— she understands that he represents her employer, not her. She hung around in Jake ’ s after the deposition to talk to me. ”
“ Lucky that you ended up in Jake ’ s, ” he said knowingly.
“ It was, wasn ’ t it? ”
“ Did you take her to see your friend in the prosecutor ’ s office? ”
“ I did. They ’ ve assigned her a protective detail, and I ’m sure Charlotte’ s going to convene a grand jury as quickly as she can. ”
“ So that ’ s what ’ s putting the bounce in your step — and inspiring this odd domestic behavior? ”
She flapped her dishtowel at him. “ Oh, stop it. You act like I never set foot in the kitchen. I make dinner at least once a season. But I ’ m just so glad that I was able to take Laura Yim and the evidence of an arson-for-profit ring to the authorities and trust them to handle it. All the hands on crime-stopping stuff was getting old. ” She was nearly floating on air at the prospect of someone else bringing the bad guys to justice for a change.
He gave her a look as if he might contest the claim about her cooking but said, “ Whatever the reason, I like the result. ”
“ You should, ” she said, sliding the first tray of cookies into the oven. She turned and beamed at him. “ My work load is in great shape for me to jet off for a tropical paradise. Everything ’ s coming together. ”
He crossed the kitchen and slipped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck for a moment before murmuring in her ear, “ One week from today, we ’ ll be on a plane toasting to our anniversary. ”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura almost didn ’ t hear the knocking over the hairdryer. She flipped the switch to turn it off and listened for a moment.
Rap, rap, rap. There it was — a soft but insistent knocking on the door to her room. She glanced at the digital clock as she walked through the room: 4:16. She frowned. Agent Brenner had said to be ready to leave for the airport by five o ’ clock. She was on the first flight back to Jersey City, but it didn ’ t depart until almost seven a.m. So why was someone knocking on her door this early?
She paused in front of the door. Her thick hair, still wet from the shower, dripped down her back. She peered through the peephole. A clean-shaven, dark-haired man dressed in a dark suit and tan overcoat stood erect and alert, far enough away for her to get a good look at him. He sure looked like an FBI agent, but she didn ’ t recognize him.
“ Can I help you? ” she called through the door.
“ Ms. Yim, ma ’ am? There ’ s been a change of plans. We need to get you to the airport a bit earlier than planned. Didn ’ t Agent Brenner call you? ”
“ Um, no. ”
She pulled the oversized white robe tighter around her and unchained the deadbolt. Then she caught herself, remembering the U.S. Attorney ’ s admonition to take every precaution, even if she felt as though she were overreacting.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” she called again. “ Could you hold up your identification? ”
“ Sure thing, ma ’ am. ”
She watched through the fisheye while he pulled out a leather case and pressed a Federal Bureau of Investigations badge up to it. It looked legitimate to her, but the truth was, she probably wouldn ’ t have been able to distinguish a counterfeit from the real thing. But he knew Brenner ’ s name. And hers.
She opened the door.
He smiled reassuringly as he stowed the identification back in his breast pocket. “ Good for you, asking me to identify myself. I ’ m sorry for the mix-up. We got word that PennDOT ’ s going to have one lane closed for construction this morning. We wouldn ’ t want to miss the flight because of traffic. ”
“ No, of course not, ” she agreed, smiling back at him. “ I need a few minutes, okay? ” She gestured toward her hair.
“ Yes, ma ’ am. You get dressed and pack up. I ’ ll wait out here. ”
She nodded and closed the door, realizing
“ Lucky that you ended up in Jake ’ s, ” he said knowingly.
“ It was, wasn ’ t it? ”
“ Did you take her to see your friend in the prosecutor ’ s office? ”
“ I did. They ’ ve assigned her a protective detail, and I ’m sure Charlotte’ s going to convene a grand jury as quickly as she can. ”
“ So that ’ s what ’ s putting the bounce in your step — and inspiring this odd domestic behavior? ”
She flapped her dishtowel at him. “ Oh, stop it. You act like I never set foot in the kitchen. I make dinner at least once a season. But I ’ m just so glad that I was able to take Laura Yim and the evidence of an arson-for-profit ring to the authorities and trust them to handle it. All the hands on crime-stopping stuff was getting old. ” She was nearly floating on air at the prospect of someone else bringing the bad guys to justice for a change.
He gave her a look as if he might contest the claim about her cooking but said, “ Whatever the reason, I like the result. ”
“ You should, ” she said, sliding the first tray of cookies into the oven. She turned and beamed at him. “ My work load is in great shape for me to jet off for a tropical paradise. Everything ’ s coming together. ”
He crossed the kitchen and slipped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck for a moment before murmuring in her ear, “ One week from today, we ’ ll be on a plane toasting to our anniversary. ”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura almost didn ’ t hear the knocking over the hairdryer. She flipped the switch to turn it off and listened for a moment.
Rap, rap, rap. There it was — a soft but insistent knocking on the door to her room. She glanced at the digital clock as she walked through the room: 4:16. She frowned. Agent Brenner had said to be ready to leave for the airport by five o ’ clock. She was on the first flight back to Jersey City, but it didn ’ t depart until almost seven a.m. So why was someone knocking on her door this early?
She paused in front of the door. Her thick hair, still wet from the shower, dripped down her back. She peered through the peephole. A clean-shaven, dark-haired man dressed in a dark suit and tan overcoat stood erect and alert, far enough away for her to get a good look at him. He sure looked like an FBI agent, but she didn ’ t recognize him.
“ Can I help you? ” she called through the door.
“ Ms. Yim, ma ’ am? There ’ s been a change of plans. We need to get you to the airport a bit earlier than planned. Didn ’ t Agent Brenner call you? ”
“ Um, no. ”
She pulled the oversized white robe tighter around her and unchained the deadbolt. Then she caught herself, remembering the U.S. Attorney ’ s admonition to take every precaution, even if she felt as though she were overreacting.
“ I ’ m sorry, ” she called again. “ Could you hold up your identification? ”
“ Sure thing, ma ’ am. ”
She watched through the fisheye while he pulled out a leather case and pressed a Federal Bureau of Investigations badge up to it. It looked legitimate to her, but the truth was, she probably wouldn ’ t have been able to distinguish a counterfeit from the real thing. But he knew Brenner ’ s name. And hers.
She opened the door.
He smiled reassuringly as he stowed the identification back in his breast pocket. “ Good for you, asking me to identify myself. I ’ m sorry for the mix-up. We got word that PennDOT ’ s going to have one lane closed for construction this morning. We wouldn ’ t want to miss the flight because of traffic. ”
“ No, of course not, ” she agreed, smiling back at him. “ I need a few minutes, okay? ” She gestured toward her hair.
“ Yes, ma ’ am. You get dressed and pack up. I ’ ll wait out here. ”
She nodded and closed the door, realizing
Similar Books
