Florida Knight by Blair Bancroft Read Free Book Online

Waterway ? Casual enough, yet elegant enough, to bring Lieutenant Michael Turco to his knees.
     
    Perched on a stool at the restaurant’s tiny bar, Michael assured himself he just happened to be looking toward the entry of The Troll House when Kate Knight walked in. He wasn’t really keeping his eyes more on the door than on his drink. Okay, so he could tick off every patron who had entered in the past fifteen minutes. The pleasingly plump couple who were either tourists or snowbirds not yet flown home to Michigan or Iowa, four ladies of a certain age with hair ranging from salt and pepper to gray to shining white, a smartly dressed fortyish couple who looked as if they’d come from one of the waterfront mansions on the barrier island just across the Waterway. And two young women in their twenties who had plopped themselves down beside him at the bar and hadn’t hesitated to start up a conversation. Which was, Michael told himself, why he had turned his back and was watching the entry door so closely.
    He would have sworn he’d become old and jaded, that nothing could stir him past mild appreciation of what God gave females. That his interest in Kate Knight was solely the challenge of getting her help in the successful completion of his mission. But , suddenly, there she was . . . and she took his breath away. Even as he slid off the bar stool, Michael stared. To keep his mouth from sagging open, he forced himself to concentrate on details, starting at shining black leather shoes, moving up over a long expanse of pleated black slacks that looked suspiciously like silk, a long black tunic heavily embroidered with some kind of oriental designs—dragons, cherry trees, stuff like that. And above . . .
    Above that she was wearing makeup, perfectly applied makeup that turned her eyes into green fire, and— oh hell! —her hair was down, falling in waves of silver blond silk that tumbled in a startling riot of curls around her face, partially obscuring a red dragon embroidered over the modest but firm breasts Michael had tried so hard to ignore that day in Barbara Falk’s office.
    Dammit, the woman was playing him. Even as his hardened heart stirred, as did an equally delicate part of his anatomy, he knew it was all an act. Kate Knight had come armed to the teeth, determined to win this round.
    Since the mad rush of the prime months of the Winter Season was over, they were soon seated at a window table only scant feet from the Intracoastal Waterway, which at this point wasn’t much more than a shored-up canal less than a hundred feet wide. Kate, who had planned on treating Michael Turco as if he were a business rival at a hostile takeover, turned her eyes toward the water and was lost. In a setting like this, hostility was well nigh impossible.
    A large cruiser idled in the channel just outside the window. Ah-oo-gah! A shrill warning sounded from the drawbridge that towered over the restaurant. The gates came down, the bridge started to lift.
    “That’s how this place got its name,” Kate said, never taking her eyes off the scene outside.
    “Yeah, I know. The old troll under the bridge story,” Mike agreed. “I was born in Golden Beach .”
    Startled, Kate turned to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “so few people are natives. And somehow I assumed you lived in Manatee Bay , that this wasn’t your territory.”
    “The FHP patrol station is here,” Michael pointed out. “I have a condo in Twin Lakes Village .”
    Which explained the local connection to Bill Falk. The bridge siren sounded once again, signaling it was about to close. Relieved by an excuse to escape the conversation, Kate turned back to the Waterway. The large cruiser was already out of sight behind the bridge supports. A steady stream of cars now rumbled toward the beach on the west side of the bridge. Joining the crowd of sunset watchers, Kate thought. Cars, vans, SUVs and pickups lined up every evening to watch the sun plunge into the