[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

We... He shouldn t be telling her this.
But she was so enticing when her eyes
brightened with interest, and he gave in.
 We acquire evidence of illegal
activities and get it in the right hands,
where it can do some good. Brayden can
break into any computer system invented
 he grew up in the Seattle Underlight,
where they re not so technophobic but
he couldn t save his ass in a tussle with
a ten-year-old girl. I get us into and out
of the building safely. He straightened
up, unwilling to be ashamed by his role
as the brawn of the operation. It s not
like being strong made him stupid.
But damn, he was an ugly brute from
working-class Ohio with a crush on a
gorgeous heiress with a perfect high kick
and a penthouse.
 So you re, like, a spy. Should I call
you Ethan and start the theme music?
She hummed the intro to Mission
Impossible as the elevator dinged and
the doors opened.
 Thanks. Yeah, it s just like that, with
wireworks and exploding chewing
gum. And I m practically Tom Cruise.
The fifty-fifth floor foyer was
immaculate, all brushed silver and soft
blue walls. Hauk glanced around to
make sure the hall was clear, but Jolie
flounced right in and threw her wallet on
a table. Tentatively Hauk stepped onto
the cherry wood floor. The bank of four
elevators was freestanding in the center
of a spacious living area. To his left and
right, floor-to-ceiling windows looked
down on Austin, giving him the
uncomfortable sensation of total
exposure.
 You have the whole floor? Holy
shit, she owns the whole fucking floor.
He followed her around the elevators to
a sunken living area that took up nearly a
quarter the length of the elliptical
building. Window walls continued
around, giving the room a 180-degree
view of the city. Late morning light
poured in from east and north-facing
windows, touching expertly arranged
furnishings and artwork that no doubt
cost more than his parents house.
She may have turned down Daddy s
money, but that hadn t dampened her
lifestyle.
The curving lines and deep colors of
the furnishings reminded him of old New
York City. The pool table had real felt
and tassels on the pockets. Couches and
chairs were straight-backed and slim but
cushioned enough to be comfortable.
Everything had the creative irregularity
of antiques or handmade goods but
without the wear and tear of age or the
imperfections of handcraft.
This is a new level S a ut the weaof
out-of-your-league. Get it through your
head. Alone is fine. Celibacy is... Fuck
it all, celibacy was not fine. Not about to
change any time soon, but not fine.
Jolie looked over her shoulder at
him.  Want something to drink? I ve
got... She waved at an open kitchen that
took up the point of the ellipse.  I don t
even know what I ve got. How about we
make lunch and you can tell me the plan?
Pizza? I only eat pizza on bad days.
Today counts. She headed for a
cavernous refrigerator and began pulling
ingredients out with jerky movements
that lacked her usual grace.
Was she nervous? She wasn t scared
of him, so why would she be nervous?
Hauk followed.  We re going to
make our own pizza? He tried for a grin
and a joke.  What, they don t deliver
this high in the air?
 I m a good cook, I promise. I can t
eat wheat, so I had to learn. The words
chattered from her. She was definitely
nervous.  Wheat is in everything so it s
hard for me to order in. Would you
please get out that mixer and set it on the
counter?
She pointed, and he moved an
oversized mixer to the cool black granite
and plugged it in.  No wheat? No bread,
pasta, donuts... That would be damn
hard.  No birthday cake?
She wrinkled her nose.  Celiac
disease. Wheat makes me real sick.
Even just a little bit. So, no roux. No
fried foods. No eating at a restaurant
where wheatless food is cooked on the
same surface as food with wheat, or
where flour particles may blow into
food that doesn t have flour in it. Hence,
no ordering in pizza. I m a pain in the
ass to be friends with. She fluttered a
hand toward the ingredients to her
wheatless dough.  The crust may taste
off to you. Sorry about that. But it s still
pizza. Enough cheese, and you barely
notice. What toppings do you like? I
have pepperoni, mushrooms, sun-dried
tomatoes, olives, some green pepper,
anchovies...
 Celiac disease. He d have to look
that up. Apparently life found ways to
throw challenges at everybody, even
gorgeous women with money to burn and
a cadre of pretty boys vying for their
time. Hauk grabbed a green pepper from
the counter and slid a knife from her
block.  You make the crust. I m no
restaurant critic, so I m sure I ll like it
however you make it. I ll take care of
the toppings. Sound good?
She chewed on her lip again and
studied him, and then smiled as some of
the tension in her shoulders eased.
 Sounds good.
He chopped as she mixed. The
silence was awkward, so he looked
around the room for something to say.
 Nice tree.
She shrugged and cracked another
egg into her mixing bowl.  Thanks.
Unsure how to take that, he continued.
 It looks like a magazine or something.
The Yule tree (or Christmas tree, or
whatever she called it) was as tall as the
ceiling allowed and had that silver and
blue glittering perfection that every
catalog shows and nobody in real life
actually pulls off. Except, of course,
Jolie Benoit. Then again, most people
had family ornaments, things picked up
on travels, celebratory markers and
child-crafted oddities that made their
holiday tree a thing of meaningful chaos.
Perfect looks came with a distinct
absence of character. He was, however,
smart enough not to say that last part.
Jolie shrugged again, still not looking
at her tree.  I didn t decorate it. They
have a service. It s pretty, I guess. She
started mixing and finally turned to study
the tree, carrying the bowl around with
her and rhythmically whacking the dough
with a woo Sgh or wden spoon.  It
doesn t look like a Christmas tree to me. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]