Last Kiss (Hitman #3) by Jen Frederick, Jessica Clare Read Free Book Online Page B

leaving hotel.”
    But I’m already enthusiastic about the thought of a disguise. “I would need a black turtleneck and leather pants. And a haircut! Maybe I will shave my head.”
    “No head shave. I like your hair.” And he reaches out and tugs one lock between his fingers, rubbing it.
    I can’t feel anything—it’s just hair—but I’m disconcerted and pleased. I like direct compliments. So often, people try to hide what they mean and I miss their meaning. He likes my
hair
. “What if I just dye it instead?”
    “Dye is acceptable,” he says thoughtfully, still rubbing my hair. “What color do you wish?”
    “My favorite color is green.”
    “The idea is to be inconspicuous.”
    Oh. I think for a moment longer. I’m a natural blonde but I have dark brows, so I won’t look too odd with darker hair. “Brown? Naturally brown hair accounts for sixty percent of North American hair colors.”
    He rubs my hair for a moment longer. “
Da
. Brown. For now.”
    “And the disguise clothing? Do you need my clothing sizes? I’m a 38-inch bust, 24-inch waist, 36-inch hips. My inseam is 28 inches and I wear a size 8 shoe.”
    Vasily says nothing, simply regards me and continues to rub my hair between his fingers.
    I wonder if I’ve missed a subtle cue somehow. I can never tell what emotional people are thinking, and I begin to get nervous. “You know I am autistic, correct?”
    He shrugs, as if this means nothing to him.
    I try to parse that reaction. Normally people recoil, or get asympathetic look on their faces as if I’ve suddenly declared myself brainless. But a shrug? A
so what
? I . . . well, I don’t recall ever getting that reaction before. He’s still touching my hair, though. “Because I am autistic, I will miss subtle clues. You will need to explain things directly to me.”
    Again, he shrugs.
    Flustered, I return to reciting my measurements. “If you need my bra size, I’m a 38C. I’m told that’s not an average size, but you should be able to find it in most stores. Medium panty, but it depends on the brand. I’ve never had my neck measured but I don’t think it’s necessary. If you have a measuring tape here, we can correct that, though.”
    “It is not necessary.”
    “All right.” I give one last look at my script. There’s nothing else for me to do at the moment. I feel awkward, but I don’t want to look at Vasily. If he’s giving me cues of what he is expecting of me, I’m missing them. “What do we do now?”
    He looks at his watch. “It is late.”
    “Late” is a cue I know. That’s indirect wording for bedtime. I have a routine before I go to bed. I always shower and wash my hair to get the day’s grime off of my skin, because I can’t sleep if there’s a chance that there are germs on me. I also insist on having the blankets and sheets changed every day. It’s a quirk my family has always accommodated, and Hudson’s people did, as well. I will have to tell this man that I have additional demands. Not as the Emperor, but as Naomi. Naomi is far more delicate than the Emperor.
    “Then I should shower,” I tell Vasily. “I need shampoo, conditioner, a new bar of soap, and new towels. And flip-flops because there are bound to be germs in the tub.”
    “I am sure that if the room does not have what we need, it canbe acquired.” His voice is smooth and easy, and I imagine it as a softly rippling wave of sound. Comforting. Lovely with its bass tones. I like this man’s voice. I steal a glance up at him.
    “Have you ever been kissed, Naomi?” he asks me, startling me.
    “I have, but I didn’t like it.”
    “No? Why is that?”
    “Germs,” I tell him. “Mouths are dirty things. The average mouth has several hundred kinds of bacteria in it at all times. I don’t like the thought of mixing bacteria with someone else’s.”
    “But if their mouth were clean? Teeth brushed? Mouth freshened with mouthwash?”
    I . . . I don’t know. I’ve never thought about