Reluctant Runaway Read Online Free

other and God, they’d be deep into a torrid, steamy affair by now. Maybe someday they could have a torrid, steamy marriage.
    Desi’s cheeks heated, and she turned her face as they entered the empty elevator. There she went, thinking the M word again. Mere months ago, she and Tony had been adversaries. Then they became allies. Now much more. But she couldn’t assume he wanted a permanent commitment. Besides, she still knew little about him—except that she adored him. The guy was an expert at avoiding personal topics, abouthimself, that is. For sure, they had things to work on.
    The M word could wait.
    Tony’s arm circled her waist, and he lifted her chin, a knowing crook to his mouth. She narrowed her eyes. Should she slap away the smirk or yank off his crown and muss his hair?
    He nuzzled the tender skin under her left ear. “A little something to tide me over.”
    His false beard tickled, and the air in Desi’s lungs turned to helium.
    “You smell great.” Tony lifted his head, dark gaze intense. He rubbed the side of her jaw with his thumb. “You know you drive me nuts figuring out what crazy business you’ve been up to.”
    So he’d guessed she’d done a caper tonight. Too bad she couldn’t promise never again to take chances. He’d have to accept her for who she was and what she did for a living, or they wouldn’t make it as a couple.
    He smiled, laugh lines creasing his tanned face. “You couldn’t shake me off your trail before, my queen. And you won’t succeed now.”
    Desi stood a few feet away and studied Tony as he visited with Director Richard Harcourt of the FBI and a senior presidential aide. The director made a formidable Roman Emperor Constantine and the aide a dapper George Washington.
    “They’re grooming him,” said a voice in her ear.
    Desi turned to meet the amused hazel eyes of a blunt-mannered man she’d met at the hors d’oeuvres table. His massive build and shiny moon face fit a Jabba the Hutt impersonation better than the Darth Vader costume.
    “Hamilton Gordon?”
    The man nodded double chins. “Very good, my dear.Almost as skilled as a federal agent at matching faces and names. The talent will serve you well if you’re going to stick with him all the way to the top.” He inclined his blond head toward Tony’s group. “I own a corporation, and I know the signs when the powers-that-be have plans for someone.” He winked.
    Desi’s gaze darted to the group of men. Did the director have an acquisitive gleam in his eye? Constantine put a hand on Solomon’s shoulder, and the king leaned toward the emperor. Director Harcourt stood inches shorter, but no observer with a grain of sense could misinterpret the picture of a superior showing interest in his subordinate—except someone too distracted by the flutters of her heart. She’d missed the obvious.
    What did this development mean? To her? To Tony? Her roots, not to mention the headquarters of her business, were in Boston. Comprehension sent gooseflesh up her bare arms. An FBI agent didn’t control his destiny. Tony could be transferred to the Washington office, the most coveted post in the Bureau, in a heartbeat. But the professional coup would mean a long-distance romance for them. The odds of such a romance lasting were dismal, especially when half of the couple thought communication was a one-way street.
    Her stomach clenched.
    As if sensing her turmoil, Tony whirled, but his stare went past her shoulder. Desi looked around. Hamilton Gordon was gone. A red-eyed Max staggered toward them, face pale, freckles standing out like pepper in porridge.
    “Max!”
    “T-trouble,” her friend croaked and crumpled forward.

  Two
    T ony dashed past Desi’s open-mouthed stare just as Max went down. For a second he thought he was too late, but he managed to catch Desi’s friend before she hit the floor.
    Desi knelt beside him. “Oh, Max!”
    “Bring the woman this way.”
    Tony looked up to find the White House aide