Jennifer Rardin - [Jaz Parks 1] - Once Bitten, Twice Shy

'My dear lady,' the little snake was saying as he took my free hand and kissed it—yuck—'I am so pleased to make your acquaintance.'

I smiled brightly as his mouth continued to move, but I no longer heard the words. Oh God, not now. But God had taken a coffee break and my senses had gone along for the donuts. Another sound had replaced Assan's prattle in my shivering brain. A loud buzzing, like an oven timer on steroids, gave warning. Next my vision would narrow to a speck and then, poof! disappear. I might come back to myself in five minutes. Or it might take a couple of days. Afterwards, if I asked the right questions, I might find out what I'd said and done in the meantime.

This can't be happening. But it was, and I felt like I was dying, drowning in the flooded hull of my sinking sanity. I looked at Vayl, hoping he'd throw me a life preserver as I tried not to blow it, not to panic. He squeezed my hand, hard. A throbbing pain shot from fingertips to elbow. And the darkness retreated.

'Lucille Robinson,' Vayl drawled, introducing alias-me to Assan, 'and I am her…' he paused, allowing our host to jump to any nasty conclusion he wished, '… associate, Jeremy Bhane. We are, of course, staunch supporters of New Start and delighted to finally meet its famous founder.'

Assan shook Vayl's hand. 'So good of you to come,' he said. He reached back and pulled a Jessica Simpson clone to his side. I'd been so distracted I hadn't noticed her pin us. She stood at least three inches taller than me, which gave her a good half foot on her husband. 'This is my wife,' he said, 'Amanda.'

I held out my hand with some difficulty. My little brownout had taken the oomph from my muscles and deposited the whole seething mass in my stomach. If she shook too hard I'd puke all over her Vera Wang. But Amanda wasn't up to heavy lifting either. She squeezed my hand as if it was made of porcelain, did the same for Vayl, then dropped her arm like concrete encased it as she murmured, 'Pleased to meet you.'

One thing about feeling miserable, you instantly recognize it in others. Amanda Abn-Assan, I knew, was giving almost everything she had to the task of just staying upright. I looked at Vayl quickly, to see if he'd noticed the puffiness under her eyes. The look he gave me said he had. Now why would the wife of a brilliantly successful surgeon have been crying recently? Several reasons came to mind, but none that totally satisfied my gut feeling about her. It was a mystery worth solving. Later.

Assan excused himself and Amanda, leaving Vayl and I to stand around trying to look natural. Vayl snagged a couple of champagne flutes off a passing waiter's tray and we toasted each other. My face started to hurt from all the smiling. Vayl bent down to lay a kiss just below my ear that I felt clear to my toes. Okay, Jaz, don't hyperventilate now. It's just skin touching skin, here. That's all. The fact that your knees feel a little weak is probably just an estrogen spike. Yeah, that's it. He whispered, 'Let us begin.'

I nodded, relieved to be done with the standing around. Ready, in fact, to sprint from my current position if it would distance me from these highly inappropriate feelings. I would concentrate all my efforts on identifying the security measures and memorize the layout of the place. Then, after all the guests had left, we'd return and eliminate Assan. That was the job, and God help me, I loved it.

My whole body buzzed with anticipation. I lived for this. This was what chased away the looping thoughts and the nerves and the nightmares. Only the work allowed me to manage a conversational tone as I said, 'I'll be right back, darling. Make sure you miss me!'

'I have already begun,' said Vayl, giving me a look so mushy anybody who weighed more than a marshmallow would sink up to their knees in it. What a load of bull. And yet it was reassuring to know if Pete ever dumped us we could always write dialogue for Days of Our Lives.

I gave him my biggest, phoniest smile and turned toward the grandest staircase I'd ever seen that wasn't plastered across a movie screen. Red plush carpeted the steps, which would hide the blood nicely if anyone ever got shot on them. They split halfway up at a landing that held an ornate golden bench on which to rest should the hike have left you winded. Since I needed to scope out the second floor, I made like Scarlet O'Hara in reverse and swept up the first flight.

A discreet little sign with a southern belle printed on it encouraged me to take the next flight to my left and another sign posted at the head of the stairs suggested I try the first door I came to. I reached down to adjust my sandal strap and get a good look around. At the top of the stairs a sitting area with couches draped in white silk and a matching oversized ottoman separated the ladies' bathroom hall on my side from the men's bathroom hall on the other side. The hall on my side narrowed, running past the bathroom and four other closed doors, two on each side, before turning the corner. A quick stroll to the other side as I pretended to enjoy the view showed the exact same layout.

I walked back to the ladies bathroom. As I opened the door I looked over my shoulder. I'd already identified which of the guests were actually Assan's goons in disguise. None of them was looking, because Vayl had chosen that precise moment to drop his glass. So I moved down the hallway, trying each door as I passed, finding them all locked. At the end of the hall I turned right, because a left would've taken me downstairs and, from the sound of it, into the kitchen.

This hall contained a long bench on one side and a bank of windows on the other. The view must've been spectacular during the day as, I supposed, it looked out on several acres of lawn. The wall behind the bench held a rectangular, spotlighted painting of a whole passel of naked Egyptian serving girls bringing gifts of gold, food and wild, caged animals to the Pharaoh, who looked very happy to see them all.

There were no stairs at the other end of this hall, just a huge oval mirror with a fancy gold frame. I shared a troubled look with myself as I recalled the brownout I'd just experienced. The thought made me nauseous, so I tossed it away, forced myself to concentrate on the job.

'The job, the job, the job, the job,' I whispered, until I realized what I was doing and bit the inside of my cheek. I turned right at the mirror and, as expected, found myself in the men's bathroom hallway. Again I encountered two sets of locked doors. At the men's room I made as if to go in, pretended to realize it wasn't the room I wanted and feigned embarrassment as I hurried past the front sitting area to the women's bathroom.

This time I went in. The room consisted of a small lounge decorated with diamond patterned wallpaper, a red velvet chaise and a massive potted fern. The commode sat in its own little claustrophobic's nightmare of a closet, and the claw-footed tub and floor-to-ceiling shower shared another room with an entire wall of four sinks.

Looking to waste the expected amount of time, I washed my hands and fiddled with my hair. Someone else came in, so I turned to leave, a polite smile fixed on my face. It must've fallen right off in my shock at finding I was sharing the bathroom with a man, who looked as shaken as I felt.

'Sorry,' he said, raking his fingers through his thick, blonde mop of hair, 'I know the guys are supposed to use the toilet across the way, but I was sure they'd find me there.'