Morgan's Wife Read Online Free PDF

cards get laid on the table. Nothing and no one is spared. And you're right—I don't want a woman on this mission."
    Pepper turned. "I couldn't agree more with the truth of your first statement, Colonel. We're both in the business of life and death, aren't we?" She took a sip of coffee. Too bad Woodward was such a sourpuss, she thought. Because the man was undeniably a handsome devil, in a rugged kind of way. His green eyes were glittering like shards of ice in her direction right now, though, and his square face was set—like concrete. His black hair was militarily short and neat, and she liked his darkly tanned looks. Lines in a face told her much, and Woodward had his share. Creases at the corners of his eyes spoke of a great deal of time spent outdoors. The lines bracketing his mouth said something different, though. Lines of pain, possibly. But from what? Or who? His size, posture and attitude reminded her of their local college football captain. Fleetingly, Pepper wondered if Jim had played football in college. She smiled to herself and decided not to ask. Pulling back a chair, she smoothed her skirt and sat. Woodward stiffly took a seat opposite her, his hand folded in front of him, his knuckles white.
    "We aren't in the same business, Ms. Sinclair. Not by a mile," he said tightly.
    Pepper held his angry, defiant gaze. "Let's talk about your anger at the idea of a woman going on this mission with you, shall we?" she asked, her voice calm and steady. "I believe in gut-level honesty, so maybe that would be a good place to start in this messy little situation we seem to find ourselves in."
    Jim reeled internally at her unexpected bluntness. Her quiet voice belied the strength of her demand. He grasped at a notepad with several items neatly printed on it and slid it around in front of him on the table, using the moment to collect his scattered thoughts. "I'm not angry at you," he said coldly. "I'm angry at the concept of Perseus installing a two-person team on this mission, when I feel I'd be more successful alone."
    Pepper's smile was equally chilly. "Spoken like a politically correct officer in line to make general someday. Congratulations, Colonel Woodward. It's a great reply, but it's hardly complete and honest, don't you think?"
    Under any other circumstances, Jim had to admit, he would have liked Pepper immediately. She wasn't conventionally beautiful. Her chin was stubborn and pronounced, and her aristocratic nose didn't match her full mouth, the corners of which always seemed to curve slightly upward. Her features were like puzzle pieces that shouldn't fit together, but somehow did, to create a whole more magical than the sum of its parts. A rebellious lock of hair fell across her broad brow, and she brushed it away, as if she'd made that effortless gesture unconsciously all her life. He bought more time by opening his briefcase and placing a couple of books on the table.
    "Are you always this acerbic, or are you doing it as a special favor to me?" he asked finally, seeing the laughter flash in her eyes, though she didn't allow it to transfer to her mouth.
    "I consider my answers honest," Pepper responded. "Maybe you're looking for political correctness or diplomacy. I'm neither of those, Colonel. I learned about both things early on as an army officer, but I'm a civilian now. I no longer have to play those word games with you or anyone else." She smiled slightly. "Thank goodness."
    Jim found it difficult not to smile in response to the warmth shining from her eyes. In fact, he could feel her warmth—as real as if a beam of sunlight had suddenly struck him. Who was this woman? "It's not my nature to be base," he offered.
    "Since when is honesty considered baseness, Colonel?"
    His fingers tightened around the ballpoint pen in his hand. "If we're done sparring, can we get down to the business at hand?" he said through gritted teeth.
    "Fine, let's do it." Pepper tried to feel anger toward Woodward, but it just