On Thin Ice Read Online Free PDF Page B

level. “Where’s your broom?”
    “My . . .”
    “Broom,” he supplied, watching the dazed expression leave her face.
    Her eyes flashed with a murderous gleam. “In the pantry.”
    He grinned and began to think seriously on the merits of seduction.
    “So, we’re clear on the initial division of the research,” Devlin said some two hours later. He sifted through the papers spread out over the coffee table, sticking a few of them in his briefcase.
    “Yes.” Gabrielle picked up one of the heavy law books from the floor in front of the couch and thumbed through it. “I’ll tell my team tomorrow to start checking out the eyewitnesses.”
    When they first sat down to work, Gabrielle had pulled out a pair of brown horn-rimmed glasses. With that action, all traces of a space cadet had disappeared. Devlin decided she used that air-head attitude to throw people off guard. It was an effective strategy and heightened his curiosity about what made her tick.
    “Take a break,” he suggested. “We’ve done everything we can for tonight.”
    “Talked me into it.” She took off her glasses and laid them on top of the papers on the coffee table, then groaned and rolled her shoulders.
    Devlin stretched his arm across the back of the couch, brushing his fingers over the nape of her neck. “You’re the jumpiest woman,” he said at her start of surprise. “Are you always that way?”
    “I’m not—” She shivered when his fingers found a tight muscle and squeezed gently. “Jumpy. What are you—Hmm?” She stretched like a cat as he massaged her neck. “Don’t . . . I don’t think you should do that.”
    He smiled and continued flexing his fingers into the soft skin of her neck and shoulders. If she were as indifferent to him as she pretended to be, she wouldn’t sound so wary. “Relax. It’s only a neck rub.”
    “Sinclair, this is a business meeting,” she said, but she didn’t move away. Her eyes drifted shut and her head bowed as she relaxed beneath the subtle pressure of his fingers.
    “We’re through for the night, remember?” The tension started to ebb from her muscles. His gaze lit on the piano, reminding him of a question he’d meant to ask her earlier. “What kind of music do you play?”
    “Bach, Beethoven . . . Mozart.” Her voice sounded dreamier. “Schubert, Handel . . .”
    Classical. That suited her, he thought. He found the image of her playing the piano surprisingly erotic. Maybe it was the idea of her hands gliding over the keys. “Do you play other music, as well?”
    “Some.” She paused and added, “But I like classical best. It’s the most . . . satisfying to me.”
    “Are you any good?”
    She tilted her head up, shooting him a challenging look over her shoulder. “What do you think?”
    He smiled and shifted closer, keeping his hands on her shoulders. “I think you wouldn’t play if you weren’t any good.”
    “Probably not,” she said, and laughed softly. “When I was younger I wanted to be a concert pianist.”
    “What changed your mind?” She was almost fully relaxed now, and the feel of her smooth skin was tempting the hell out of him. He told his hands to stay put. “What made you choose law instead?”
    Her shoulders tensed. “I grew up. It’s hard to make a living as a pianist. Law seemed . . . safer.”
    Safer, he thought. An odd choice of words. “Do you ever regret it?” His hands skimmed down to her back, kneading as they talked.
    “No. I still have my music. Only now I’ve got a law career as well.” She was silent a moment. “That’s not my neck.”
    “I know. Your back’s tight too.” She turned to face him. He slid his arm around her waist and eased her close, his hand resting on the small of her back.
    “Forget it,” she said, slapping a hand on his chest.
    He bent his head, his mouth a heartbeat away from hers. “Why? It’s just a kiss, Gabrielle. Perfectly . . . safe.” He tugged the banana clip out of her hair and slipped his