Read Online Worth the Trip by Penny McCall - Free Book Online Page A

thought as she strode past him, that little annoyed frown on her face, and all he could do was jump up and trot along behind her like a puppy.
    Balance of power, hah.
    “That kid has a crush on you,” he said as they walked out of the lecture hall.
    “I didn’t get that impression.”
    Trip shrugged. “You’d be the expert.”
    “He probably doesn’t have a very good home life,” Norah said. “So many of these kids are a product of divorce or single-parent homes, and psychology seems to offer a way to understand what they’ve been through.”
    “Is that the voice of experience?”
    She shot him a look, not amused.
    “You can’t cure the problems of the world.”
    “I can’t even solve my own at the moment,” she said, clearly identifying him as a problem by the way she was glaring at him.
    Trip just grinned, getting the point but not taking it personally. “The parking lot is this way,” he said, trying to steer her in that direction.
    She slipped around him and continued on her way. “I have a couple of appointments.”
    This time he took her by the elbow. “Reschedule.”
    She shook him off. “I’m booked for six months, and with my other commitments—” She stopped walking. “You can’t be in session with me,” she said. “Patient confidentiality, not to mention having an audience makes people uncomfortable talking about their problems.”
    “I get it,” he snapped, and just before she turned away he saw her mouth quirk up, just a little, and he caught on to her game. Stupid of him not to see it before, but then he was dealing with a lack of sleep and an overabundance of testosterone.
    “I’ll be busy for a while. You should take off.”
    “Got nothing else to do.”
    Her frown intensified, but she only said, “Fine, you can wait in my outer office.”
    “Sure, I could use a nap. We have a long drive ahead of us.” And who was smiling now, he thought, but when they got to her office a couple stood up from the sofa and Trip wasn’t so amused anymore. “Did Mike send you?” he asked them, referring, of course, to Mike Kovaleski, his—their—handler, since they all worked for the Bureau.
    “We came because Aubrey is intrigued,” Jack Mitchell said, referring to his partner, Aubrey Sullivan.
    “You’re an FBI agent?” Norah asked Aubrey, taking in her outfit, which even Trip could tell was high fashion, a flirty little wool suit in fuchsia—hardly an unobtrusive color—and pointy-toed stiletto-heeled shoes that he was already picturing on Norah. Just the shoes.
    “Jimmy Choos, right?” Norah said, her voice low and breathy, which did amazing things for the fantasy, even if it was only the shoes winding her up.
    Aubrey smiled, transforming her plain features to pretty, if not compelling, which seemed to be of more interest to Norah than the expensive feathers. “I think of myself as an agent,” she said around that wide smile. “So does the FBI. Jack—”
    “I think Aubrey’s a pain in the ass. I was saddled with her on a case last year—”
    “I saved your job,” Aubrey reminded him. “And your ass. Jack got burned,” she said for Norah’s benefit. “The Bureau thought he was a mole, and I was targeted for death by Pablo Corona.”
    “The drug lord?”
    “The insane drug lord,” Aubrey said, “but it all worked out in the end.”
    “I think she gets that, since we’re not corpses,” Jack said.
    “And you’re here about the robbery,” Norah said, “but my usual clients seem to be missing.”
    “Your twelve o’clock canceled.” Jack handed Norah a note. “Your secretary left you this.”
    Trip leaned over her shoulder, read the note in what he assumed was her secretary’s handwriting, telling her the noon clients had been cancelled, then filled with a last-minute call in.
    “Convenient,” Norah said, ranging herself opposite the three of them, tapping foot, arms crossed, waiting for an explanation.
    Trip refused to cave in to her body language; no