Falcon's Flight Read Online Free Page A

hint of emotion; his unusual eyes be-
    trayed not a shadow of feeling; his lips barely moved as he murmured directions.
    “The suite is to your left, the third door along the hallway.”
    Sweeping by him, her coat flaring around her like a royal mantle, Leslie strode down the corridor, lips compressed to contain the angry words burning her tongue. At the third door she paused, her back ram-rod-straight, staring at the words Spanish Suite painted in gold script in the center of the crimson door. The red color sparked her simmering anger into fiery rage. Red, the color associated with...
    “I hope you’ll be comfortable here,” Falcon said, pushing the door open and again motioning for her to precede him. His low, polite tone broke her reserve.
    Quivering with fury, Leslie took three strides into the room, then spun to face him, chin up, eyes blazing. “You deliberately let me walk into you in the lobby, didn’t you?” she said grittily as he shut the door quietly.
    “Yes.”
    The absolute absence of inflection in his low voice sent an apprehensive chill down Leslie’s spine. The complete lack of expression on his harshly chiseled face increased the tremors, making her quiver. She was a mature, self-confident woman, Leslie reminded herself. Except for one weak period comprised of a few weeks when she’d been devastated by divorce, she had been taking care of herself for a long time. Surely she was not afraid of this dark, silent man? With a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach, Leslie acknowledged the fear closing in on her.
    “But why?” she demanded, confusion concealing the panic in her voice.
    “The obvious reason.” Falcon’s lips tilted in a mocking smile; the mockery was directed at himself. “You swept into the lobby like a queen,” he went on, his voice lowering as he slowly walked toward her. “That fantastic hair swirling around your shoulders, your beautiful face haughty,” he continued, coming to a halt mere inches from her. “And in this place I’m the king,” Falcon concluded, as if his statement explained everything, which, of course, it did.
    King! Leslie fought to control her erratic breathing. More accurately, the man was a devil! She went still as the word settled in her mind, resurrecting the echo of her own flippant remark to Marie.
    If I just happen to run into a tall, dark, handsome devil of a man, I just might indulge in a blazing affair.
    Well, this man certainly was tall, and he was dark. But handsome? Lowering her lashes over her glittering green eyes, Leslie examined Falcon’s chiseled features one by one. His head was well shaped, his ears nicely formed. His wide brow was partially concealed by a swath of thick, silky-looking straight black hair. His nose was a trifle long, but narrow, and there was an almost delicate flare to his nostrils. His cheekbones were exceptionally high, very prominent, and as hard-looking as his jutting, squared jawline. His lips were unrelentingly thin. The dark, slightly coppery skin that covered all was taut, with the gleaming patina of well-cared-for leather.
    Yes, Leslie decided, feeling a strange excitement uncurl inside, this man definitely was handsome—in the way some imagined the devil to be handsome. The realization was both alluring and frightening.
    “Not exactly the face a well-bred girl takes home for mother’s approval, is it?” Falcon observed in a dry tone, revealing emotion for the first time. His tone held a hint of amusement, and it sparked her own.
    “A concerned mother would grab her daughter and run screaming for police protection,” Leslie retorted, every bit as dryly. His reaction startled and confused her.
    Falcon’s features locked and a spasm of something resembling bitterness flickered in his eyes. He suddenly looked very, very large and very, very dangerous. Thoroughly intimidated, Leslie eased one foot back slowly, preparing to bolt if he made a move toward her. His sharp eyes noted her move and his