Unfinished Business Read Online Free Page B

added, “‘Madam T-shirt.’ The black woman who stood up in the hearing. You didn’t hire her just to ‘craft my image’ or anything foolish like that? ’Cause I’ve told you two—”
    â€œNo.” Chase shook his round head. “No. Wish we had, though. That was a good exchange. Like Bitsi said, you couldn’t write better stuff than that. You two had real chemistry.”
    â€œChemistry?” Bitsi laughed. “Don’t you think that’s a little…strong? You use the word chemistry and people start thinking romance or something!”
    Mark blinked. Romance? Where the hell was that coming from?
    â€œDon’t be stupid,” he muttered. “There’s nothing romantic about it.”
    Romance? It wasn’t even a word in Mark’s vocabulary anymore, not since Katharine had died. True, he couldn’t deny he’d registered how attractive the protester was—he was still a man, after all. He’d noticed her perfect cinnamon-colored skin, those big, dark eyes flashing with passion, the delicate curve of her neck and the feminine swell of skin where the fabric of her tight T-shirt cupped her breasts. He’d taken inthe tight inward curve of her waist and the outward flare of her hips, even concealed as they were by that funny-looking, shapeless skirt. He remembered the black hair, swirled and knotted into a thousand ringlets. He’d even wondered what it might feel like, curling against his fingers.
    Yep, she was gorgeous…until she opened her mouth.
    Irritation burned in Mark’s stomach. She’d totally gotten the better of him—and then had the nerve to insist on being escorted out of the building before he’d had a chance to make his point. The sense of being cheated out of winning an argument rankled in his throat.
    â€œRomance? Don’t be stupid,” he repeated.
    â€œNot like that ,” Chase corrected. “I mean like competitively. Like a couple of racehorses, chomping at the bit. Good stuff.”
    â€œYeah,” Mark agreed, thinking over the encounter. “I suppose. Where is she now?” he asked.
    â€œWho?” Chase stood, stretching his hands behind his head and twisting his torso. Mark couldn’t help but notice his friend’s expanding midsection. Too many lunches with lobbyists, too many after-hours receptions and too many late-night dinners at his desk were turning Chase into a paunchy old man.
    He needs a woman , Mark thought. A good lady to take care of him—without nagging the hell out of him.
    He kept that thought in his brain and said instead, “The woman from the hearing! Is she still in jail?”
    Chase rubbed his bald spot and shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s usually what these protesters want. To make their noises, get arrested and get some coverage on the evening news.”
    Mark felt around the desk for a remote control and a moment later the television on the credenza at theother end of the room sprang to life. With another click, Mark’s preprogrammed channels surfed quickly on their schedule: the local news stations, and then the national ones, and then the C-SPAN networks, and then back again.
    â€œThat’s going to take some time.” Chase stretched again. “Most of the TV reporters haven’t filed their stories yet and it’s not exactly breaking news.” He unfolded himself from his chair. “Long day. Let’s go get something to eat.”
    â€œHow will she get out?” Mark demanded, frowning at the television screen.
    â€œWho?”
    Mark rolled his eyes. “Who else? Aren’t you listening?”
    Chase’s eyes zapped onto him, searching. He opened his mouth to voice the query written in them, but was usurped by Bitsi’s harsh, “Who cares?”
    Both men turned toward her in surprise.
    â€œI mean,” she continued in a somewhat softer tone, “she wanted to go