Sam froze. “What do you mean by ‘hot guy’?”

“I have an arsenic pellet in my tooth,” Faroz said. “I would die before I would betray my country.”

“And . . . we are out of here.”

“Wait.” Layla peered around Sam. “I’m interested to know how Faroz got into the business. I can’t imagine there are a lot of desi spies.”

“Affirmative action,” Faroz said. “I was recruited when I was nine.”

“He’s a Spy Kid,” Layla said with delight. “Those were my favorite movies growing up. Have you come across Mr. Lisp?”

“No.”

“Sebastian the Toymaker? The Timekeeper?”

“Are these fictitious characters?”

“They’re as real as you.” Sam’s tone dripped sarcasm.

Faroz stood and straightened his tie. “As real as a game to find Layla a husband so you can have her office?”

Layla froze, her breath catching in her throat. “How do you know about that?”

“Classified.”

Sam’s face hardened, his entire body going still. “I’m gonna classify your ass.”

“It was nice to finally meet you in person.” Faroz kissed Layla’s cheek. “If you change your mind, I’ll know.”

“Did you tell him about the game?” Body tense, jaw tight, Sam watched Faroz walk out the door. He was still holding her hand, and she was afraid to move in case he let go.

“No, of course not. The only person who knows is Daisy, and she wouldn’t tell anyone, especially not a stranger. What about you? Who did you tell?”

“Evan. But he’s probably forgotten by now. He’s not really interested in other people’s lives. And John, but he’s a lawyer. That vault is always locked.”

“No one else was in the office.” Her voice dropped to a low whisper. “Do you think he bugged the phones? That would explain how he knew my drink order.”

“If I did, it would mean I believe he really is a CIA agent, and I don’t.”

“I think we should get out of here,” Layla said. “We’ve been standing here for so long, people are starting to stare, and maybe some of them are his spy friends, or worse, spy enemies. They’re thinking maybe he and I hit it off, and I’m going to marry him, and they’ll grab me at the wedding, and drive off, and my lehenga will be trailing out of the car, and I’ll be screaming Sam! Sam! Save me! It will all be very dramatic, and when it’s over, they’ll make a movie about it with Priyanka Chopra starring as me. She’ll have to gain twenty or thirty pounds, but she’ll do it because she’s a great actress and she’ll want to really get into the role.”

Sam stared at her for so long, she started to feel queasy. “Everything okay?”

“Why would you call for me to save you?” He led her out of the coffee shop. “Saving you would be Faroz’s job.”

“I don’t know.” She looked out over the bay, taking in the soft glow of the golden hour, that magical, romantic, fleeting moment between daylight and dusk when the sun began to dip below the horizon, enveloping everything in shimmering gold.

“I think it’s maybe because you made me feel safe when Faroz was flashing his gun and telling us stories about being tortured. My subconscious must have figured you were my best bet for a happy Bollywood ending.”

“You think I could protect you?”

He looked so bewildered that Layla had to laugh. “Of course I do. It’s who you are. You might be trying to kick me out of the office, but you’ve been protecting me since the day we met.”

• 11 •

“SO what do people do after they’ve escaped from the CIA?” Layla asked as they stepped out onto the street.

“I don’t think many people do escape.” Certainly, Sam didn’t want to escape now. Unsettled by Faroz’s knowledge of something that they had shared only with their closest friends, he was almost overwhelmed with the urge to protect her and keep her close.

“The pier looks beautiful at night.” Layla looked over the bay toward the city, the lights twinkling in the darkness. “Very romantic.”

“I thought you’d given up on love and romance.” He stood beside her, acutely aware of her body so close to his.

“I still believe in them. They just aren’t for me.”

Sam’s stomach tightened. It felt wrong that someone as funny and warm and vibrant as Layla would resign herself to a life without love. “Maybe love will come later. My parents had an arranged marriage and it happened for them, in a fashion.” His parents weren’t soul mates in any sense of the word, but there was nothing they wouldn’t do for each other.

“Mine, too. And for Dev and Rhea.” She sighed. “It’s almost like Dev took that away from me when he died. I can’t even contemplate being close to someone because I just can’t lose someone I love again. I almost didn’t make it the first time. If I hadn’t moved to New York, I might have sexed myself to death.”

Who were the losers who had taken advantage of a grieving woman? Sam’s protective instinct flared, and he had to bite back the demand for their names. Confused by his feelings, he stepped away. “Where did you park? I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I’m on the other side of Justin Herman Plaza. I was at a marketing and branding workshop at the Women’s Business Center this afternoon. They gave me some great ideas.” She talked about the seminar as they walked down the sidewalk, dodging tourists and dog walkers, joggers and couples out for an evening stroll.

“Which way?” He stopped at the intersection.

“Let’s walk past the Vaillancourt Fountain. Maybe they’ve turned it on and I can dance in it like Anita Ekberg did in La Dolce Vita, in one of the most romantic moments in film history.”

Sam had no interest in old films, but the idea of Layla splashing in the fountain held considerable appeal. “There’s nothing romantic about dancing around a rusted pile of steel and concrete,” he said as they veered in the direction of the square.

“Is that all you see when you look at the sculpture?” she asked. “I used to imagine it was a waterslide and I could ride down the chutes. Even with the water turned off, I still feel the magic.”

“I look at that pile of rusty pipes and harsh angles and see it as a metaphor for life.” A crowd of tourists lumbered toward them, and he placed a hand on her lower back to guide her away. Her skin was warm beneath her shirt, her back a graceful curve beneath his palm.