Falcon's Flight Read Free Page B

then onto the Atlantic City Expressway. With her first glimpse of the tall buildings etching the Atlantic City skyline, Leslie recalled the last few moments of the phone conversation she’d had with Marie before leaving, and an impish smile tilted her lips.
    “Have fun, but get some rest, too,” Marie had admonished her like a mother hen. “I don’t want to see a single line of strain on your face when you get back.” “I’ll work at it,” Leslie had promised. Then, half teasing, half serious, she had added, “Who knows? If I just happen to run into a tall, dark, handsome devil of a man, I just might indulge in a blazing affair.” Leslie was still smiling at the memory of Marie’s encouraging laughter as she brought the car to a stop alongside the Valet Parking sign outside the Falcon’s Flight hotel.
    Two
    Unaware of the appreciative male glances that skimmed the length of her legs as she stepped from the car, Leslie draped her coat over her shoulders like a cloak, offered the doorman a brilliant smile along with a generous tip, then swept through the entrance and across the lobby as if she owned the hotel. Then, glancing briefly over her shoulder to see if the bell captain was following with her bags, Leslie strode into the broad, rock-hard chest of the man who did own the hotel.
    Thrown off balance, Leslie whipped her head around as strong hands grasped her upper arms. A startled gasp became lodged deep in her throat as she gazed into the dark, expressionless face of the most intimidating male Leslie had ever had the misfortune to run into—literally or otherwise.
    “I, ah, that is, I—” Leslie was very seldom at a loss for words... until now. There was something so formidable about this man that she could barely think coherently, let alone translate her jumbled thoughts into decipherable language. Instead of her usual precise speech, what stuttered out of her mouth was a garbled attempt at apology. “I am, ah, I—I’m sorry!”
    “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m finding it rather pleasant.”
    The man’s stonelike visage didn’t alter by so much as a crack. Not a hint of a smile softened the severity of his thin male lips. There wasn’t a shadow of emotion in his shuttered gray eyes to reveal his thoughts. If it hadn’t been for the fine thread of sensuality woven through his low tone and the gentle flex of his fingers into her tender flesh, Leslie would have misunderstood his meaning entirely.
    But there was that thread of sensuality, and that thread drew the dangling ends of Leslie’s frayed thoughts together. As the realization that the upper part of her body was pressed tightly to his hard chest exploded in her mind, tiny flares of response ignited spontaneously throughout her body.
    Suddenly feeling overwarm, Leslie blushed, then stiffened. He removed his grip on her upper arms at the same instant she moved to step back. Leslie found her voice in that same instant.
    “I beg your pardon,” she said, attempting a cool response. “I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going.” Cringing inwardly at the throaty sound of her normally husky voice, Leslie forced herself to meet his direct stare.
    He didn’t return her smile. He didn’t relinquish her gaze. But his lips did move—fractionally.
    “There is no need for an apology.” The tone of his voice was now as remote as the expression in his eyes. “I’m afraid I wasn’t watching where I was going, either.”
    As she eased back another step, Leslie narrowed her long, exotic green eyes, intuitively convinced he was lying; instinct assured her that this particular man always watched where he was going. Strangely, as she backed away from him, the combined scent of spicy cologne and pure male overpowered her. Suddenly feeling trapped within the invisible wisps of a fragrance that was uniquely his, Leslie sliced a glance at the busy registration desk
    “You’re checking in?” he asked without inflec tion, arching one nearly