Flirting With Intent. Kelly HunterЧитать онлайн книгу.
had asked him to look into Jared’s whereabouts. She’d wanted to know if ASIS had Jared listed as active, which would mean he was on a job rather than off doing heaven only knew what on his own. Didn’t mean Lena suspected anything untoward. Didn’t mean Jared was neck-deep in trouble. This was just an insurance run, nothing more. To set their minds at ease.
He pulled up the website he needed, started the run and sat back and put an online gaming map up on the screen while he waited. Two minutes, he estimated. Tops.
And then the laptop beeped and Damon switched screens, noting with a frown the distinct lack of anything remotely resembling his brother’s employment file. Not good. Time to dig deeper and hope to hell he didn’t find Jared’s file down in the pit with all the other dark ponies. Swiftly, Damon cut his way further into the system, cursing inwardly as what should have been a two-minute milk-run turned into a five-minute nightmare.
Six minutes, seven minutes and way past time for Damon to be getting the hell out of the files he was sifting through and still he hadn’t found any information concerning his brother.
Nine minutes into the run and he found a file strung full of encrypted numbers. Heading the string was Jared’s employee number. It’d have to do.
Backing out of the system without a trace took Damon past the ten-minute mark—too long for comfort, with his safety margin well and truly shot.
Pack up, get out. Take the long way home. With the adrenalin blowing through his skull and every sense he owned on hyper-alert.
Minutes later, as he stepped onto the first underground train that came along, Damon West, IT engineer and specialist systems hacker ever since he’d found his way into his high school’s assessment database at the tender age of twelve, grinned.
CHAPTER THREE
DECEMBER twenty-third came hot and humid. By midafternoon there’d be a deluge, Ruby predicted. A blast from the sky to wash away the stench of the day. A deluge to avoid if at all possible, she decided as she set about ensuring that she’d stocked Russell’s apartment with everything the West family could possibly want or need over the Christmas break, including provisions for unexpected guests, should any drop in.
The rainclouds were still a long way off when Ruby phoned through to Russell’s apartment at midday to say she was on her way up but no one picked up, and Ruby breathed a mingled sigh of disappointment and relief.
No Damon, no temptation. This was a good thing.
Dry-cleaning over one arm, shopping bag full of sushi dangling from her fingertips and a gingerbread house balanced precariously on top of the dry-cleaning, Ruby elbowed her way through the doorway to the apartment and slipped off her shoes. No time to put her flats on because if she didn’t get rid of the gingerbread house soon she’d drop it and that really wouldn’t do.
‘Are you ever not carting things from one place to the next?’ asked a voice from behind her and Ruby jumped and the gingerbread house started to slide.
Damon caught it well before it hit the floor and Ruby’s thanks came thin and grudging, seeing as he was the one who’d startled her into dropping it in the first place. She turned to look at him, taking in his choice of clothing for the day—a white linen shirt that she hadn’t seen before, and well-fitting jeans that looked decidedly familiar. The clothes looked crisp and fresh. The body beneath them seemed a little rumpled. ‘I thought you were out.’
‘That was you on the phone five minutes ago?’
‘Yes.’
‘Sorry. I was asleep. By the time I’d found the phone and picked up, you’d put down.’
‘Jet lag?’ ‘Possibly.’
‘There are tonics for that.’ ‘It’s Hong Kong. There are tonics for everything.’
‘Just a suggestion,’ she murmured and started towards Russell’s rooms where his suits lived. When she returned and slid the sushi into the fridge, she found the gingerbread house on the kitchen bench and a tousle-haired Damon cracking open a fizzy drink that hadn’t entered the apartment by way of Ruby.
‘You’ve been shopping,’ she accused.
‘Guilty.’
‘If you want anything like that, let me know. That’s my department.’
‘Ruby, I’m quite capable of stepping out for half a dozen cans of cola. Consider it exercise and a change of scenery on my part.’
‘That’s really not how it works.’
‘No, that’s usually exactly how it works,’ he murmured with a crooked smile. ‘Want one?’
‘Just water, please. It’s slick out. Hopefully the icing hasn’t slid off the roof of the house.’ Ruby gave the confectionary a careful once-over but all looked well with Santa’s gingerbread cottage. ‘Are we flirting yet?’
‘Just working my way up to it,’ he said with a smiling glance in her direction. ‘It’s all in the timing.’ He looked back at the cellophane wrapped gingerbread house. ‘Anyone ever tell you that you shop too much?’
‘You’re the first. Speaking of shopping, are those the jeans we bought for you yesterday?’
Damon nodded. ‘Useful, aren’t they?’
‘There goes the Christmas present,’ she murmured. ‘Perhaps I forgot to mention the part where I wrap them up and put them under the tree?’
‘That can still be arranged,’ he said dryly.
‘It’s not the same. You’re meant to wait. Take possession on Christmas Day.’
‘It’s just another day, Ruby.’
‘Well, it is now. Take them off.’
Grinning, Damon set his drink down and reached for his fly. Ruby raised a delicate eyebrow but made no move to stop him. Eventually he stopped of his own accord.
‘You’re supposed to say “not here”,’ he said. ‘And then you blush.’
‘Not sure we’re living in the same universe, my friend.’
‘I’ll say. Good thing I’m adaptable.’ The trousers came off. He handed them to Ruby, who stripped his belt from the trousers and handed it back to him with considerable expertise.
‘And the rest of the clothes from yesterday,’ she said airily. ‘When you’re ready.’
‘Good thing we didn’t buy underwear,’ he murmured and set off up the hall, not an ounce of self-consciousness anywhere in sight. Just strong, athletic legs, broad, shirt-covered shoulders, and a hint of mighty fine buttock. Put today’s picture together with yesterday’s man-and-his-towel image, and a woman could be excused for losing her breath.
‘I know you’re looking,’ he said from halfway down the hall.
‘No, I’m not.’ But she said it with a smile, and she leaned over the counter the better to catch the show.
Only once he’d reached his room did Ruby drag her attention away from Damon West’s very fine form to study his can of cola and note the label. She’d add it to the drinks order and make sure a case of it arrived later this evening with the last of the Christmas Day fare.
When Damon returned he had the rest of the clothes they’d purchased yesterday in hand and a pair of vivid Hawaiian board shorts on person.
‘A leftover from your last stint as a pool boy?’ she queried delicately.
‘What? You don’t like them? They’re my favourite.’
‘Oh, Damon. That’s just …’ Words failed her. ‘Sad.’ She handed the new trousers back to him with a sigh. ‘Put them back on before your father sees you. He has a reputation to maintain.’