It was McPhail's director of covert operations, a woman with dark, intense eyes. Laura ... or something. No, it started with an M. India wondered why ...he had so much trouble keeping the name in her head.India didn't remember exactly when she had met the woman. The memory of their conversation was disjointed. Perhaps they had never even met. But the memories were there nonetheless. It was this woman who had ordered the implants that had so changed India's personality. It was this dark-eyed woman. “Wha—?” I began, my face scrunching up involuntarily as I felt my face flush. But she pressed on. “And for all the self-aggrandizing and machismo,” she leaned back and held her hands up and out as she pointedly glanced around, “I ask to be shown a good time, and I get taken to my own hotel lounge? Classy.” I felt humiliated and a bit crestfallen that things had suddenly taken such a bad turn. Despite a physical attraction so intense it was almost painful, we obviously had had a clash of. More

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