Deep Breath by Alison Kent Read Free Book Online

while Harry pumped gas into the tank of that incredible car.
    Harry. What a normal name for someone she had a feeling didn’t have a normal bone in his body. The bones that were there weren’t too shabby, giving him a nice, buff-and-broad, Michelangelo’s David sort of look.
    But he was way too calm, way too accepting. He was dealing with a hostage situation as if it were nothing but another day at the office. Whoever he was, Harry van Zandt was no ordinary Joe Blow, ex-military, concerned citizen checking out an auction because he had a jones for an old car.
    No way.
    She’d seen that dive he’d made across the diner’s counter to get Tracy out of harm’s way. Most guys she’d known would’ve been too busy scrambling to save their own hides to worry about a small-town waitress. And then to slip a steak knife up his sleeve?
    Speaking of sleeves, when he’d whipped off his wet T-shirt there at the car to exchange it for the gray athletic number he was wearing now, she’d spent a good thirty seconds oblivious to anything else but his pecs and his abs before snapping out of her lustful stupor.
    She forced herself to snap out of it again now. Grabbing a second Coke and another bag of peanuts, she paid the cashier, pulled her sunglasses from the top of her head, and headed for the car.
    He was smart, sharp, and on her side. It couldn’t hurt to keep him around. At least for tonight. Hopefully, she wouldn’t need him come tomorrow.
    If the dossier actually wound up at the preview, he might be willing to turn a blind eye to whatever means she used to get her hands on it. Maybe she could even get him to provide a distraction. What he didn’t know he couldn’t get arrested for, right?
    But this military background of his…She shook her head, tucked his bottle under her elbow, and screwed the top off hers. She knew next to nothing about him. And she definitely needed a few details before presenting him with an illegal proposition.
    “I’ve been thinking,” she said, walking up and waiting for him to settle the nozzle in the pump’s holster and tighten the Buick’s gas cap before handing him his peanuts and Coke. At his surprised, “Thanks,” she nodded and went on.
    “Do you have dress clothes for tonight?” She glanced at her watch. “There’s a symposium first. We can skip that. The preview reception starts at seven-thirty, but being fashionably late works for me. Less attention. We can slip in while things are in full swing.”
    He uncapped the Coke bottle. “Slip in for a hundred and seventy-five dollars, you mean. Since I’m assuming we’ll be going as a couple.”
    “Right. A couple.” She pushed away all thoughts of marble David statues and guzzled down a quarter of her drink. It fizzed. It burned. It jerked her mind out of the lust gutter. “I can pony up for the donation, but I’m also going to need to buy clothes. I don’t have anything with me but T-shirts, boots, and jeans.”
    “I have a suit, my bag’s in the trunk.” He tore the cellophane top from the peanuts, upended the bag into his mouth, and chewed. “It’ll need to be pressed. And I’m going to need a shower.”
    A shower. Makeup, hair, shaving her legs for a dress. All she’d thought about was clothes and shoes. She groaned, glanced again at her watch. “There’s no way we’ll be ready in time.”
    Not to mention she still hadn’t come up with a workable plan to walk out of the gallery with the dossier—and without being seen. Or a way to explain to Harry what she had really come to Dallas to do.
    The more she thought about it, the more she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d be better off on her own, no matter his familiarity with collateral damage.
    Harry twisted the plastic top back onto his bottle and reached for the receipt the pump finally spit out. He headed around to his side of the car. “Sure we will. We need a room for the night, so we’ll do that now. I’ll send my suit to be pressed, we’ll get