Free Deadly Intersections by Ann Roberts Page A

incredible eyes. “Okay, here are the ground rules. No flirting. No touching. No passes. Strictly professional. Does that work for you?”
    She grinned. “Not really, but I’ll work it out in therapy.”
    Ari suppressed a smile and picked up a pen. “Fine. Tell me what you’re looking for.”
    She took a deep breath, as if she was preparing to make a speech. “I’m not sure what I want but I’m sick of renting. I want to own something. That whole American dream crap.” She leaned forward on the desk. “Don’t you ever want that?”
    She shrugged. “Sometimes. But for now I rent.”
    “Alone?”
    Suddenly she felt uncomfortable. She knew Biz was only half joking and the comment unnerved her. “For now,” she replied simply. “So what do you picture when you see yourself sitting at home?”
    Biz stared out the window. Her unruly hair dropped back over her eyes, adding to her sexiness. “Well, I want many things, but I guess I’m looking for a loft, something that reminds me of New York. Maybe downtown. I know I don’t want anything remotely close to suburbia. I can’t stand the cookie-cutter look.”
    “Me either,” she agreed. “So you want something urban. What about a converted industrial place?”
    Biz’s face brightened. “That would be great. With lots of windows and open space. Do you know anything like that?”
    “Yes, there’s a new development near Chase Field. It was a factory and they remodeled each floor into four separate lofts. I’ve seen the website and it looks fantastic.”
    “That sounds perfect. Can you show me?”
    “Sure. I’ll pull it up for you.”
    She clicked through a series of screens while Biz pulled her chair around next to her. “It’s called Trombetta Dwellings and it’s a relatively new developer who wants to come in and save the inner cities. It’s got a ton of amenities including a fitness center and a spa. And they’re opening retail shops down in the lobby for the residents. Places like a dry cleaners and a pharmacy.”
    “That would be so convenient,” Biz murmured as she studied the plans. “I hate to shop.” Ari giggled and they faced each other.
    “What?” Biz laughed.
    She shook her head and gazed into the brown eyes—but only for a second. She felt heat flow through her body. “I hate shopping too. I’d have everything delivered if I could.”
    “Errands,” Biz whispered. Ari felt her breath float across the top of her ear. “The enemy of Saturday morning.” They both chuckled while Ari clicked through the pages of the website. When the interiors appeared on the screen, Biz leaned forward and studied the layout. “This looks great. When can I see it?”
    “I could call them tomorrow morning and make an appointment, but they’re very expensive.”
    She grinned. “What? You don’t think I can afford it? Make the appointment.”
    “When are you available?”
    “Any time. Let me know.”
    She was staring into her eyes, lost. When Biz moved closer, Ari jumped. “I’ll set up the appointment as soon as possible and call you. And I’m sorry if I sounded like I was judging you,” she added, as she walked her out to her car, a ’67 Shelby 350.
    “Don’t worry about it,” Biz said. “I consider it a plus that in my profession I get to wear my entire collection of concert T-shirts. The downside is that people usually think I’m homeless and unemployed.”
    She laughed. “I wish I had that freedom.”
    Biz’s eyes wandered up and down her body. “And so, Ms. Adams, what would you choose to wear if you weren’t shackled by the fashion sense of the rich snobs who judge your clothes the first time they meet you?”
    “I don’t know. Something casual.”
    Biz touched her arm. “I’ll bet you’d look fantastic in a pair of tight leather pants and a tank top. It would go great with your new motorcycle.”
    She rolled her eyes at the mention of her father’s recent birthday present. “I don’t think so,” she said.
    “Have you