particular and grew amazed at what you could glean from a person’s actual thoughts, some as clear as if they spoke them out loud.”

      He felt a little uneasy. Could she read his thoughts? “Can you read me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light and conversational, afraid she wouldn’t answer truthfully.

      She shook her head. “No, so don’t worry. Some is the key word. Very few, in fact, and then only some of the time.”

      “I see. Well, every little bit helps on the job, I bet.”

      “You’re up,” she said, turning her head to look at him. “And I am a very good lie detector when I switch it on.”

      “I’m guessing you just did. What would you like to know?”

      “Your parents, are they deceased?”

      He laughed and sat back, aping her former position and looking straight ahead at the back of the seat in front of him. “Nope. They’re still kicking around Savannah. Don’t see much of them, though. They weren’t too thrilled with my choice of occupations. Dad wanted me to go into business with him. Mom wanted me to marry and settle down on the next block and give her grandbabies.”

      “No wife, no kids, no siblings,” she said. And she knew that because she’d read his record. He wished he had the same advantage.

      “Just me, the black sheep who strayed from the fold and is too proud to listen to any more ‘I told you sos’ than I have to. Our family get-togethers are usually brief and real predictable.”

      “Same here. My mom and dad grew up in an isolated commune left over from the seventies. Genuine California hippies, protests, free love, drugs, you name it. They ran away from that, all the way across the country, when they were seventeen and expecting me. They thought they’d invented monogamy.”

      “Joined the good ol’ establishment, huh?”

      She huffed a wry little laugh. “Not exactly. They didn’t know how. I give them an A for effort, though. They had trouble holding down jobs for any length of time but they stayed off dope and were faithful to each other, as far as I know. Home schooling in the commune was hit or miss, so they said, but they did manage to get their GEDs and Dad went to trade school.”

      “That’s remarkable, don’t you think?”

      “They certainly are remarkable, all right. Don’t know if that’s good or bad.”

      “What do they do now?” he asked, astounded that she had opened up to him this way and fearing he’d have to keep doing the same. She had a way about her that made it too easy to share, and before he knew it, she’d learn more about him than anybody else in the world knew.

      He felt he’d already told her more than he was comfortable with. But the more he learned about Tess’s life, the more he wanted to know.

      “Dad’s an electrician, and Mom works for a florist.”

      “I bet they’re proud of you,” Cameron said, feeling proud of her himself for all she had accomplished. He knew she had to have put herself through college.

      “I don’t know if they are or not. They don’t get what I’m all about, that’s for sure. My mom calls me a changeling.”

      “Stranger in the nest. I guess we have something in common, then. That’s good, don’t you think?”

      “It’s a little weird,” she said, nodding. “Do you miss what you used to do?”

      “I like what I do now. Work for myself. Stress free. Great location,” he replied, wondering if she realized he hadn’t really answered the question.

      She looked at him and smiled knowingly. “Why don’t you take a nap, Cochran? You don’t want to talk anymore.”

      Good guess. That’s what that was. Or maybe she was adept at mind reading. There were those rumors about the SEXTANT and COMPASS teams. He’d have to watch himself if he didn’t want her to really know him.