SHADO HQ, Commander's Office

An hour later

"Ford," Kelly requested, "ask Alec to come down, will you?"

"Right away, Commander," the prompt reply came. He's a good man, Kelly mused, hardly for the first time, I wish he'd let me promote him. The Peter Principle notwithstanding, he deserves it.

Then again, I'd be missing his services in a day or less. Don't fix it if it ain't broke.

It wasn't long before Alec arrived from the studio lot. "What's up?"

"I need you to run a background check," Kelly answered, "on an escort and her daughter. I've cleared it with Henderson." He handed Alec a slip of paper with Jennifer's name and address on it. He didn't bother giving Sophie's name; Alec would discover her existence soon enough as part of the check...assuming she did exist, of course - it was still possible the photo was a prop, perhaps an altered image of a younger Jennifer (who did not have heterochromia; both her eyes were a solid, beautiful shade of emerald).

If no such person as Sophie Harrison existed, if Jennifer was lying for any reason - Alien-related or not - she would receive a little visit and forget she'd ever met him...after giving up everything she knew in the Interrogation Room, facetiously (though accurately) nicknamed 'Room 101' by SHADO's more literate members.

"Is this Fraser stuff?" Alec inquired shrewdly. He'd heard the rumours; though Security was supposed to be tight-lipped, things sometimes did slip out. As Ed had always said, people were still people, and it was a standing joke in SHADO that the only thing outside of UFOs, Interceptors and Utronic transmissions that was faster than light - faster, indeed, than anything - was gossip.

Kelly sighed, accepting the inevitable. "What have you heard?"

"Oh, not much," Alec shrugged, a little too casually, "just stuff about, ah, late nights...and mornings."

I'm going to strangle Penelope, Kelly groused silently, recalling that she would've been on duty last night. Oh well. "All right, I'll admit it, I've been seeing her," he sighed again. "I just thought I'd indulge myself for once with an escort - I knew I could expect discretion from one of Sylvia's girls, no commitment expected; it seemed ideal. But when I saw this gorgeous redhead on the site, I couldn't resist her."

"I don't suppose you have a picture?" Alec requested neutrally. Without a word, Kelly accessed the Internet from his secure terminal (reflecting wryly that labelling a SHADO computer terminal as 'secure' was a bit redundant, since of course they all were) and called up Sylvia's website, clicking on the 'Jenny' thumbnail image from the list of escorts. A few touchpad taps and the laser printer produced a high-quality copy.

Alec whistled appreciatively on seeing Jennifer's photo; she was (nearly) wearing a classic LBD, wearing her hair down and loose, and looked stunning, her smile coy. He knew, knowing Sylvia as he did (intimately, in fact - in a drunken and never-to-be-repeated moment of madness, they'd slept together), that the reality would live up to the image; Sylvia had always demanded high standards from herself and anyone she worked with, and it was highly unlikely she would run such an agency any differently. "Well, no-one could fault you for your taste, I must say. So what happened? First date turned into second date?" he asked knowingly. "And then into third? And then what?"

"That," Kelly sighed a third time, "is where things took a major left turn. Look, all I wanted was the odd bit of female company, I wasn't looking for sex...well, not consciously, anyway," he amended, recalling Jennifer's all-too-accurate observations. "But the next thing I know, she's offering extras, and we all know what that means. So I paid her double and sent her home."

"Fair enough," Alec nodded, while thinking, you damn fool! "So what went wrong with this brilliant plan?"

"What 'plan'? I just wasn't looking for sex, that's all, and I told her so when she called the next day." He frowned. "Apparently that was what set her off."

Alec raised an eyebrow as he inquired curiously, "What, she was interested because you weren't? She thought you were playing hard-to-get?"

"No," Kelly told him sheepishly, "it was the way I turned down her offer, or rather the way I phrased the explanation; I was bluntly honest with her." He sounded defensive as he finished, "I wasn't to know that she likes that...a lot."

Alec couldn't help laughing. Of all the things...he chuckled to himself.

"Alec, this isn't funny!"

"Sure it is," Alec chuckled, "you can't get rid of 'em, even by turning them down! And here you are complaining about it? What's wrong with you, man?!"

I've wondered that myself, thought Kelly ruefully. But admittedly Alec had a point; his position alone was attractive to women who would subconsciously, instinctively assess his fitness to sire children and conclude he was an excellent prospect as a potential mate and father, based on the fact that he was a man of power and influence, and therefore potentially a good provider, to say nothing of the high salary his position...commanded.

He'd had to fend off a few very young female operatives - who in all likelihood didn't even really know why they were coming on to him, as he wasn't particularly handsome - when he was first appointed Commander, before he learned how to see it coming and deal with it tactfully and gently (after consulting Ed, who gave him some useful advice...once he stopped laughing). Paul Foster, of course, tended not to fend them off, but that was just Paul, and anyway he knew perfectly well where to draw the line. As a result he had a fair number of Friends With Benefits in SHADO.

Jennifer, though, knew nothing of this. Her reasons were quite different, and Kelly wasn't sure how to deal with it. He'd found himself wanting her to like him, to respect him...

In other words, you're already falling for her, he understood suddenly, and you're fallin' hard. Boy, you are in trouble.

"Just run the damn check," he ordered curtly, only half-hoping Jennifer would fail it. Alec shrugged and nodded, knowing better than to push it. Kelly's sense of humour only went so far, he knew all too well.

Alec Freeman knew where his duty lay. Anything could be significant. First priority was to establish that this 'Jennifer Harrison' (if that was her real name; like the professional he was, he would take nothing for granted here) posed no threat to SHADO in general and Commander McAllister in particular. Then there would be a more detailed check: who she was, where she was born, her education, political leanings if any, all sorts of things.

The fact that he wanted Jennifer to pan out, for his friend's sake, had no bearing or effect on his thoroughness or professionalism. There were far too many lives at stake for him to skimp in the slightest, or to give her the okay if there was even the slightest reason to doubt. Hell, he was authorised to kill her if she proved to be suspect. Like all field and/or senior operatives in SHADO, he possessed a Licence To Kill.

But he'd had an idea: if he were to parcel out different sections of the check to different operatives, and order them to summarise their findings, Kelly could simply read the summaries without reading the report proper. Alec knew the notion of invading a lover's privacy would bother him, SHADO's requirements be damned. This way, he thought, Kelly would learn what he needed to know without prying into her secrets. Nor would he, Alec, know them.

The operatives would, of course, forget what they'd learned; there was no point in their remembering everything and they were specifically trained to make no such attempt as it would be a waste of effort, given the sheer volume of data they routinely handled. Besides, any data they might need to recall for whatever reason could be retrieved from the SHADO system, SHADONET, in a moment. His course of action decided upon, Alec began compiling a short list of operatives.

Sylvia's name was at the top of the list.

He wasn't to know, of course, that in doing this he was redefining SHADO policy, nor that his new method would later become standard procedure on compassionate grounds. That certainly wasn't his intention; as he saw it, he was just helping out a friend.

The check didn't take long, a clear indicator that nothing untoward had been found. Alec skimmed through the summaries:

Name (Jennifer Harrison née Jones), DOB, address and identity confirmed. No anomalies detected.

Daughter's existence, name (Sophie Jane), DOB, address (same) and identity confirmed. No anomalies detected.

Relationship to subject (mother and daughter) confirmed via DNA analysis (Sylvia had provided the samples, taken covertly from Jennifer's and Sophie's hairbrushes during one of her regular teatime visits - a single hair follicle contained enough live DNA to facilitate the tests). No anomalies detected. Note: daughter has heterochromia; source is Daniel Harrison (biological father, divorced from subject and of no concern as there is no regular contact between them other than regular monthly maintenance payments, to be continued until daughter reaches age of 18).

No known political leanings. No political/radical activity recorded beyond two student demonstrations at university (BPP University, Croydon) and voting in the 2016 EU Referendum.

Her and a few million others, Alec reflected wryly, and somehow we're still not quite officially out yet. Then came the most important sections, the ones that covered things with which the Aliens and/or their agents might blackmail or control her:

No financial irregularities found; credit history good. No outstanding debts.

No criminal record.

No history of drug and/or alcohol abuse.

No involvement with known or suspected terrorist and/or radical groups.

NO ALIEN CONNECTIONS FOUND.

Conclusion: MINIMAL RISK.

Any action taken will be at checking officer's discretion.

REPORT COMPLETE

There was more, of course (such as Jennifer's breastfeeding habits, among other things), but the most important data were covered. She was clean, and therefore she could live - and see the Commander.

That's that, Alec decided, pleased, he'll be glad to hear it - hmm, that's odd...

Just as he was about to email the summaries to Kelly, a notation had caught his eye. But it was to do with the daughter. He frowned, but dutifully followed it up; the link led to Reynolds Associates, a medical consultancy. That made no sense, until he discovered the girl had been diagnosed with Teresa's Syndrome. Ouch, he thought sympathetically, seeing instantly why Jennifer was working as an escort and offering extras; he knew of the syndrome, and how much it cost to treat given the rare and hard-to-manufacture drugs that were involved.

Poor kid, he mused. So why were they...? Ah, here it is...

It seemed they'd been investigated for financial irregularities more than thirty years ago, but nothing had come of it. Alien involvement had been suspected briefly - the Aliens had tried to infiltrate more than one consultancy back then, though their efforts had been ruthlessly derailed by Ed - but SHADO's investigators had found nothing in that regard relating to RA. It was this suspicion that had caught the operative's attention and prompted him to footnote it anyway, even though it was apparently unfounded; Alec made a mental note to commend James Bryant for his diligence. Sharp kid, he approved, emailing the summaries to Kelly and logging out.

Even someone as thorough as Alec couldn't be expected to be omniscient, of course; he missed the fact that RA had been investigated again two years ago, for alleged malpractice.

But then, no-one's perfect.

Harlington-Straker Studios, Main Lot

Two days later

"She checks out," Alec informed Kelly easily, as they wandered through the studio lot. Kelly was obliged to oversee the making of Harlington-Straker's latest flop personally...because it was a remake of a film that, 42 years ago, had been a success, to the consternation and fury of Ed Straker.

They weren't supposed to be successful; the studio's cover depended on its reputation for being a trier, backed by executives with more money than sense. A successful film would obviously attract a great deal of attention to the studio and its staff...likely too much. It didn't want to make successful films - it was the only studio in the world with a military budget. Not even Disney could match them for funding...though of course no-one in the industry knew that.

Twenty-seven years ago, to preserve its cover - because it was starting to look rather odd that such a poorly-performing studio could still exist at all, given the increasingly fierce competition in the film industry - Harlington-Straker "went bankrupt" and then was "rescued" by new, 'eccentric' investors with even more money and less sense...but what the rest of the industry failed to notice was that nothing else changed at the studio and there wasn't a single redundancy - and not one successful film had been made there since.

A policy had been decided upon, in fact, to make this into a semi-regular thing; Harlington-Straker had "gone bankrupt" a second time twelve years ago, and was scheduled to do so again next year or thereabouts. If the studio ever made a hit again, Henderson would likely give birth to a family of porcupines...in breech presentation.

"She's clean," Alec continued, "I emailed you the summaries."

"You did? I haven't seen them."

"Only because you never read emails below Priority Three," Alec complained, feeling like a member of Special Agent Gibbs' team in NCIS when they complained about Gibbs never reading his email (Season Twenty-Two and still going strong - Pauley Perette, who'd been persuaded by her legions of avid fans to return to the show, looked as young as ever; if he didn't know better, Alec would've sworn she'd received the longevity treatment). "One of these days you'll miss something important."

"If it's important, it'll be higher than P-Three anyway," Kelly retorted. "We spend way too much time reading those damn things, and we're not the only organisation with that complaint. Didn't you hear about that study?"

"What study?"

"Oh, a civilian one, I forget when." Then something occurred to him. "Wait - the summaries? Alec, I need the report."

"No," Alec said quietly, "you need the conclusion. You don't want to know anything she hasn't told you, do you?"

Kelly stopped walking as it hit him: Alec had, technically, violated procedure, or at least not followed it properly. His actions could only have been motivated by friendship. Nonetheless Kelly, as Commander, would be entirely within his rights to discipline his Exec.

He had no intention whatsoever of doing so. He'd be damned if he would. Alec was right; why should he know anything personal about Jennifer she hadn't volunteered?

"Have you read the report?"

"No," Alec told him simply. "I don't want to know any more than you do, for the same reasons. Besides," he shrugged with a pragmatic air, "she checked out clean, so what does it matter? The actual report can sit in my inbox forever, for all I care. If Henderson bitches about it, all it takes is a few taps on a touchpad and you can read it at your leisure."

For the first time in years, Kelly choked up. He simply could not find the words to thank his friend. He made do instead by gripping Alec's arm in a warrior's gesture, as brother to brother...they were, after all, brothers in arms. Alec only nodded; he understood. He knew Kelly had it bad for Jennifer, beyond the entirely understandable lust - one thing that Kelly certainly was not was shallow - and despite the risk he was taking, Alec couldn't be more pleased for him...because he certainly seemed to be happier and more relaxed lately.

Nothing more was ever said. Neither ever read the full report.

Two months later, after a good deal of thought, Kelly rewrote the regulations on background checks to allow the kind of latitude Alec had shown, and so it became standard procedure. Alec joked about getting royalties for the idea.

The next day, even though it seemed a bit soon to him, Kelly was honoured to be introduced to Sophie as Jennifer's 'new guy'; the girl took this in her stride, having doubtless seen several such men in her Mum's life - it was a common pattern for divorcées and their children. But he wanted to make a good first impression, so Kelly asked Sophie - speaking directly to Sophie, not to Jennifer - about her day and her long-term ambitions.

Sophie was immediately pleased at Kelly's treatment of her as an adult; for her part, Jennifer was thrilled at the bright smile on Sophie's face. He hasn't mentioned that awful blue spot on her cheek even once, she marvelled, he's determined not to call attention to her illness; he's even talking about her long-term prospects, when for all we know she might not have any. She felt a warm rush of affection for this odd, difficult man.

She'd come to rely on Sophie as a barometer of the men in her life (though she had, once, embarked on a full-time lesbian relationship instead, not that Sophie knew she and Ursula were lovers); if Sophie liked them, they were probably okay. If she didn't, they were given short shrift; Sophie's instincts in this regard were amazingly accurate, as Jennifer had learned.

She realised then that, somewhat selfishly, she wanted Sophie to like Kelly, but he seemed to be winning her over on his own account with no effort at all, without even trying, so she had a good feeling about the way this first meeting was going. She would, of course, talk to Sophie before the girl went to bed.

Kelly challenged Sophie to a climbing contest at the local gym; she gleefully accepted, ignoring her mother's warning glance. It was a strenuous activity and would likely tire her out, but her daughter accepted the challenge with the gusto one might have expected of a fourteen-year-old girl.

After all, she airily pointed out to her Mum, there was chocolate ice cream at stake!

To Jennifer's surprise and pride, Sophie nearly won the contest. She was clearly panting as they approached the top of the climbing wall, but showed no signs of giving in; it was a close call in the end.

"Did you give me a chance?" Sophie demanded, in a half-kidding tone.

"No, not at all - that was a close match," Kelly told her honestly; he hadn't given her any sort of a break. It would, he felt, have been patronising; he'd always hated that at Sophie's age. She'd tried her best, made an impressive show of it, and he'd won fair and square, but only just. "You have to weigh your skills against those of your opponent, Sophie. In this case, you've got youth and vigour; I've got greater strength and experience. However, I also have much greater weight, so that cuts into my strength advantage to a degree, and you're smaller, lighter and therefore quicker."

"Then again, I'm ill," Sophie said soberly.

Jennifer's heart went out to her, but Kelly smiled gently and replied, "And yet you kept up with me. You're strong, Sophie, deep down where it counts. You were a worthy opponent, and I salute you," he bowed, making her laugh breathlessly. He cheerfully paid for ice cream for all three of them even though he'd won the bet; in theory Sophie wasn't really allowed it because of her illness, but Jennifer took only a moment to decide she was damned if she was going to be any sort of killjoy, not when Sophie was enjoying herself so much. Surely one ice cream couldn't hurt, she thought. They adjourned to a local park, as it was such a lovely day, even for December.

She could never have put into words how much she appreciated what Kelly was doing: he was boosting Sophie's morale by acknowledging her illness but not feeling sorry for her (or, at least, not showing it overtly), and inspiring her to try to overcome it. He wasn't babying her, and there was none of the 'oh, the poor little girl' attitude Sophie had come to expect and detest. She knew how ill she was and didn't need reminding, and she certainly didn't want pity; Kelly clearly recognised that and was just helping her to forget it for a little while.

That, Jennifer thought guiltily, was more than she'd done lately; with that realisation, the stinging sensation on her rear end she'd been nursing since Fiona Makin had given her a ferocious (£600) walloping last night no longer seemed to matter. It was nothing, nothing compared to what poor Sophie was suffering psychologically. Jennifer, at least, knew she would heal, but Sophie had no such guarantee.

But you wouldn't believe it, she thought tenderly, to see those two playing together...yet he's teaching her, too, it suddenly occurred to her, recalling his explanation of why Sophie had nearly won their contest.

Kelly and Sophie had joined in a game of catch another mother was playing with her eight-year-old son and the family dog, a large black Labrador. Kelly was patiently showing the lad how best to skim the Frisbee; the kids, her lover and the hound were clearly enjoying their game. He's good with kids, combining education and fun. I wouldn't have expected that. He's like a father to her.

Father, hmm...this is how it should've been with Daniel, she mused sourly; she hadn't given him a thought in over two years, hadn't even seen him in six. He'd never really been a Dad to Sophie, only a biological father; he'd felt her (admittedly unplanned) arrival had almost scuppered his plans for setting up his own business. But dammit, it wasn't her fault she hadn't known that St. John's Wort interfered with the Pill; she'd taken it to combat the mild depression she'd been feeling at university that year.

She hadn't realised until too late that the reason she was depressed was that Daniel wasn't meeting her emotional needs...or, once she was born, Sophie's. She knew he was (unintentionally, to be fair) hurting Sophie by being too wrapped up in his business venture to pay proper attention to her, and decided the girl would perhaps be better off if he weren't there at all. Jennifer had finally tired of the (mostly one-sided) arguments before Sophie turned three, and delivered an ultimatum: if he didn't start devoting more of his precious time to Sophie, she would seek divorce. He called what he mistakenly believed was her bluff; three months and a sympathetic judge later he was out of their lives, and they were out of his.

She'd never once regretted it.

Well, no, she did regret it once, but her cousin Colin and his gorgeous wife Jemma helped her get over that...

Sophie was the only good thing to come out of her marriage; she'd only married him out of some misplaced sense of duty. He'd never even been that good in bed, she recalled. He'd never once asked to see Sophie, and so Sophie, in her turn, hadn't asked to see him. Jennifer didn't blame her in the slightest, though her own sense of fairness had precluded any attempt to poison Sophie against Daniel.

He didn't deserve that just for being selfish and thoughtless, though to be fair (again) the maintenance payments they'd agreed always arrived on the dot. If he ever grew up, she'd allow him to visit Sophie...if she would agree. She'd only kept her married name and left Sophie's as it was because Sophie had asked her to; she preferred it to Jennifer's maiden name of 'Jones'.

"He's good with her, isn't he?" the woman smiled knowingly at Jennifer, who smiled back. "He's not her dad, though, I'd guess?" she asked, tactfully but directly. "She doesn't look like him."

"No," Jennifer admitted, "this is the first time he's met my Sophie. I was nervous at first, but they've really hit it off." She carefully didn't mention the little boy's dark blue hair, and did her best not to stare, though she was fascinated.

But clearly the woman had had people carefully not asking before; she laughed merrily. "It's alright, love, everyone notices - can't help it, can they? It's not dyed; his dad's hair's the same - it's some odd DNA thing, I'm told."

"That's natural?" Jennifer wondered, surprised. She'd never seen the like.

"Yes, love," the woman smiled, obviously used to the reaction. "It's what our family doctor calls 'a recent mutation', or whatever."

"It's nice," Jennifer told her honestly, "I bet he gets a lot of attention at school." This started a pleasant conversation in which the two women compared notes about the way kids tended to treat people who had, e.g., different hair colours. But Elaine had taught her son some coping strategies, as Jennifer had done for Sophie (just like Jennifer, she'd started out as more ginger than mahogany until she was seven or so, and ginger-haired kids always got abuse regardless of gender), and they'd obviously worked; the boy was friendly and gregarious.

"Oh, my Peter, he'll play with anybody," his mother chuckled, "he misses his dad, though. He's serving abroad, in the Royal Navy," she explained proudly, "on one of the new Queen Elizabeth-class ships."

Kelly, in fact, knew that; he'd recognised her as Elaine Carter, whose husband Michael was currently the chief EWO aboard the QE-class aircraft carrier HMS Prince Of Wales, which had been finished and commissioned some eighteen months ahead of schedule - once the contractors had received a Royal Command to (not to put too fine a point on it) get a move on, as they had been dawdling somewhat. Then again, construction had been somewhat delayed by her near-mothballing owing to budget cuts.

Russian activity in and near British territorial waters had changed that, as it became clear that the QE-class ships might be needed. A recent SHADO operation had involved a near miss with the vessel; she'd actually fired on and winged an incoming UFO, which was then engaged and destroyed by SKY 1. SHADO analysts theorised it was flown by a novice because the UFO, totally invisible to EM radar as all UFOs had been since just before the Falklands War, was spotted visually, a mistake no experienced Alien pilot would make. Michael had stood out during the security debriefing and subsequent amnesia treatments owing to the colour of his hair, for it was naturally dark blue.

He had briefly attracted precautionary attention, as this was unprecedented - an Alien connection was instantly suspected, even though it certainly wasn't in keeping with their usual policy of concealment - but tests and the Royal Navy's own personnel records quickly proved the colour to be a peculiar but natural genetic quirk, one his son had clearly inherited.

Michael's father and several ancestors going back to the 1750s had been cobalt miners, and long exposure to the metal and its dust had done more than merely colour their hair blue; it had apparently induced a genetic effect, subsequently passed on to Michael and thus to his son. If Peter and Sophie got together in ten years' time, Kelly speculated amusedly, would their kids have hair as purple as Gay's Moonbase wig?

Eventually Jennifer had to, reluctantly, declare an end to the game; she could see Sophie was starting to sweat even though the day wasn't all that warm - a danger sign, she knew too well. "Okay, let's go," she instructed, hardening her heart to the pleading look her daughter threw her; Sophie had always loved playing with younger kids, a clear sign to Jennifer that she would make a good mother someday. She hated to lay down the law like that, but Sophie knew the score and soon complied like the well-behaved and sensible young lady she was. "Nice to meet you, Elaine, Peter," she called pleasantly as she gathered Sophie in and hugged her; they waved back.

She didn't like the way Sophie's skin felt, it was too hot, but she seemed happy enough and not in distress. Still, Jennifer didn't dare take the risk. "Kelly," she called to him, as he was shaking a farewell paw with the dog (whose name, ironically, was Shadow), "I think Sophie needs a drink."

He looked up, immediately picking up on the urgent subtext she'd telegraphed to him: Sophie wasn't just thirsty...she needed to drink. He nodded and headed towards a nearby newsagent's, emerging quickly with a large bottle of old-style still lemonade and pouring some into a large cup.

"Mmm, that's nice, I've never had it before," Sophie remarked approvingly.

"Sip it, Sophie," he advised mildly. "Don't gulp; you'll get hiccups. And save some for us," he kidded.

"Okay," she smiled, and, to the adults' surprise and Jennifer's delight, kissed him on the cheek. Oh, she would never do that if she didn't like him, Jennifer mused, very pleased. As Sophie sipped repeatedly, the flush slowly faded from her face, to her mother's relief. She couldn't help checking, almost by reflex, that horrible blue spot...she could swear it was a little bigger -

Stop it! Jennifer commanded herself sternly, horrified at the direction her thoughts were taking. This is Sophie's day, and she's loving it! Don't you say a bloody word or you'll spoil it for her! When was the last time she laughed and played like this, the way a girl her age should? It'll do her good by raising her morale, so keep it shut, girl!

Oh, God, I'm sounding like Gran again...

Sophie's breathing became slower, her inhalations no longer as deep, and her colour returned more or less to normal, though Jennifer had to fight an urge to take her pulse. "I'm okay, Mum, don't worry."

"That's her job, Sophie," Kelly told her gently. "She'll still be fussing over you in thirty years' time, trust me." He winced at the memory of setting off from his Mum's house last year on an off-duty night, for a pool match with some friends (a mixture of SHADO operatives and civilians), and as he was leaving the old dear had called, "Mind the road, son!" His friends and colleagues ribbed him unmercifully about that all night; Sophie laughed delightedly when he ruefully shared the anecdote with them.

"I do not fuss," Jennifer protested with dignity. But it didn't last long; Kelly and Sophie shared a knowing glance.

"She so does," Sophie teased.

"Mums, eh?" Kelly sighed, with a put-upon air.

They collapsed into laughter, and Jennifer gave in and followed suit. She was always willing to be the butt of a joke for Sophie's sake.

It was the perfect end to a perfect day.

And not only for them; a nondescript man off to one side, unnoticed either by Kelly or the Protection Detail, was not watching them...not overtly, anyway. He nodded in satisfaction and casually moved on, attracting no attention at all.