Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
“About the coffee?” Kate prompts, giving me a curious look. “He said he brought you one a few weeks ago?”
“Oh. Right. Right.”
I take a sip of the drink to try and cover up my awkwardness. It’s even more amazing this time around. Cold and sweet and caffeinated.
“Do you think this is what heaven tastes like?” I ask, more to myself than her.
Kate considers my question seriously. “That or cheese fries. Or that place in the Village that makes ice cream out of cookie dough.”
“Or a really good croissant. The kind that are buttery, flaky on the outside and then chewy on the inside.”
She points her straw in my direction. “Yes. Like they have in Paris.”
I feel a little twinge of longing. “I’ve never been, but yeah . . . I can imagine.”
She shrugs. “New York does a pretty good version, too. But if you love croissants, you need to go to Paris.”
I take another sip of my drink. “Someday.” After I get into the FBI and work my butt off to move up the food chain to earn vacation time and enough money for said vacation . . .
Kate takes a long sip from the straw, cheeks sucking in as she watches me. “No Paris for you, huh? Is it time or money you’re short on?”
I let out a little laugh at her bluntness. “Both. And you certainly don’t mince words.”
“Not so much, no. Five years of babysitting my boys”—she gestures out toward the office—“has evaporated any ounce of tact I once had, which wasn’t much.”
“They send you in here?”
She sets her cup on the table, rolls it back and forth between her hands. “It may have been suggested that you might be more likely to lower your guard around a female.”
“Mmm, right. Because all we girls secretly want to do is consume chocolate and gossip about boys.”
She laughs. “That’s exactly what I told Kennedy, that he insulted us both by the suggestion. But since he paid for these drinks at six bucks a pop, I told him I’d get the scoop.”
“Which I won’t be telling you,” I say, smiling to soften it.
“No, I know. But I’m going to sit here for a second anyway.” She leans back in her chair. “I just . . .” She breathes out. “You ever just need a break? Like you maybe get the sense you live for your job, only to wake up and realize you’re barely living?”
Not until recently. Not until Ian.
The thought is so foreign, so out there, I blink in surprise. Surely I haven’t let a guy I’ve known less than three weeks get under my skin.
“You don’t like your job?” I ask, to avoid saying something I shouldn’t.
“No, I love it. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do more. It’s just”—she stabs the straw at the frozen liquid—“lonely, I guess.”
“No boyfriend? Girlfriend?” I ask, not wanting to assume.
“Nope.” She says it in a clipped little voice that tells me there’s more to the story.
“Anyone you’re interested in?” I ask. I keep the question casual, even though I’ve already got a good idea of who’s holding a piece of Kate Henley’s heart. The question is whether she even knows.
Her eyes shadow for a second. Oh yeah, she knows. But instead of answering my question, she shifts her gaze to me. “What about you? Involved with anyone?”
“Nope.” I wrap my lips around my straw.
She studies me. “Ian’s a good guy, you know.”
I choke a little on the Frappuccino. “What does Mr. Bradley have to do with my love life?”
“Nothing,” she says, eyes wide and innocent.
I feel a moment of panic at my mistake, then I see her slight smirk. Busted.
“You like him,” she says with a teasing grin as she chews her straw. “Rumor has it you and Ian had a ‘meeting’ last Friday after hours.” She adds air quotes around meeting for emphasis.
“We discussed his case, yes,” I say, the professional in me warring rather obnoxiously with the newly discovered part of me that wants nothing more than to pick Kate’s brain on everything there is to know about Ian . . . and not for reasons that have anything to do with the case.
Kate rolls her eyes. “Riiiiight. I’ll pretend not to notice that you’re blushing right now, and that every time you’re standing at my desk, you look at Ian’s office to see if he’s in.”
Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be.
“Perfect,” I retort. “And I’ll pretend not to notice the way you look at Kennedy Dawson when he’s not looking.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Careful there, SEC.”
I lift my cup in a truce. “No more boy talk?”
She taps her cup against mine. “Not until the case is over. Then I want details.”
“Once the case is over, you might hate my guts,” I say regretfully.
“Nah. I already know how this all ends, and I’ve got a pretty good feeling we’re going to be friends.”