Read Blaze of Glory for Free Online

books
for
friends
for
nearly
two
years.
An
eternity
to
a
teenager
back
then
who’d
suddenly
yearned
for
even the
confines
of
the
Catholicschool
education
she’d
once
griped
about
regularly.
    Now,
she
enjoyed
her
health,
and
yes,
her
sexuality.
Men
checked
her
out,
wanted
her,
and
she
liked
it.
She really
liked
it,
especially
after
the
way
her
exhusband
had
made
her
feel
like
a
driedup
prune
because
she couldn’t
have
kids.
The
clothes
also
happened
to
give
her
confidence
as
well
as
offer
a
great
diversion.
No one
ever
suspected
a
ditz
like
her
could
be
ferreting
out
secrets.
    Although
she
had
a
slight
caveat
to
that.
All
men
checked
her
out
except
this
one.
    Evidence
indicated
Matthias
was
straight.
He’d
been
married—at
eighteen
no
less.
He
and
his
wife
had
a
    “preemie”
daughter
born
six
months
after
the
“I
do,”
then
completed
his
divorce
when
the
girl
was
four.
    From
beside
her
desk
across
the
room
from
him,
she
shifted
from
one
stiletto
heel
to
the
other,
flipping
her thick
black
hair
over
her
shoulder.
The
wild
curls
had
grown
in
after
radiation.
    Just
flick
the
hair
again
and
wait…wait…
    No
reaction.
Sheesh.
So
what
was
wrong
with
her?
She
might
be
pushing
forty
but
she
still
turned
heads, apparently
just
not
this
guy’s
head,
and
that
miffed
her
more
than
a
little
for
some
odd
reason.
    Her
cover
as
a
newly
divorced
woman
set
on
stretching
her
academic
wings
put
her
close
enough
to
his
age range
that
he
shouldn’t
be
totally
condescending.
His
file
indicated
he
was
fortyfour
to
her
thirtyeight.
    “Dr.
Lanier?”
    He
flipped
a
page,
frowned,
glanced
at
the
computer
screen
and
back
down
again.
Seemed
like
he
looked everywhere
but
ather.
    “Dr.
Lanier,”
she
called,
hitching
her
purse
up
on
her
shoulder,
a
purse
made
of
overlarge
sequins
that shimmered
and
jingled
softly
with
her
every
move.
    Still
he
didn’t
so
much
as
peek
up
from
his
work.
    Hmm.
She
needed
a
prop.
Bustling
out
the
door
to
the
vending
machine,
she
reached
into
her
purse
for change,
rattling
around
in
the
bottom
of
her
jingly
bag,
shoving
aside
a
pack
of
gum,
a
miniature
Rubik’s Cube
key
chain,
a
tube
of
ChaCha
Red
lipstick.
    Pay
dirt.
Change.
She
pumped
the
machine
full
and—oh
yeah—java.
No
workaholic
could
resist
coffee, even
the
crummy
vendingmachine
beverage.
    Juggling
her
notebook,
purse
and
two
foam
cups,
she
made
her
way
back
to
the
lab
room.
The
second
cup would
make
her
staying
put
seem
natural.
    Felicia
edged
closer
to
his
desk,
hitching
a
hip
up
on
one
corner,
toppling
a
pile
of
his
files
with
her notebook
and
sequined
bag.
And
still
no
reaction.
    Holy
Sister
Mary
Discipline,
how
easy
it
would
be
to
utilize
her
hightech
training
and
kill
this
man.
He wouldn’t
be
the
wiser
until
the
bullet
popped
behind
his
ear
or
a
blade
slipped
between
his
ribs.
He
was
so damn
vulnerable
and
seemed
completely
oblivious.
    Felicia
placed
the
steaming
coffee
beside
his
screen
while
bringing
her
own
cup
to
her
face
and
simply