“Your food is ready, sir,” the waiter said. “I’ll be right back with it.”
“Good, I’m starved,” East said, taking a careful sip of the hot brew in his cup.
Suddenly, Ally gasped as a seagull swooped into their line of vision, filched a piece of left-over toast from a nearby table that had yet to be bussed and then disappeared over the roof of the hotel.
“They’re pests, but this is their territory and there’s little we can do about them if we choose to eat outdoors.”
“I rather like them,” Ally said. “I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”
East watched her pick up her knife and start to cut through her food, again sectioning off that same three-by-three square bite. Her forehead was knotted in serious concentration and she was gripping her knife and fork so hard that her knuckles were almost white. He frowned, believing that she was closer to a breakdown than he first suspected. Instinctively, his need to help her kicked in and he leaned forward.
“Why do you do that?”
She paused and looked up. “Do what?”
He pointed to the waffle. “Cut your food so precisely.”
Startled, she glanced down at her plate then felt herself flushing with embarrassment. Freak. Always a freak.
“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose it’s just a habit.” She laid down the knife and fork and then folded her hands in her lap, her enjoyment of her food suddenly gone.
“Ah, damn, I didn’t mean to upset you,” East muttered.
Ally made herself smile. “Don’t be silly. I don’t get upset.”
That cold, emotionless wall had gone up between them again and East found himself resenting its presence. By God, he was going to get an emotional response from her, even if it was nothing but anger.
“Yes, you do. Everyone does at one time or another.”
Ally bristled. She hadn’t known this man even twenty-four hours and he thought he “knew” what she was thinking?
“Listen, Mr. Kirby, you don’t know me, so how can you sit there and pretend you know my behavior patterns?”
The flush on her face had gone straight to her cheeks. They were fiery with anger, matching the glitter in her eyes. East leaned back in his chair, satisfied with what he’d done. She didn’t know it yet, but she would thank him one day for putting her mind on something besides the hell that had driven her here.
“You gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing to the leftover food on her plate.
Prepared for another stinging rebuttal, his question took her off guard. “Umm…I, uh…don’t suppose.”
“Good,” he said, and pulled the plate in front of him, then picked up the waffle like a piece of toast and took a hearty bite. As he chewed, his eyebrows arched in surprised appreciation. Then he swallowed. “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad, at all,” and opened his mouth again.
Suddenly, Ally regained her sense of self and snatched the waffle out of his hands just in time to save it from another bite.
“I changed my mind,” she said. “You eat what you ordered and I’ll eat mine.”
Ally stared down at her plate and the chaos he’d made of the waffle. Sighing, she reached for her fork when she heard him clear his throat. She looked up, glaring at the smug expression on his face. Damn him. There’s nothing wrong with being a little bit fussy about one’s food.
“What?” she asked.
He shrugged, as if to say he didn’t know what she was asking.
“That’s what I thought,” she snapped. As she began trimming off the uneven spot he’d bitten into, she heard him chuckle.
“Just because I don’t want to share my food, doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me,” she muttered.
East’s grin stilled. He leaned forward. “Ally.”
“What?” she mumbled, refusing to look up.
“I was just teasing you. There isn’t a damn thing wrong with you, do you hear me?”
She paused, letting an old pain resettle itself around the region of her heart. Then, just to prove she was as outrageous as the next, she set her jaw and cut a reckless swath through the chilling waffle, slashing off a diamond-shaped bite, rather than her usual, perfect square. Then she gave him a “take that” look and stuffed the bite into her mouth just as their waiter appeared with East’s breakfast.
East hid a grin as the waiter set down his food. Moments later, he dug into his scrambled eggs and bacon. As he ate, he couldn’t help thinking they’d never tasted so good and wondered if it was the waffle appetizer that had piqued his appetite, or the company he was in. Either way, for a day that had started off so chaotically, it was turning into something very interesting.
Chapter 4
Rain drifted in blowing sheets, hammering against the windows of the two-story cabin overlooking the gorge below. Normally the view was magnificent and the isolation well suited to Jonah’s needs, but not today. The only way off the mountain was by helicopter or on foot, and until the storm passed, neither was possible.
He paced the floor between windows and walls, his anger growing at the latest news he’d just received. A courier had just been arrested at the Iranian border carrying highly classified documents. Documents that led straight back to him. And if that wasn’t damning enough, there was the matter of one-hundred thousand dollars recently deposited into his personal bank account that he could not explain.
“Damn, damn, damn it to hell,” Jonah growled, then pivoted sharply and slammed his fist into a wall.
If it wasn’t for the President’s intervention, the Attorney General would already be issuing a warrant for his arrest. He didn’t know how much longer he could fend off these assaults on his credibility and character. Immediately his thoughts went to Alicia Corbin. Before, he’d been willing to give her plenty of time to play on Easton Kirby’s guilt, but this latest stunt with the foreign courier changed everything. Whoever was trying to ruin him was escalating the incidents. Time was no longer on his side. She’d been there almost a week and he needed to know what was happening at Condor Mountain Resort, because if East couldn’t be persuaded to help, he was going to be forced to look to someone else. But to whom? The only reason he’d approached East in the first place was because he didn’t know who else to trust.
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