Falcon's Flight Read Online Free PDF Page A

slightly pale, her skin was living
    perfection. Free of artificial color, her lips induced a shivery response within him. Her hair appeared to crackle like a flame, compelling his hands to seek warmth in the silky strands. And her eyes! A silent groan had tightened his throat. Her eyes were the clear green of a summer glade, inviting him to lose himself in the shadowy depths.
    That endless instant in time produced the most profound sensation Flint had ever experienced. He had completely forgotten the meeting, the meeting he had called. Without hesitation he had moved to intercept Leslie, deliberately allowing her to walk into him. His body still hummed from that brief contact with hers.
    The pulse beating beneath the gold watched kicked into high gear. Flint’s lips tightened into a grim line. Dammit! He wanted the redheaded witch! He could feel his body growing taut with sensual excitement. His blood was running wild and hot. He wanted, needed—
    Flint clenched his long, tapered fingers into his palms until the knuckles glowed whitely through the coppery skin. Control. Control. Flint forced himself to breathe slowly, deeply, while he silently chanted the I single word. His objective was reached before the ele-i vator doors glided apart at the conference-room floor.
    His thin lips curling into a satisfied smile, Flint I stepped out of the elevator and strode along the wide | corridor. There wasn’t a woman alive capable of capturing this Falcon, he assured himself confidently.
    The memory of his eyes haunted her.
    Leslie shivered. Flint. What was it about his eyes? she asked herself, moving restlessly to the window.
    Falcon’s eyes saw too much while revealing nothing. ' And the color—what was the color? Leslie frowned. Gray, she decided. Falcon’s eyes were gray, dark gray...except at the odd moments when they appeared to be blue or almost black.
    Leslie’s lips curved into a wry smile. Like the man himself, Falcon’s eyes defied definition, at least at this point. Perhaps later, after she knew him better...
    The content of her thoughts brought a gasp to Leslie’s lips. What was she thinking? She had no intention of getting to know Flint Falcon! The man had the look of a predator. Leslie shivered in reaction to the image of him that rose in her mind. The only problem was that though she tried to convince herself the shiver was caused by his formidable appearance, Leslie was afraid there was more than a hint of sensual excitement woven through her response.
    Uneasy with the direction in which her thoughts were drifting, Leslie spun away from the window, determination stiffening her spine. She had to get out, not only of the suggestive suite but of the hotel itself. But first she had to locate her luggage.
    Searching for the phone, her eyes narrowed as her glance settled on the red-and-gold instrument placed on a black lacquered table next to a plush velvet sofa. Decadent, she thought, frowning. The suite was blatantly decadent. Her expression disdainful, Leslie strode to the table. She was reaching for the red receiver when a soft tap sounded on the door and a quiet voice penetrated the panel.
    “Bellman, ma’am.”
    “And not a moment too soon,” Leslie muttered. Straightening, she turned from the table just as the phone trilled. Dammit! Leslie glanced at the phone, then at the door, then back at the phone as it rang again. Then she sighed in exasperation. “Come in,” she called to the bellman. The door opened as she reached for the receiver. “Yes?” she said impatiently into the phone while trying to motion the bellman to wait.
    “Have your cases been delivered?”
    All rational thought ceased at the soft sound of Falcon’s voice. A shiver trickled down Leslie’s spine. Although his query was mundane, the tone of his darkly exciting voice seemed to hint at pleasures too exquisite to be mentioned aloud.
    “Yes, just now.” Leslie was so intent on concealing the tremor in her voice that she didn’t