Who's Afraid of Mr Wolfe? Read Online Free PDF

eyebrows. Hardly enough to send you hurtling over the moors after him.
    Not everyone thought like her, though, and as if to illustrate that, a woman on Jack’s left leaned across him.
    ‘Excuse me,’ she said breathily, ‘could I get one of those biscotti?’ Her hand, which was waving in the direction of the counter, managed to meet Jack’s. Ellie heard a little squeak and ‘Ooh, sorry’ and the woman was looking up at Jack, wide-eyed, her lips parted.
    ‘Here, let me.’ Jack’s face was infused with life and he reached out, took the biscotti from the pot and handed it to the woman.
    ‘Oh, that’s so kind of you,’ she gushed. ‘I know I shouldn’t, but they are so lovely.’
    Ellie cast a jaundiced look in the woman’s direction. She was so thin she could have eaten Tony’s entire stock of biscotti and still slipped through a crack in the pavement.
    Jack smiled and continued to look down at the woman. ‘I really don’t think you should ever deprive yourself of something that gives you pleasure,’ he said, and his tone was so deep and the look in his eyes so intense that it made what he said seem like a direct invitation to a lot more than an Italian biscuit.
    The woman obviously thought so too, as she coloured and laughed and said, ‘I agree. Depriving myself would be a sin.’
    It was then that Ellie must have made some kind of noise – she hoped it wasn’t the retching one she had in her mind – because something about the set of Jack’s shoulders changed.
    ‘Perhaps I’ll see you in here again?’ he said to the woman, before turning towards Ellie. Up went the eyebrow. ‘Have you got something stuck in your throat?’ he asked her. Slowly.
    ‘Possibly,’ Ellie said. ‘I’ve always had a weak stomach.’
    Jack did not reply, but he continued to glare at her until the woman who had been flirting with him touched him on the arm. She was holding a card and handed it to him with a little self-satisfied smirk before making her way through the crowd to the door.
    I bet she does that thing where she looks back over her shoulder, Ellie thought, and couldn’t help smiling when the woman did just that. She stopped smiling when she realised Jack was looking at her again, and it wasn’t a particularly friendly look either.
    Well, he could keep on glaring. He might be made of sardonic Yorkshire granite, the hardest substance known to man, but being held hostage in a café wasn’t part of her job description. She raised her chin.
    ‘Excuse me, Jack, can I get past?’
    ‘In a minute,’ he said, but didn’t move.
    Ellie felt her anger ratchet up another notch and was contemplating trying to dodge round him when Tonyreturned. He was a little out of breath. ‘Exactly as you like it, Mr Wolfe. Very good pastrami this week, very good.’ Ellie noticed Jack’s order was in a neat box.
    ‘Thanks, Tony. Am I still in credit? Do you need another cheque?’
    Tony made an ‘Oh, let’s not talk about money’ gesture that made Ellie suspect that even if Jack had owed anything, Tony would have been honoured to keep right on providing his lunch.
    Jack turned back to Ellie. ‘Come on, then, let’s get you to work,’ he said. ‘Or would you rather lounge around here chatting and juggling melons?’
    Tony gave a sycophantic giggle and Ellie was severely tempted to reach out and grab a handful of Jack’s choppy black hair and pull it hard to wipe the mocking smile off his face. When Jack moved, she stomped past him, noticing with bad grace how she didn’t have to elbow her way back through the crowd today. Even the thickset guy from the building site who normally barged past Ellie took a covert look at Jack and stepped aside.
    Out in the street, they walked along in silence, with Ellie first keeping pace with Jack’s strides and then making a definite decision not to. There was no way she was going to look like one of his little skipping groupies. She started to walk as slowly as her long legs would