An Independent Wife Read Online Free PDF Page A

and said, "See ya," to Brom.

    "Flying off, little birdie?" he asked, as he always did.

    "It looks that way. Greg said to pack." With a wave she left, not wanting to linger, since Rhy was on his way down.

    She stepped into the corridor and her heart nearly failed her when the elevator doors slid open and Rhy stepped out, flanked by three men she didn't know and the previous publisher, Mr. Owen. Rather than walk straight toward them she turned and went to the stairs, being careful to keep her eyes lowered and her head slightly averted, but she was still aware that Rhy had stopped and was looking after her. Her pulse thudded in her veins as she darted down the stairs. What a close call!

    Waiting at the apartment for Greg to call nearly drove her mad with impatience. She paced the floor for a while; then excess energy drove her to clean the refrigerator out and rearrange her cabinets. That didn't take much time as she hadn't accumulated a lot of either food or utensils. At last she hit on the perfect way to pass the time: she packed her bags. She loved packing, going through her essentials and putting them in their proper place; she had her notebooks and assorted pens and pencils, a tape recorder, a dog-eared dictionary, several paperbacks, a pencil sharpener, a pocket calculator, replacement batteries and a battered flashlight, all of which traveled with her wherever she went.

    She had just finished arranging them neatly when the phone rang and she answered it to hear Greg's terse voice giving her the welcome news that he had an assignment for her.

    "It's the best I could do, and at least it'll get you out of town," he grunted. "You're on a flight to D.C., in the morning. A senator's wife is making big noises about a general leaking classified information at a drunken party. "

    "Sounds pretty," Sallie commented.

    "I'm sending Chris Meaker with you," Greg continued. "Talk with the senator's wife. You won't be able to even get close to the general. Chris will have a brief on it for you. Meet him at JFK at five-thirty."

    Now that she knew her destination Sallie was able to complete her packing. She chose conservative dresses and a tailored pants suit, not her favorite clothes, but she felt that the restrained clothing would help her with the interview, making the senator's wife more trusting.

    As usual, she could hardly sleep that night. She was always restless the night before she left on assignment if Greg gave her any warning of it. She preferred having to rush straight from the office to the airport, without having time to think, without wondering if everything would work out, without wondering what would happen if Rhy ever recognized her....

    Chris Meaker, the photographer, was waiting for her at the airport the next morning and as she approached him with a grin and a wave he got to his feet, his tall, lanky body unfolding slowly. He gave her a sleepy smile in return and bent down to kiss her on the forehead. "Hi, doll," he said, his quiet, lazily deep voice making her grin grow wider. She liked Chris. Nothing ever upset him; nothing ever hurried him. He was as calm and deep as a sheltered lagoon. He was even peaceful to look at, with his thick sandy hair and dark brown eyes, his brow broad and serene, his mouth firm without being stubborn. And most important of all, he never made a pass at her. He treated her affectionately, like a little sister, and he was protective in his quiet way, but he never made any suggestive statements to her or in any way acted as if he was attracted to her. That was a relief, because Sallie just didn't have the time for romantic ties.

    Now he looked her up and down and his level brows rose. "Ye gods, a dress," he said, mild surprise evident in his voice, which meant he was astonished. "What's the occasion?"

    Sallie had to grin again. "No occasion, just politics," she assured him. "Did Greg send that envelope he promised me?"

    "Got it," he replied. "Have you already checked your