Beautiful Storm (Lightning Strikes Book 1) by Barbara Freethy Page A
Authors: Barbara Freethy
Tags: Romance
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Eileen's eyes. "Do I need to be worried about you?"
"I'm fine. I found a military ID tag at the park when I went to shoot the photographs yesterday. It belonged to a missing person. That's all. Hopefully, it will help find her."
"You always have had a sharp eye, Alicia. Probably not many people would have noticed an ID tag lying about or thought it was important."
She shrugged, not wanting to get into the fight she'd witnessed. "We'll see if it helps bring the woman home. Were you just leaving?"
"Yes, I have a date tonight with a very distinguished gentleman," Eileen said. "Handsome and rich, my favorite combination."
She laughed. "Good for you. I want to hear all about it. I have to live vicariously through you."
Eileen's wicked smile turned to Michael. "I don't know that I believe that anymore. You have such an attractive companion. You two have fun."
As Eileen walked away, Alicia gave Michael an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. She loves to try to find me dates. I'm the single daughter she never had."
"I know what that's like. My assistant is a fifty-six-year-old woman who feels compelled to try to match me up with someone whenever she can, usually the daughter of one of her friends."
She smiled, doubting that Michael had trouble finding dates on his own. "Have you ever let her set you up?"
"Twice, under duress. She wouldn't let up on me, and I knew she was trying to be nice, so I went. One woman wasn't bad, but she was really hung up on her ex-boyfriend. The other was a fanatical conservationist who basically told me building projects were destroying the planet. Needless to say, we didn't have much to talk about."
She laughed as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. "I've had worse dates than that."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"Like the guy who wouldn't stop crying."
Michael gave her a skeptical look. "You're making that up."
"I'm not. He'd just sold his '76 Mustang that he'd apparently inherited from his grandfather, and he was mourning its loss. Everything I said and did reminded him of that car. I mentioned I liked the beach and he broke down in sobs, saying the first time he ever drove that car, he took it to the beach. The smell of salty sea air would stay with him forever."
"Hey, women always want us to show emotion and when we do, you don't like it," he said with a grin.
"Not when you're crying about your car," she said, letting him into her apartment.
"A '76 Mustang is a sweet ride."
"It's just a vehicle, something that gets you from point A to point B."
"No, a car is always more than a car to a guy. It's like a purse to a woman. It's a sign of status. It represents your personality. And it shows off your flash."
She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but you're driving a leased convertible that you didn't even pick out for yourself, so if a car is so important to you, then what's the deal?" She tossed her keys down on the side table and took off her jacket.
"That car is just part of the job. It's not me."
"So what do you drive in New York?"
"I don't drive in the city."
"Then you don't own a car?"
"I do," he said, a sheepish smile on his face.
"What is it—a Porsche? A BMW. Wait, it isn't a Mustang, is it?"
"No, it's an Infiniti sports car. Nice speed, great handling, and all-wheel drive takes me wherever I want to go."
"And where does it take you?"
"Upstate New York sometimes. My grandfather has a place in the Adirondacks, sometimes down to Cape Cod or farther south to Martha's Vineyard."
"Where I assume your grandfather also has houses?"
"He does own a lot of real estate," Michael admitted. "It's his business, and he's been buying and selling for half a century."
"Sounds like you have a nice inheritance in your future."
"Only if I prove myself. Otherwise, he claims to be leaving everything to his favorite charities."
She gave him a doubtful look. "Seriously?"
"Yes. Will Jansen doesn't give anybody anything unless they earn it, and part of earning it is being unconditionally loyal
"I'm fine. I found a military ID tag at the park when I went to shoot the photographs yesterday. It belonged to a missing person. That's all. Hopefully, it will help find her."
"You always have had a sharp eye, Alicia. Probably not many people would have noticed an ID tag lying about or thought it was important."
She shrugged, not wanting to get into the fight she'd witnessed. "We'll see if it helps bring the woman home. Were you just leaving?"
"Yes, I have a date tonight with a very distinguished gentleman," Eileen said. "Handsome and rich, my favorite combination."
She laughed. "Good for you. I want to hear all about it. I have to live vicariously through you."
Eileen's wicked smile turned to Michael. "I don't know that I believe that anymore. You have such an attractive companion. You two have fun."
As Eileen walked away, Alicia gave Michael an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. She loves to try to find me dates. I'm the single daughter she never had."
"I know what that's like. My assistant is a fifty-six-year-old woman who feels compelled to try to match me up with someone whenever she can, usually the daughter of one of her friends."
She smiled, doubting that Michael had trouble finding dates on his own. "Have you ever let her set you up?"
"Twice, under duress. She wouldn't let up on me, and I knew she was trying to be nice, so I went. One woman wasn't bad, but she was really hung up on her ex-boyfriend. The other was a fanatical conservationist who basically told me building projects were destroying the planet. Needless to say, we didn't have much to talk about."
She laughed as they walked up the stairs to her apartment. "I've had worse dates than that."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?"
"Like the guy who wouldn't stop crying."
Michael gave her a skeptical look. "You're making that up."
"I'm not. He'd just sold his '76 Mustang that he'd apparently inherited from his grandfather, and he was mourning its loss. Everything I said and did reminded him of that car. I mentioned I liked the beach and he broke down in sobs, saying the first time he ever drove that car, he took it to the beach. The smell of salty sea air would stay with him forever."
"Hey, women always want us to show emotion and when we do, you don't like it," he said with a grin.
"Not when you're crying about your car," she said, letting him into her apartment.
"A '76 Mustang is a sweet ride."
"It's just a vehicle, something that gets you from point A to point B."
"No, a car is always more than a car to a guy. It's like a purse to a woman. It's a sign of status. It represents your personality. And it shows off your flash."
She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, but you're driving a leased convertible that you didn't even pick out for yourself, so if a car is so important to you, then what's the deal?" She tossed her keys down on the side table and took off her jacket.
"That car is just part of the job. It's not me."
"So what do you drive in New York?"
"I don't drive in the city."
"Then you don't own a car?"
"I do," he said, a sheepish smile on his face.
"What is it—a Porsche? A BMW. Wait, it isn't a Mustang, is it?"
"No, it's an Infiniti sports car. Nice speed, great handling, and all-wheel drive takes me wherever I want to go."
"And where does it take you?"
"Upstate New York sometimes. My grandfather has a place in the Adirondacks, sometimes down to Cape Cod or farther south to Martha's Vineyard."
"Where I assume your grandfather also has houses?"
"He does own a lot of real estate," Michael admitted. "It's his business, and he's been buying and selling for half a century."
"Sounds like you have a nice inheritance in your future."
"Only if I prove myself. Otherwise, he claims to be leaving everything to his favorite charities."
She gave him a doubtful look. "Seriously?"
"Yes. Will Jansen doesn't give anybody anything unless they earn it, and part of earning it is being unconditionally loyal
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