Love is Murder Read Online Free Page B

into a large, dimly lit empty office. No one was here? After all the warnings to be on time?
    “Excuse me?” he said to the thin air. “I was told I had a meeting in here.”
    “You’re late, Monsieur Rush.” Very slowly, the executive chair facing the window turned, revealing…a woman.
    He just stared at her, processing everything. The mahogany hair. The crimson scarf. And a heart-stopping smile of pure sex and…authority.
    “Claudia Greenwood?”
    “Claudette, actually. And you should study your French, Donovan.” Her accent was thick…and natural.
    Green wood… bois vert . Of course. “You’re the CEO of Boisvert Jewelers.” It wasn’t a question; it didn’t need to be. “Why?”
    “We often test new couriers. The run-in at the train station was a test of your observation skills.” She pushed the chair back. “You passed.”
    “And the foot massage?” He lifted a brow. “A test of my concentration skills?”
    “Yes, but…” A soft flush rose to her beautiful cheeks. “I let my attraction to you take that a little too far.”
    Actually, not far enough, and the attraction, he couldn’t deny, was mutual. “And the attempted theft?”
    Her expression grew serious. “Unfortunately, that was no test. There was no real threat that we knew of. You were told that so we could monitor how you handled such a situation. But, when it happened? It was real. And you were impressive.”
    Holding her gaze, he approached her desk as she stood up. “I believe I have something of yours,” he said, reaching into his jacket pockets.
    “It better be worth two million dollars.”
    He held out the red velvet pouch. “It is. And this—” he reached into his other pocket and slid out a sexy high-heeled shoe “—is priceless when you consider it saved my life.”
    “You saved mine first, so we’re even.”
    She reached for the shoe, but he tossed it to the floor and let the diamonds drop with it. “No we’re not,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you .”
    He pulled her into his arms and backed her up to the desk to lay her down right on top of it.
    “Now?” Her question was a breathy whisper in his ear.
    “I wouldn’t dare keep my client waiting .”
    * * * * *

COLD MOONLIGHT
    Carla Neggers
    Only a writer as gifted as Carla Neggers could use so few words to convey so much action and emotional depth. ~SB
    Ryan “Grit” Taylor felt snow melting in his right boot. He didn’t feel whatever snow might be melting in his left boot because he didn’t have a left foot, or any of his left leg below the knee. In the year since he’d lost it in a firefight in Afghanistan, he’d learned to manage with a prosthesis…even in the Vermont snow, even while looking for Marissa Neal, the eldest daughter of Preston Neal, the vice president of the United States.
    It wasn’t a Navy SEAL mission. It was a Charlie Neal mission, Charlie being the youngest Neal, a sixteen-year-old meddling genius and the missing Marissa’s only brother. The Neals had arrived in tiny Black Falls, Vermont, last night for a long weekend in the early-spring snow. Charlie had popped out from behind a tree fifteen minutes ago, when Grit had gone to look for Marissa, thinking she might be making a snowman. Now he wasn’t sure what was going on. Charlie had a tendency to overreact.
    He also had a tendency to be right. He was worried about his sister.
    The Neals weren’t Grit’s responsibility, but Charlie knew how to give the Secret Service the slip and had done it before. Marissa probably knew how but she was the eldest of five, a history teacher, responsible, mature…pretty. Had she just wandered off? How?
    What if something was wrong?
    “My life didn’t used to be this complicated,” Grit said.
    Next to him in the snow, Charlie shook his head. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and his hair seemed even fairer in the early-evening light, with a half foot of fresh spring snow on the ground and clinging to every branch, twig and