Chapter FiveVan pulled his trench coat closed to ward off the chill of the late afternoon breeze as he paced in front of Tewksbury Gun Works. Three days had passed since the air raid at Broadcasting House, and he couldn’t purge the attractive reporter from his mind. After the all clear sounded, they’d made their way to a British restaurant near Oxford Circus and grabbed a bite to eat. Interesting how coming close to death whetted his appetite. Or maybe it was time spent with the enigmatic woman.
He’d tap-danced around asking her age, but he’d guess she was only a few years younger than his own thirty-eight years. Faint lines in her porcelain skin bracketed her clear blue eyes, the color of an Iowa sky in mid-June. No matter how much he probed, Miss Strealer wasn’t forthcoming about her pe
