The Survivor - Cristin Harber Page 0,34
me?”
Halle groaned. “The location. They need someone on the ground, and you’re closer.”
Satisfied with her makeup, Amanda moved the dress to the steamer and hoped she could get away without ironing.
Halle continued to talk shop. Amanda methodically steamed. The back and forth motion coupled with Halle’s clinical summary helped erase the ugly emotion that had reared between them.
They finished the call with Amanda promising to check her email, then she removed her earbuds and checked the mirror. It was time to shed her dull clothes and see if the dress would fit.
She stripped and stood in front of the dress, then before she could shy away from the bright, bull’s-eye color, she slipped it on.
“Oh my…” The skirt swayed softly, and the red made her feel as powerful as she looked. With a decisive move, she pulled out her ponytail and stared, a woman transformed.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
For the hundredth time, Hagan checked his wristwatch. He wasn’t worried she’d stand him up, but he had noticed that the minutes now crawled. He crossed his arms to keep from checking the time again and watched throngs of people milling throughout the park surrounded by shops and restaurants.
A slight disturbance interrupted the rhythmic foot traffic. His pulse picked up, and he knew she’d arrived. Then Hagan saw her. She offered a shy, vulnerable smile that left him breathless, and he moved toward her, a man on a mission.
She tilted her chin up as he stepped close. “You’re smiling.”
“It’s a thing I do sometimes.” Hagan rested his hands on her side. “I like the way you never say hello.”
She laughed. “Didn’t realize I did that.”
“You look amazing.” Her dark hair hung over her shoulder, and she wore a dress the color of poppies. The fabric flowed over her curves and stirred around her legs.
“Thanks.” She lifted the side of her skirt and let it go. “I’ve never worn this before.”
“Why not?”
She thought before answering. “I wasn’t ready.”
Whatever that meant, he was glad she’d worn it tonight. Her eyelashes fluttered. The tip of her tongue darted to her bottom lip. Her eyes searched around them as though she were checking the crowd, then she pointed over his shoulder. “Could we go in there before dinner?”
He turned toward a tea store nestled under the shade of low-hanging trees. “Sure.” He might see a small gift he could purchase for his sister.
“I want to get something for my mom,” she added.
Playfully, he crooked an eyebrow. “I’m surprised my anonymous date admitted to having a mom.”
The corners of her lips quirked. “I wasn’t cooked up in a lab.”
“Good to know.” They picked their way toward the store. She stayed close to his side, and when Hagan opened the heavy door for her, he caught a whiff of her perfume before they stepped into the small, aromatic store.
The door clicked when it closed. Silence transported them into another world. Music with bells and chimes whispered from all round. He rested a hand on her back as they gingerly stepped farther into the store.
She leaned into his side. “I feel like we should whisper.”
How could there be so many people and so much noise just beyond the door? The aisles wound this way and that, bending around shelves and displays. Hundreds of teas and trinkets covered every inch of space and dangled from the ceiling. The chaos had a meditative state. It was the perfect start to their night.
Even with the mysticism that danced in the air, he noted the way she assessed their surroundings. It was a familiar habit, and without much thought, they’d both located the entrances and exits and assessed the store for risks and threats. He wouldn’t ask her about the habit, instead filing it away as a clue.
“Have you been in here before?” she asked.
“No, but I might come back again.”
“Really?” She eyed him. “Shopping for yourself or someone else?”
“My sister.”
Interest colored her expression as she led the way. “Can I ask you about her?”
“Sure.” He picked up a small box and shook it. “Her name’s Roxana.”
“What is she like?”
Hagan returned the box and snickered. “She’s a pain in the ass, if you want the truth.”
“Oh, be nice.” She elbowed him.
Hagan pinned her arm to his stomach, holding her long enough to breathe in the scent of her shampoo and feel her warmth. He let go, and his date, this nameless beauty with stealth moves and a history to hide, stayed close enough to kiss. They didn’t move. The moment remained fragile. A gust of wind