He stared at her from behind his desk, unimpressed, because he was always unimpressed when he stared at her. Then his attention slipped behind her to Marconi. “Lauren.” He greeted her warmly, and Gretchen’s eyes widened. She shot Marconi a smug smile, but the woman brushed by her without comment. “And Dr. White,” Gibbs said, finally acknowledging her, his tone about ten degrees cooler than when he’d addressed Marconi. “To what do I owe this . . . pleasure?” “See,” Gretchen said beneath her breath to Marconi, who gave her a look Gretchen was realizing meant behave in Marconi-speak.
