The Guardian. Connie Hall
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Название: The Guardian
Автор: Connie Hall
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408938645
isbn:
“So you encounter werewolves on a daily basis?”
Yeah, and they take the form of tall, nosy and too-damn-handsome special agents. “Some,” she said.
“But they don’t scare you.” He leaned in toward her.
“No.” She realized she had gravitated halfway across the table toward him, their noses almost touching. She backed off and noticed him looking at her chest. Yet it wasn’t her breasts that had drawn his interest, but the impression the sacred charm made beneath her sweater.
She casually covered the spot with her palm and nonchalantly pushed an empty sugar wrapper around on the table. Her reaction registered in a long blink of his eyes, but his expression remained arctic.
His gaze shifted to the hand that covered the metal for a blink, then shot back up to her eyes. “But I scare you.”
Was she afraid of him? Damn straight, but he’d never know that. “I’m not frightened of anyone. My turn,” she said, shifting the conversation as adroitly as he had. “What division of the SD do you work for?”
“BOSP.”
“Never heard of it. What does that stand for?”
He lowered his voice and stared directly into her eyes as if he knew everything about her, even her bra size and how many pairs of thong underwear she possessed. “Bureau of Supernatural Phenomena,” he said.
“What? Supernatural Phenomena? If that’s a joke, it’s not funny.”
“I never joke about my work.” He looked lethally serious.
The government had a secret branch that dealt with supernatural occurrences? Never in a million years would she have believed that Uncle Sam knew about the supernatural realm. But what about Area 51? And they funded studies on ESP. Why not have an agency that investigated supernatural incidents? What floored her was they’d actually kept it a secret. So the X-files do exist.
“How many branches of the bureau are there?” she asked.
“I don’t know. I run the one in Washington.”
He knew; he just wasn’t saying. It occurred to her that he probably knew she was a shape-shifter, too. She swallowed past a growing lump in her throat. Suddenly the coffee in her empty stomach tasted sour.
She kept her voice level. “So why was BOSP interested in the park murder?”
“I’m certain you know why.” There was that shrewd look again like he knew her inside and out.
She nervously gripped the handle of her coffee cup, but didn’t drink it because she couldn’t exactly swallow at the moment. She decided to deflect his last statement and asked, “So did you find something we missed at the murder scene?”
“Not really.”
He was making her work for every bit of information. The waiter arrived with their food and plopped it unceremoniously on the table.
Fala picked up her fork, dipped it into the mound of whipped cream on her waffle, and licked it. When she noticed his eyes sharpening on her lips, she regretted what she’d done. She pretended to concentrate on cutting her waffle.
Silence stretched for a while, then he said, “Now that you’ve been to the murder scene, what are your feelings about the murder?” He wolfed down a strip of bacon in two bites.
She decided honesty would be the best tack on this point. “I think our visitor at the station murdered the woman. Now I just need to find out where he’s hiding. You have any leads?”
“Not a clue. I’ve never seen a werewolf dissolve into thin air as that one did. He’s not like any lycanthrope I’ve come across. How about you?”
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