Read Online Zeph Undercover by Jenny Andersen - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jenny Andersen
Tags: Suspense, Contemporary
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boy. I can take care of myself for an evening.”
She scowled. He’d probably search her father’s house too.
Chapter 4
Fifteen minutes after Allie and her father left, Zeph tossed his overnight case into the Carrera and headed for Sacramento. Frank Fitzgerald had suggested he attend this fancy dinner before he’d ever come to Stone’s Crossing. “All the movers and shakers will be there, Granger. If you go in as a serious investor from L. A. looking for something in real estate or building, you might turn up something interesting.”
Since Fitzgerald had been the one to call the firm in on the case, taking his suggestion made sense. Zeph had reservations at one of the best hotels in town and he’d head back to Allie’s first thing in the morning after getting a little city living fix.
Bulleting through the gathering dusk, he considered the evening. Fitzgerald had promised to introduce him to some rich, important characters who were a little light on ethics. If he posed as a not-too-particular investor, he might connect with the shady money. And find out who had ties to Stone’s Crossing. A grin curled one corner of his mouth. A girlfriend somewhere along the line had described it as “wolfish.” She’d nailed it. He could almost scent the trail and had his teeth ready to sink into the guilty party.
Happy to be on the hunt, he checked into Le Rivage. Thank God for expense accounts. He keyed into his room and tossed his suitcase onto the luggage stand. Just the usual elegant, soulless hotel room, with a minibar and room service. He sneered at the framed painting over the desk—a horse, what else? The damned things were following him.
Forget horses. He stepped into the shower with a sigh of regret that Allie wasn’t with him. Settled into his tux with a feeling of coming home and headed downstairs.
He walked into the event room edgy with the prospect of finding a chink in the case. Keyed up, on the trail, adrenaline junky. Like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Allie would say, but she’d be wrong. Irritably, he shrugged away the thought of her. He had to concentrate here, and remember that Allie would always be a small-town girl. He liked her, she turned him on, he wanted her like crazy, and he couldn’t seem to forget her, but he needed to remember three little words: Not His Style. Tuxedos, not jeans. Paté, not meat loaf. Red carpet premiers, not TV sitcoms.
But Allie hung in his mind, blonde and bouncy and far too appealing, and he had to remind himself again he had come here to work. Work. He turned on his heel and headed for the bar. With a glass of scotch in his hand, he leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room. No shortage of rich-looking dudes here tonight. Or gorgeous women, but his mission didn’t involve getting to know one of them. With surprise, he realized that didn’t feel like a hardship.
His gaze snagged on a lush blonde across the room talking to the mayor. From the back, she looked like a real stunner, all tempting curves nicely packaged in a little nothing of black and a shining cascade of blonde hair. Just like Allie, but that couldn’t be. Allie hid her curves in jeans and men’s work shirts. Kept her hair tied up. Anyway, why would a country girl whose only interest was horses be at an event like this? Not Allie. It couldn’t be Allie. In spite of that, his heart did a complicated trip-hammer kind of thing.
He finished the drink in one gulp and looked around impatiently. What the hell had happened to Frank? The crowd surged between him and the blonde and he edged around to get a front view. And bumped into Frank. “About time you got here, Fitzgerald.”
The lawyer looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow. “I’m exactly on time. What’s got your shorts in a twist?”
“Nothing. You got anything for me?”
“You’re supposed to get something for me.”
“I’ll get something. Don’t worry.”
“Come on. I’ll introduce you
She scowled. He’d probably search her father’s house too.
Chapter 4
Fifteen minutes after Allie and her father left, Zeph tossed his overnight case into the Carrera and headed for Sacramento. Frank Fitzgerald had suggested he attend this fancy dinner before he’d ever come to Stone’s Crossing. “All the movers and shakers will be there, Granger. If you go in as a serious investor from L. A. looking for something in real estate or building, you might turn up something interesting.”
Since Fitzgerald had been the one to call the firm in on the case, taking his suggestion made sense. Zeph had reservations at one of the best hotels in town and he’d head back to Allie’s first thing in the morning after getting a little city living fix.
Bulleting through the gathering dusk, he considered the evening. Fitzgerald had promised to introduce him to some rich, important characters who were a little light on ethics. If he posed as a not-too-particular investor, he might connect with the shady money. And find out who had ties to Stone’s Crossing. A grin curled one corner of his mouth. A girlfriend somewhere along the line had described it as “wolfish.” She’d nailed it. He could almost scent the trail and had his teeth ready to sink into the guilty party.
Happy to be on the hunt, he checked into Le Rivage. Thank God for expense accounts. He keyed into his room and tossed his suitcase onto the luggage stand. Just the usual elegant, soulless hotel room, with a minibar and room service. He sneered at the framed painting over the desk—a horse, what else? The damned things were following him.
Forget horses. He stepped into the shower with a sigh of regret that Allie wasn’t with him. Settled into his tux with a feeling of coming home and headed downstairs.
He walked into the event room edgy with the prospect of finding a chink in the case. Keyed up, on the trail, adrenaline junky. Like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, Allie would say, but she’d be wrong. Irritably, he shrugged away the thought of her. He had to concentrate here, and remember that Allie would always be a small-town girl. He liked her, she turned him on, he wanted her like crazy, and he couldn’t seem to forget her, but he needed to remember three little words: Not His Style. Tuxedos, not jeans. Paté, not meat loaf. Red carpet premiers, not TV sitcoms.
But Allie hung in his mind, blonde and bouncy and far too appealing, and he had to remind himself again he had come here to work. Work. He turned on his heel and headed for the bar. With a glass of scotch in his hand, he leaned back against the bar and surveyed the room. No shortage of rich-looking dudes here tonight. Or gorgeous women, but his mission didn’t involve getting to know one of them. With surprise, he realized that didn’t feel like a hardship.
His gaze snagged on a lush blonde across the room talking to the mayor. From the back, she looked like a real stunner, all tempting curves nicely packaged in a little nothing of black and a shining cascade of blonde hair. Just like Allie, but that couldn’t be. Allie hid her curves in jeans and men’s work shirts. Kept her hair tied up. Anyway, why would a country girl whose only interest was horses be at an event like this? Not Allie. It couldn’t be Allie. In spite of that, his heart did a complicated trip-hammer kind of thing.
He finished the drink in one gulp and looked around impatiently. What the hell had happened to Frank? The crowd surged between him and the blonde and he edged around to get a front view. And bumped into Frank. “About time you got here, Fitzgerald.”
The lawyer looked at his watch and raised an eyebrow. “I’m exactly on time. What’s got your shorts in a twist?”
“Nothing. You got anything for me?”
“You’re supposed to get something for me.”
“I’ll get something. Don’t worry.”
“Come on. I’ll introduce you
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