Face of Danger Read Online Free

Lang. I should have known you couldn’t think outside the box. You’re all linear, trapped by your rules and the way things are
supposed
to be done. I shouldn’t ever dream that you might approach something creatively. That would just be asking too much from your structured, formulaic, uninspired brain.”
    All right, he deserved that after the insults he’d just heaped on her, but something was really off in this conversation, even for them. “What the hell are you getting at, Vivi?”
    “A body double.”
    This time he just stared at her for a minute. “You’re not serious.”
    She thumped her fist on the table. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”
    “Told me what?”
    “C’mon, Lang, it’s the oldest form of security in the world. Put a fake—a
professional
fake—in her shoes until the killer is caught. If there even is a killer, which I don’t happen to think there is. But, still, we bait with a decoy and—”
    “Stop it,” he said, his voice low and harsh, not having to pretend seriousness at all now. “All kidding aside, you’d need an extreme makeover to pass as Cara Ferrari.”
    “Not from a distance.”
    “A job like that should go to a trained professional, not an outside consultant. And good luck getting to Cara Ferrari. It’s easier to get an appointment with the President.”
    A flicker of arrogance crossed her face. “Maybe I already have.”
    “What? How?”
    She shrugged. “What do they say—everyone is six degrees of separation from someone.”
    “You are not six degrees of anything from Cara Ferrari.” Was she?
    She picked up her drink and then set it down again. “Forget it, Lang. You’re right, she did suck in
Now, Voyager
. She should stick to the trashy stuff that made her real money.”
    “Absolutely,” he agreed, ignoring her sarcasm. “Like one of her really early B movies, the one where she played the undercover cop working as a stripper? I liked that.”
    “Of course you did. What man doesn’t love the raw acting talent it takes for a woman to use her mouth to unzip thigh-high boots during a lap dance?”
    “You have to admit that was a memorable scene.”
    “Yeah, that took mad acting skills.”
    “And coordination,” he agreed. “Just think how many college boys she made happy.”
    “Were you one of them, Lang?”
    “Please. I was in the FBI Academy when that movie came out.” Still, he fought a smile. “But it was a pretty sexy lap dance. Although, I guess that’s redundant.”
    “Yeah, whatever. Can we just forget we had this conversation? It’s moot anyway. They say Kimberly Horne has the Oscar in the bag.”
    He relaxed a little. “Vivi, you can’t seriously think you could convince Cara Ferrari to let you
be
her for however long it takes for this Red Carpet Killer brouhaha to die down. I think you should forget this idea completely.”
    “Brouhaha.” She rolled her eyes and grabbed her drink. “I don’t care what you think.”
    He didn’t respond and she sucked the straw again,looking up at him with her wide eyes—kind of exactly like she’d look up from a blow job.
    Goddamn his dancing dick.
    “Just forget it,” he said, as much to his disobedient organ as to his unintentionally sexy consultant. “It’s a cute idea, but—”
    “Fuck you, Lang.”
    “Sorry, I know you hate anything cute.”
    “You just don’t get it, do you?”
    Evidently not. “Get what?”
    “What I’m trying to do with this business my brother and I started.”
    “How can you say that?” He pushed his drink aside to move closer to Vivi. “I believe in your business. Hell, if I’m not careful, my boss is going to start questioning just why I’ve given you—what, four or five assignments in as many months? We’re supposed to spread the outsourcing wealth, not focus on one firm.”
    She just shook her head. “This isn’t about you and your office. This is about
me
and
my
office.”
    “Seriously, Vivi. You only started this business last fall.