Alien Diplomacy by Gini Koch Page A

connection,” Oliver said. “Unless your limousines routinely explode.”
    “Not unless someone’s trying to kill us. And who were the dudes in the taxis working for? Were they part of the blow-us-up gang, or were they merely trying to kidnap us for different, nefarious reasons?”
    “No idea. I don’t believe we have enough information.”
    “We should have grabbed one of them.”
    “I don’t think either Mister Reynolds or the ambassador would have liked that,” Len said.
    “Oh, they’d have liked it if we’d gotten some decent, accurate intelligence out of the experience.” Ah, well, another potential opportunity missed. I chose not to worry about it and instead made a command decision. “Let’s hit this shop.”
    I forged in before the males could protest. It was small and loaded with expensive clothes. I had a little trouble getting in the door with the stroller. None of the salesgirls came to help, but, fortunately, Len was there to handle it.
    For some reason, I expected to get someone asking me if I needed help finding anything. I wasn’t exactly dressed up, but then again, I had three men with me, two of whom looked official, and we were in a town loaded with foreign dignitaries. But it was as if I weren’t there as far as the salesgirls seemed concerned.
    I looked at a few dresses, held them up and stared in a mirror, but I didn’t feel enough love to try them on. The boys were on lookout, but Oliver was trying to help.
    “That’s pretty,” he said for the tenth time as I held up the tenth dress I wasn’t enamored enough to try on.
    “It’s okay. I guess.” I liked shopping with Reader. I could trust his taste. I didn’t think Oliver or the boys wanted me to look bad, but they weren’t former top international male models, either. Football players and paparazzi had one thing in common, though—anything revealing I held up got the thumbs up sign. Great. I needed to look like an ambassador, or at least the wife of one per Mrs. Darcy Lockwood, not like I was auditioning to be the next Bond Girl.
    I looked around. “Excuse me, could I get some assistance, please?”
    One of the girls deigned to leave the clutch of salesgirls and come over. “What price range are you looking for?”
    “I’m looking for something that looks good.”
    “Yes. How much are you planning to spend?”
    I gave her a long look. She looked about twenty-one or so. “You ever seen
Pretty Woman
? The movie with Julia Roberts?”
    She sniffed. “No, I don’t watch old movies.”
    “Really? Wow. It’s probably considered a classic of some kind now. You really should rent it or catch it the next time it’s on TV.”
    “Why is that?” she asked, sounding uninterested in the reply.
    “Because I’m going to drop a freaking fortune on clothes today. But not in this shop.” I dropped the dress I was holding on the floor, grabbed the stroller, jerked my head at the males, and headed for the door.
    Len opened it as one of the other girls came over. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but our store is just likely too expensive for someone of your means.”
    “Excuse me?”
    She gave me a patronizing smile. “There’s nothing in here that’s less than a thousand dollars.”
    “And your point is?”
    “People who ride the bus usually can’t afford to shop anywhere but Ross,” the first girl snapped. She was holding the expensive dress I’d dropped and looked affronted by my treatment of it.
    “Girls, I point you again to the educational film,
Pretty Woman
. Now, excuse me, we supposedly poverty stricken need to stop sullying your fine establishment.”
    As I said this, I heard the sound of a camera snapping. Sure enough, Oliver was taking pictures. He grinned at my expression. “Being with you is good for my career.”
    “How so?”
    He shrugged. “I should get the lead with this story. Boutiques refusing to serve an ambassador? That’s always good for the front page.” He got some quick snaps of the salesgirls.