number. He knows
better than that. I found it on my own.”
Ronnie wasn’t about to ask how. With
any other man, she would have panicked, worrying about blackmail, payoffs,
money lost to keep the agency more urban myth than the reality it was.
Something in Hunt’s voice told her that wasn’t why he’d called.
“I want Magique for the entire evening,” Hunt said at her continued silence. “Alone. Just her and me.”
Sounded like the opening lyrics to a
very painful love song. Although he spoke with confident strength, there was
such need behind it, Ronnie told him the score,
figuring he should know. “I’m sorry. That’s not possible.”
Alexa didn’t allow herself to be vulnerable. To give any man the
chance to treat her with brutal disregard as her father always had.
“She doesn’t do what you’ve
requested,” Ronnie added.
“You mean one on one.”
“That’s right.”
“That’s bull,” Hunt countered. “She
did the other night when my buddies were asleep. Did she tell you that?”
No, she had not. Ronnie studied the
girl now. “I thought you had a good time with Mr. Prescott. Did he hurt you?
Should I have him killed?”
Alexa laughed.
It sounded young and reckless. To
Ronnie, it sounded as if it was solely because of Hunt. She arched one brow.
Alexa sobered a bit. “Don’t be ridiculous. He seems like a nice
man.”
“He wants you this evening. All evening. Just the two of you.”
A deep red blush crept up Alexa’s neck, then stained her
face, its tint matching the chair’s cushions and her claret silk blouse. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
Alexa rolled her eyes.
Ronnie smiled even as her heart
ached. In the years Alexa had worked for the agency,
no man had affected her like Hunt. She wanted him badly. Ronnie saw it on the
girl’s face, the flush of her skin, the way her body seemed to wilt every time
his name came up.
Don’t throw this away, she willed the girl. It might prove to be more precious
than you can imagine.
“Look, I don’t want to see him,” Alexa said, her earlier amusement replaced with what
sounded like shaky resolve. “I won’t.”
Too bad the young didn’t listen to
the unspoken pleas of their elders or simple common sense. In this, Alexa would have to find her own way.
“Good,” Ronnie said, feigning
indifference. “Given what you’d told me the night you two met, I gave him a
firm no when he called. I—”
“Wait. He actually called?”
“He did. And I promised to book him
with one of the other ladies.”
An alarmed look skittered across her
face. Interesting. Ronnie wondered if Alexa’s concern stemmed from Hunt having the agency’s phone
number. Or was she jealous at the thought of him being with another woman?
“He’ll have a good time with
whomever I choose ,” Ronnie assured. “Don’t you worry. ”
“I’m not.”
Oh yes, she was.
The restaurant was one of Hunt’s
favorites, tucked away from tourists and hardly noticed by K Streeters , who preferred dining fit for an emperor. The
cuisine in this place was still five-star, its specialty bacon-wrapped steaks
with a few vegetables thrown on the side to keep the guilt and cholesterol
down.
The server led Hunt to the terrace
and his usual table when weather permitted. It was mild today, mid-seventies
thanks to global warming or simple good luck. More than the typical number of
patrons ate outdoors. Blocked off from the sidewalk by plump hedges and
carefully spaced trees, the dining area was dotted with large white umbrellas
that shielded the linen-covered tables from this afternoon’s sun. The fabric on
each fluttered in the gentle breeze heavy with the scent of flowers, a bit of
diesel from the numerous vehicles whizzing by and beef sizzling on grills.
Hunt’s stomach rumbled. He took his
seat. Behind him a group of women laughed with the joy of those who’d found
love at last or closed a great deal, adding to their bottom lines. In this part
of the world, he
better than that. I found it on my own.”
Ronnie wasn’t about to ask how. With
any other man, she would have panicked, worrying about blackmail, payoffs,
money lost to keep the agency more urban myth than the reality it was.
Something in Hunt’s voice told her that wasn’t why he’d called.
“I want Magique for the entire evening,” Hunt said at her continued silence. “Alone. Just her and me.”
Sounded like the opening lyrics to a
very painful love song. Although he spoke with confident strength, there was
such need behind it, Ronnie told him the score,
figuring he should know. “I’m sorry. That’s not possible.”
Alexa didn’t allow herself to be vulnerable. To give any man the
chance to treat her with brutal disregard as her father always had.
“She doesn’t do what you’ve
requested,” Ronnie added.
“You mean one on one.”
“That’s right.”
“That’s bull,” Hunt countered. “She
did the other night when my buddies were asleep. Did she tell you that?”
No, she had not. Ronnie studied the
girl now. “I thought you had a good time with Mr. Prescott. Did he hurt you?
Should I have him killed?”
Alexa laughed.
It sounded young and reckless. To
Ronnie, it sounded as if it was solely because of Hunt. She arched one brow.
Alexa sobered a bit. “Don’t be ridiculous. He seems like a nice
man.”
“He wants you this evening. All evening. Just the two of you.”
A deep red blush crept up Alexa’s neck, then stained her
face, its tint matching the chair’s cushions and her claret silk blouse. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
Alexa rolled her eyes.
Ronnie smiled even as her heart
ached. In the years Alexa had worked for the agency,
no man had affected her like Hunt. She wanted him badly. Ronnie saw it on the
girl’s face, the flush of her skin, the way her body seemed to wilt every time
his name came up.
Don’t throw this away, she willed the girl. It might prove to be more precious
than you can imagine.
“Look, I don’t want to see him,” Alexa said, her earlier amusement replaced with what
sounded like shaky resolve. “I won’t.”
Too bad the young didn’t listen to
the unspoken pleas of their elders or simple common sense. In this, Alexa would have to find her own way.
“Good,” Ronnie said, feigning
indifference. “Given what you’d told me the night you two met, I gave him a
firm no when he called. I—”
“Wait. He actually called?”
“He did. And I promised to book him
with one of the other ladies.”
An alarmed look skittered across her
face. Interesting. Ronnie wondered if Alexa’s concern stemmed from Hunt having the agency’s phone
number. Or was she jealous at the thought of him being with another woman?
“He’ll have a good time with
whomever I choose ,” Ronnie assured. “Don’t you worry. ”
“I’m not.”
Oh yes, she was.
The restaurant was one of Hunt’s
favorites, tucked away from tourists and hardly noticed by K Streeters , who preferred dining fit for an emperor. The
cuisine in this place was still five-star, its specialty bacon-wrapped steaks
with a few vegetables thrown on the side to keep the guilt and cholesterol
down.
The server led Hunt to the terrace
and his usual table when weather permitted. It was mild today, mid-seventies
thanks to global warming or simple good luck. More than the typical number of
patrons ate outdoors. Blocked off from the sidewalk by plump hedges and
carefully spaced trees, the dining area was dotted with large white umbrellas
that shielded the linen-covered tables from this afternoon’s sun. The fabric on
each fluttered in the gentle breeze heavy with the scent of flowers, a bit of
diesel from the numerous vehicles whizzing by and beef sizzling on grills.
Hunt’s stomach rumbled. He took his
seat. Behind him a group of women laughed with the joy of those who’d found
love at last or closed a great deal, adding to their bottom lines. In this part
of the world, he
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