Spying in High Heels Read Online Free PDF Page B

oversized lip and stared at me so long I thought maybe she'd forgotten the question. Finally she let out a long suffering sigh. "Fine. I'll go check. But stay right here."
    I held up two fingers. "Scout's honor."
    That was almost too easy.
    I waited until she'd disappeared into one of the conference rooms before bolting through the frosted doors and fairly sprinting down the hall to Richard's office. I quickly slipped inside and closed the door after myself.
    As expected, there was no sign of Richard, though the scent of his Hilfiger aftershave still hung in the air. I inhaled deeply, suddenly all the more desperate to find him.
    The office held three bookcases filled with impressive-looking volumes, and Richard's honey oak desk, situated in the center of the room. His desktop held an oversize leather-bound calendar, a computer monitor, a telephone with about a gazil-lion little extension buttons, a penholder, and a stack of bulging file folders. The message light on his phone was blinking double time. Not a good sign.
    I gingerly sat down behind the desk, flicking on the monitor. Luckily, Richard hadn't logged out of the system the last time he'd been here, and it only took a couple minutes of clicking around until I found his address book with his mother's phone number in Palm Springs. I pulled a sticky pad out of the desk, wrote down the number, and slipped it into my back pocket. Mission accomplished. I was actually pretty good at this cloak-and-dagger stuff.
    I turned off the monitor, put away the sticky pad and was just about to leave when I caught sight of the stack of files again. Bulging with forbidden documents. I took a quick look over each shoulder in a totally unnecessary move that somehow made me feel safer. Nope. Nobody watching. Just me and the files. Alone.
    I tried to resist… but I was only human.
    I picked up the one on top, knowing that if Richard ever saw me looking at these he'd have a cow, then give me an endless lecture about client-attorney confidentiality. But this was an emergency. I was late . And there was no way I was going to take that damn test and deal with the results without him. He got me into this mess, he was damn well going to be there while I peed on the stick.
    Fully justified, I opened the first file.
    Worthington v. Patterson. To my disappointment it contained one legal-size document after another. I could have sworn they were written in a foreign language. The only words I understood were "the" and "party." So much for juicy stuff.
    I dropped that one back in the pile, hoping that at least one of these included a blackmail demand, death threat, or secret cover-up. I hated to think my snooping was just nosiness.
    I picked up Elmer v. Wainsright.
    "What are you doing?"
    My head snapped up so fast I feared whiplash.
    Standing in the doorway was none other than Mr. Nobody. My heart froze in my chest, and I quickly scanned over his body for a gun. Fortunately I didn't see one. And considering how tightly his navy T-shirt and Levi's were hugging the form in the doorway, there wasn't much chance of hiding it from view. He looked like he worked out. A lot. Dana would have been proud.
    "Well?"
    Well what? Oh, right. What was I doing.
    "I was looking for Richard," I squeaked. Suddenly at the sight of him I'd turned into Minnie Mouse. I cleared my throat, trying to convince myself that this guy didn't scare me. We were in a lawyer's office for crying out loud. He couldn't very well kill me here. Right?
    I took a step backward anyway. Better safe than sorry.
    "What a coincidence," he replied, his voice much deeper and smoother than I'd imagined. "So am I. Any luck?"
    I shook my head no, afraid I'd sound like a mouseketeer again if I spoke. This guy seriously flashed "danger" in big, bold neon. And it wasn't just the potentially concealed weapon. It was the hard set of his jaw, the steadiness of his dark eyes as they quickly swept the room, the white scar over his eyebrow that I'd bet my Spigas