DEAD SEXY Read Free Page B

was leaned against her doorframe and his booted feet were crossed, the bulge in his jeans was accented and she looked at it then away then back again. Her face burned and she directed her gaze at his face but that was no help, he was almost inhumanly handsome.
    “Maybe you should have taken her in for a waxing. Is there something I can help you with? I’m in the midst of something here.”
    She had somehow managed to obtain that crispness she had aimed for earlier. Blake let his eyes wander over her upper body, she had removed the jacket and her breasts were small but rounded under her red blouse, he could see the erect cap of her nipple and the tautness of her waist but then the desk cut off his view.
    He said, “I need to ask you a few questions,” and walked around the desk.
    Jenna was too surprised to protest. Blake sat on the corner of her desk, one denim cover butt cheek obscuring part of the file she had been working on. “Do you know anything about the Heinelen or Michener accounts?”
    “I do.”
    “You want to tell me about that?” His blue eyes were like searchlights in the fog, she could feel them probing into her very soul.
    “I’m sorry, that’s company business and as such it is subject to privacy laws…”
    “Care to tell me who is skimming off the tops of those accounts?”
    He had hoped to hit her with a question that would shake her but she was not at all shaken, or if she were she didn’t show it. She didn’t even seem surprised by the question.
    “I have no idea. Now if you don’t mind, you’re wrinkling my pages.”
    Cool, she was certainly cool. He decided to risk it all and said, “Tell me how a felon with a record as long as my left arm winds up here.”
    “I don’t know, perhaps you should ask a felon.”
    Jenna stared him down and she appeared completely calm on the surface but below that she was a churning mess of emotions and thoughts. If he didn’t know who she was there was no reason to tell him, if he did know he would draw his own conclusions anyway, there was no sense in helping him decide.
    “Kendall Myers, does that name ring a bell?”
    “Should it?”
    Damn, she was good. She sat back in her chair and the blouse relaxed slightly, hiding those hardened buds. Her face was inscrutable and she didn’t even lift a finger or move a muscle. Her body language was relaxed and at ease. If he had been someone less knowledgeable he would have wondered if he had made a mistake.
    He had not made a mistake though. The woman sitting in front of him was a sham; she was a carefully constructed façade. Jenna Holt was a college educated women who hailed from the resort town of Branson Missouri, her high school grades were high and she listed two sports on her college applications.
    That was not a lie, per se. She had graduated from high school in Branson and she had played two sports—but her high school had been a juvenile detention facility. Her parents had been in prison off and on most of her life and when they were not in jail they, and their respective families, were busy creating crime.
    They perpetrated everything from armed robberies to the manufacture of methamphetamines. They stole from department stores and banks, ran scams that saw many a person bilked out of their last dollars. Kendall had grown up on the lam and on the run—living with a succession of family members and criminal acquaintances and accomplices all up and down the West Coast and in parts of the Midwest.
    Kendall’s career had been almost as grand as her parents. At nine she was running a scam on the streets of San Diego, posing as a lost child who would then steal the money from the pockets or purses of those who tried to aid her. When she had been caught she had attacked the officer, biting him so severely that he had still a nasty little scar on his wrist.
    The following year she was arrested in Oregon for stealing a thousand bucks worth of steaks and other meats from a grocery store. It was not the