Falcon's Flight by Joan Hohl Read Free Book Online Page A

the time to regain her composure. Feeling more in control, she allowed herself to relax over the rich coffee and the fiery liqueur Flint ordered for both of them.
    “You mentioned an employees’ party?” she probed, raising the small liqueur glass and taking a sip. The liquid ran down her throat with a pleasant burning sensation.
    “Yes.” Lifting his glass, Flint silently toasted her before tasting the drink. “There are too many of them for a single bash, so I divided them in half. We had the first one last night.” The fine wool material of his suit coat moved with the light shrug of his shoulders. “It’s my way of welcoming them all as employees of Falcon’s Flight.”
    “It’s very considerate of you,” Leslie observed, and she meant it.
    Flint’s smile was dry. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but considerate is usually not one of them.” He tossed off the last of his drink, then set the glass down. “At any rate, they’ll earn it.” His smile turned sardonic. “Don’t make the mistake of casting me in the role of considerate white knight. I assure you I’m not.”
    Exchanging her glass for her cooling coffee, Leslie cradled the delicate gold-edged cup in her hands, brought it to her lips and stared at him over the rim. Her lips curved into a chiding smile. “Okay. You’ve told me what you’re not; now tell me what you are.”
    “Tough, ambitious, ruthless and determined to achieve the goals I set for myself,” he answered without hesitation.
    Though his bluntness chilled her, Leslie maintained her composure. “I understand ambition, I have more than my share myself.” She sipped her coffee, savoring the full-bodied taste before continuing. “Perhaps I should have asked you who you are instead of what you are.”
    Flint glanced at his watch. “We must leave soon,” he said. “There’s not nearly enough time to swap life histories.”
    Leslie arched one delicately curved eyebrow. “Would you tell me anything if there were time?” Her skeptical tone indicated her doubt.
    “You can always try me sometime when we’re alone,” he invited softly. Then, insinuatingly: “I fully intend to try you.”
    “Falcon.” Leslie’s tones was sharp with warning; her unsteady hand rattled the cup as she placed it in the saucer.
    “You know, I get all kinds of wild thoughts and reactions when you call me that.” His soft laughter negating his assertion, he got to his feet and moved to the back of her chair. “Are you ready?” Bending over her solicitously he whispered, “For the party, and whatever else comes to mind?”
    Rising slowly as he eased the chair back, Leslie tilted her head to give him a cool look. “Gambling comes to mind, Mr. Falcon, I came to Atlantic City to play.” Head high, she swept from the restaurant, silently congratulating herself on attaining the exit without humiliating herself by tripping over her own strangely unsteady feet. Her feet nearly betrayed her when Flint murmured close to her ear.
    “There are games and then there are games, Miss Fairfield.” His hand came to rest at the small of her back. “What is your specialty?” Applying a light pressure, he guided her toward the escalator that would take them down to the second level of the hotel.
    Moving with all the outward appearance of a queen while inwardly trembling like a teenager daring to flirt with an older, more experienced man, Leslie stepped onto the metal stair. Angling her head, she gazed up at him from wide, innocent, amusement-sparkled eyes. “Why, I don’t have a specialty, Mr. Falcon.” Her dark eyelashes fluttered down, then up again. “You see, I’m extremely proficient at all the games.” As she turned to step off the moving stairs, his low chuckle followed her.
    “Cagey.” His murmur had the impact of a brazen caress. “And flirtatious. You do realize that you’re playing with fire?” He slanted an eyebrow at her. Leslie smiled. “I recognize the heat.”
    White teeth