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384 pages, Hardcover
First published August 15, 2006
"I used the wrong word," Jenk told her, and as she looked into his eyes, she realized that she'd been wrong about him. Intensity, determination, assertiveness, fortitude. He had it all, along with an inability to understand the word quit. "I shouldn't have said skinny. I should have said willowy, or I don't know… graceful. Delicate maybe. Bottom line, I happen to think you're extremely beautiful. And, yes, very nicely proportioned."
The night he'd fallen in love with Lindsey but was too stupid to know it. It was also clear, just as she'd pointed out that night, that she really hadn't needed a team of Navy SEALs to save her. She done just fine by herself.
"Whoa," Izzy said. "Wait. You two've been telling dick jokes without me?" "We prefer to call them Johnson jokes," Jenk said, with a completely straight face. "It's classier."
"Time-out," Izzy proclaimed. "Can we not give these people names? The rich family is Horace and Prudence Peckerfart and their son Dick. No relation to Gillman - or is there? Say this for us, Daniel: Zounds! That scoundrel stole Mumsy's necklace!"
---"I mean, I'm sure she's just feeling her way, first days and all," Lindsay added, putting on what she hoped would be perceived as an optimistic expression. "I mean, we've all had 'em, right? First days. Kind of scary. Kind of overwhelming..."
"Absolutely," Jenk said, flashing her a grateful smile.
And first days of work had to be doubly hard for Tracy, who'd apparently been intercepted midway through her quest to see the Wizard and finally get a brain.
Cleverly, Lindsey didn't say THAT aloud.
---"Without makeup, I look about twelve."
He looked at her-really looked.
"Being flat chested helps with the illusion," she said. "I'm five feet and three-eighths of an inch tall-you better believe I count every eighth. I'm also the same age as my bra size - 30A. The A is for my four-oh average at UCLA, which I attended before my seven years with the LAPD." She smiled at him. "I'm one of Tom's best bodyguards, by the way. I specialize in the protection of people who might not want their friends, business associates, and/or enemies to know they're being protected. Because I could tell that YOU were wondering." she'd stunned him, so she turned to Tom who was now flat-out grinning, "Red Cell, huh? So you called me in here, boss, because you want me to play the part of Dr. Evil, the terrorist master-mind, right?"
Lindsey liked Tom for a lot of reasons, but particularly because she made him laugh. Some people didn't get her sense of humor, although Cutie-pie Jenkins seemed to be on the same page after he'd shaken off his shock.
"Sorry, I'm the terrorist mastermind of this one," Tom told her. "It was a direct request from Admiral Tucker."
Ah. "Which makes me..." She let her voice trail off. "Mini Me?"
The situation was obvious to anyone with eyes. Decker- the lucky bastard -had, at some point in the past, thrown Sophia a bang. She, the way most women did, had wanted a Re-Lay-Tion-Ship, Decka-roonie had activated his super-Y chromosome, exfiltrated pronto, and now, whenever they did an eyeball to eyeball, awkwardness ensued.
Meanwhile, crazy Dave Malkoff, who spent a lot of time pretending to be fair Sophia's friend when what he REALLY wanted was to get in her panties, was jealous. Hence the meltdown Izzy had just witnessed.
Case closed.
"Right. A piece of jewelry-a necklace-goes missing from this rich family's suite, and the gardener's accused of taking it. He swears he's innocent, that the son set him up, but no one believes him and they haul him off to jail."
"Time-out," Izzy proclaimed. "Can we not give these people names? The rich family is Horace and Prudence Peckerfart and their son Dick. No relation to Gillman - or is there? Say this for us, Daniel: Zounds! That scoundrel stole Mumsy's necklace!"