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Zusatztext Praise for Hothouse Orchid “Woods glibly lets the reader stay well ahead of the legal posse tracking the killer while still keeping a card or two up his sleeve. Playful dialogue and romantic sexual escapades lighten the atmosphere.”— Publishers Weekly More Praise for Stuart Woods “Stuart Woods is a no-nonsense! slam-bang storyteller.”— Chicago Tribune “A world-class mystery writer...I try to put Woods’s books down and I can’t.”— Houston Chronicle “Mr. Woods! like his characters! has an appealing way of making things nice and clear.”— The New York Times “Woods certainly knows how to keep the pages turning.”— Booklist “Since 1981! readers have not been able to get their fill of Stuart Woods’ New York Times bestselling novels of suspense.”— Orlando Sentinel Informationen zum Autor Stuart Woods Klappentext Home gets hot for CIA Special Agent Holly Barker in this novel in #1 New York Times bestselling author Stuart Woods's thrilling series. After Holly Barker lets an international terrorist slip through her fingers for a second time, the CIA thinks she might want a long vacation. So Holly returns to her hometown of Orchid Beach, Florida, where she had been police chief for many years. But a very unpleasant surprise awaits her. Many years earlier, while she was in the army, Holly and another female officer had brought charges against their commander for sexual harassment. Holly had managed to fight him off, but the other woman, a young lieutenant, had not. The officer in question was acquitted of all charges, and has also left the army-for a job as Orchid Beach's new police chief. Now Holly must decide whether to return to the CIA-or seek her revenge... I Holly Barker arrived at CIA headquarters, in Langley, Virginia, at her usual seven thirty a.m., parked the car in her reserved spot and took the elevator to her floor. She set her briefcase on the desk, hung her coat on the back of the door and sat down, ready to do the work she always did before her boss, Deputy Director for Operations, or DDO, Lance Cabot, arrived. To her surprise, the door between their adjoining offices opened, and he stood there, looking at her in his wry way. “Good morning,” he said, “and no cracks about how early I’m in.” Holly smiled. “Good morning,” she replied. “Come in.” He stood aside and let her pass into his office, which was much larger and more luxuriously furnished than hers. Rumor was that Lance had furnished the office out of his own pocket, but Holly knew him better than that. He was much more likely to have found a way for the Agency to pay the tab. He waved her to a seat. “Coffee?” he asked, picking up a pot from the paneled cupboard that contained a small kitchenette and a fully stocked bar. “Yes, thank you.” Lance poured them both a cup and sat down at his desk. “Have I ever told you how good you are at your job?” he asked. Holly blinked. “Not in so many words.” “We’ve both been working on this floor for three years,” he said, “and, quite frankly, I think you could do my job as well as I do.” Holly blinked in astonishment. Lance had always been miserly with praise, apparently believing that a “well done” sufficed. “Except for the politics,” Lance said. He was right about that, she knew. “Well . . .” “You’re hopeless at the politics.” “I’m working on that,” she said. “Yes, but you’re still hopeless.” “Not without hope of improvement,” she said, contradicting him. Lance smiled a little. “Well, you can hope.” “Lance,” she said, “I hope this is all a prelude to a big promotion, a larger office, a huge increase in salary and a Company Cadillac.” This was said less than half in jest. “As I said, Holly, you can hope.” Lance pushed back from his desk, crossed his legs and sipped his coffee. “Actu...
