The general's sharp blue gaze narrowed slightly. "I see." He rested his elbows on the desk in front of him, fingers interlaced. "I'll be in the city this evening, attending the opera. Perhaps we could meet afterwards?"
Gabriel grabbed a pen and paper, quickly scribbling. She glanced at it. "I've heard there's a very good restaurant in South Bank — Han's, I believe it's called. Shall I make reservations?"
"Around eleven should be suitable."
She nodded. "See you then, General."
The screen went dead.
"Well, well," Gabriel murmured. "A call from a General, no less. Your request for information certainly raised a few alarms."
"Have you heard of the General before?"
"No. But a doctor Frank Lloyd attended the birth of both Raylea Burns and Anna King."
She raised her eyebrows. "Same man, you think?"
"Too much of a coincidence, otherwise."
"Why meet at a restaurant? Why not at Hopeworth? Or even here?"
Gabriel shrugged. "Neutral territory, perhaps. I doubt they'd let us near Hopeworth, anyway. The place is level ten security."
Which meant top of the tree. Not even Stephan's Byrne persona would get in there.
"I gather you intend coming with me tonight."
"Yes. I'll contact Han and arrange for us to be in the dragon room." He hesitated. "The restaurant is upmarket. Nothing casual allowed, I'm afraid."
She raised an eyebrow. "You think I don't know that?"
He looked away. Though his face was still neutral, she had a sense of his embarrassment.
"I'll pick you up at nine-thirty."
"It's a date, Assistant Director."
He flashed her a grim look. She smiled and watched him walk from the room. Sometimes, he was extraordinarily easy to rattle.
And that, just maybe, should be her line of attack. Damn it, there was something between them, and he had to be as aware of it as she. Rather than sit back and wait for him to make a move, as she usually did when it came to men, maybe she needed to take the reins and lead the way. The worst that could happen was that he'd say no.
And he was already doing that in other areas — what was one more?
"Izzy, do a search through the personnel files. I need to find an agent who has a dog or a cat I can borrow."
"Searching now, sugar."
Good. Her next major worry was finding an outfit to wear tonight. Something subtle but stunning. She might not be able to stop him from thrusting her from his life, be it professional or personal, but she sure as hell could make him regret it.
Tall, curvaceous blondes weren't the only ones who could look like sex on legs.
* * * *
Sam grabbed the box restraining the growling cat and climbed out of the car. Heat tingled across her skin, standing the small hairs at the back of her neck on end. Then her senses exploded outward, tasting the secrets within the clinic.The shifter inside was more than just a shifter.
Frowning, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean, she headed in.
After filling in a bunch of forms, she sat down. The cat, safely parked two seats away, had a claw through one of the air holes and seemed intent on shredding the seat.