Midnight Encounters Read Online Free PDF Page B

banishing the embarrassing memories from her mind, Maggie had stayed up half the night thinking about her mysterious bad boy. If she were a braver woman, she might have stuck around and coyly suggested they enjoy a few rounds of anonymous sex. At least then she wouldn’t have spent the night lying in bed, frustrated and aching for release.
    Sighing again, Maggie approached the curb and focused on flagging down a taxi and leaving Harlem.
    She found a cab fairly quickly, though the drive across town wasn’t as quick. She was two minutes late when the taxi driver maneuvered out of lane-to-lane Saturday evening traffic and finally crept to a stop in front of the Olive. She handed the man a couple of bills, then hurried inside and made her way across the bar toward the doors leading to the employees’ lounge.
    “Hey, Trish,” she called to the brunette behind the counter.
    The second she saw her, Trisha dropped the receipts in her hands and dashed over. “Maggie, walk faster,” she hissed.
    As Trisha grabbed her arm and practically dragged her through the back corridor, Maggie looked at her with wide eyes. “What’s the matter?”
    “Just move.”
    Trisha pushed open the door to the lounge, staying on Maggie’s heels as she headed for the small bank of lockers at the far end of the room. Spinning the combination lock, Maggie pulled open the locker and shot her co-worker a sideways glance.
    “Well?”
    Trisha shifted from one foot to the other, her dark eyes dancing. “I think Ben Barrett is here.” Maggie slipped out of her jeans and changed into the denim skirt the waitresses were forced to wear.
    “Who?”
    “Who? Who? I can’t believe you just asked me that.” Trisha began to speak in a patient voice reserved for small children and rabid dogs. “ Heart of a Hero ? McLeod’s Revenge ? The Warrior ?” She blinked. “What, he writes romance novels or something?” Trisha let out a shriek. “No, you idiot. Those are movies he’s starred in. You’re honestly telling me you don’t know who Ben Barrett is?”
    Maggie shrugged, then pulled her T-shirt over her head and exchanged it for a V-neck black tank.
    Kicking off her sneakers, she strapped a pair of black heels on her feet and turned back to the enraged brunette.
    “Trish, the last time I went to the movies, I was ten. My foster parents took all the kids to see a Disney movie.” She poked her tongue in her cheek. “Come to think of it, that’s the only time I’ve gone to the movies.”
    “What about television?” Trisha asked with a frustrated tilt of her chin. “You’ve got to watch television.”
    “Not really.” Maggie paused. “If I’m not too tired, I watch cooking shows with Summer. She’s been trying to learn about Jamaican cuisine so she can cook for Tygue. The first time she tried we all got food poisoning, so—”
    “Forget it,” Trisha cut in, not looking amused. “All I’m going to say is I think a movie star is sitting in the booth near the pool table.”
    Maggie didn’t really care, but she felt she owed it to her friend to ask, “What makes you think that?”
    “Well, he came in about an hour ago, walked up to the bar and ordered a glass of sparkling water. He gave Matt a hundred-dollar bill and said he wanted to be left alone.”
    “Gee, then it must be him.”
    Trisha ignored her. “He’s wearing a baseball cap and hiding behind a newspaper, but he looks sooo familiar. I walked past him a few times and I swear it’s him. And there’s more.”
    “I can’t wait to hear it.”
    “I saw on the news earlier that the police found Ben Barrett’s car abandoned a few blocks from here.”
    “Hmmm. Maybe he couldn’t find parking out front.”
    “ Then, ” Trisha continued, still ignoring her, “the cops gave a statement saying that Ben Barrett is alive and well, just a victim of some NYC car vandalism. I think the whole thing was a scam, and that he ditched his car because he’s on the run.”
    Maggie’s head