Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Today's Favorite Passage

There was no hulking ex-Special Forces commando. The woman, about five-five, was dressed in a masculine-cut, black suit. Light-brown hair poked out from the back of her head in a pony.
"Reagan," Guzman whispered, "Logan."
The woman reached out to shake Jon's hand. He took it. The skin tingled down his arms. He didn't like the unexpected, even if it was not unpleasant. And she wasn't unpleasant—looking. Even in the dull, early-evening light, she reminded Jon of his old hero, Dara Torres, from the Beijing Olympics. She could be Dara Torres' sister, with longer, darker hair.
"You're staring," Roger said.
Jon's face burned.
"Doesn't go with—the face doesn't go with the—the voice," he mumbled.
She glanced back at him after fiddling a moment with some kind of electronics.
"Been told I have a deep voice," she said.
Jon exhaled, waiting for the required, "For a girl." It was a beautiful voice. In a dizzying fraction of a second, Cupid rammed Jon in the butt with a ten-foot spear. The needle-point had to have jutted out his hip.

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