Page 8 of Some Like It Deadly
“But Ms. Braddock?” He stood in the center of his office, hands in his pockets. Gone was any trace of the vulnerable man from before. Instead he studied her with an almost lethal attention.
A purely unprofessional awareness skittered over her. “Yes?”
“Thank you for your concern, but I don’t need a nursemaid.” The coolness in his tone carried a definite warning.
“I didn’t think you did.” She lifted her chin, the corners of her mouth tipping upward. They needed to nip this rebellion in the bud. He’d responded to her honesty earlier, hopefully he would again. “However I would be remiss in doing my job if I didn’t make sure you were utterly prepared to do yours. I won’t baby you and you won’t pull any testosterone-fueled crap with me. This works if we’re a team, Mr. Prentiss.”
His brows crept up and the hard line of his mouth eased. “If we’re going to be ateam,I think you better call me Richard.”
“Only if you call me Kate.” She didn’t care for Kitty, Katie or any of the other nicknames. Though Kate had earned her a fair number of jokes in high school when they’d studied the Cole Porter musical based onThe Taming of the Shrew.
Warm, masculine laughter echoed from him. “Just Kate?”
Charmed, she grinned. “Yes, just Kate. Thank you. I’ll wait for you out here.”
“I’m moving.” His smile diminished a fraction. “You may not like me much after a few of these events.”
“Oh?” She glanced at him as she picked up her purse. “That sounds ominous.”
“Dull,” he intoned with a half-smile. “Deadly dull.”
Fortunately,the drive and the event were as dull as Richard predicted. She spent the majority of her attention on memorizing names and faces and making notes after each interaction if Richard asked. At the sixty-minute mark, the lines of fatigue around Richard’s eyes worried her, but he was already making excuses for an early departure. They’d even lucked out because the person he’d been scheduled to meet with was at the event. Two birds, one stone. He went quiet once they were back in the car and she concentrated on traffic.
“Did you want me to drop you at your place?” She tested the waters after several minutes of silence. His car was at the office, but if she dropped him off tonight, then she could pick him up in the morning.
“No.” He straightened in his seat. “Let’s head to The Palm. I promised you dinner and we still have to go over our schedule.”
Stubborn man.Her grudging respect for his tenacity continued to grow. “You need reservations for The Palm,” she reminded him.
“I have a standing one.” He stretched an arm out along the door, the other pressed palm flat against the side of her seat.Regardless of his relaxed posture, he seemed to occupy all the space in the car. “Some relationships stand the test of time.”
He didn’t expand on his cryptic explanation.
The location and the crowd both set her teeth on edge. She couldn’t slip her gun back into her purse with him noticing. A valet took charge of the car at their arrival and Richard carried his bag and hers on their way in. They bypassed the waiting list and the host greeted him by name before showing them directly to a small, private dining room. When he closed the doors, the noise diminished by two-thirds.
Identifying two potential exits, she took the chair that gave her the best vantage of both and angled it so that she would be between Richard and the doors. The second door opened, admitting their waiter.
Richard glanced at her. “Wine? Or would you prefer something else?”
“Water is fine, actually, and a cup of coffee.”
“Hmm, I’ll take water and coffee as well—make mine decaf, please.” The last part he tacked on with a grimace. Loosening the buttons on his suit coat, he sat, then pulled out his digital tablet and the file folders. Kate mirrored his actions.
“Since you eat here often, what do you recommend?” She asked in lieu of looking at the menu. She rarely ate while on the job, but based on his schedule, she would have adjustments of her own to make.
“I usually get the bacon wrapped scallops, a salad, and the swordfish—it’s quite excellent. Though the veal marsala or the lamb are nice choices as well.”
The wait staff performed efficiently, delivering their drinks and rolls along with his scallops. “Do you mind?” She pointed to the scallops. If he ate here often enough that it was a noticeable habit, poison would be an easy way to go after him.
“Of course not.” He nudged the plate toward her and she speared one with a fork. Nothing smelled off, but a good poison wouldn’t. Taking a bite, she inspected the flavor and swallowed.
Since most of the actual attacks against the royal family had been physical and Richard’s car accident had been lethally direct, poison seemed a far less likely option.
Still, he ate at the restaurant often enough that he could walk right in and his regular schedules made him far easier to clock and target.
When he ordered his swordfish, she murmured she’d take the same. Then they were alone.
“What do you think?” He had reached to take back his plate, but sipped his coffee instead.
