The Doll Brokers Read Free

hair and pulled out the clip that held it in a respectable twist. It fell to her shoulders, sleek and straight and yellow-blond. Pulling at it slightly, she felt a release of tension in her scalp. She flashed a smile at the bartender. “Glenlivet. Two fingers. Rocks on the side,” she said.
    She turned again, digging into her briefcase for her cell phone, and tapped in Felicia’s number. When the woman answered, she let out a short laugh. “Damn, I’m good.”
    â€œI know that, dear.” There was a pause. “So tell me your news. Did you get me that beautiful doll?”
    â€œI did. And with any luck, she won’t send us to the poor house.”
    â€œThank you.”
    The simple words made Ann’s stomach lurch. “Felicia, please, you know I hate it when you say that. You never,
ever
have to thank me. For anything.”
    Felicia didn’t rise to the argument. It was an old one. “Bring me the contract in the morning.”
    â€œI plan to do just that.”
    â€œAnd enjoy your Scotch.”
    Felicia knew her so well. Ann brought the glass to her lips and sipped. “I will.” She paused. “I love you.”
    â€œI know that, too. Good night.”
    The line disconnected. Ann dropped the cell back into her briefcase.
Please, God, please, let this deal work.
She took another swallow of Glenlivet. She closed her eyes briefly and repeated her silent prayer. When she opened them, the Scotch almost came back up her throat.
    She had been right, after all, she thought. Someone
had
been following her. Standing behind her, watching her in the mirror, dark eyes smoldering, was the one man she knew would never share Felicia’s opinion of her, the one person who didn’t think she was good at all.

CHAPTER 2
    J onathan Morhardt dropped a hip onto the stool beside her. “I’ll have a Sierra Nevada,” he said to the bartender. “The Pale. And refresh whatever the lady is having. It’s on my tab.”
    â€œThanks for the offer, but this lady is leaving.” Ann took her credit card from her wallet and snapped it against the bar.
    â€œDon’t let me run you off.” His brows climbed in a challenge, dark brown hair topping a face that was a little too chiseled to be called handsome. But at thirty-five he had hazel poet’s eyes that were mesmerizing, and the hint of a smile that was both mischievous and intriguing.
    Ann hated surprises. Seeing him here unexpectedly took the wind out of her. She looked sideways at him, trying to assess the situation, and felt for an instant his hatred of her. Or was it merely hostile indifference? It had been seventeen years since she’d come to live with Jonathan and his family. A lost sixteen year-old. In all that time she had yet to get a handle on his true feelings towards her. The acrimony that had always seemed to exist between them was intensified by her own suppressed desire, the need to know him better that had always been denied.
    She touched a manicured fingernail to the edge of her credit card and slid it back toward herself. “On second thought, Idon’t want to deny you the chance to spend money on me.” She looked over her glass at him and took a sip of her drink. Their bickering was safe, secure, familiar ground. It was eminently more comfortable than negotiating the biggest deal of her career.
    â€œGood,” he replied.
    â€œAren’t you out of your element?” she asked, knowing he gravitated towards darker, moodier places.
    â€œA sacrifice worthy of the cause,” he said. “I’m here to keep an eye on you.”
    Consternation turned her muscles to wood. She hadn’t noticed him in the other room when she scanned the place. That in itself bothered her, but not half so much as his stated purpose and apparent lack of trust in her. Had he come here on his own volition, or had he been sent by Felicia or Patrick?
    Ann had never hurt Jonathan, had