Tempting the Devil by Patricia; Potter Read Free Book Online Page A

curiosity again.
    Nothing more.

chapter five
    The pub was full. She made her way to a table surrounded by Observer reporters, her eyes looking for the dark-haired man who’d stood behind her earlier.
    He wasn’t in the bar.
    She recognized everyone at the table but a very good-looking man with sandy hair and quick smile he flashed as she neared.
    She thrust out her hand. “I don’t know you. You must be new at the paper. I’m Robin Stuart.”
    A sheepish look replaced the quick smile. “Afraid I’m not with the paper. I’m an interloper.”
    â€œA would-be reporter turned accountant,” Bill Nugent, a features writer, said. “Smart man.”
    â€œCouldn’t get a job,” the man said. “Luckily I minored in accounting.” A wry smile, then, “I’m Michael Caldwell. I’m auditing a company across the street and someone told me about this place. Bill invited me to join the table. We went to college together. Same dorm.”
    â€œHe sprang for a pitcher of beer,” Bill said.
    Enough said. Bill was the biggest drinker at the paper, as well as the biggest freeloader for drinks. But his writing was sheer brilliance and it was impossible not to like him.
    Michael Caldwell stood up and pulled out a chair for her, something the reporters never did.
    Mama, the waitress who had been there forty years and knew everyone, greeted her with a chilled glass and the usual smile, and Michael filled it from the pitcher of beer on the table.
    Robin took a sip and put it down. “You said you were auditing. Are you based here in Atlanta?”
    He nodded.
    â€œWhat company do you work with?”
    He mentioned one she didn’t know, but then she didn’t know much about accounting and auditing firms.
    He leaned over the table toward her. “I liked your story this morning,” he said. “You really made those officers come to life.”
    â€œThanks,” she said.
    â€œWhat do you think happened?” he asked.
    â€œI wish I knew.”
    He had one of the nicest smiles she’d seen. That alone drew her to him. His dark blue eyes were an extra. “Did you major in journalism?” she asked.
    He nodded.
    â€œAnd minored in accounting? An odd combination.”
    He shrugged. “I’ve always been good with numbers. It was my fail safe option. Turned out to be a good one. Only job I was offered in journalism was with a weekly that didn’t pay a living wage.”
    She sympathized. She knew how hard it was to get a decent-paying job, especially in print journalism. Too many papers had folded, too many others had merged with their competition.
    He was well dressed, especially next to Bill, who loved to pretend he lived in a 1940s city room. He came into the office in an unpressed suit, a tie with the knot halfway down his chest, and a frayed white shirt. He’d been known to take people in off the street to stay in his apartment. He was also known to lose everything he owned in doing so.
    â€œHow long have you been with the paper?” Michael Caldwell asked.
    â€œNine years, including a two-year interlude,” she said.
    â€œRobin thought her car could fly,” Bill said.
    â€œIt did,” she said. “It just didn’t have a good landing. The result is a bionic leg.”
    â€œMust have been difficult,” Caldwell said, his eyes glancing down at her empty ring finger. Or did she imagine that?
    â€œIt had its good points. I stayed with my sister for part of the time. We became close.”
    â€œMust be a good sister.”
    â€œI’m lucky. I have two of them.”
    He lifted his glass. “To luck.”
    She lifted her own glass in response. She liked him. There was something inherently nice about Michael Caldwell.
    She listened to the conversation for several moments, then stood. “I have to go.”
    Caldwell stood as well. “I’ll walk you to your