Read Online High Noon by Nora Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

isn’t he?”
    â€œYou could say.”
    â€œWhere does he live?” Ava pressed. “In the city?”
    â€œI didn’t ask.”
    â€œWell, for goodness sake.” Essie cast her eyes to the ceiling. “Why not?”
    â€œIt didn’t come up.” Phoebe reached in the little silver trinket box on her dresser for a tie, whipped her hair back into a tail.
    â€œWhat about his people?” Essie demanded. “Who are his family, his—”
    â€œThat didn’t come up either. I sort of got distracted.”
    â€œBecause he was charming,” Essie decided.
    â€œHe was—is—very charming. But I was distracted, considerably, when he told me he won the lottery several years ago, to the tune of a hundred and thirty-eight million.”
    She sailed out on that, automatically peeking in to check on Carly before moving to the stairs and up to the third floor.
    She’d commandeered what had once been a maid’s room for a little home gym. An indulgence on her part, Phoebe knew, but it also saved a health club fee and meant she could get an hour in early in the morning or at night, after Carly was in bed.
    Work kept her away from home enough without adding gym time to it.
    She’d sprung for an elliptical machine, a few free weights, and even a small TV to play exercise tapes. Carly often practiced her gymnastics while she worked out, so that was the big benefit of more mother-daughter time. Her mother and Ava used the equipment, so it paid for itself.
    In the end it wasn’t only more convenient but more economical. At least that’s how she’d justified the expense.
    Phoebe smiled to herself as she set the machine and climbed on. Her mother and Ava were already at the doorway, gaping.
    â€œDid you say million ?” Essie demanded.
    â€œI did.”
    â€œI remember that, I remember something about that.” Ava laid a hand on her heart. “Millionaire cabdriver. That’s what they called him. Local boy. Single ticket. Oh my God! That’s him ?”
    â€œIn the flesh.”
    â€œWell. God. I think I’m going to sit down.” Essie did so, right on the floor. “That’s not just rich, not even just wealthy. I don’t know what it is.”
    â€œLucky?” Phoebe suggested.
    â€œAnd then some.” Ava joined Essie on the floor. “He bought you a beer.”
    Amused, Phoebe kicked her warm-up to the next level. “Yeah. And pretzels. Then he drove me home in his Porsche.”
    â€œIs he slick?” Essie’s brows drew together, and the frown line Phoebe had inherited instead of dimples creased between them. “That much money, he’s likely slick.”
    â€œHe’s not. Smooth,” Phoebe decided after a moment. “He’s pretty damn smooth, but I have a feeling that’s innate. He talked me into having dinner with him Saturday night.”
    â€œYou’re dating a millionaire.” Ava nudged Essie with her elbow. “Our little girl’s dating a millionaire.”
    Because the idea made her nervous, Phoebe bumped the resistance up another notch—on the machine, and in her. “I don’t know about dating. I’m not interested in dating anybody. It’s too damn much trouble. What are you going to wear, what are you going to talk about? Is he going to want to have sex—and there I say: Duh. Are you going to want to have sex, which actually does require some thought and consideration.”
    â€œDinner,” Ava reminded her. “Saturday night.”
    â€œYeah, well, he’s smooth,” Phoebe muttered. “He’s pretty damn smooth.”
    Â 
    The scene was a little storefront operation. Jasper C. Hughes, Attorney at Law. The intelligence Phoebe had indicated that Hughes, one Tracey Percell and an armed individual named William Gradey were barricaded inside.
    The tactical team continued setting up outer and inner perimeters. Phoebe