The Truth About Harry. Tracy Kelleher

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      4

      LAUREN MADE NO EFFORT to hide her scowl as she turned to lead the way to her desk. “The Metro section is over in the back corner.” She clomped swiftly down the hall without bothering to look back to see if he was keeping up. If he got lost, so much the better. Sebastian Alberti gave her the willies. No, he gave her more than that. He made every nerve ending in her body acutely aware of things like the smell of hazelnut-flavored coffee and quiet desperation wafting up the stairwell from the Classified section. Ad space was down, and the hazelnut coffee was probably a contributing factor.

      Lauren took a sharp right past the City Hall desk and knew instantly he was still following. Closely. Her scalp prickled with the subtle rise in temperature.

      This was not good, definitely not good. She lengthened her stride, unaware that the exaggerated gait left a lasting impression for anyone with a view from behind.

      Needless to say, Sebastian was as observant as the next man. Maybe even more, given his professional training and artistically inclined eye. An eye that normally lumped women who wore those ridiculous wooden shoes in the company of plow horses, but in this case looked charmingly contrapuntal against Lauren’s energized strides and nicely rounded rear end. He pursed his lips and watched her take the corner past a low partition with the skill of a professional driver. Yes, definitely a nicely rounded rear end.

      Life could be a lot worse, he reflected with the sardonic smile that seemed as much a part of his being as his fingers and toes. How often did he get the excuse to follow a woman who attracted him as much as Lauren Jeffries? She appeared to be a fragile doll, her cap of pale blond hair haloing her delicate features. Yet she was as tough as nails, with the ramrod-straight posture of a bantamweight boxer. And that mouth of hers. Her quick, Northeastern way of speaking with its sarcastic bite. Ah, yes, that mouth. He thought of her full, blushing-pink lips…. He coughed and adjusted his steps as she slowed down.

      Lauren stopped at a small cubicle demarcated by low beige fabric-covered walls. The only thing that distinguished it from the other work areas in the cavernous room was a “Metro” nameplate affixed at the opening. Her own name occupied the slot directly below, while the third slot was empty.

      “It’s a little cramped, but you can sit there if you want.” She pointed to an empty swivel chair. A counter, which served as a continuous desktop, lined three sides of the cubicle. In addition to two computers and phones, there were dual In and Out baskets. “Frankly, I wouldn’t go near it without a serious dose of Lysol and an incantation from a voodoo priest. But then, I’m not the most trusting of people.”

      “Any particular reason?”

      “For my naturally suspicious nature?”

      “Actually, I was referring to the desk chair, but your point is perhaps more interesting.”

      Lauren scowled. “Trust me, there’s nothing interesting along that line. As to the chair, it used to be Baby Huey’s.”

      “Baby Huey?” Sebastian raised his eyebrows in question.

      Very nice, slightly arched black brows, Lauren couldn’t help noticing. She cleared her throat. “Huey Neumeyer, the new State House reporter?”

      Sebastian nodded. “Ah, yes—the lobster Newburg incident. I can see how that could generate a lot of reader interest.” He glanced at the empty chair. “I take it he worked in the Metro department until recently?”

      Lauren maneuvered her foot around one caster of her chair and pulled it out to sit down. “That’s putting it politely. Huey finds breathing through his nose a full-time activity. In any case, his computer and phone are still functioning. I can just plug in my password, so if you need to check into your office, go right ahead.”

      “That’s all right. I carry my office with me.” He slipped a wafer-thin PDA from his inside breast pocket.

      “Next time the Sentinel has a few grand they want to throw my way, I’ll know what to ask for. In the meantime, I’ll have to make do with one of these.” She picked up a steno pad from her desk, then turned to boot up her computer.

      Sebastian didn’t take her dismissal personally—he didn’t take anything in life personally. Instead, he seized the opportunity to look freely at Lauren’s workspace and glean some information about her.

      In contrast to the barren bulletin board over the other desk, Lauren’s was packed with a Far Side wall calendar, phone СКАЧАТЬ