The Lady Is a Thief Read Online Free PDF Page A

she flipped the intercom button.
          “Yes, Captain?”
          “We have clearance to depart in ten minutes.
Are you ready for us to pull away from the gate?”
          “Yes, thank you, Captain. I'll be in my seat
directly.”
          “Yes, ma'am—we're set to arrive in Los
Angeles at two a.m. local time. Would you like to stay on the plane until
morning?”
          “We'll see.” It depended on whether she
could sleep. She would prefer deplaning immediately, picking up her car and
driving north. But it was better to make her decisions on the fly for the time
being.
          The pilot murmured an acknowledgement and
the intercom went silent. She toweled off and changed into a pair of plaid
cotton pajama bottoms and a dark green tank top. Carrying the brush with her,
she chose a chair in the bedroom and strapped on her seat belt. When the pilot
announced they would be taking off, she leaned back and brushed her damp hair.
          Fifteen minutes later, they reached their
cruising altitude and the seat belt sign blinked off. It was after 7:00 local
time and hunger assaulted her. Her red curls were still damp, but she pulled
them back into a ponytail. She would have to style her hair in the morning, but
she didn't need to bother on a flight where both attendants had known her since
she was a pimply faced teenager flying back and forth to boarding school.
          The scent of salmon and fresh coffee greeted
her when she opened the door.
          The man sitting at
the table—set for two coincidentally enough—sent her pulse rabbiting.
          “Mr. Parker.” What the hell is he doing here? Little startled her and even less
surprised her. Jarod Parker did both.
          Twice in the same day.
          First when he flirted with her in the limo
and she found it so difficult to maintain her distance and now here, on her
plane—at altitude.
          “Good evening, Kit Kat. Enjoy your shower?”
He rose and circled the table to turn out the chair he obviously meant for her
to sit in. He'd abandoned his jacket and the tie. The deep amber of his dress
shirt matched his warm brown eyes to perfection. The shirt opened three buttons
at the collar and revealed a hint of the chest beneath.
          “Why are you on my plane?” She didn't bother
to try and retrieve the game right now. He had her at a complete disadvantage.
She stood there without cosmetics, suit, or hairstyle. Her pajamas felt almost
too sheer under the heat of his gaze. She suspected the shrewdness she glimpsed
in him earlier was but the tip of a very deep iceberg.
          “Well, I'm about to have dinner with a very
lovely lady. Or at least, I hope I am.” The corner of his far too-kissable
mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. “Of course, you probably mean why am I on board to begin with?”
          She folded her arms and waited. Her insides
jittered like a roadrunner on caffeine buzz, but she kept her outward calm and
focused. It didn't matter about standing there barefoot in a tank top that
didn't disguise her nipples tingling reaction to his presence. It sure as hell
didn't matter that the first thought she had on seeing him was what he would
look like without the shirt.
          Warning bells clanged in her head. Their
first encounter on the curb, no matter how he tried to play it, smelled of
contrivance.
          His presence on her plane—conspiracy
theories bloomed from fewer facts.
          Jarod held up both hands, palm outward and
circled around the dining table to the forward facing chairs. He retrieved his
briefcase from beneath the seats and clicked it open. He glanced at her twice,
making sure she could see his hands at all times and pulled out a folder.
          The standard manila folder with no names or
labels to distinguish from any other was also thick—nearly an inch thick.
          “You left the Costa Rica project notes in
your limo. I tried to catch up with you, but you