Текст книги "Midnight Secrets "

Автор книги: Lisa Marie Rice

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

God yes.

“Come here.” His voice sounded thick and strange even to his own ears.

She was carrying her own plate to the table when she stopped at the odd note in his voice. Then she looked him in the face, glanced down at his lap, looked up again and blushed. What he wanted was clear on his face, not to mention the huge boner nicely outlined by his thin sweats.

She walked slowly over to him. No hesitation whatsoever. If she’d hesitated, if he felt he was forcing her in any way, he’d stop.

He hoped.

She stood by his side, legs brushing his where he sat.

Sometimes Joe initiated sex like he went into battle. Deliberately, planning every move beforehand. Mapping out which items of clothing had to go first, deciding where to touch the woman and when.

Not now, oh fuck no.

Now he felt out of control, an unusual feeling and one he’d reject in any other context. Control was gone. Right now, all he wanted was to be inside Isabel, to feel her naked body against his. There was no planning, no mapping of his actions, he acted out of pure instinct and he moved as fast as he could.

First her. “These have to go,” he whispered, clutching the hem of the sweatshirt. “Up with your hands.” She stuck her hands up in the air as if he was a bank robber. He pulled the sweatshirt up and threw it off, so quickly her hair crackled with static electricity. No bra. Fantastic. His hands were shaking so he didn’t know if he could deal with little hooks and things.

She was so incredibly beautiful in the light of day. All that smooth pale skin, the large breasts on her narrow rib cage. The real deal. He’d felt every inch of them last night.

Trying to be smooth and failing at it, Joe pulled down the sweatpants, taking an incredibly lacy pair of panties down with it. She was barefoot, so all she had to do was step out of the sweats and voilà.

Gorgeous, naked woman.

Now him.

He was easy. All he had on was the sweats. Joe lifted his ass, pulled the sweats down and he was naked too.

He cleared the table with his forearm and settled Isabel on the edge, stepping between her legs.

He kissed her neck and murmured, “Eating your waffles got me hot.”

She laughed and her breasts shivered across his chest. He smoothed his hand up her long, slim thigh to her sex and touched her. She shivered. “Did watching me eat your waffles make you hot?” he asked.

Isabel’s back arched and her head fell to one side. Her neck was an erogenous zone. Joe had figured that out last night. Gotcha. He nuzzled against her neck, waves of soft hair caressing his skin. God.

“Find out,” she whispered.

He was so taken with the taste of her skin, with the feel of her hair against his face it took him a minute to understand what she meant.

Find out if I’m turned on, was what she meant.

Oh yeah.

He licked the skin behind her ear while stroking her and... yes. Watching him eat her waffles got her very hot. She was like a little furnace there, hot and juicy. He stroked her gently, slowly, pulling back to watch her face in the early morning sunlight. She glowed, like a pearl.

Joe read her face like it was a book, a book he really needed to learn, like a survivor’s manual. As he touched her, entered her with his finger, he studied her expression to see what she liked.

Her head was tilted back, eyes closed, absurdly thick eyelashes fluttering. When her face tightened he knew he was getting it right. She liked to be touched here. And here. And here.

Isabel gasped.

And there, too.

“Joe,” she whispered.

“Right here,” he whispered back.

So slick and hot, he entered her like a dream, lifting his lips from her neck to kiss her mouth, another source of warmth he could enter. Everything about her was purest magic, the feel of her smooth slim back against his hands, her soft thighs clutching his.

He moved forward, into her, kissing her deeply, his tongue imitating what he was doing to her lower body, soft and gentle.

They were making noises in the quiet of the kitchen, their bodies kissing everywhere. For a second Joe tore his mouth away from hers and looked down at where they were joined, watched himself as he pulled out then slid back into her. She looked down too. His skin was darker, rougher. Watching their bodies writhe together was the most erotic sight he’d ever seen.

They both looked up, eyes meeting, faces sober. It felt like an incredibly solemn moment, as if the very air was hesitant, expectant.

This was serious stuff. Joe felt like it was not only his dick in her, but his heart, too, beating right next to hers.

She smiled, lifted a hand to his jaw, leaned forward to kiss him with a tenderness he’d never received from anyone. His chest hurt and the only thing that could help was kissing her again, moving more deeply in her, faster, until he erupted inside her and felt her clinging to him with her arms and her mouth and her legs and her sex. Clenching hard around him as he emptied himself inside her and held her tightly afterward, almost afraid to let her go.

She was his.

* * *

There were three men making her place as secure at Fort Knox, just as Joe had said. It was amazing watching them work together. Clearly they’d worked together before. Well...yeah. They’d gone on missions where they put their lives at risk together, which is probably where they learned to work as a unit.

Exactly like a well-run kitchen with dedicated staff, only going to war instead of preparing food.

They didn’t speak much to each other as they worked, they didn’t have to. They all knew exactly what to do.

When Metal and Jacko arrived they were both carrying duffel bags and Isabel thought that they’d brought tools. But they hadn’t, they’d brought equipment. Lots of it, shiny and brand-new, high-tech and very expensive-looking.

“Ah, guys?” she said as both of them started unloading high-end electronics and stacking everything neatly according to criteria only they could see onto her coffee table. “This stuff looks expensive. You need to give me the bill so I can—”

“Nah,” Metal said. He was fitting together highly machined pieces and his hands didn’t stop. “ASI gets a professional discount, a big one, a lot of this stuff is being road-tested so it’s at cost, and besides Joe—”

Joe sent him a fulminating look and Metal shut up. You could practically hear his jaw clacking shut.

Isabel rounded on Joe. “You are not paying for this! I am!”

His hands didn’t stop either, as he fitted one highly polished doodad onto another highly polished thingamajig. “It’s all going around both our houses, honey. And I’ve already eaten more than the equivalent of your share so it’s all good.”

The meals she’d prepared for him wouldn’t cover one high-tech knob, let alone all this equipment. “No, I can’t accept—”

He laid a long finger across her lips. His face was tight, brackets lining his mouth. “I’m putting a wall of security around both our houses. We’re talking about your safety here and I’m responsible for that. It isn’t open for discussion.”

The man she’d made love with an hour ago, the man who’d melted into her body was gone. This man was all steel and resolve.

Isabel blinked. No one had ever said anything remotely like that to her in her life. Not open for discussion? She drew in a deep, outraged breath, ready to let loose, when Jacko spoke.

He rarely spoke, so it was sort of an occasion.

“Joe’s right. He’s keeping you safe. I do the same for Lauren. No one’s going to touch her, hurt her, I make sure of that.” Jacko’s voice was even deeper than Joe’s. It was more a low rumble than human speech. His dark eyes met hers and his gaze was hard.

“Ditto,” Metal said. “This is even better than what I’ve got at my place to protect Felicity and me. As a matter of fact, you’re doing us all a favor. We’re testing a lot of stuff, and we’ll probably be adding it to our places, too.”

His default expression was friendly, unlike Jacko’s. But Isabel saw the exact same seriousness and absolute firmness of purpose.

Three serious male faces were turned to hers, Joe’s a little pissed off.

Okay. They believed in what they were doing and weren’t going to stop because of her scruples. So she’d just resolve to feed them a billion meals.

“Right,” she said. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

There were thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of expensive electronics on the coffee table. The three men froze as they tried to disguise their horror at the thought of her messing with any of it. Presumably Felicity understood this stuff, she was an electronics genius, but Isabel...

“No,” three male voices said at once.

“But thanks, honey,” Joe said. He smiled at her but his eyes drifted down to what he had in his hands. They all looked enraptured, slightly punch-drunk. It must be really cutting-edge stuff to put that look in their eyes.

They were three huge guys, martial arts experts, superb shots, and they looked like dazzled nerds who’d just been handed the demo of the latest version of Grand Theft Auto.

Well. She’d leave them to their manly stuff and go do something womanly in the kitchen.

* * *

“A fly can’t fart without us knowing about it,” Joe said proudly three hours later.

It was true. Her house and Joe’s were surrounded by a series of hidden sensors that would sound an audio alarm if anything crossed over into their yards. The guys were talking about delivering mild electric shocks when she vetoed that in horror. Suppose some of the neighborhood kids were playing and fell into the hedges or against the fences!

They also selected out false alarms by animals. The alarms were sounded only by living entities that weighed above thirty pounds, though Isabel had no idea how that worked.

Her front door opened by her thumbprint or Joe’s pressed against a security pad, followed by a code number entered within ten seconds.

Video cameras were hidden in the eaves and in what looked like water sprinklers and they showed her that the cameras covered every square inch of her property. They fed into monitors in the kitchen and the bedroom. The kitchen monitor was on at all times, the bedroom monitor switched on when movement was detected, preceded by a soft alarm.

Joe had leaned over and whispered that he’d hear the alarm if she didn’t. He was assuming that he’d be sleeping over each night. She’d blushed. Metal’s and Jacko’s gazes moved over her face but neither said anything.

Should she be miffed that Joe simply assumed he’d be staying nights? In theory of course, yes. No man should assume anything like that. It should come after a long tryout period and after careful pondering.

But...

This was Joe. Whose presence in her bed guaranteed not only hot sex but the most reassuring presence she could imagine. If she had nightmares, she wouldn’t wake up alone and frightened in the dark. She’d wake up to Joe beside her.

She didn’t say no. Didn’t really even contemplate it. Joe in her bed every night was the best thing she could imagine.

Then—the windows. Some strange film had been applied to every window in her house and in Joe’s. It didn’t in any way affect sunlight streaming in. And from outside, it didn’t look as if there was distorting film over her windows. It’s just that it was impossible to see what was happening inside. As a matter of fact, you couldn’t even tell if the lights were on.

Amazing.

Isabel made the rounds of the house outside, while either Joe or Metal or Jacko stood right behind the windows with a flashlight.

She couldn’t see anything. Anything at all.

When she came back around the front, a big man was getting out of an enormous SUV.

A big big man. As tall as Joe and Metal. As broad as Jacko. With a rough, dangerous look about him.

Terrifying, actually.

Isabel was about to call Joe, trying not to reveal her panic, when Joe walked out the front door, followed by Metal and Jacko. Joe met the guy and thumped him hard on the shoulder.

“Senior!” he bellowed. “Good to see you!” Joe turned to Isabel, smiling, and introduced him.

“Isabel, this is former Senior Chief Douglas Kowalski. The guy I told you about. He’d be my boss if I were actually working.”

“Joe...” the man growled. His voice was scary deep. His expression was ferocious. She glanced up at Joe for reassurance and saw only affection and respect. Ditto for Metal and Jacko.

Okay.

Scary-looking guy was dangerous but not, apparently, to her.

“How do you do?” Isabel did the most courageous thing she could imagine. She offered her hand to the man. “I’m Isabel Lawton.”

Though if the grapevine worked in Portland the way it worked in DC, he knew her real name.

“Ms. Lawton.” That rough deep voice turned gentle. He took her hand in his huge one, carefully squeezed, then let it go.

She’d half expected not to be able to use it for a day or two, but no. It was fine.

Well, he seemed like a perfectly normal citizen, even if he looked terrifying. Her manners, drummed into her by her mother, rose to the fore. “Would you like to come inside? I have coffee and I made some muffins.”

A smile crossed that frightening face and it didn’t really humanize him. It just made him look even more scary. He had a huge scar along his jawline that pulled when he smiled. It looked exactly like a knife scar.

“Thank you, but no. I wanted to come over with my guys and help lock down your place, but I was called away. But I knew Joe, Metal and Jacko would do a perfect job. I hear you had some trouble last night. You won’t have trouble again.”

He believed her. Believed there’d been someone there. Just as Joe believed her. And if he believed her, Metal and Jacko did too.

And he’d used his company’s influence to get huge discounts.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Kowalski—”

A pained look passed over that rough face. “Douglas, please.”

“Douglas. Thank you for all the help your company provided. I understand you essentially footed the bill.” She gave a pointed glance at Joe. “One I am not allowed to reimburse.”

Something warm and heavy settled around her shoulders. Joe’s arm.

Douglas’s head jerked back in astonishment. “Good God, fu—er...there’s no question of that. Joe’s just making sure you’re safe. I know I’d make sure no one can look in on my wife, make sure she’s safe. The same for Metal and Jacko.”

“Fuck yeah,” Jacko muttered. He didn’t have Douglas’s aversion to the f-bomb in front of a lady. “No one’s getting near Lauren. Told you that.”

Douglas’s gaze sharpened as his deep rough voice softened. He took one of her hands in his. His hands were large, callused. Not a businessman’s hands. “I understand you’re one of the few to survive the Washington Massacre, Isabel. That’s more violence than anyone should have to live through in a lifetime. All Joe wants—and now that we know you, all anyone wants—is to make sure you’re safe. And while I’m at it, I want to say how sorry I am about the loss of your family.”

Isabel blinked furiously to hide the sudden spurt of tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Joe’s big arm around her shoulders, Metal and Jacko watching her, Douglas holding her hand gently. They were all trying to say the same thing. Somehow, through Joe, Isabel had come under the protection of some remarkable men. Douglas made that clear. He was treating her as if she were a family member, not a casual acquaintance of one of his employees.

All four men were letting her know, as clearly as possible, that they were on her side.

No one had been on her side since the Massacre.

She was a hair away from breaking down and bawling.

“Oh!” Douglas let go of her hand and dug into his coat pocket. “I almost forgot these!” He held out two slender rectangles of paper to her.

Isabel’s eyes opened wide and her heart rate kicked up a notch in her chest. “Oh my gosh! These are tickets to the concert next week by Allegra! She’s one of my favorite singers.” She checked the seat numbers. “And front row seats! How’d you score these? I called and the show is all sold-out.”

Joe snickered.

Douglas smiled, his scar pulling. “Let’s say I have connections.” He pointed a long finger at Metal and Jacko. “Four tickets for you guys are in the office. I left them with Maddie.”

They nodded. Joe bent down to Isabel’s ear. “Allegra is Douglas’s wife.”

Isabel froze. Allegra was Douglas Kowalski’s wife? She was a noted singer and harpist and the fact that she was beautiful hadn’t hurt her career at all. She had a fey, Celtic beauty and played the harp beautifully and had the voice of an angel.

She glanced up at Douglas’s face. Tough, ugly, scarred. Like his body.

Allegra’s husband.

He stood, smiling slightly, while she processed this. Clearly something he’d done many times before.

He nodded at her. “Ma’am. Gents.” This with a faint smile at Joe, Metal and Jacko. “See you all at the office.” He pointed at Joe who had a big grin on his face. “Not you, soldier. You’re coming in when bones tells you can, and not a day sooner.”

And he turned around and walked back to his SUV.

Isabel clutched the tickets happily. Allegra in concert! Joe in her bed! New friends! Life was really looking up.

* * *

Kearns broke into a beat-up pickup. He was wearing gloves and anyway he had every intention of bringing the piece of shit right back to its owner. He’d never know it was gone. All Kearns wanted to do was drive around the block. This was his third drive-by in as many hours. He’d used a different vehicle and wore a different hat each time.

It should be okay. Though nothing else was okay.

There were two men helping Joe Harris make Isabel Delvaux’s house secure and they were doing a good job of it.

Kearns drove as slowly as he dared and on each drive-by he was alarmed at what he was seeing. Motion sensors, all around her house and Harris’s. Spotlights. Keypads at the door. Some kind of film on the windowpanes that made them opaque.

Fuck. How the hell was he supposed to know if she was even home?

And if Joe Harris was a former SEAL, chances were the other two guys were, too. Kearns remembered the Special Forces fucks who waltzed in and out of bases. They didn’t salute and they dressed as civilians and they carried whatever the fuck they wanted as firepower.

And they stuck together.

So now Kearns was dealing not with one isolated and weak chick he could jerk off to. He was dealing with a chick who was fucking surrounded by SEALs and whose house was now a fortress.

How the hell was he going to tell Blake that? Blake wanted weekly reports and Kearns could fake it but it was dangerous. There was no question now of sneaking into her backyard in the evening and watching her. He couldn’t do too many drive-bys because there were now four vidcams on the front of the house and at least one of them would cover the street.

Blake would have the connections to have the house watched by a drone or even by a Keyhole Satellite but Kearns didn’t dare ask. That’s what he was here for. It was a cushy gig and there was more on the horizon and Kearns didn’t want to mess it up. This Joe Harris had pushed the panic button and he and his buddies put the bitch in lockdown.

So he’d go buy himself a small GoPro camera and stick it in the grass in the lawn across from her and monitor the vidcam. It was the only thing he could do.

Besides lie to Blake.

So she was fucking a SEAL. So what? She was still shaky on her feet, still the same woman. What could she possibly do that would endanger Blake?

Nothing. Kearns had had a setback, that was all. Setbacks were normal. He was coping. No need to report anything to Blake. He’d just continue his Portland existence like before and pad the reports.

* * *

“I really want to thank you guys again,” Isabel said for the billionth time as she put something else amazing on the table. What was it? Joe leaned over to pull in the smells. Something stuffed with stuff and covered with stuff. “I really appreciate what you did for me today.”

Silence except for chewing.

Joe swallowed and touched her arm. She looked so anxious, as if she had this huge debt to pay down. It hurt him to see her like that. The truth was that the three of them had had fun setting up the gear. A lot of it was bleeding edge that they’d be using again.

He pointed to Metal and Jacko with his fork. “They’re not answering because they’re too busy stuffing their faces.”

“Oh man.” Metal speared something small and brown. “What is this?”

Isabel smiled. “Warm gorgonzola-filled dates.”

Metal’s eyebrows shot up. “Whoa.” He speared another four of them, put them in his mouth and moaned. “I want the recipe for everything on this table.”

“Sure. I have everything on file. I’ll email them to you.”

“Metal cooks,” Joe offered.

Metal shook his head. “Not like this, I don’t. Man.” He rolled his eyes. “This is like another kind of activity. Not cooking. Something else. Magic, maybe.”

She giggled then covered her mouth. Yes. That’s how Joe wanted to see her. Exactly like that. Blushing with pleasure.

For a second he was blindsided by a sudden intensely sensory memory of Isabel blushing during a climax. He remembered his face buried in her hair, her hands clutching his shoulders, her sex pulsing around his dick. It punched him, hard. He froze, barely breathing while his dick, which didn’t need oxygen, stiffened.

Not here. Not now.

Joe was pretty good at compartmentalizing. He could put lust where it belonged, in the box labeled Off Duty. He controlled his dick, it didn’t control him. Except right now, in front of his teammates.

But fuck. Just look at her! So amazingly beautiful, creating magic in the kitchen. Metal was right. She was magic herself. The way she moved, the way she spoke, the way she freaking breathed.

All the sounds in the room faded. He couldn’t hear Metal or Jacko or Isabel, he couldn’t hear the cooking sounds coming from the kitchen. It was like one of those movie scenes where the sound cuts out and everything goes into slo-mo.

And Isabel simply glowed, no other word for it.

Metal said something, and the sound of his voice came from very far away.

“What?” Joe said.

Metal frowned. Joe wasn’t known for being slow. “I said Isabel should continue her blog, it was fascinating.”

This time Joe frowned. “You had a blog?” he asked Isabel.

Caught off guard, her face froze. “Yes,” she mumbled. “It feels like a long time ago.”

“It was famous.” Metal forked up a bite of a chorizo omelet that was fluffy, incredibly light, amazingly tasty. “An old high school buddy of mine ended up a chef. When I went back home a couple of years ago, he showed it to me. The blog that day was part one of the history of bread and damned if it wasn’t interesting. I read the blog off and on ever since.” He pointed his fork at Isabel. “You really should continue it. It had a huge following.”

“How big a following?” Joe asked.

Isabel ducked her head, as if embarrassed. “A million and a half.”

Amillion and a half? “Journalists at the New York Times don’t have that many readers.”

Metal nodded. “If you were in any way interested in food, you read her blog.”

“What was it called?”

“Foodways.com.” Isabel sighed. “It’s gone now. I haven’t even looked at it since the Massacre.”

“When does the domain name expire?” Jacko spoke so seldom, everyone paid attention. Three pairs of eyes turned to him.

“Yeah.” Joe was intrigued. “If the domain name is still active you can continue. Just pick the blog up where you left off.”

“But—but, the readers are gone.”

Joe could tell the idea intrigued her, though. For a food blog to have that many readers meant that she had managed it really well. Must have worked at it hard. And she definitely knew her stuff. He attested to that every time he put a bite of her food in his mouth.

“Not necessarily, honey,” Joe said gently. She’d put down a platter of something warm and creamy that smelled like sin, and had placed a hand next to it. Joe took her hand, brought it to his mouth.

Metal and Jacko looked at each other. Let them look. They had their own goddamned women. Both of them beautiful and smart. And now by some wild chance—the gods playing dice with his life—he had his own beautiful, smart woman. Incredibly talented, too.

She was his. He didn’t mind who knew it.

“You can build a readership back up.”

“Yeah.” Isabel looked uncertain. “I suppose I could.”

Man, he was so freaking lucky. He had good friends who’d helped him put his life back together again. A good job waiting at the other end. Metal and Jacko had worked right along with the rehab doc and had spent countless hours with him in the gym. Joe had cursed them and called them sadists and they’d got him walking again at least three months earlier than the docs had predicted.

Who’d helped Isabel put her life back together again? No one, from what he could see. Her family wiped out, she’d moved across the country to get away from the fallout of the Massacre, and she’d been putting herself together completely on her own.

But she wasn’t on her own now. Besides the fact that she had him, Joe recognized the Senior’s appearance as a statement. You’re one of us, now.

Joe didn’t know if Isabel picked up on that, but he sure had. And he was relieved. As always, he had his team and now Isabel did, too.

The doorbell rang. Isabel rose, frowning. “Felicity and Lauren aren’t due to arrive until after four. Who could that be? I don’t know anyone else in town.”

Joe rose, too, wondering whether he should have his piece in his hand. Metal and Jacko had stopped eating and were rising, as well. Joe pushed the button at the side of the small monitor beside the front door and relaxed at what he saw.

Isabel rose on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. “I don’t know that lady. She doesn’t look like a saleswoman, though.”

Fuck no.

“My other boss’s wife, Suzanne,” he whispered back and opened the door.

Suzanne Huntington, Midnight’s wife, swept in, cool and elegant as always, leaving behind a faint hint of expensive perfume, as always.

She was smiling as she held her hand out. “Isabel? My name is Suzanne Huntington and my husband is John Huntington. He works with Joe, Metal and Jacko.”

Isabel took her hand. “From what I understand, he’s their boss.”

“He is. Though as a company, there isn’t that much hierarchy. I wanted to join Felicity and Lauren this afternoon, but unfortunately I have a meeting I can’t put off. But I did want to swing around to invite you to an event we’re hosting very soon. A friend of mine is opening a big lodge in the foothills of Mount Hood. I designed the hotel and restaurant and a colleague designed the spa. We’re going to test-run it before the real inauguration in a month. We’re inviting everyone from the company and my coworkers, too. And their plus ones.”

That was going to be fun. Midnight’s company was made up of former SEALs. Plus Felicity and a few admin staff, but mainly SEALs. Suzanne was a gifted designer and her friends were all on the arty side. Real arty. It made for interesting mixes.

Suzanne caught Isabel’s other hand. “So...do you think you can make it?” She glanced at Joe. “You’re invited, too, by the way.”

Gee thanks, Joe thought wryly. But he was pleased. He didn’t care if she was the one invited and he was the plus one. It was going to be a great day. He put his arm around Isabel, though, just to make sure Suzanne remembered him.

Isabel smiled. “That sounds great. We’re just finishing up lunch, Suzanne. You’re welcome to join us. You might know that Joe, Metal and Jacko have helped me, um, make the house more secure.”

“I wish I could stay.” Suzanne’s beautiful face tightened. “And yes, I heard you had a Peeping Tom. This should keep any Peeping Toms away.”

Wow. Women really did have some sort of underground intel network that put the CIA to shame.

Isabel smiled. “We’re about to have coffee. Can you join us for that?”

Suzanne hesitated, checked her watch, finally sighed. “Oh, I would love to! But I’m going to be late for my appointment as it is.”

“Biscotti,” Isabel said coaxingly. “My special recipe.”

Suzanne closed her eyes briefly. “Don’t tempt me. But I’ll take a rain check, if I may.”

“Anytime,” Isabel said simply and they smiled at each other.

Suzanne Huntington was the classiest woman Joe had ever seen. There was just something about her that couldn’t be explained and couldn’t be quantified and yet was absolutely real. She was, as usual, dressed in an elegant tailored suit in a light color—she had an endless stock of them—and she looked like a million dollars. Not a hair out of place.

Isabel’s hair was mussed, she was dressed in a track suit, she had a touch of flour on her cheek, and she looked like a million dollars, too. They both had looks that had nothing to do with makeup or clothes or a hair salon. They were naturally beautiful and naturally classy.

Suzanne smiled. “The invitation to the lodge is real but I’ve also come to ask a favor and I have nothing to bribe you with.”

Isabel tilted her head in confusion. “Bribe me? Everyone has been so kind, you certainly don’t have to bribe me for a favor. I’ll do anything I can.”

“Good.” Suzanne was holding a pair of soft purple leather gloves and she slapped them against her other hand. “So. My friend who is setting up this resort lodge on Mount Hood was supposed to have a chef from San Francisco arriving but he broke a leg. So she has a kitchen staff that is very competent but no one to plan out a menu. I’m wondering—”

“Oh!” Isabel’s eyes rounded. “If you think I’m up to it, I’d love to help!”

Suzanne gave an unladylike snort. “If you’re up to it? I used to read your blog all the time. You’re more than up to it. There will be about fifty of us, half of them the men from ASI whose tastes are hardy and simple—” She glanced with amusement at Joe, Metal and Jacko. “And the other half are their plus ones and my side of the aisle, who have more, let’s say, sophisticated tastes. A fun mix. My friend really needs help with the menu. Can I put the two of you together?”

“Sure.” Isabel and Suzanne brought out their cells and exchanged numbers.

Suzanne gave a sigh. “I am really sorry to have to go. But before I do...” She placed an elegant hand on Isabel’s shoulder. “Let me say how very sorry I am for your loss. The Massacre was a tragedy for our country and for all the people lost. I would have voted for your father. He was a good man.”