AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Too soon to know. Right now, my only goal is to have a good time.” She waves a hand dismissively, then stares at her fingers. “Crap, I need to have my nails done.” She calls out to JL, who is standing near the registration desk with Max. “JL, are there good nail salons in Vancouver?”
He breaks up. “It’s a big city. But don’t ask me for recommendations.”
Micki kisses me on both cheeks, then enfolds Cress in a huge hug as JL reaches her and takes her arm. “Taxi’s here. Good luck with your paper, Cress. See you both in Chicago.” With a little wave, they disappear through the entryway.
Allan, a small duffle over his shoulder, walks off the elevator. Stopping a few feet away, he sweeps his gaze over us, then moves closer and shakes hands. “I suppose we may run into each other again one of these days.”
I nod. “I imagine so.” Allan turns and leaves for the Gare du Nord and the Eurostar back to London.
We have the day to ourselves before we board Cress’ dream train at the Gare de l’Est this evening. We spend most of our just sitting in park until dusk arrives.
“Time we’re off,” I tell her. “Paris and Venice await. We’ve come through the crossroads and we’re on the right path. Ti amo, la mia stellina.”
If you liked the book, think about leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads (or both). Reviews help other readers discover new authors and few lines or even just a star rating are all you need to do. Thanks.
At First Sight, the first novel in the Global Security Unlimited series is available in ebook and paperback from Amazon.
Chapter 1
Chicago, November 2013
Cress
I step off the private elevator on the fortieth floor of One Financial Plaza in my new shoes. New shoes—ridiculous, bright-red, three-inch stilettos. What was I thinking? Oh yeah, Everest. Maybe the best restaurant in Chicago. One of the thirty or forty best in the U.S.
As I passed the store window, the shoes lured me in. My willpower collapsed like a condemned building. This is so not me. I’ve only had them a minute, and they’re cheese graters for feet.
A quick roll of my ankle on the slick granite floor reminds me why I don’t wear high heels. My arms splay and rotate like a windmill. The shopping bag that holds my serviceable flats and my small evening bag spins off my wrist. One shoe skids away.Crap, crap, crap.
The brown kraft-paper bag is a missile that hurtles toward a man on his way to the restaurant entrance. My mouth opens in soundless warning as it speeds toward an invisible bullseye.
Thunk.The bag bounces off his arm.
My evening clutch pops out, wide open. Damn that broken clasp. Change rings against hard wood and granite, spraying in all directions. I drop to my knees and crawl after the quarters and pennies. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him spin. A frown twists lush lips.
“You all right?” A foot in a brogue polished within an inch of its life rests a millimeter from my fingers as I reach for more coins. A shoe, a red shoe, is in his hand.
“Lost something?” He holds it out to me. His rich British accent sends a prickle down my spine. I tip my head up to give him a quick once-over.
A spark flashes through eyes that remind me of a walk on the beach in winter. A face bisected by a high-bridged aristocratic slash of a nose. My face tingles. The tips of my ears are warm. I grab the shoe, drop it on the floor, and hide my face in my hands.
“Fine. Sorry. I lost my balance and the bag escaped.” My fingers muffle the sound.
He starts to bend down. His hand brushes my ear.
Zap.I scoot backward.
He straightens up and shakes his hand. “Pins and needles.”
With effort, I wrench my focus back to the coins. My good luck charm, a Victorian black opal pendant I bought when my first book sold, slides back and forth against the sanded silk of my shabby chic little black dress. Streaks of fire reflect off the granite floor as it swings. I brush stray discs into the pile.
“Just trying to help.”
“I can manage. Thanks, though.”
A loud male voice calls out, “Hey, Max. Get in here.”
“Half a mo’.”
