{"product_id":"my-spy-isbn-9780440235781","title":"My Spy","description":"Annie O’Toole has a past....\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe last time Annie saw Sam, they were lying in each other’s arms beneath a canopy of stars. Now Annie paces a secluded airfield at midnight, awaiting the arrival of an unmarked Navy helicopter. Her assignment: Get this Navy SEAL back into fighting form pronto–and keep his identity a secret. But who’s going to protect her from a man who looks at her as if she were a stranger and who doesn’t remember the one night she’ll never forget?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis name is Sam McKade.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSix foot four inches of tough, trained professional, Sam risked his life in an act of rare courage, saving a busload of schoolchildren from certain death. But becoming America’s newest media hero can be dangerous for a man with an undercover past. Sam could do a lot worse than this secluded beach resort. Ditto the sexy therapist who seems maddeningly familiar–if he only knew where or when. But he’s about to find out–as a dangerous enemy surfaces out of his shadowed past, leaving a trail of bodies right to Annie’s door. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow the rugged SEAL who doesn’t believe in love or commitment is about to risk everything...because for Sam McKade, protecting this woman, this extraordinary woman, has become the most important mission of his life....Christina Skye holds a Ph.D. in classical Chinese poetry. She has traveled to China and Asia many times, has been featured on Geraldo!, ABC Weekend News, the Arthur Frommer Show, Travel News Network, Voice of America, and Looking East. She curated one of the most popular exhibitions to date at the National Geographic Society's Explorer Hall in Washington and authored four critically acclaimed books on Chinese art, one of which was called \"beautifully and lovingly crafted\" according to the \u003ci\u003eLondon Times\u003c\/i\u003e. She began writing fiction in 1990 and has currently written 16 novels.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"There's a naked man in the swimming pool.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie O'Toole didn't turn her head.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmiling, she watched her assistant bend closer to the telescope positioned by the broad glass windows of Summerwind Resort and Beach Club.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEvery inch of it was hers, from the high flagstone terraces to the windswept beach. And as far as Annie was concerned, work outweighed any male body--naked or not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Trust me, Megan, he isn't naked.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer assistant squinted harder. \"Wait, I'm serious here. I can't tell if that's his butt or his--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie reached across and covered the lens. \"That's not a naked man, that's Mr. Harkowitz from room thirty-one. He always wears a flesh-colored suit for the shock value.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie's assistant gave up in disgust. \"From what I saw, Mr. Harkowitz doesn't have a whole lot to shock with.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The man's pushing ninety, so give him a break. And if the naked-body scare is over, maybe we could get back to work.\" Annie stared down the length of the table. Her staff was excellent, and she paid them well. Each one was experienced, fit, and enthusiastic. Annie knew she was lucky to have them.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut lately they made her feel . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOld.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStupid, of course. Annie wasn't even thirty. There was no earthly reason she should feel as if her life were stuck on the pause button.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe cleared her throat. \"We've got new arrivals in the Santa Barbara Suite. They'll need lavender salt glow scrub and our signature candles. Repeat guests in rooms twenty-two through thirty-five. Remember the daily flower arrangements. And put out edible chocolate body paint for the honeymooners in the Monterey Suite.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIgnoring an off-color comment, Annie shoved back a strand of cinnamon-colored hair, once again struck by the sense that life was passing her by.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe drove away the thought. \"Heather, what about the new inversion equipment?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Up and running.\" Her Pilates trainer, a twenty-year-old with impossibly small thighs, snapped to attention. \"They're fully booked.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie made a note in her book and moved on. \"Zoe, what about the organic produce?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer chef shrugged. \"The new beds are thriving. We'll have lettuce and baby carrots before the end of the month. But . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie crossed another item off her list. \"Is there a problem?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The new basil is ruined.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie's eyes narrowed. \"Vandals?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Rabbits.\" The chef drummed her fingers on the country pine table. \"Damned sneaking little things.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie fought back a smile. Somehow rabbits didn't seem like a particularly earthshaking threat. \"Try more netting. I'll have Reynaldo take a look after lunch.\" She made another quick note, then moved on. \"Marty, what about the problems with the new whirlpool overlooking the beach?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChairs creaked. Annie glanced up, searching for her chief engineer. \"Where's Marty?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAcross the table Zoe cleared her throat. \"Remember how he wanted to clear that brush near the garden?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Don't tell me the rabbits got him, too.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not rabbits, poison ivy. Full body. The man's blown up like a radioactive radish.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie blew out a breath and scribbled another reminder on her list. \"I'll go see Marty as soon as we finish up. Meanwhile, we need that new whirlpool ready for evening treatments, and all the landscaping has to be in place.\" She stared out the window, watching a lone surfer tackle a pounding wave out beyond the cove.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor a moment she yearned to be there beside him, feeling the sun, face to the wind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOr maybe on a sleek boat with sails unfurled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo, she couldn't think about that. Not ever again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe stared blindly at her leather notebook. \"Let's phone the company in Monterey, Megan. See if they can send someone to check the whirlpool installation.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Sure thing, boss.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBoss? The word had never bothered Annie before, but now she winced.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCould you have a midlife crisis at twenty-seven?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Tell them to send more than one crew. Considering what we paid for that whirlpool and the new flagstone terrace, they should send three crews.\" Annie's eyes lit with mischief. \"Tell them if the installation's not done by tomorrow, I'll have to cancel the order for new flagstone around the saltwater therapy pools.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"They'll go nuts,\" her assistant warned.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I certainly hope so.\" Annie's smile grew. \"Remember, no deadline, no flagstone.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMegan gave a thumbs-up. \"I'm on it, boss.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie tried not to wince. After all, she was the boss.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAs the manager of thirty-five glass-and-adobe guesthouses and a striking resort set on California's rugged coast, she was used to bearing heavy responsibility. Summerwind was a family legacy, and three generations of O'Tooles had lived above its magic beach.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSince Annie had taken over the management of the resort after her parents' deaths four years before, her flare for innovation had garnered a string of awards. She had turned Summerwind into an intimate but elegant home away from home, where harried guests could linger on a quiet beach and feel their stress melt away. Hollywood celebrities and sports stars made semiannual visits, knowing their privacy was assured. Annie was famous for her attention to details and her high standard of personal service, which resulted in a nine-month waiting list and a fanatic clientele.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAll in all, life was good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut sometimes she did wish she had a private life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe suppressed a sigh as her summer receptionist burst into the conference room. \"We've almost finished here, Liz.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No, you have to come now. It's him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Who?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe receptionist, a third-year drama student at Berkeley, gestured outside. \"I saw him on the television. When I saw what he was doing, I thought I would die. I mean absolutely expire right in front of the television.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie rolled her shoulders. It was only 9:22. Why should she suddenly crave a king-size double cappuccino? \"Sorry, Liz, I don't understand.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You will. It's him. He's on a bus.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie sat back in her chair. \"Who is on a bus?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That man, the one who was here last month. At least I think it's him.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie felt a sharp stab of pain. \"You must be mistaken. Sam's down in Mexico.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't think so. I just saw him on a bus full of schoolchildren.\" Liz gestured again, her big hoop earrings swaying madly. \"Come see for yourself.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie heard the excited staccato of voices from the television out in her office. \"Where is he?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"D.C. The bus is zigzagging up Pennsylvania Avenue, four miles from the White House, completely out of control. The driver might have had a heart attack. Then he appeared--poof! It's like some kind of miracle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith the rest of her staff, Annie raced for the television, where an aerial news camera focused on a bus careening through crowded city streets.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA solitary figure crawled along the yellow roof.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"That's him,\" the receptionist whispered. \"I'm sure he's your man from the beach. Sam.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSam.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe word tore through Annie, reopening jagged memories.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt couldn't be. Sam was in Mexico.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's almost at the front of the bus. If he can't get to the wheel, those kids are goners.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie sank into the nearest chair, mesmerized by the bus's wild swerving. She stiffened as she saw the man stretched out on the roof.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"They think he's Navy,\" the receptionist said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Navy?\" Sam wasn't in the Navy. He was on a boat headed to Mexico.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt had to be a mistake. Why would her rich, charming drifter with a new yacht turn up on a school bus in Washington?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's in dress whites.\" Annie's chef bent closer to the television. \"Definitely Navy, and the man knows what he's doing. In two more feet he'll be above the driver's window. I think he's trying to get inside and take the wheel. You didn't say Sam was in the Navy, Annie.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBecause she hadn't known until that moment.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe receptionist pushed closer. \"Why don't they just shoot out the tires?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Because the bus is going too fast. I used to work in a school cafeteria,\" the chef said tensely. \"If that's a city school bus, it doesn't have seat belts, and those kids would be tossed around like human cannonballs.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie shuddered. A news helicopter flashed by, circling low to capture the strained features of the unknown man on the top of the bus. In the brutal clarity of a telephoto lens, Annie saw him look up.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStrained face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlack hair.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKeen eyes somewhere between blue and gray.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA powerful jaw and a scar above his mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Oh, my God, it is Sam.\" Zoe locked her hands. \"It really is your friend from the cove.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie couldn't seem to focus. She blinked and looked again, fighting disbelief.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSam was supposed to be sailing somewhere off the coast of Mexico, enjoying a long vacation after selling his Internet company. He'd told her that very clearly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut cameras didn't lie.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo what was going on?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe barely noticed her nails digging into her palm as the helicopter swung low for a tighter shot. Now there was no mistaking that lean face and hard jaw. The sexy stubble was gone, but it was definitely Sam fighting his way across the roof of the swerving bus.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's falling!\" Annie shot to her feet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie's chef squinted at the set. \"No, he's going for the open window.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly the bus lurched sideways. Annie could barely watch as the man in the white uniform clung to the side of the bus and clawed his way forward.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bus straightened abruptly, clearing a line of parked cars by mere inches. Without warning, all of the children vanished.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"What happened?\" Annie pressed a hand against her chest, breathing hard. \"Where did they go?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He must have told them to brace against their knees, the way you do before an airplane crash.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThat made sense. Annie joined in the wild applause as the bus held steady, joined by a phalanx of D.C. police cars with sirens flashing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the chorus of cheers was cut short as the aerial news camera panned north, where a wall of concrete cut across the highway.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie heard the reporter explain that all traffic was being detoured up the side ramp. Sam had to stop the bus fast. Otherwise . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOtherwise he and his young passengers were headed into a deadly blockade of cement and construction girders.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie closed her eyes, feeling faint.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eZoe squeezed her shoulder. \"You want a glass of water or something?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I'll--be fine.\" Annie opened her eyes. \"How far to the construction area?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"About a mile. The police are stacking sandbags in case your friend can't stop the bus, but at the rate they're traveling . . .\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThere was no need to finish.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie pressed a shaky hand to her chest as if she could hold off her terror. Suddenly the screen cut to a close-up. Sam was wedged inside the front window now, and he was pulling something from behind the driver's seat.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA hockey stick.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe was trying to reach the brake pedal, she realized.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe announcer was nearly drowned out by the shriek of sirens and the cries of bystanders lining the streets. \"With less than a mile to go, the police are extremely concerned,\" he said grimly. \"At its current rate of speed, I'm told the bus has about  three minutes until impact.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo little time, Annie thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt would take a miracle to save Sam and those children.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's done it!\" Coverage switched to a reporter in a news helicopter circling the scene. \"The bus is finally starting to slow down. Ladies and gentlemen, I think we're watching a miracle take place here in Washington. A real miracle.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe bus lurched into its final turn.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe cement wall lay dead ahead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's still going too fast,\" the reporter said shrilly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie stood frozen, caught in a nightmare. She watched the hockey stick jerk free. With a desperate kick the man in the uniform jammed the stick down again. As he did, Annie got a good look at his face--and the bright stain covering his right arm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He's bleeding,\" she whispered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly the bus lurched.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe big wheels dug in hard, laying skid marks against the gray roadbed. The bus bucked in a wild dance, its rusted body screaming as smoke poured from the engine. In a cloud of dust and smoke, it flashtailed sharply, then slammed to a halt with one tire wedged against the half-built wall of cement and girders.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe force of the impact threw the officer backward, shattering the side window. He flew into the air, tossed over the bus, his powerful body twisting as he fought to control the fall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut there was no chance at any kind of control. He struck the edge of a girder, then slammed down onto a row of scattered sandbags, his arms at an unnatural angle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBlood welled up, staining his face and covering his torn uniform. The news camera captured every detail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No,\" Annie whispered. \"He's not moving.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo one spoke.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eDon't be dead, Sam. Please, please open your eyes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the hero in the torn uniform didn't move.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Is he alive?\" she rasped.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven the announcer was silent, stricken by the life-and-death struggle played out in grim detail.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Is he?\" she demanded, her whole body shaking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe fought to breathe, but the air felt hot and thick. Then her legs went weak and the floor simply wasn't there.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChapter Two\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie opened her eyes slowly and inhaled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhy was she lying down in the middle of the day? And why was she stretched out on the couch with her staff crowded around her?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHer confusion grew as she tried to sit up. She heard voices, sirens, the drone of helicopters.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSuddenly she remembered.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe struggled to see the television. \"What happened to Sam? Is he--\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Calm down.\" Zoe held out a glass of water. \"Drink this and take a deep breath. You're sheet white.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Tell me!\" Annie wobbled toward the television, where an ambulance raced through crowded streets, trailed by a full police motorcade. \"Is he alive?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No one knows. At least they're not saying.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSwaying, Annie reached for the corner of the couch. \"What about the children?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eReynaldo, her maintenance chief, answered. \"Upset, but all safe, thanks to that man in the white uniform.\" His eyes narrowed on Annie. \"He is the one who was here before, but he never spoke of the Navy. Was he on leave?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I don't know, Reynaldo.\" Annie's eyes locked on the television. \"Someone must know. What are the news people saying?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Not much. There's a complete blackout.\" Her chef frowned. \"Why didn't Sam tell you he was in the Navy?\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnnie stared at the ambulance, her heart racing right along with the swift wheels.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe hadn't known Sam was in the Navy. She hadn't known he was going to Washington. He'd said very little about himself, shifting the talk to his boat and the weather and the voyage ahead of him. Annie hadn't pressed for information, since it was clear he wasn't going to be staying long.","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":44866324660453,"sku":"NP9780440235781","price":6.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440235781.jpg?v=1767733381","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/my-spy-isbn-9780440235781","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}