Free The Mammoth Book of Paranormal Romance by Trisha Telep Page B

said, “No, that’s fine.” He promised they’d only be a couple of minutes, and they left out the back hall.
    Those couple of minutes turned into ten, then fifteen, then twenty. I tried not to think of how they might be filling those minutes, but of course I did, which only slid my mood dangerously close to self-pity territory.
    I sipped the dregs of my beer, and eavesdropped on conversations that cheered me a little as they confirmed that at least I didn’t have the most boring life in the room. Even surrounded by fantasy and opulence, people just chatted about nothing -work, kids, the in-laws, the mortgage payments.
    Then I caught something worth perking up for. Two words: “body” and “alley”, spoken in a male voice with a faint New Mexico accent. I rose from the lounge and followed it.
    I tracked the voice into a back hall clearly marked NO entry. I entered - and crashed into “Agent” Carter as he left a room. He blinked, then gave a slow, crooked smile.
    “Ms . . .” He pulled my card from his pocket and looked at it. “Mancini. Our good Samaritan. You’ll be happy to know the victim is recovering nicely.” He winked. “Suffering only from the lingering after-effects of professional humiliation. I told him you’re in the business.” He waved my card. “But he still takes it personally.”
    “I take it that’s the manager?” I pointed at the room he just left, where a gruff voice was on the phone, ordering beer. “I was just going to pop in and give him my card.”
    I tried to pass Carter, but he shifted, subtly blocking my path. “I’ll do that for you. He’s in a lousy mood.”
    In other words, his employer wouldn’t want me going straight to the client. Understandable, and I didn’t argue, just nodded and made a move to head back into the bar. Again, Carter did that subtle sidestep, not exactly blocking me, but making my exit a little more difficult.
    “Do you come here often?” he asked. When I arched my brows, he gave a short laugh. “Sorry, I meant, is this your first visit? In other words, did our little performance work?”
    “I was already heading here, but yes, it’s my first time.”
    “No offence to my, um, employer, but—” he leaned closer, voice dropping “—there’s a much better place a block over on South. Jazz, good drinks, great food.”
    “Sounds more my kind of place.” I paused, then gathered the strength of three beers and asked, “Are you off-duty now?”
    His eyes widened behind his glasses and he studied me, as if pretty sure I wasn’t implying what he thought I was. The start of a slow smile, then it vanished in a frown. “If you’re hoping for a job reference, I don’t carry that kind of clout, Ms Mancini.”
    “Melanie.” I plucked my card from his hand and tore it in two. “Better?”
    His smile sparked. “All right, then. I’m not quite off-duty yet, but if you don’t mind staying here for a drink.”
    I didn’t mind at all. He shucked his jacket, loosened his tie and followed me into the bar. My chaise loungue was, of course, occupied. Carter found us a table, and was about to head to the bar when he stopped and looked around.
    “Weren’t you with a friend? A blonde?”
    Shit. Please tell me that wasn’t why he agreed to the drink.
    “She left,” I said, then added, “With a guy.” And for good measure: “I don’t think she’s coming back.”
    His chin jerked up, eyes filling with an alarm that doused my last fizzle of hope.
    “Sorry,” I said.
    “No, I ... Was it someone she knew?”
    “Just met.”
    “What did he look like?”
    What, was he trying to scope out the competition? I was tempted to turn and walk away, but couldn’t resist dashing his hopes. Cruel, but he’d just accepted a drink invitation with me to meet my friend. He deserved cruel. I described Adrian in loving detail.
    As I did, he fought to hide his reaction, but it seeped through - concern, sharpening to fear. I took some perverse pleasure in the