Chase Me Read Online Free PDF

beamed ceiling. “He hasn’t worked in the field for ages. He’s deadweight.”
    “Not to me,” Elliott responded. “I need day-to-day—strike that—hour-to-hour visibility into this project. Gabe gives me that visibility, without impacting your progress.” He paused. “Lorin, you’re a stellar archaeologist. You have a preternatural talent for unearthing things, but we all know that administration isn’t exactly your forte. Gabe, on the other hand, excels at administration. I need him there, if only for my own peace of mind.”
    “What about my peace of mind?” she snapped. “We drive each other nuts, Elliott.” How could he sound so logical, so reasonable, when her thoughts were anything but?
    “Will you submit daily status reports for the archive? Will you carry a sat phone 24/7, and actually answer it when it rings? No,” he said, answering his own question, “not if your past performance is any indication.” After another pause, he asked, “Don’t you think it might be beneficial to have a geologist and metallurgist of Gabe’s caliber available on-site?”
    “Paige Scott is coming back this year.”
    “Ms. Scott is a talented young woman with a lot of potential, but she’s still a grad student. Do you begrudge her the opportunity to work with Gabe?”
    Lorin squeezed her eyes closed. Answering yes would make her look like a selfish pig. Damn it, damn it, damn it. She was well and truly stuck.
    There was a knock on the door—two perfunctory taps, a courtesy, no more. “Speak of the devil. Gabe is here.” Taking the phone off speaker, she opened the door.
    Gabe’s body temporarily blocked out the sun. “Very funny.” Barely waiting for her to wave him inside, he stalked toward her coffeepot.
    His teeth weren’t chattering and his lips weren’t blue, so he must have found the sauna. Wearing jeans, a black fleece pullover, and leather work boots, with a day’s beard and his black hair slicked back from his forehead, he looked nothing like the urbane man she was used to seeing in Sebastiani Labs’ hallways and conference rooms. Though the boots looked like they were fresh from the box, his jeans were clearly old friends, molding his long legs and admittedly excellent ass. She’d almost bought the jacket he wore for herself because its pile was so thick and luxurious. She’d virtuously passed.
    Lorin pursed her lips, reconsidering. If he’d shopped for most of his supplies at the same place he bought his jacket, he just might be okay. Ah hell, what was she thinking? No doubt he’d researched his gear thoroughly. He probably had a cost/benefit analysis stored somewhere on the laptop she’d seen him unload from his car.
    “I’ll be done here in a moment.” Lorin arched a brow at the coffee he’d already poured for himself into a mug that said Bitch Is the New Black . “Make yourself at home.”
    As she wound down her conversation with Elliott, she watched Gabe do just that, poking around the cabin, examining her woodstove, her coffee cup collection, taking in the unmade bed with a quick glance. Making his way over to the small bookshelf, he unerringly picked up the single most heinous picture of her in existence, the one her mother refused to put away despite years of pitiful begging. That summer, puberty had struck with a vengeance, and the picture had captured her with gangly limbs, huge feet, glasses, braces, and an unfortunate afro perm.
    Gabe was grinning like a fool.
    She snatched the picture from his hands and slapped it facedown on the shelf.
    “Um… wow.” Gabe sat down at the table, smiling around the lip of his coffee mug.
    On the phone, Elliott said, “I expect you and Gabe to play nice, Lorin.”
    Her stomach jumped. “Yes, Elliott.”
    “I mean it. Don’t torture the man. No fighting.”
    She eyed Gabe. “What if he throws the first punch?”
    Elliott’s sigh was less patient this time. “Lorin, his job is going to be tough enough without you provoking him.