Deep Breath by Alison Kent Read Free Book Online Page B

Smithson’s cavernous ops center was legendary, and the ribbing he’d earned as a result nonstop.
    Harry returned the messaging unit to its storage space, quickly shaved, pushed away thoughts of Tripp and the rest of the SG-5 crew, jumped into the shower, and got back to thinking about Georgia McLain.
    She knew he was ex-military. She’d admitted his being so couldn’t hurt but help, or something similar. She couldn’t argue that he had a viable reason to attend the preview and auction. So far, so good.
    If she found what she was looking for tonight, he’d have to convince her they would be better served waiting until tomorrow to return. Harry needed to make sure Simon had time to get in place—not only for surveillance and eventually storming the diner, but for the handing off of the goods.
    Especially since Harry was convinced that Georgia wasn’t going to want to turn over the dossier to Castro any more than he wanted her to. And this was where things were going to get extra sticky.
    Once Finn, Phil, and Tracy were safe, Harry would be taking possession of the dossier whether Georgia liked it or not. Meaning, he needed to figure out exactly what she wanted with it. He was certain it had something to do with her father. He just hadn’t had time to figure out what.
    He wasn’t above a compromise or helping her. But he had a job to do. The dossier went back to Manhattan or he went back to the drawing board. That said, he would make sure Georgia and her brother were reunited by the end of the weekend.
    He had just stepped from the shower and reached for a towel when a bright white light flashed and nearly blinded him. He reached over and shut off the silent alarm, the trigger to which he’d attached to the room’s door when he’d closed it behind the maid. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Georgia…
    He flung the towel around his waist and whipped open the door, stepping barefoot, half-naked, and dripping into the small entry alcove. Georgia stood there with one hand on the door handle as if she were about to leave the room. Her eyes grew wide; her gaze traveled from his head to toe and back.
    He didn’t stop to think, but moved in, menacing, hovering, gruff. “Where are you going?”
    She shook her head. Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. “Nowhere. It’s housekeeping. With your suit.” She took a step out into the hallway, her other foot braced against the base of the door, and returned with his clothes, which she shoved into his chest. “You owe me five bucks for the tip.”

 
     
     
    4:30 P.M.
     
    While Georgia had holed away in the suite’s monstrous bathroom to shower, shave, shampoo, and pull on a clean pair of undies, her T-shirt and jeans, Harry had been busy. Busy doing more than getting dressed and ratcheting up the who-is-this-man-and-where-did-he-come-from stakes.
    He wore serious grown-up clothes as beautifully as he wore casual, and as well as Michelangelo’s David wore his marble skin.
    She’d walked out of the steamy bathroom and only just stopped herself from demanding what the hell he was doing breaking into her room before she realized her mistake. He was that amazing. And her heart was still dealing with the unexpected lust.
    The man was the most beautiful thing she’d seen in forever. Her first impression, made from Finn’s truck when looking down from her window, had been right on the mark. But he was so much more than a girl’s guide to getting off.
    His smile—those lips and dimples, the dark shadow of his beard—was enough to melt even the most titanic ice queen. Not that she was one or anything…
    Sitting as she was now in the hotel’s salon, having her hair and makeup done, she kept sneaking looks over to where he sat waiting and reading a back issue of Cosmo . Every once in a while he’d frown, shake his head, turn the page. If she hadn’t been ordered not to move by her stylist, she might never have stopped laughing.
    When Harry told her he’d arranged not