Excerpt 1 from In Past, Imperfect
She used the short journey across the Hudson to scan the case notes her boss had sent to her Blackberry. Once there, she headed for the unmarked Town Car with tinted rear windows waiting outside the Midtown terminal.
She was surprised when the driver didn’t set off at once -- must be waiting for someone else -- but leaned back against the soft leather and continued looking through the case notes. When the opposite door opened, she raised her gaze briefly, noting a dark wool coat, faded jeans and white shirt. Not the usual FBI uniform.
The wind carried the fresh, clean scent of just-showered male mixed with just-laundered clothes into the car. Her throat tightened.
She knew that heady scent.
Her pulse leapt at the rumble of a disturbingly familiar, deep male voice.
She had to be mistaken. She wanted to look, but didn’t dare. Her mind raced as she slipped her Blackberry into her coat pocket.
It couldn’t be. What would a high-powered Boston corporate lawyer be doing here? More to the point, what was his link to the Ice Squad?
Her brain was playing tricks on her. Her thoughts of discovering the truth about her heritage, combined with the snobby attitude of the Wassermans, had brought him to mind.
Closing her eyes briefly, she prayed that this wasn’t some horrid twist of fate.
Yet, even as the tall, dark-haired man eased himself into the car and turned to face her, she knew it was.
Ice blue eyes. The scar bisecting his left eyebrow. The broken nose that had never been fixed. The strong jaw that should have belonged to a stronger man. One who would have stuck up for her and stood by her.
Instead of the one who’d walked away and broken her heart.
Her fingers curled into fists as she struggled to hide the myriad of emotions erupting within her. I can’t do this. Not if it means dealing with him.
Be strong. Sister Agnes’ gentle voice echoed inside her head, halting the maelstrom and soothing her frayed nerves. Be brave. As always, the nun who had saved the infant Amy from near-certain death was right.
Amy squared her shoulders and raised her chin defiantly. She wasn’t prepared to give up this golden opportunity of working with The Ice Squad because of him. She’d lost so much thanks to her past -- or lack of it. If the chance to find out where she came from, who she really was and why she’d been abandoned at Sister Agnes’ convent relied on dealing with him, then so be it.
Her mind sharpened, her racing pulse slowed. Calm descended. She ensured her inner armour was in place, then took a deep breath and said coolly, “Hello, Daniel.”
* * *
Read Excerpt 2 from Past, Imperfect
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