Free Wild Magic by Ann Macela Page A

jamb and looked around her office as if he was taking inventory.
    Not that there was much to see—desk, chairs, computer, printer, filing cabinets, a bookshelf, a couple of plants, a desk lamp, and some promo goodies she’d used in past events. True, she did have a nice colorful print by a contemporary artist on the wall, but, except for a photo of her family, no fanciness or personal stuff. The office was neat because that’s the kind of person she was—organized. She rarely met clients here, and the decor suited her work style. If he didn’t like it, too bad.
    His gaze returned to her. “What did you take out of Finster’s safe, and why? What was the book, and what was in the bag?”
    “Why should I tell you anything? I don’t even know who you are.”
    “My name is Jim Tylan,” he answered.
    “And ...?” She made a coaxing gesture with her hands.
    “And what did you take out of Finster’s safe?”
    “Why should I answer your questions? Are you with the police? You were evidently after something also. What was on those flash drives you copied?”
    “Let’s just say it’s a matter of homeland security.”
    “Show me some identification if you want answers.”
    “ID is on a need-to-know basis. You don’t qualify.”
    Irenee shook her head. “If you use the words homeland security , are you a government agent? If so, what agency and what kind of officer? Don’t you have to identify yourself? Are you going to take me in for interrogation?”
    He straightened off the doorjamb and took three steps to loom over her and stare down into her eyes. She glared right back.
    He was so close, she could feel the heat in him. She could see the little golden flecks in his green eyes and smell him, too—an alluring, indefinable scent that made her nostrils flare, and which was not evil in any way, shape, or form.
    A strong urge struck to move into his arms and discover if his body was as hard as it appeared. She actually felt her muscles prepare to take the step, and she relaxed them by sheer force of will. Where had such an idea come from? She recovered her focus and concentrated on standing her ground.
    “Answer my questions, Ms. Sabel.” Obviously intent on domination, he bent farther, and they scowled at each other for some seconds, nose to nose.
    Or rather, her straight nose to his once-broken one. She wondered what he’d do if she did something outrageous, like bite his nose—or kiss those lips drawn into a straight line by his anger.
    The thoughts—irreverent and unexpected as they were, under the circumstances—tickled her funny bone. She couldn’t stop her lips from quirking up in a smile. The smile became a grin. She struggled for a few more moments to keep a straight face—until she lost the battle irrevocably.
    When she started snickering, he drew himself up as if she’d insulted his parentage.
    When she started giggling, he blinked first, but regained control before his shock at her reaction lasted more than a second.
    He must think she was a wimp. Irenee the Sword, a wimp! She started laughing.
    “Look, lady...”
    His clear exasperation, accompanied by his leaning on her desk and bending over to put their faces at the same level—nose to nose again—set her off completely. He actually thought he could bulldoze her into talking.
    She took a step backward and held onto her sides while she laughed so hard, she lost her breath and began coughing.
    “Oh, shit,” he muttered and, straightening up, thumped her back until she waved him off.
    “I’m all right,” she wheezed after a moment. She grabbed a tissue and dabbed at the tears in her eyes. When she could see again, she snuck a glance at him.
    “I’m glad you find it funny. Let me assure you, however, this is no laughing matter,” he growled.
    She sighed. “I realize that, but I don’t know you. Honestly, why should I even talk to you?”
    Before he could speak, a new voice called from the outer office.
    “Irenee, are you here?”