Stevie Lee by Tara Janzen Read Free Book Online Page A

picking up contraband, maybe running guns back to Angola. It turned out to be a lot less organized and a lot more dangerous than gunrunning.” He stopped to take another bite of toast.
    Hanging off the edge of her chair, Stevie waited for him to continue, and waited. “Well?” she finally prompted, not even trying to disguise her burning curiosity.
    “Well . . . he had this crazy scheme concerning the diamond business. ‘There for the picking,’ he said. ‘Just laying in the sand.’ ‘No,’ I said. He pulled a gun—and I got in the boat.”
    “And?”
    “And sure enough, they were just laying in the sand, right along with about a dozen armed guards and Lord knows how many Dobermans. Lord, I hate Dobermans.”
    “You stole a diamond?” Her eyes widened even further.
    “Actually, it was pretty fair trade. The dogs got a piece of my backside, and I got two carats of uncut stone. Do you want to see my scars?”
    Stevie sat back in her chair, slack-jawed. She was tempted to say yes, just to make him prove his outlandish story. But he was Halsey Morgan, and she’d heard wilder tales about him.
    “I’d say that made for a pretty good piece of luck. What do you think?”
    “I think you’re crazy,” she said honestly.
    “I like to think of it as adventurous.” A definite gleam sparkled in the depths of his eyes.
    “And you can call a grizzly tame, but it don’t make it so,” she said, still not sure if he’d been pulling her leg.
    Ignoring her skepticism, he pushed his empty plate away and relaxed back in his chair. “Well.” He sighed, stretching his legs out. “That’ll probably kill me.”
    “Don’t you even dare think it,” she said in a low voice.
    “Just teasing, Stevie. Actually, you’ve taken real good care of me this morning.”
    “Then we’re even?” One sable brow arched hopefully.
    “Not quite, not yet. I think I owe you a little something for your hospitality.” He paused for a moment, gearing up for his slam-bang surprise. “How would you like an all-expenses-paid vacation to Australia?”
    “Can I leave tonight?” she asked without missing a beat. We’ll see who’s fooling who, she thought. Then her eyes narrowed to a discerning angle. “Or do you want something first?”
    Her ready answer, and her quick summation of the situation, left him speechless.
    “Right,” she drew the word out on a long breath. “That’s what I figured. What is it? Money? Well, I don’t have any. No”—she stopped him with a raised hand when he started to explain—“let me guess. Now what have I got that the world-wandering Hal Morgan can’t get anyplace else?
    “Besides that.” She dismissed his immediate, rakish leer with a flick of her wrist. Emotionally, it took a little more effort. Okay, a lot more effort, she silently conceded to the mocking voice inside her head. The man did have great eyes, and when they lit up with a smile, she wasn’t immune.
    She mulled over the other options, and came up with the truth. Leveling her gaze, she said slowly, so he wouldn’t miss a word, “Forget it. I’m not hiring you.”
    “I’m a helluva bartender,” he replied in a deeply persuasive drawl, lying through his teeth. At best he figured he’d done enough drinking to make him an expert; from Borneo to Timbuktu, he’d drunk stuff she probably hadn’t even heard of. At worst he figured he could fake it.
    “Why don’t you just ask me to slit my throat and get it over with?” Both of her eyebrows rose this time, adding emphasis to her question. “All that’s standing between me and your property is a couple of grand in back taxes. If I give you a job, you’ll make that before the Fourth of July.” She conveniently left out the part about needing a miracle to stay afloat, let alone pay his taxes.
    “A guy’s got to eat too.”
    “Hah!” She gestured at the array of dirty dishes in front of him. “Tell me about it.”
    He decided to appeal to her sense of logic.