Thigh High by Christina Dodd Read Free Book Online Page A

drape of bangs over his forehead, but white scars mottled the skin along his hairline. It looked as if someone had knocked him down and kicked him—and as big as he was, she didn’t want to run into the guy who’d done it.
    No wonder the older tellers swooned and young Lisa shivered. When he watched Nessa as he did now, with eyes as green and cold as glacial ice, she wondered what work he’d done before taking the mundane job of insurance investigator. Put a machine gun in his hands, and this guy looked like the Valentine’s Day massacre come to life.
    When he spoke, his voice was deep and rough, as if he had a cold—or that beating had done damage to his throat. “I have heard that tact is the ability to tell a person to go to hell and make him look forward to the trip.”
    Whatever she’d expected, that wasn’t it. She blinked at him, then said cautiously, “So I’ve heard.”
    â€œAnd I’ve been told in no uncertain terms I don’t have that ability.”
    She hated to agree after an acquaintance of thirty seconds, but as abrupt as he was, she guessed he was right.
    â€œThat’s why you’ve been tapped to help me with this investigation. You’re known for your ability to handle difficult people.”
    â€œI’m to handle you?” Bitchy, Nessa. It’s not his fault you can’t fight your way up the food chain.
    He lifted his eyebrows as if her response surprised him. “I’m not difficult. It’s other people who are.”
    She almost laughed. Not difficult? Perhaps not. Demanding. Intelligent. Intense. She suspected he was all of those things and more. If she remembered that, she could handle him.
    But just once, she wished someone would take the trouble to handle her.
    â€œYou are familiar with the crimes, aren’t you?” he asked.
    â€œPretty much everyone who lives here is familiar with the Beaded Bandits.”
    â€œI thought so, but you looked so perturbed, I thought perhaps I’d confused you.”
    â€œNot at all. I was…” What could she say? “I wondering how an investigator from somewhere North—”
    â€œPhiladelphia.”
    â€œOf course. From Philadelphia, discovered I was known for my ability to handle people.”
    â€œThat’s why they call me an investigator.” He delivered the line deadpan, as if he didn’t know he was funny—or as if he had no sense of humor.
    Oh, dear. “Where would you like to start?”
    â€œI need to see the banks here in the city where the crimes occurred. I’ve watched the videos, but nothing is the same as walking up the steps, standing inside, and surveying the situation. I assume I’ll see the Mardi Gras celebration?”
    â€œYou won’t be able to get away from it.” In fact, you’re alone in the city. Come to the party at the Dahl House tonight. The words hovered on her tongue. Every hospitable instinct urged her to speak. But an innate caution stopped her. The party was famous, fun, overwhelming, with friends dropping in and leaving all evening long. But to Nessa it seemed as if Jeremiah Mac would move through the crowd like a black hole and suck all the life from the party.
    With his hands full of files, he went to the cabinet and opened the top drawer.
    Well. Stephabeast might consider Nessa his secretary, but apparently he did not. Nessa tested him. “Would you like me to get you some coffee?”
    â€œWhen we go out, we’ll stop at Starbucks.”
    She had been tense; sitting here watching a man work relaxed her to no end. “This is New Orleans. We’ll stop at Deaux.” Oh! And she liked directing him, too.
    â€œAs you say.” He placed the manila folders in their proper position. “Are you familiar with the other branches?”
    â€œCertainly. There’s the occasional emergency that requires me to visit them to help out.”
    â€œI want to