The Bronzed Hawk Read Free

narrowed to icy blue slits. “You seem to have done your homework at least, MissMcKenna. I’d be curious to know what else you’ve discovered about my murky past.” He gestured to the envelope. “Besides this little item, of course.”
    Kelly moistened her lips nervously before saying decisively, “I’d hardly be a competent reporter if I’d neglected to research you thoroughly before approaching you, Mr. O’Brien, though most of it was pretty well cut and dried. If I may continue ‘rattling off the facts’ of your life, you’re the only son of Michael O’Brien, head of O’Brien Computer Corporation. Your mother died when you were two, and you were raised by your father and a number of qualified tutors. You have a photographic memory, which must have been a great help in your education because you have a string of letters after your name. You’ve made several advances in computer technology in the past ten years, and you’ve recently developed some little chip or something that everyone says will completely revolutionize the industry.” She looked at him gravely. “There’s even talk about a possible Nobel Prize nomination.”
    “As you say, pretty well cut and dried,” he said coolly. “But I’d venture to guess that you’ve delved deeper than my academic background.”
    She nodded, her eyes shifting away from him to rest on the misty Renoir on the wall. “Your private life is just as newsworthy, Mr. O’Brien. You’ve been something of a daredevil since you were in your teens. Skydiving. Rodeo bronc busting. Race cars. You like to take chances, and so far you’ve been lucky. There was, of course, the time you were shot when you arranged to rescue those American oilmen who were being held hostage after the revolution in Said Ababa. But that was only in the shoulder and hardly counts, does it?”
    “You overestimate my Spartan endurance. It ached damnably for about two months and was stiff for another three.” His eyes were fixed with amused speculation on her face. “You must have very good sources. If I remember correctly, that particular episode was never publicized. The State Department was a bit touchy about the rescue since they were negotiating sub rosa for a treaty with the new regime.”
    Kelly’s eyes twinkled impishly. “A certain amount of guesswork on my part,” she admitted. “But I’m glad to hear it confirmed.”
    O’Brien chuckled, a glint of admiration flickering briefly in his eyes. “Strictly off the record, Goldilocks. Officially that airlift never happened. I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me how you managed to uncover my tracks?”
    She shook her head firmly, and he chuckled again. “I didn’t think so.” Then his smile slowly faded as he removed the black and white photograph from the envelope and tossed it on her lap. “Now, suppose we get down to brass tacks,” he said grimly. “I believe this photograph was meant to open negotiations?”
    Kelly was jerked back to reality with a vengeance by the abrupt change in O’Brien’s manner. From lazy, almost indulgent good humor, he had switched with lightning swiftness to the dangerous alertness of a stalking panther. She had almost been lured into actually enjoying his easy camaraderie. Which only went to prove that the man was even more dangerous than she’d imagined.
    She picked up the picture and glanced at it. “It’s really a good shot, isn’t it?” she asked coolly. “I was quite proud of it. If ever a picture tells a story, this one does.” She had taken the photo of O’Brien and his voluptuous female companion at a small French restaurant a few nights before.
    “A hand on a lady’s thigh hardly constitutes a compromising situation,” he said. “Perhaps I was merely being platonically affectionate.”
    “The look Señora Dominguez is giving you was almost hot enough to melt the film in my camera,” Kelly said bluntly. “You left the restaurant five minutes later, without waiting for