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He pivoted on his heel and returned to the building lobby. |
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"Did you find her?" the guard asked, looking up from the desk. |
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"No." Mike's voice was abrupt. |
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"Well, there she is, right behind you." |
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Mike turned. "Hi," Abby said. She was smiling, as though glad to see him. And why not? She probably saw dollar signs every time she looked at him. |
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He should send her on her way. But not yet. Not until she'd revealed exactly what she was up to. "Let's go home," he said curtly. |
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Abby wondered, once they were inside the Bronco, whether she should mention to Mike that she'd met with Philip Rousseau. Probably not. Mike seemed to be in a bad mood, and mentioning his angry, dangerous ex-brother-in-law was not likely to cheer him. |
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As they drove from the building, Mike said, "I've invited Lowell and Ruth for dinner tonight." |
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"That should be fun." Abby meant it. Perhaps company would help lighten Mike's mood. |
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Mike remained quiet on their way home. The deep furrowing of his brow revealed the intensity of his worryabout business? His brush with death that morning? Her? Abby wished she could stroke his cheek, smooth away his cares, but he might resent such a gesture from someone he did not trust. |
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But his silence gave her too much time to think. Her unease since reaching L.A. had settled |
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