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the ordering. "I've never ordered through one of these speakers before. The few
times we've stopped, my drivers always did the ordering."
He hoped she wouldn't say things like that to just anybody. They'd be bound to
wonder who she was.
She leaned innocently across him to call her order into the loudspeaker, an
activity she did with gusto. Her nearness afforded him another whiff of her
delicate roselike scent, which he'd noticed when he'd hugged her at the airport. It
had surprised him, the sweet simplicity of her fragrance. He'd expected
something more opulent from the Perfume Princess. The scent of roses, subtle
though it was, had mingled with her warmth to fill his head during their embrace.
She'd felt incredibly good in his arms—slender, vibrant and much too kissable.
"What'll you have, Walker?" She was very near him again, her face only inches
from his. "Nothing for me."
"Oh, please have something." Although he couldn't see her eyes through her
sunglasses, which she hadn't yet removed for even a moment, she peered at him
with such childlike expectation that he couldn't refuse her.
"Coffee."
She twisted her mouth in wry disapproval and tossed her head, making her
sunset-colored curls dance, but shouted his order into the loudspeaker, anyway.
She insisted on paying for his as well as hers.
When she opened her purse, his attention was immediately snagged by her
cash—small bundles of denominations including hundreds and fifties,
haphazardly crammed into her purse as if she'd just knocked off a bank.
Carefully she extricated dollar bills and counted them out with patient care.
She probably hadn't handled cash very often, he realized. Everything she wanted
would have been charged, he guessed, or paid for by a personal protection agent.
She couldn't, of course, use her credit cards for this trip. They'd give away her
identity and leave too easy a trail to follow.
But all that cash made her a target for petty thieves. She could get mugged for
it.
"You shouldn't be carrying around that much cash," he admonished when she'd
been handed the drinks and food.
Her eyes met his in surprise. "But I'll need it. My credit cards are, uh, were
stolen."
"A small amount of cash is fine, but you're carrying too much, and it's too
visible. Why don't we stop at a bank and get traveler's checks?" The moment he'd
suggested it, he knew she'd refuse. She'd be forced to buy and sign them with her
fraudulent name.
She bit her full bottom lip and turned her attention to her milk shake, which
she carefully set down in the dashboard cup holder. "I, uh, prefer using cash."
"Then put some of it in your—" He broke off abruptly. She couldn't very well
put any in her suitcase since she didn't have one.
Good Lord, she did indeed need his protection.
Unperturbed, she savored her burger, fries and chocolate milk shake while he
drove. Tyce searched his rearview mirror for sight of Fred. He hoped he'd show
up soon. He had a sneaking suspicion that Valentina planned to fire him the
moment they reached a hotel. From her phone conversation with her cousin, he
knew she hadn't wanted a driver or a bodyguard.
He simply had to supply her with the right motivation to want one. Where the
hell are you, Fred?
While supposedly driving her to a hotel, Tyce gave his employee time to find
them by taking his passenger on a tour of Atlanta, pointing out the stadium built
for the Olympics, the capitol's golden dome, the architecturally unique
skyscrapers and towers. She nodded in appreciation over each sight, but the one
that drew her excitement wasn't on his tour.
He'd turned off onto a side street and she spotted a discount variety store.
"Look—a Value Village!" More to herself than to him, she murmured, "Nanny used
to shop at those." After a ponderous moment, she decided, "I'd like to shop at
Value Village for a while, if you don't mind."
He did mind. It was too public of a place. But he let her go in, anyway. He
couldn't very well stop her.
When an elderly employee greeted her at the door with a shopping cart—a
routine courtesy extended at every Value Village—she profusely thanked him,
exclaiming, "A cart! What a wonderful idea."
Tyce supposed the shops in Rodeo Drive didn't have shopping carts. He trailed
her at a discreet distance, watching as she flitted from aisle to aisle, exploring. He
took the opportunity to call Fred on his cell phone. Fred, it seemed, was having [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]