When she was in Paris, Kimberley Montpetit spent all of her souvenir money at the La Patisserie shops with their gorgeous and delicious pastries.
She grew up in the fabulous city of San Francisco, hides a stash of anything chocolate and caramel when she can get away with it, and now lives in a small town along the banks of the Rio Grande with her engineer husband and three sons.
Before I forget,” Darla added, running into the rear dressing room once more and returning in seconds. “Here’s your wrap and an evening bag to use. It is December, after all. Can’t have you catching cold.”
The woman placed a gold stole around Erin’s shoulders and a glittery red evening bag into her hands. “I filled the bag with a fresh lipstick—the same color you’re already wearing—a small pack of tissues and a secure cell phone.”
Erin slowly lifted her eyes to stare at the woman. Darla gave her a cell phone?
“Your date tonight already knows the number,” the older woman said softly, giving her a wink.
“You,” Erin spluttered. “You know—”
Darla shrugged with a self-deprecating smile. “Yeah, I’m actually retired from the force and returned to my old passion working disguises for agents just like you, Miss Steele. During the week, I’m a normal beauty salon owner.”
Laughter bubbled up Erin’s throat. “Oh my gosh, you knew all afternoon.”
Darla shrugged mischievously. “I told you I was good.”
“I guess so!”
“Hey, if you get into trouble and you lose your partner in some way, just dial star 999. I’ll send backup—or a body bag. But we’ll stay optimistic.”
“You’re so comforting, Darla,” Erin said, throwing in a bit of sass.
“Your limo and man await, young lady,” Darla said while Erin was still in shock over herself in the wall of mirrors.