30 Day Writing Challenge

Day 6: Start Your Story with: He Glanced at His Watch Impatiently...

He glanced at his watch impatiently, noting the time. 19.00 hours on the dot. His contact was late, and he searched through the people milling about, trying not to attract attention. He caught sight of her finally; she was sitting at a café table, her long legs crossed, drawing the eye up her curvy body to voluptuous lips that begged to be kissed.

Corbin began to walk towards her as she caught sight of him and his heart began to thud in his chest. He caught her eye and she cast her eyes downward in a demure fashion that made him clear his throat. He reached the table and sat down uncertainly, but quickly covered it by clearing his throat and launching into business.

“Hello Mirela. Do you have the package?” he asked, checking to see if anyone watched them.

She leaned forward and said in a low husky voice, “Who’s asking?”

“I don’t have time for tricks Mirela.”

She raised her perfect eyebrows.

“Corbin Thomas,” he stated and picked up a newspaper, feigning interest.

She sat back and smiled. “After all these months, I can’t help but wonder, is that your real name?”

Corbin hid his smile behind the newspaper. A brass quartet that set up earlier that evening across the square began to play smooth jazz and he relaxed, enjoying the Parisian scene.

“Come back to the hotel with me,” Mirela said after a few moments of comfortable silence, a hint in her eyes.

“Of course,” Corbin stood up, and helped her with her jacket. The evening air still held a chill even this late in April. The agent and his courier walked brusquely the few blocks to her hotel. Mirela was greeted by the garcon at the front desk and Corbin hid his face from view. Corbin followed discreetly behind when at her floor, checked for people watching; when he was satisfied they were safe, he entered her room.

She flicked the lights on and threw her purse on the bed. Pulling her suitcase out from under the bed, she flipped the locks and opened the case to an explosion of clothes and underthings.

Mirela turned to Corbin and held out the package, wrapped like a gift in a plain box with a bit of red ribbon tied around in a bow. He pocketed it and turned to go.

“Wait,” Mirela grabbed his arm and Corbin turned, still poised to leave. He looked down into her slightly widened eyes. Her smart hat, askew from the brisk walk threatened to fall off completely, and from Corbin’s vantage point, he could see her chest rise and fall with her quickened breathing.

“Where is Bruno? Is he safe? Can I see him?”

Corbin felt his heart turn to ice. He jerked his arm from her grasp and said coldly, “Bruno is fine. Someone will get in touch for your next assignment.”

Mirela grabbed hold of his jacket lapels and Corbin allowed her to pull him close to her. She smoothed the lapels down with one hand and touched the side of his face with the other.

“Corbin, I need to know.” Her voice was so compelling that Corbin wanted to melt into a puddle. Rather than let her know she had him, he stood up straight and whirled away from her, charging out the door blindly. Every time Mirela was near, his ingrained intelligence training seemed to slip away. He shook his head to clear the image of her slightly parted lips so close to his own.

He stepped out into the cool evening air and started off in the direction of headquarters to drop off the package.