Reese: The Untamed. Susan Connell
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Название: Reese: The Untamed
Автор: Susan Connell
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Eugene Sprague dropped his pricey leather case to the cot and took hold of her elbows. “Listen, do I have to spell it out for you? The campaign’s in trouble. Big trouble. And if we don’t turn up something substantial on golden boy Montgomery soon, you can kiss that housing bill goodbye, because he sure as hell isn’t going to come through for it.”
The weight of his words had her weak at the knees. Fluctuating opinion polls were one thing, but when the head of the reelection campaign smelled imminent defeat, it made her head spin. Her entire life had led to this job. Every indignity she’d ever suffered, every embarrassment she’d ever endured, every leftover doubt she had about herself would be exorcised once she saw that housing bill signed into law. She lifted her gaze to meet Eugene’s. He let go of her, and reached to smooth his hair, then straighten his tie.
“What the president’s asking you to do isn’t so different from what you’re dealing with here,” he said, jerking his thumb toward the pile of sheets. “Instead of some nameless nobody’s dirty linen, it’ll be Harrison Montgomery’s.”
Taking a step backward, she bumped into a cot. Shock coupled with momentum sent her downward to the bare mattress. The only words that registered were Eugene’s first seven. “Are you saying President Pierson chose me? I met him once and all he did was shake my hand.” She squinted at Eugene. “You’re making that part up,” she said, flashing him what she hoped was at least a suspicious look, and at best a challenging one.
“I don’t have time to make this up,” he said, unzipping his portfolio and withdrawing a bank statement with her name on it. “I know you don’t believe in vacations or long weekends or even something as frivolous as a good address, but I think the budget for this assignment will prove how important this is.”
“I don’t know what you or the president want me to do,” she protested as he pressed the paper into her upturned palm.
“You’ll get a full briefing on that tomorrow morning in my office.”
“The only thing I know about the Riviera is what I’ve seen in the movies. I don’t speak French, Eugene,” she said, hoping if she hurried through the reasons, she would convince him along with herself that she couldn’t consider his suggestion. “I don’t have the wardrobe. And I’m in the middle of setting up the northwest trip for July.”
“Everyone speaks English. Your wardrobe is already being assembled. Dress size eight. Shoe size six and a half medium. Buy whatever else you need when you get there. Someone’s already been chosen to replace you at headquarters. You’re booked on a flight out of Dulles tomorrow evening.”
Half hearing him, she looked up from the paper he’d handed her. “This is crazy. There’s enough money here to buy one of these people a house. Two houses.”
“What’s that slogan on your T-shirt read? You Can Make A Difference? Well, Beth, you can make a difference. But not by nickel and diming away your time in a place like this.” Sitting down beside her, he placed a reassuring hand over hers and spoke in a voice suspiciously reminiscent of President Pierson’s own Southern drawl. “If not you, Beth, who?”
“‘Never gamble what you can’t afford to lose.’ Isn’t that what you always tell me when I come to Monte Carlo?”
Reese Marchand’s searching glance around the glittering casino came to an abrupt halt on his friend. “Always,” he said, absently tapping the stack of chips in his hand. “What’s the matter, Duncan? Baccarat’s not your game tonight?” Even as Reese spoke, his gaze began straying from his friend’s frown to the entrance of the private gambling salon.
Duncan Vanos patted his empty pockets as he reached the roulette table. “Baccarat’s never my game. It’s your game. Remember that time in Las Vegas?” Duncan shook his head, his words dissolving into a chuckle. “She’ll be along any minute now.”
Reese never took his gaze from the entrance. “Who are you talking about?” he asked, bluffing badly for his friend’s entertainment. He knew exactly who Duncan was talking about. The exquisite creature who’d been ducking behind columns out in the atrium tonight. The same one who’d been trailing him through Monaco for the past three days. Thank heavens she’d left off the sunglasses and head scarf tonight so he could finally get a good look at her face. He pictured her checking herself in the tiny mirror inside her purse when she thought he wasn’t looking.
He couldn’t stop looking; that she wasn’t a perfectly poised clone of every other woman in a two-mile radius had intrigued him to the point of fixation. How many stalkers, he wondered, stopped every five minutes to check their lipstick and fluff their hair? No doubt about it, the lady was on a manhunt…for him. His body shook with silent laughter when he tried imagining what terrible things this fine-boned beauty with the brandy-colored eyes could do to him once she had him in her clutches.
Duncan leaned closer, his voice reeling with melodrama. “The way she presses her hand flat against her tummy, then takes that calming breath just before she walks by you…” He gave an appreciative shiver.
Reese narrowed his eyes in sincere curiosity toward his old college friend. “You’ve noticed that, too, have you?”
“Along with every other red-blooded man here,” he said, as he moved to Reese’s side and looked toward the entrance with him. “They say she’s staying at Billy Waleska’s place over in Cap Ferrat while he’s away.”
“Is she American?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
No, he didn’t. If there was one thing he could always recognize it was anything or anyone American. And he would happily bet his substantial night’s winnings to prove it by locating the Made In America stamp on her derriere. A twist of a smile was fighting for control of his mouth when he pictured himself uncovering the evidence.
“Here she comes,” Duncan said behind his fingers as he ran one down his nose. “Listen, if you decide to join forces with your mystery lady, we can have our talk tomorrow.”
As the croupier raked in the house win, Reese frowned at his friend. “It’s not going to happen.”
“Come on. The thought of leaving the casino with that angel hasn’t crossed your mind?” Duncan asked as they watched her slip into the crowd on the other side of the roulette table to buy her chips.
Reese watched as the other men there took a look, some less discreetly than others. He couldn’t blame them. Her décolleté dress was showing off the creamy curves of her breasts to perfection, but the choker of large white pearls at her throat added that odd touch of sexuality that was grabbing at his gut. He repositioned his body against the hard edge of the table as he continued to watch her. Knowing she’d dressed with him in mind had him musing about the parts of her he couldn’t see.
Duncan lowered his voice to a comical level. “I don’t think she’s following you around for a contribution to the СКАЧАТЬ