The Favor

Chapter One | page 1 | page 2 | page 3 | excerpts

In Ryder Kane’s mind, the Blue Pepper was a yuppie haven. And the kick of it was, he fit right in. Twenty years ago when he’d been fighting for survival on the streets of Baltimore, he’d never have imagined ending up in a trendy Georgetown bistro drinking a designer label beer and wearing the kind of well cut clothes that allowed him to blend in perfectly with the other well-heeled clientele. With a grin, he lifted his beer and toasted the profitable high tech security business, Kane Management, that had played a major role in his transformation.

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And thank God that computer security wasn’t the only business that he dabbled in. While it amused him and put a great deal of money in his pocket, it was his other business, Favors for a Fee, that really intrigued him. Not that Mark Anderson, an investigative reporter on the WashingtonPost, was going to provide much of a fee. But the cryptic message on his voice mail had intrigued him. “I’ve got something hot and political I need your perspective on something. Meet me at the Blue Pepper on P Street, 5:00 PM.”

A glance at his watch confirmed that Mark was now half an hour late. Turning slightly on the bar stool, Ryder scanned the entrance area. There was no sign of Mark, but the tall blonde caught his attention. She wore her hair fastened into bun on the back of her head, and even though she wore a loose fitting jacket and long skirt, he could see that she had that slender, Audrey Hepburn/Nicole Kidman kind of body. Sexy.

Tall women with mile long legs were one of his weaknesses. Twisting his chair a little further, he watched as she hesitated, then drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders before she pushed through the door.

His curiosity piqued, Ryder narrowed his eyes. Was she meeting a man? If so, she didn’t look as though she were looking forward to it.

She crossed the entrance area and climbed the short flight of stairs to the bar with a dragging hesitation in her step that he recognized instantly. He’d walked just that way on each one of his many trips to the principal’s office in junior high. One of her hands gripped the large canvas tote she wore slung over her shoulder as if it were a lifeline.

He had a sudden urge to go to her and ask her what he could do to help. The realization and the effort it took to remain on his stool, surprised him. Rescuing damsels in distress was not the type of work that either Kane Management or Favors for a Fee regularly engaged in. He might like women in all their various shapes and sizes, but he didn’t often find himself with an urge to do the knight in shining armor thing. Sam Spade, he wasn’t.

Turning away, Ryder took another sip of beer and checked on the score on the TV hanging from the ceiling. The Orioles were tied at the top of the seventh. He didn’t turn when she passed behind him, but he had to put some effort into it. That was why he only glimpsed what happened out of the corner of his eye. One of the men at the far end of the bar shoved another one and that one plowed into another in a rippling, domino effect that sent the blonde stumbling backward.

Fate, he thought, slipping from his stool and catching her elbows as she struggled for balance. For one brief moment, as he steadied her, he caught her scent – something that reminded him of tart lemonade on a hot afternoon. Surprising. And certainly not sexy, at least he wouldn’t have thought so. But his body had different ideas. If he’d followed his impulse, he would have turned her around, pressed her close, just to see what that would feel like. But Ryder Kane could be cautious when the occasion called for it. And something about this fragile beauty spelled trouble.

“You all right?” he asked as he set her away from him.

“Yes.” As she turned, she gasped. “My bag.”

Ryder glanced down and saw the canvas tote on the floor, its contents spread about. Dropping to his knees, he picked up the nearest thing. An inhaler, he discovered when he took a closer look. He reached for the objects that had rolled beneath his bar stool – a pack of blue notecards and a plastic bottle that held prescription pills. Sierra Gibbs was the name he noted and she was to take two as needed for migraines.

“Thanks.” The voice was deep and just a little breathless. When he turned, she was on her knees facing him, and for an instant his mind went blank except for one word. You.

Ryder couldn’t put a name to the feeling that raced through him. Not recognition. The first time he’d even lain eyes on this woman was a few moments ago. Wasn’t it? (continued...)

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