Read Online Driving in Neutral by Sandra Antonelli - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandra Antonelli
Ads: Link
his sister doesn’t hire a contract killer.”
“You pay for my coffee too and I’ll call us square.”
He shifted, careful to keep weight off his knee. “And the job?”
She said nothing.
Clearly she needed—or more accurately— wanted more groveling. Emerson thought he was wasting his time, but he tried to grovel sincerely. “Yes, I was an absolute asshole . I’ll buy your pie, your coffee, and your dinner. No, make that I’ll buy coffee and pie whenever you want coffee and pie. We need your help.”
Again, she said nothing.
“Look, if you’re worried, if you’re thinking, everyone knows the tale, no one has to know it was you. Wait. Let me rephrase that. No one will know it was you.”
“Except those guys who saw me in the elevator with you. They’ll know.”
“I’ll fire them.”
She tried to hide her smile behind the swab of a paper napkin. “Uh-huh.”
“Consider them canned. They’re out. Unemployed on the sidewalk. They’ll be bums within two weeks.”
Olivia tossed the napkin on the table, raised her chin and inhaled. She chewed her bottom lip for a second before exhaling. Then she looked over at Pete and gestured for him to come to the table.
When Pete slid next to her in the booth, he looked at Emerson expectantly. “You going to sit down so we can talk a little business?”
Emerson didn’t like the distance between the seats and the table. Instead of slipping onto the bench across from them, he grabbed a chair from one of the square tables in the middle of the diner, and, limping, dragged it to the end of the table.
Fifteen minutes later, Pete paid the bill and the trio made their way to Olivia’s car in the lot beside the diner.
Pete whistled as his gaze wandered over the white body of the Aston Martin DB5 she’d stopped beside. “Is this what you’re racing around in these days, Liv?”
“I’ve always had a thing for English sports cars. The V12 Zagato is really hot. I had the chance to drive that last year.”
“Hey,” Emerson said, “is this the same car James Bond drove in Goldfinger and Skyfall ?”
“Not quite. His was gunmetal gray and had an ejector seat.”
“I don’t know much about cars, but I know what I like and this,” Emerson’s eyes skimmed over Olivia and the car, “is a toy for a big boy. So what are you doing with it?”
“Oh, dear God,” Pete groaned, “I just worked out that for you, suits are like Samson’s hair. Without Gucci or Boss on your back you’re pathetic, inept, bumbling. That baseball shirt has sucked away all your finesse.”
“What?” Emerson’s hands shot up in a defensive, palms-up pose. “What did I say?”
“Do you know what Olivia does?”
“She’s a translator.” He looked at her. “You’re a translator, aren’t you?”
Olivia did nothing to hide her amusement. Laughing, she unlocked the driver’s side door.
Pete laughed too. “What the hell happened to you in that elevator today, Em? No, no. Sorry. Forget I asked. Forget I mentioned it, Liv. Don’t wanna know.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t read her CV, did you Em? You didn’t even glance at it.”
“I didn’t exactly have time for more than that. You shoved it in my hand this morning, downstairs, just after you told me about the project. What did I need to read it for anyway? Was I going to say no to nepotism? So what else do you do, Olivia, what other mad skillz do you have that I missed?”
“She tests race cars.”
Olivia tossed her purse on the floor in front of the passenger seat. “I used to test race cars, Pete.”
“Yeah, but I still think of you racing and shooting around the track in that old Porsche.”
“Wait a second. You raced cars?” Emerson shot a glance to Pete. “She raced cars?”
“Once upon a time.” Olivia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, you thought Pete wanted me just to translate German?”
“Well…yeah. We needed someone to check out old pre-war race film footage and
“You pay for my coffee too and I’ll call us square.”
He shifted, careful to keep weight off his knee. “And the job?”
She said nothing.
Clearly she needed—or more accurately— wanted more groveling. Emerson thought he was wasting his time, but he tried to grovel sincerely. “Yes, I was an absolute asshole . I’ll buy your pie, your coffee, and your dinner. No, make that I’ll buy coffee and pie whenever you want coffee and pie. We need your help.”
Again, she said nothing.
“Look, if you’re worried, if you’re thinking, everyone knows the tale, no one has to know it was you. Wait. Let me rephrase that. No one will know it was you.”
“Except those guys who saw me in the elevator with you. They’ll know.”
“I’ll fire them.”
She tried to hide her smile behind the swab of a paper napkin. “Uh-huh.”
“Consider them canned. They’re out. Unemployed on the sidewalk. They’ll be bums within two weeks.”
Olivia tossed the napkin on the table, raised her chin and inhaled. She chewed her bottom lip for a second before exhaling. Then she looked over at Pete and gestured for him to come to the table.
When Pete slid next to her in the booth, he looked at Emerson expectantly. “You going to sit down so we can talk a little business?”
Emerson didn’t like the distance between the seats and the table. Instead of slipping onto the bench across from them, he grabbed a chair from one of the square tables in the middle of the diner, and, limping, dragged it to the end of the table.
Fifteen minutes later, Pete paid the bill and the trio made their way to Olivia’s car in the lot beside the diner.
Pete whistled as his gaze wandered over the white body of the Aston Martin DB5 she’d stopped beside. “Is this what you’re racing around in these days, Liv?”
“I’ve always had a thing for English sports cars. The V12 Zagato is really hot. I had the chance to drive that last year.”
“Hey,” Emerson said, “is this the same car James Bond drove in Goldfinger and Skyfall ?”
“Not quite. His was gunmetal gray and had an ejector seat.”
“I don’t know much about cars, but I know what I like and this,” Emerson’s eyes skimmed over Olivia and the car, “is a toy for a big boy. So what are you doing with it?”
“Oh, dear God,” Pete groaned, “I just worked out that for you, suits are like Samson’s hair. Without Gucci or Boss on your back you’re pathetic, inept, bumbling. That baseball shirt has sucked away all your finesse.”
“What?” Emerson’s hands shot up in a defensive, palms-up pose. “What did I say?”
“Do you know what Olivia does?”
“She’s a translator.” He looked at her. “You’re a translator, aren’t you?”
Olivia did nothing to hide her amusement. Laughing, she unlocked the driver’s side door.
Pete laughed too. “What the hell happened to you in that elevator today, Em? No, no. Sorry. Forget I asked. Forget I mentioned it, Liv. Don’t wanna know.” He cleared his throat. “You didn’t read her CV, did you Em? You didn’t even glance at it.”
“I didn’t exactly have time for more than that. You shoved it in my hand this morning, downstairs, just after you told me about the project. What did I need to read it for anyway? Was I going to say no to nepotism? So what else do you do, Olivia, what other mad skillz do you have that I missed?”
“She tests race cars.”
Olivia tossed her purse on the floor in front of the passenger seat. “I used to test race cars, Pete.”
“Yeah, but I still think of you racing and shooting around the track in that old Porsche.”
“Wait a second. You raced cars?” Emerson shot a glance to Pete. “She raced cars?”
“Once upon a time.” Olivia tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “So, you thought Pete wanted me just to translate German?”
“Well…yeah. We needed someone to check out old pre-war race film footage and
Similar Books
