The Wild Side. Isabel Sharpe

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СКАЧАТЬ empire. Allston had used it to bribe the art-loving senator in return for legislation favoring Allston’s business interests. With the portrait, the Feds could grant Mason immunity from prosecution in exchange for his testimony against Allston. Since Riley had been invited in by the police, his involvement would create a buffer zone between the Feds and the cops while the Feds investigated the leak in the force. All the pieces fit. Everyone was happy. Except Riley.

      He felt as if he’d been assigned to seduce a viper. Not that Rose would need much seducing, unless she and Tom did have some master-slave thing to act out. In that case, he’d have to pretend to seduce her, while they both knew the entire scene was a bunch of crap. He swallowed a bite; the bread tasted like glue in his dry mouth.

      Sex between a man and a woman was supposed to flow, to evolve naturally out of mutual desires and tastes. It wasn’t something you should have to program or teach. Experimenting was all very well; he’d done his share. But how much better to lie together and simply savor what all humans were born to do.

      He washed down the glue with a swallow of milk. He’d have to try damn hard either to find the portrait right away, since Captain Watson and the Feds seemed so certain it was in Rose’s apartment, or be absolutely, one-hundred-percent sure it was somewhere else.

      ROSE CRAMMED FIVE PAIRS of underwear, two bras, three T-shirts, two pairs of shorts, two mini-sundresses, deodorant, shampoo and a toothbrush into the largest purse she owned, her movements jerky and hurried. She wasn’t sure where she was going yet. Once she got to South Station she could decide. Her budget would only allow travel by train, but she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to leave.

      Melissa would be in her apartment in an hour; anyone keeping an eye on the place would see a slender young woman entertaining a man. Nothing so unusual about that. Rose had been careful on the phone, with Melissa out of the room, to make it seem as if Tom would be meeting her tonight, in case her phone was being tapped. He’d sounded so eager and had accepted the “teacher” role so readily, she felt horrible leaving Melissa to face him. But they’d work it out. Or not. Either way, by the time whoever wanted her—or whatever he thought she had—found out she was missing, Rose would be long gone.

      If things didn’t work out with Tom, Melissa would go back to her own apartment and her own life, and only wonder once in a while where her neighbor had gone. If things did work out, no doubt she and Tom would use Melissa’s own apartment after tonight. Melissa would be in no danger—of that Rose felt sure, or she wouldn’t be doing this.

      She’d considered slipping a note under Melissa’s door, explaining the switch, but after seeing the horror of nerves on Melissa’s face when Rose announced that the date had been set, she knew her neighbor wouldn’t show if she thought Tom expected Rose herself. And Rose really needed Melissa to be in the apartment tonight. Just tonight. So she’d have a chance to escape.

      She slung the bulging bag over her shoulder, hoping it wouldn’t be obvious that it contained more than the usual purse items. After one last look in the mirror to adjust her blond wig, check her makeup, fasten a sweater over her bare shoulders and flowered sundress, Rose let herself out of the apartment and slid her key under Melissa’s door as planned. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, she took the stairs down three floors to the basement and slipped out the back entrance.

      On the way to the Harvard Square T stop, and on the ride from Cambridge to Boston, she channeled her nervous energy into looking happy and carefree—a woman out on a shopping spree, planning to return home tonight for a romantic assignation with Tall Dark and Handsome. She got off at South Station, checking as casually as she could for anyone else leaving the train who might seem unduly interested in her and where she was going.

      Then she hurried up the escalator and lunged toward the turnstile, at the exact same moment as a distinctly male body wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

      “Sorry. After you.” The distinctly male body stepped back and gestured her through. She turned, looked up and met a pair of dynamite blue eyes under short, military-style blond hair. Eyes brimming with boyish humor, intelligence, warmth and a touch of something grim and steely that even in Rose’s near-frantic state fascinated her.

      She smiled her thanks and pushed through the turnstile ahead of him, wishing it was some other day and that she was, in fact, on the mindless, infinitely cancelable errand she wanted everyone to think she was on. Then she could take time to delve into those eyes and what lay behind them. It had been awhile since she’d gotten to know someone close to her age.

      “I’m Mike. Slater. Friends call me Slate. What’s your name?” He fell into step beside her, fanning the spark of her regret into a painful ember.

      “I’m Rose. Just Rose. Friends call me Rose.” She sent him an I’m-only-teasing smile so he wouldn’t think she was making fun of him. Guys hated being made fun of. Their egos couldn’t stand it. Though this one seemed so natural and boy-next-door in spite of his incredible sex appeal, he might not have minded.

      “Where you headed?”

      “Train station.” Her smile grew wary. Even a natural, heavenly built boy-next-door could be a threat. Someone out to make sure she disappeared, one way or the other. Or someone trying to keep her from leaving.

      Rose clenched her teeth. She hated this. Hated not being able to trust anyone. Hated that everything and everyone might be something other than they seemed. That this nice-looking guy might be about to drag her out to some deserted lot and threaten to shoot her for whatever he thought she’d done, or whatever he thought she had.

      The sooner she was out of Boston, the better. Even by talking to this guy, even if he was innocent, she’d already attracted someone’s attention. Someone who could answer questions about her if he bumped into people who wanted to know. As much as she wanted to linger and listen and look, she had to get rid of him.

      “What time’s your train?”

      “I’m not…it’s not for a while.” Only a few dozen yards into the crowded main room of the station she’d be able to see the departure schedule and take her pick of time and destination. Why couldn’t he have waited to ask until then, so it wouldn’t be so obvious she had no idea where she was going?

      “I’ve got a long wait, too. I’m meeting a friend. Can I buy you a drink?”

      “Oh, gosh. I don’t think so, thanks.” She quickened her pace; he kept up easily.

      “I just want to buy you a drink, that’s it. Juice, milk, soda, whatever…doesn’t have to be booze.”

      “No, really. I’m fine.”

      “I don’t mind. There are some decent places here.” He gestured toward the assortment of eateries in the station.

      Rose stopped and turned to face him, struck again by the depth and complexity of the expression in his eyes. “Are you always this persistent?”

      “No.” He grinned and crossed his arms, hands shoved into his armpits. “Usually I don’t even ask in the first place. So I guess I don’t want to start off a career of asking strange women out with a dismal failure.”

      She couldn’t help a small smile. This guy would probably be a lot of fun. Damn the timing all to hell.

      “I’m sorry. I just have to be so careful.” She bit her lip. “Everyone has to be careful these days.”

      “Okay, no problem.” He held up his hands and backed away. “Nice СКАЧАТЬ