Charlie's Angel Read Free Page B

him she didn’t trust, but she doubted he knew who she was. Still, it was uncanny that he ate here, when there were hundreds of places in L.A. to dine. He’d placed his order as if he didn’t recognize her, too, which worried her, but he couldn’t be one of her father’s bodyguards, could he?
    “Could you bag a wildcat plus fries for table thirty-four?” she asked as steadily as she could in a loud voice.
    Verna elbowed her non-too-gently. “Does he want to go home with you?”
    Roxie shook her head. The smell of frying oil, hamburgers, and French fries was getting to her, but she reminded herself, she needed this job. So what did it matter that each morning she bathed herself in perfume in an attempt to mask the powerful odor? Or that she had to wash her clothes by hand each night so they wouldn’t stink of hot grease? At least, she was free of her father’s overwhelming control.
    Gerry leaned over the chest-high counter and gave her a blatant wink. “What?” He canted his head toward Charles Vernon. “He doesn’t want to feast his eyes on you?” The owner’s booming voice carried across the small kitchen area, sending a shiver of trepidation down Roxie’s back. In the last two months she’d worked for him, Gerry could show himself vulgar and good-natured. She said nothing in reply and was proud of herself that she didn’t even bat an eye at his query. Her father’s demanding nature had taught her well.
    Gerry smiled with satisfaction and chuckled to himself before he returned to his work with a verve that always shocked her. How could someone be so happy throwing burgers on the grill or preparing shrimp salads?
    She grabbed the steaming burger and fries for table twenty and repressed a shudder at approaching the guy in the plaid shirt again. She shouldn’t be afraid of him, but he didn’t inspire trust, either, though he had been kind to her, offering to carry her two pieces of luggage from one bus to another.
    Gerry called out, surprising her yet again. He was in a good mood today, she thought.
    “You need a push in the right direction? Sometimes, you make me think you can’t take care of yourself, you being so petite and all.”
    Roxie sucked in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. “I can take care of myself, Gerry.”
    Plate in hand, she turned away. She’d been doing fine for several months now. She didn’t need a man who was roughly the same age as her father giving her a push in any direction.
    With a lowered gaze, she passed by table thirty-four. Every fiber of her body tingled with heightened awareness of Charles Vernon. She tried to still the pang of fear, then she was at table twenty before she could think further.
    “Here you go,” she said as brightly as she could manage to Plaid Shirt.
    “Looks good,” he muttered. As she backed away, ready to flee, his big, red-haired hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, easily encircling the small bone. Roxie attempted to jerk free without making a scene but failed to liberate herself.
    “Would you come out with me? I’m kinda gettin’ lost in L.A. Big place, you know.”
    When hell freezes over. How do I extricate myself from him?
    He scratched his long, untrimmed beard and the blank, almost lifeless look he gave her caused a shiver to run down her spine.
    “No,” she told him firmly and quietly.
    His hand clamped over hers again, tighter this time. Her gaze met his bloodshot eyes. Had he been drinking or shooting up? None of that was her style. “I was really hoping we could become friends.”
    Pain roared through her wrist, making it hard to think clearly. There was no use in mincing words with him. “Let me go—”
    A smooth, confident, very masculine voice intervened. “The lady said to let her go, Chum.”
    A feminine thrill shot through Roxie. The sexiest man alive was coming to her rescue. She dared to transfer her gaze to him. His face was impassive. His midnight blue Armani suit molded his physique precisely, showing off