Page 78
“It’s a penthouse on Central Park West, if that makes any difference.”
Her eyes close.
“Why did I know you were going to say that?”
“Pattern recognition. Sign of a good journalist.”
“When do we leave?”
“Now.”
Her eyes fly open.
“Now?”
“The plane is waiting.”
“You have a plane waiting for us?”
“I generally find that's more efficient than waiting for the plane.”
“Oh, how convenient.”
“It is.”
She shakes her head.
“I’ll need my laptop. Recorder. Tablet. Chargers.”
“All in your car?”
“Yes.”
“Clothes?”
“Also in my car.”
“Then we're remarkably ahead of schedule.”
“We?”
“You're shadowing me for thirty days, Hawthorne. My schedule is now your schedule.”
“I'm already regretting this.”
“You've been officially embedded in my life for less than ten minutes.”
“Exactly. Imagine how I'll feel by day thirty.”
I smile.
God help me, I'm enjoying this.
The sparring. The attitude. The way those hazel eyes sharpen every time she thinks I'm being deliberately difficult. Which, admittedly, is often.
She turns toward the door.
“Miss Hawthorne.”
