The Billionaire Boss's Bride. Cathy Williams

a foolproof plan,” she assured him. “We know all we need to know about Miranda Cutler by watching that videotape. Or at least, almost all we need to know.”

      McGregor groaned. “You’re not really going to ask that poor kid if she and Ortega had sex that night, are you?”

      “It’s the last piece of the puzzle,” Kristie insisted. “Oh, look!” She pointed at the young woman approaching the reception desk outside of McGregor’s glass-walled office.

      With the blinds open, one could see everything happening in the think tank that had made SPIN famous. Of course, had the blinds been closed, Kristie could have kissed McGregor’s square jaw, just for luck.

      Not that she had his attention anymore. He was openly staring at Miranda Cutler, and Kristie could hardly blame him. The CIA operative was strikingly lovely, despite her stern expression and the hard set to her shoulders. All of that was more than offset by her mane of long auburn hair that was streaked with red and gold highlights. She was wearing black slacks, black boots and a long-sleeved black knit top with a mock turtleneck. No jewelry, no purse. In fact, her only accessories were the gleaming gun holstered at her waist and the badge affixed to the holster. And that hair.

      “Put your eyes back in your head, Will,” Kristie advised with a teasing smile.

      “Right.” He flushed. “She just looks so…well, never mind. Let’s get this over with.”

      “It’s going to work. Trust me.”

      He grimaced, then moved to the door and opened it, calling out, “Agent Cutler? Come on in.”

      As Miranda entered the office, a tentative smile finally appeared on her lips. “Director McGregor, I presume?”

      “Thanks for coming.” He shook her hand, then motioned to Kristie. “This is Kristie Hennessy, one of our spinners.”

      Kristie offered her hand to the visitor. “I’m so glad to finally meet you, Miranda. Sit down, won’t you? We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

      Miranda followed them to the conference table in the corner of the room, but seemed hesitant to take a seat. Then she insisted with unexpected passion, “I’ve wanted to meet you—to thank you—for so long. I never thought I’d get the chance. I mean, you’re the ones, right? They never told me your names. Only that a spinner and an FBI agent apprehended Jane Smith before any innocent lives were lost.”

      She grabbed Kristie’s hand again and pumped it. “You’re the spinner, right? And you!” she added in McGregor’s direction. “You were with the Bureau before you took this position. You’re the agent that apprehended Smith and her team. Right?” Her green eyes sparkled with tears. “Thank you so much for stopping that monster before she succeeded.”

      The rush of gratitude had a tinge of desperation to it that startled Kristie, and she quickly reassured their guest. “You don’t need to thank us, Miranda. But believe me, we’ve always wanted to meet you, too. Sit down, okay?”

      Miranda nodded and took a seat next to McGregor, across from Kristie.

      McGregor gave her a reassuring smile. “You’re probably wondering why we asked you here today. Like Kristie—Ms. Hennessy—said, we’re pleased at this chance to meet you in person. But we also have a favor to ask.”

      “Anything,” Miranda told him. “Just name it.”

      “It’s not a favor,” Kristie corrected, sending McGregor a warning glance. “It’s an assignment.”

      “Even better. Name it.”

      McGregor laughed. “Don’t you want to know the details first? It’s strictly voluntary. And a little odd.”

      “Sight unseen it’s better than anything I’ve been doing lately,” Miranda replied. “And like I said, I’d do anything for you two.”

      Kristie sighed, knowing from Miranda’s file that indeed her recent assignments had been dismal ones, mostly consisting of dates with politicians or minor criminals. Nothing tawdry—at least, not exactly—but certainly nothing interesting. And definitely nothing that used the marksmanship talents that had earned her entry to the CIA in the first place.

      To put it bluntly, Miranda Cutler had been typecast over the last year as a femme fatale, and while she was indeed pretty, Kristie had no doubt it was the sexy videotape with Ray Ortega that had short-circuited the young operative’s career.

      Miranda looked from Kristie to McGregor, as though trying to fathom their hesitation. “It’s fine. Really. Ask me anything.”

      “Okay.” Kristie took a deep breath. “How much do you know about Ray Ortega?”

      “What?”

      “I mean, about where he’s been and what he’s been doing these last eleven months.”

      “I have no idea. And I don’t care.”

      Kristie winced, but persisted. “Did you know he left public service—”

      “Left it? As if he had a choice? He’s lucky he isn’t in prison! I’ll never understand why President Standish pardoned him.”

      “Because he saved my sister’s life, for one thing,” McGregor told her, his voice soft.

      “Oh. I didn’t know that.” Miranda arched an eyebrow. “I’m guessing it’s his fault she was in danger in the first place though, right?” When McGregor nodded, her green eyes flashed. “Why are we talking about him? Has he done something else?”

      Kristie reached across the table and grasped Miranda’s hand. “Ray went into seclusion after—well, after the pardon. He wanted to cleanse himself spiritually. To restore balance to his life. He was riddled with guilt, Miranda. It’s so unfair. He’s a good man. A great man, really. You know that in your heart, don’t you?”

      Miranda stared at her for a moment, then spun toward McGregor and demanded, “What’s going on?”

      “I don’t blame you for being confused. What you don’t know is that Ortega and Kristie are close friends. He hired her. Trained her to be a spinner. She owes him a lot. Loves him like a brother.”

      Miranda gave a cool smile. “I guess that makes sense. But it doesn’t explain why you asked me here.”

      “It’s simple,” Kristie told her. “Ray doesn’t want to have anything to do with me—with any of us—anymore. But we need his help. There’s a global conspiracy brewing—a dangerous paramilitary cartel—and he’s the only person in the world who can thwart it.”

      “I doubt that,” Miranda drawled.

      “No, really. He once saved the life of a major player in this conspiracy. A man named Jonathan Kell. We think Ray can get Kell to confide in him.”

      Kristie had expected Miranda to scoff again, but the redhead surprised her by smiling with delight. “That’s what you want? Great! I won’t let you down. I’ll get Kell to talk. Believe me, I’ve had practice. And I’m embarrassed to say, I’m pretty good at it. Just tell me what you need to know, and I’ll make him spill it.”

      Ignoring McGregor’s chuckle, Kristie insisted, “No, Miranda. You’re missing the point. We don’t want you to talk to Kell. We want you to talk to Ray.” Before the CIA operative could protest, Kristie forged ahead. “I’ve tried, but he shuts me out. He won’t talk to Will—Director McGregor—either. But he feels terrible about what he did to you. How he lied to you. Plus—”

      “Kristie, don’t,” McGregor cautioned.

      But the spinner knew she was right. “He fell for you that night, Miranda. I think you can get to him where all the rest of us have failed.”

      “Fell for me?” Miranda repeated, as though she couldn’t trust her own hearing. “You’re kidding, right?” Her voice grew strident. “Ray Ortega used me. Lied to