The Prince Of Kuching 43 Interlude

Meaghan was sipping her morning coffee when Tina emerged from her room, wearing a bright pink s.h.i.+rt and Patrick Starr boxer shorts. Yawning, she shouldered past Meaghan, grabbed a container of orange juice from the refrigerator, and fumbled for a mug on the counter-top.

"You're early today," Meaghan observed over her steaming mug.

Tina shrugged. "I didn't finish my homework yesterday, so I wanted to wake up early and finish it before school." Giving her sister an absentminded hug, the younger girl wandered back to her room, mug in hand.

"Don't be late for the bus!" Meaghan called. She finished her coffee, rinsed out the mug and placed on the drying rack. Taking her time back to her bedroom, she b.u.mped the sideboard, causing their parent's wedding alb.u.m to hit the floor with a soft thump.

She picked up, and noted that the threads holding the leather cover together were unraveling a bit on one of the corners. Feeling guilty about dropping it, she carefully replaced it and proceeded into her room to get ready for work.

~ ~ ~

At the office, she continued her a.n.a.lysis of the information trickling in from Carmen. It had been a week since the first wiretap information, and she had an idea on how everything was interrelated.

On impulse, she pulled Ivoire's file from her bag and plugged the thumb drive into her computer, and attempted to match any key words.

One of the companies immediately caught her eye, and she wondered why she hadn't seen it before. She cross referenced her current data, and there it was: Chiang Tung Investments. The company was identified both in Ivoire's file and in the data coming from her co-workers.

Feeling like she was onto a lead, she sent an email to Rickie asking to meet him.

Later that afternoon, when Meaghan walked to Rickie's office, she was sure that her instincts were on the right trail.

Her thoughts were scattered to the four winds, however, when, as soon as the door was opened, she was enveloped in a hug, the familiar scent tugging at her senses.

Rickie savored the feel of his woman in his arms. She fit perfectly under his chin, her hair smelled of strawberries. She gave him an answering squeeze and then pulled back.

"I needed that," he admitted out loud.

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At his statement, she placed a warm palm on his cheek, a gesture he already recognized and craved.

Stepping back further, he took her hand and guided it to one of the chairs in front of his desk, and sat in the other, their knees almost touching. With an effort, he stopped staring at the length of leg revealed by her skirt, and tried to focus on the folder she handed to him.

"What did you find?" He asked in an almost normal tone.

She stopped smiling and turned very serious. "I think something bad is planned for this weekend."