Read Online Dangerous Disguise by Marie Ferrarella - Free Book Online Page A

“All right, tell me how many cans of pears we have.”
    Clicking his heels together, he gave her a two-finger salute, then turned toward the shelves to get an answer for her. All around them, there were rows upon rows of shelves, all stocked with different items.
    At first glance, he felt overwhelmed. “Um, Maren?”
    She stiffened at the familiarity. “I’d rather you called me Ms. Minnesota.”
    Standing in front of shelves teemed with umpteen cans, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “It’s a mouthful,” he told her smoothly. “By the time I get it out, whatever I’m talking about might be over.” He turned to face her, his right hand up, its fingers ready to be counted off. “Ms.-Min-ne-so-ta. That’s five whole syllables. Mar-en has only two.”
    She wasn’t amused. “I know how many syllables my name has—”
    She was irritated, so he diverted her. “What kind of name is Minnesota anyway?”
    “A long one, as you’ve pointed out.”
    He was doing his best to come across genially. Trying to get on her good side. “Besides that.”
    Unwilling to get personal, she hedged her answer. “It’s Native American.”
    Jared cocked his head, studying her. The light in the storeroom was typical of a basement area. Dim. Silhouetted against it, she looked even more sensual that usual. Maren Minnesota had the high cheekbones, but nothing else about her suggested that her heritage might have derived from the original inhabitants of the country.
    “Are you—”
    She stopped him before he could get started again. “No.”
    Jared raised his eyebrows, waiting to be filled in. “Then…?”
    She blew out a breath. Definitely a mistake to let him stay. But if she was busy being annoyed at the intrusive questions, she couldn’t think about the other, so in a way, it hadn’t been a mistake. Her head ached. Her heart felt ten times worse. “Papa Joe gave it to me because that’s where he found me. In Minnesota. Satisfied?”
    No, he thought, but he was getting there. Slowly. He made the logical assumption her words dictated. “Then he’s not your father?”
    “Yes, he is.” Her voice was quiet, firm. Immovable. Before he could ask another question, she said simply, “It takes more than biology to make a father.” She suppressed an impatient frown. “You know, for someone who just offered to help me with the inventory, you’re asking a lot of questions.”
    He knew when to retreat and when to move forward. He didn’t want to scare her away or to make her suspicious. But he was definitely making her uneasy. Was it because she didn’t like to open herself up to strangers, or was it because she had something to hide?
    For now, he took a step back. Raising his hand like a student, he looked down into her eyes, then decided maybe that was a mistake. She had eyes that entire galleons could get lost in.
    “Could I ask just one more?”
    Her eyes narrowed. She thought about the old adage about giving an inch and losing a mile. “Such as?”
    He turned back toward the shelves, his voice the soul of innocence. “Where do you keep the pears?”
    For a moment there was nothing but silence. And then the stillness was broken by the sound of her laughter. She dropped the list on top of the boxes of sugar. “Maybe I should give you a tour first. Didn’t Max go over this with you?”
    The main chef concerned himself with making sure his domain remained unchanged. That and putting moves on Kelly, one of the two hostesses. “He just came to the edge of the stairs, pointed down and said, ‘The main storeroom’s downstairs.’”
    She sighed. “That sounds like Max. Okay, this is where we keep the cans of fruit.” She pointed out the huge stacks on the shelves, arranged not by size but rather alphabetically. “Here are the vegetables, the additives…”
    She continued until she’d shown him everything. The storeroom stretched out for more than half the length of the actual restaurant. He’d had no idea it was