Secret Agent Minister (6 page)

Afterward, bored and looking for something to distract her from all her worries, Lydia had explored the old house, and found all sorts of nooks and crannies. This place was one part history, one part cabaret and one part haven.

“Lord, I hope you have a sense of humor,” Lydia said to herself now as she slowly made her way down the long staircase. Determined to question Pastor Dev again, she decided to look for him. Both he and Kissie could get gone faster than humanly possible, but Lydia reckoned that was a CHAIM trait. She also knew that even though the two were as thick as thieves and up to their elbows in espionage, they had others stationed here and there, watching out for Lydia. Or as she’d heard Pastor Dev whispering to Kissie, “Keeping visuals.” She had to be in someone’s line of sight at all times, apparently.

That would explain the tiny cameras hidden everywhere. She’d found them in lamps and in pictures, in plants and in the intricate crown molding on some of the walls.

Not only was this whole house equipped with more cameras than the Pentagon, but Kissie also employed a lot of hardworking, very observant people.

A petite little maid here, dusting and watching.

A nice elderly gardener there, clipping hedges and waiting.

A cable repairman on the roof, realigning the satellite dish while he did a little recon work on the entire neighborhood.

“I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck,” Lydia said out loud, then instantly wished she hadn’t when she spotted Pastor Dev at the bottom of the stairs, smiling up at her.

“Well, if you did, that must have been one pretty turnip crop.”

Lydia tried not to blush. “You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl that way.”

The smile faded away. “Sorry, old habits die hard.”

That was sure the truth. Come to think of it, Lydia and the church staff had all been amazed at how quietly this man could enter a room. Now she understood why, at least.

She met him at the bottom of the stairs, then plopped down. “I don’t like being idle. Idleness is the devil’s workshop.”

He tilted his head and gave her a sideways glance. “The devil would have his hands full with you, Lydia.”

“I’d give him a run for his money, that’s for sure.”

She liked the way he smiled at her. His smile made him look so young and carefree, the way he used to look before all of this, back when she thought he was just a kindly minister. “You seem in a better mood.”

He sat down beside her, then stretched his jean-clad legs out over the stairs. “This place makes me feel safe.”

“Me, too,” she admitted. “How long have you known Kissie?”

“Since I attended seminary here in New Orleans. She was one of our special instructors.”

“Get out? What did she teach you—the history of blues?”

He laughed at that. “Kissie is a computer whiz. That’s her specialty. But you wouldn’t know it to look at her.”

Lydia grinned at that. “Not your average professor type.”

“No, not at all. She was one of the first people I met when I was…introduced into CHAIM.”

Lydia was dying to hear the whole, long, drawn-out story, but she didn’t want to break the gentle truce of this quiet summer afternoon. Sitting here, she could almost believe they were just visiting New Orleans on vacation. But she did ask one burning question. “What if you’d said no to CHAIM? Would they have burned you at the stake or something?”

“You have a vivid imagination.”

“Just curious.”

“No, nothing so bad. They would have let me get on with my life. And it would been as if—”

“As if you’d never heard of them, right?”

He touched his arm to hers, poking at her, a grin on his face. “You’re learning.”

Lydia felt the burn of that playful touch all the way to her toes. It made her edgy and antsy, so she got up. “I need something to do. And don’t tell me there isn’t anything to do. I see all these people pretending to work around here, that is, while they keep watching me. It’s getting on my last nerve.”

As if on cue, Kissie came bustling around the corner. “I got something for you to do, child.”

“Great,” Lydia said, pushing her hair back behind her ears. “I can sort mail, make some calls, file some papers—”

“No, no, honey,” Kissie said with a grin. “This is a special project. We’re gonna give you a good and proper makeover.”

Lydia glanced from Kissie’s expectant face to Pastor Dev’s blank one. “I don’t want a makeover.”

“You need a cover,” Kissie explained. “They know what you look like now, honey.”

“How do you know that?”

Pastor Dev got up, let out a sigh as if to say, Break time is over now. “We’ve received reports. CHAIM now has a dossier on you. And that means so do the bad guys, probably. We can’t take any chances.”

Lydia slapped a hand against the newel post. “Well, that’s just lovely. How exciting for CHAIM—and the bad guys.” She’d have to record all of this in her diary immediately so she’d have her own report. “So, what now?”

“Now,” Kissie said, a firm hand on Lydia’s arm, “we change your looks. Amy just got back with our ammunition.”

Lydia held to the post. “I don’t want to change my looks. I like me the way I am, thank you. And I don’t need any ammunition.”

Dev took her other arm. “Lydia, do this, please. For me. We have to blend in and look the part.”

“What part?”

“That of a very wealthy, happily married couple.”

Lydia’s knees seemed to turn to mush. Holding tightly to the newel post, she glanced from Kissie to Pastor Dev. “You and me, you mean?”

“You and me,” he said, a soft smile creaking across his face. “I need you to cooperate, please.”

She could see the no-arguing look in his eyes, and she could certainly hear the commando mode in his words, but how could she resist the opportunity to pretend to be his wife, just for one night? Hiding her secret glee behind a show of agitation, she said, “I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Just like I didn’t have a choice in coming here, or a choice in being in that room at the wrong time, right?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, the apology darkening his eyes. “We have to protect you.”

That caused her glee to dissipate. “But I thought I was safe here.”

“You are, for now,” Pastor Dev explained. “But we can’t stay here forever. And later tonight we have to go out and do some…research. That’s why we need to dress you up, so to speak.”

“So it’s like I’m playing a spy part or something?”

“Something,” Pastor Dev said, nodding. “At first, I thought I’d just leave you in a safe place. But I’ve reconsidered that. I don’t want you out of my sight. You have to be by my side at all times so I can protect you. Tonight, we have to look like a couple.”

“Is that an order?”

“It’s a request.”

Lydia didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She’d always dreamed of being by his side at all times. But never like this. His
request
sure put her in a pickle. “I see,” she said, not really seeing at all. “So who do I get to be? Lois Lane, Catwoman, Mary Poppins, maybe?”

Kissie let out a hoot of laughter. “She’s a live wire, this one. Pastoral, you may have just met your match.”

Lydia looked over at Pastor Dev, their eyes meeting in the brilliance of the golden dusk that filtered its way throughout the house. The look he gave her sent shards of hope and longing through Lydia’s heart. He looked sweet and unsure. But Lydia was very sure she was the woman who would love him and stay by his side at all times, for the rest of their lives, however long that might turn out to be.

“Let’s get this over with,” she said to break the spell of his powerful gaze. “I don’t have all day, after all.”

Kissie laughed again, then shook her head. “You gonna be just fine, honey-pie. Just fine. We’ll get you all fixed up and pretty for this high-society party tonight.”

Lydia shot Pastor Dev a questioning look. He didn’t seem as confident as Kissie. He looked downright worried. But Lydia couldn’t be sure if it was because someone was trying to do him in, or because he’d just realized Kissie might be right. Maybe he had finally met his match.

D
ev waited, pacing at the bottom of the stairs, for Lydia and Kissie to come down. It was almost dark now; the New Orleans dusk was alive with the sounds and scents of nature. Jasmine and magnolias competed with honeysuckle and hibiscus, their sweet, cloying fragrances merging into a sultry perfume. Blue jays and sparrows made swishing sounds in the big live oak by the back gate, while squirrels chased each other in the banana fronds near the water garden in the courtyard. And somewhere, a mockingbird lifted its voice to the sky.

He wished he could let these things distract him. But his mind was on this mission and the woman he had to protect. And from the sounds of feminine giggles and gasps upstairs, that woman had just undergone an amazing transformation.

Which was why he was now pacing and sweating in the hall, while the gospel group set up in the big coffee bar.

Devon Malone had scaled ten-foot walls to save human lives; he’d walked through fire to rescue trapped missionaries from rebels and drug lords. He’d swum through alligator-infested swamps to get to another person in need. He’d been shot at, attacked, taken hostage, stabbed, robbed, beaten and left for dead.

But none of that had ever prepared him for Lydia Cantrell.

Her very innocence and sweetness took his breath away.

And now, because of him, she was about to change. She would not be so innocent from now on. Who knew what this journey would do to her delicate, sweet nature. Or to his own frazzled, confused mind. He’d always considered Lydia a dear friend and a wonderful office assistant. He’d taken her for granted for so long now, he automatically kept her front and center in his thoughts all day long.

Only now, she was invading his nighttime thoughts, too. That was certainly understandable, under the circumstances. He had to protect her. He’d done this kind of operation a hundred times over. He’d been assigned to escort important people before, had played bodyguard to ministers’ wives and children all over the world. But he’d never actually cared too deeply about those people, other than an abiding Christian love for his fellow man, and because of the pledge he’d made to protect human life when he’d joined CHAIM.

But Lydia was…well, she was Lydia. Solid and sure, pragmatic and practical, cute and lovely, pretty and so very sweet. Lydia was the girl next door, the good and proper young lady, the person he considered not only a friend but a valuable member of his church and his staff.

So when had he starting noticing things like her pretty, pouting lips and her soft, shimmering blond-brown hair? And those big hazel eyes, always changing colors like a kaleidoscope, so bright and trusting, so confused and questioning. When had he started wanting to get to know her on a more intimate level—all things Lydia, all things about her life and her hopes? How had he not seen the radiance of her smile before? And why did that smile tug at his heart so much now?

It’s because you have to protect her,
he told himself as he paced over the soft, faded fleur-de-lis patterned wool rug that covered the downstairs entryway, the sound of a saxophone warming up drifting around him. After all, close proximity always brought out feelings of protection, didn’t it? Being with another person so many hours of the day caused one to discover the most interesting things about that person.

Such as that cute little mole on her right cheek. And her endearing dimples. And the way she lifted her dark eyebrows each time she doubted him.

Which seemed to be a lot lately.

Devon had to rein in all the emotions rushing through his system. Of course, he cared about Lydia. She was one of his flock. She was a dear friend. She was—

“Beautiful.” The word came out of his mouth as he glanced up to find Lydia standing at the top of the stairs, a hesitant, scared look on her face.

Her very different face.

Her hair was now highlighted with soft hues of blond. Kissie had trimmed it into a long shag of some sort. Little wisps fell around Lydia’s face and across her brow. Her eyebrows, lifting now in another kind of doubt, had been shaped and trimmed to make them even more alluring and intriguing. She wore makeup, something Lydia rarely did. But it wasn’t too fussy or heavy. Just a little shimmer of glitter here, a bit of gloss there. The smoky hues around her vivid eyes made them look the color of rich bronze. Her whole look had changed to the point that not even he could have recognized her out on the street. That would serve their purposes, but Dev almost regretted this change.

Except for the dress. Though modestly cut, the dress was over the top, even for Kissie. And it looked great on Lydia.

“I can’t leave the house wearing this,” Lydia said as she traipsed down the stairs on her new high-heeled sandals. “If my daddy saw me—”

“Your daddy’s not here,” Dev said in a husky voice, wishing he hadn’t even thought that. He had to turn around, take a breath. Pushing a hand through his hair, he struggled for control. Then he felt a hand on his shoulder. He whirled, ready to do battle. Then he let out a sigh. Kissie had managed to sneak up on him.

“You’re losing it,” she whispered. “Get yourself together.”

He nodded, turned to face Lydia, who was now on the bottom step of the stairs. She was getting as good at this stealth business as the rest of them.

“I look awful, don’t I?” she said, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m not…this is not me…I don’t know if I can—”

Dev glanced over at Kissie and saw the warning look in her eyes. He needed to say exactly the right thing. “Lydia,” he began, his words sounding shaky but growing firm with each syllable, “you look…amazing. The dress is very attractive and necessary. Now be a good girl, and just go with it.”

Lydia came down the last step to glare at him, so close now he could smell the scent of lily of the valley. Kissie sure did like floral perfumes. “Go with it? I look like a floozy and you know it.”

“No, you don’t,” he said, meaning it. “You could never look that way. You look like you, only different. I like the hair. You look like a proper society lady.”

“But this dress…” She looked down at the shimmering, slinking fabric that fell straight and fitted to just below her knees. “I tried another one, but it was way too short. At least this one is a decent length. But this red, beaded stuff…it’s just not me.”

Dev whirled on Kissie. “Is that the only dress you could find?”

“In her size, yes, sir,” Kissie replied, all business. “It’s this or nothing. And we have to remember, she has to be dressed to the nines to fit the part. And so do you, so you’re next. Upstairs, now.”

Dev focused on the assignment, tearing his eyes away from Lydia. “What…what am I wearing tonight?” he managed to ask, gazing at Lydia’s pretty eyes, accentuated by her hair.

“A tux,” Kissie said. “Y’all are set to attend a masquerade party in the Garden District. Some big shot is throwing it for a group of important out-of-town visitors, if you get my drift. Your presence has been requested.”

Dev understood. He would meet one of his superiors at this party and receive further instructions. CHAIM had operatives in all sorts of places—governments, churches, businesses, university systems, hospitals—you name it. It gave new meaning to the term “never alone.”

“I’ll just go get ready,” he said, giving Lydia one last glance. Then he touched a hand to her arm. “Lydia, you look beautiful. I promise.”

Lydia didn’t look convinced. “Is it too…risqué?”

“Not on you,” he replied, smiling for the first time since she’d come down the stairs. “It just looks…good.”

“And you get to carry a feathered mask, too,” Kissie added. “I’ll give that to you when you get ready to leave.”

She finally let out a sigh of relief. “I guess I can pull this off. I’m just not used to fancy threads and too much makeup.”

“It becomes you,” Dev said again, to reassure her. “If you feel uncomfortable, just keep your mask over your face.”

“Hiding behind a mask—that just about sums this up,” Lydia said, resolve coloring her expression. “Go on and get ready. I’ll be okay.”

Her tentative smile captivated him, so he tried again to reassure her. “I’ll make sure of that, I promise.”

But as he hurried up the stairs, he knew this wasn’t about reassurance. Lydia Cantrell might have been plain and simple before all of this, and that had been just fine with him. But now, she was a knockout, a beautiful, attractive woman.

And that wasn’t just fine with him. Because it was causing him to be careless. And CHAIM didn’t allow for carelessness. He had to stay focused on the mission, on protecting Lydia.

And that meant he couldn’t think about things that were inappropriate and risky, such as kissing her, or holding her close, or taking her out for a real romantic dinner. So he turned at the top of the stairs and looked down on her as she stood in the middle of the hallway, taking once last glimpse at her—just to get her out of his mind.

In the coffee bar, the gospel singers started a rendition of “Softly and Tenderly.” The old hymn was all about Jesus calling all sinners to come home. But for Dev, the terms softly and tenderly also described how he felt about Lydia. He never wanted to see her hurt, or worse, dead. Which was why he had to remain distant and professional. Until he could have her safely home.

Her gaze caught his, held him there, held him captive with sweetness and temptation. He gripped the old oak banister in order to control his emotions. And his longings. Then, reminding himself he had a job to do, he hurried away and slammed the door to his room.

Lydia turned to Kissie, her heart pounding with uncertainty. “This is so embarrassing. He doesn’t approve. He’s not used to seeing me like this.”

“You can sure say that again,” Kissie replied, a wry twinkle in her eyes.

Amy came downstairs, her smile sweet and shy. “I’m done straightening Lydia’s room now, Miss Kissie.”

“Thanks, honey. Go on in the kitchen and get you some supper.”

Amy, all pale and blond and wearing baggy khakis and a worn T-shirt, glanced over at Lydia. “You look great.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, “and thanks for all your help.” Amy had helped with her makeup and had even suggested she put on some perfume. Deciding earlier to use lotion instead of the heavy spray concentrate, Lydia now hoped the lily scent didn’t provoke her allergies.

Amy nodded, then strolled toward the back of the house. But she turned at the door to the kitchen, her blue eyes going wide. “Take care, Lydia.”

Kissie added an “Amen” to that.

“I need to change,” Lydia said, moving toward the stairs. The high-heeled, glittery sandals were not so easy to move around in. “I can’t do this. I just can’t.”

“Child, stop right there,” Kissie said, grabbing her by the arm with a mighty firm hold. “You gonna be fine. That man more than approves of the way you look. He’s just having to get used to the new you, on top of all his other problems. And we don’t need you adding to that load.”

“I’m not planning on staying this way,” Lydia declared, determination making her voice rise. “And I’m trying very hard
not
to
be
a problem. Why can’t I just stay here, safe and sound? I’d stay out of the way. I could read a good book and go to bed early. I’ll write in my journal and read my Bible. I’m behind on my devotionals anyway.”

Kissie shook her head. “Can’t let you. Devon wants you with him at all times. He knows it’s his responsibility to protect you.”

“But why do I have to be someone I’m not?”

“Part of the game, honey. Our contact can’t just show up here at my door, so we have to send you to this party, partly to throw them off, and partly to keep our operatives secret. An exchange will be made, information given over. If they’re watching, which we’re pretty sure they are, they won’t recognize Devon and you—or they won’t expect you to show up at this party. The element of surprise and all that. It’s important to blend in with the crowd and look as if you belong, and they won’t expect a sweet thing like you to look like that, trust me.”

“I don’t plan on staying like this, and I mean it,” Lydia repeated, crossing her arms in a stubborn stance.

“Nobody said you have to stay this way,” Kissie replied in a calm, serene voice. “In fact, this is probably just the first of many disguises. But the haircut is cute. And the makeup does play up your pretty eyes. And the dress…well, that’s just for show and just for tonight. You do not look like a floozy, okay? Kissie don’t do floozy, all right?”

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Lydia said, embarrassment causing her skin to heat up. “I’ve just never worn anything so fancy and so…clingy.”

“I’m not offended,” Kissie said. “I’m having a good time. Haven’t seen this many fireworks since Christmas down on the river.”

“Fireworks?” Lydia looked around, confused as usual.

“Girl, you don’t see it, do you?” Kissie chuckled then started toward the coffee bar. “I got to get ready for the gospel crowd. They’re already pouring in.” She waved a hand toward the coffee bar. “We should have a full house tonight.”

Lydia followed her, just to keep busy. “I’ll help.”

“Not in that, you won’t.”

“What did you mean, that I don’t see it?”

Kissie turned at the long counter. “That man up there. He…he’s got a clear thing for you, honey.”

Lydia’s heart bounced and lifted like a string of beads being tossed through the air, then righted itself. “He…we’re…coworkers and fellow Christians, so yes, I’m sure he cares about me through the love of Christ.”

Kissie grinned. “Yeah, right. Baby, there is the love of Christ, and then there is the love of a man for a woman. Maybe you’re both blind to it.”

Lydia knew how
she
felt, but it had never occurred to her that Pastor Dev might have even the tiniest bit of an inkling of returning those feelings. “Are you saying—”

Kissie held up a jewel bedecked hand. “I’m just saying something’s brewing in this place besides the coffee, understand?”

Lydia smiled then, gaining a new confidence. “I think I just might.”