Neck & Neck Read Online Free PDF Page A

knew the way to San José.
    She turned slightly and looked over her shoulder at him again and, when she saw Finn still approaching, she looked even more panicky than before. To her credit, however, she slowly turned back in his direction and feigned nonchalance. Though it was about as much nonchalance as a jack-hammer operating on broken pistons. She lifted a hand to her hair to scoop it back and away from her face, but the gesture was in no way smooth. In spite of its awkwardness, however, Finn still nearly stumbled as he watched her complete it. Because when she tucked a shoulder-length strand of gold behind one ear, damned if her cheek didn’t look stained by the evidence of a blush.
    Okay, so maybe she wasn’t a call girl. Call girls didn’t blush, and their hands didn’t shake when they brushed their hair out of their eyes. She was still plenty suspicious. Even more so now. Because if she wasn’t looking for Russell to offer up her services—and if she wasn’t going to ask Finn about the way to San José, which he was pretty sure was unlikely—then why was she sneaking peeks at him and being so obvious about not wanting him to catch her staring?
    He covered the last bit of distance that separated them in three easy strides and came to a stop in front of her. Then, knowing he was about as good at being inconspicuous as she was, he asked point-blank, “Can I help you, miss?”
    Before he even completed the question, he noticed a soft scent about her, nothing too overpowering or heavy, just a nice, delicate fragrance reminiscent of something that was unsullied and sweet. It was totally at odds with the va-va voom look of her, and that just captured his interest even more.
    “It’s Ms., actually,” she said. Her voice was in keeping with her femme fatale mystique, all smoky and whiskey rough. But her smile was more suited to the blush he’d noted a moment ago, way more virtue than vixen. Okay, maybe not a call girl, after all, he thought. More was the pity. Not that he’d intended to let her get near Russell, but hey, Finn had needs, too.
    “Ms. Beckett,” she added. “Natalie Beckett.”
    She extended her hand in a way that was surprisingly professional, and, automatically, Finn shook it. Also automatic was the way he dropped his glance to the left hand that remained at her side—to the ring finger of her left hand, to be precise—to see if she was wearing a wedding band. There wasn’t anything resembling a symbol of marital bliss—or marital misery, for that matter—on that finger, but it, along with several others, were decorated with gemstones that might have indicated it was an engagement ring.
    Although why he was even bothering to make note of that—other than that he was always curious about the status of beautiful women, and this one was certainly that—he couldn’t have said. For some reason, though, he was oddly relieved to discover that she was a Ms . who wasn’t a Mrs .
    The relief was short-lived, however. Because since Ms. Natalie Beckett probably wasn’t a fallen woman, there was an even better chance that she was something even more heinous, the sort of woman it was absolutely essential Finn keep away from Russell. Not the hookers, who were at least up front about having sex for money, and they called the price right off the bat. And not the gold diggers who were pretty much the same but behaved with more subtlety. It wasn’t the bad girls who were Russell’s downfall, even though the bad girls were the ones he sought out the minute he arrived in any given town. It was the nice girls Russell was most susceptible to. And it was nice girls Russell had made Finn promise to keep away. Very, very, very far away.
    “What can I do for you, Ms. Beckett?”
    “Call me, Natalie, please.”
    He hesitated a telling moment before asking, “Why would I need to call you anything at all?”
    Her smile fell some, but she bravely rescued it. “Because, Mr. Guthrie, I’m going to make you an