“What do you know about my work, Captain Fox?”

“You research nuclear fusion.”

“My goal is to develop fusion power as an economically viable energy source. Two days ago, a representative from our government visited me at my lab in California. He requested that I continue my research under their supervision. All my results would be exclusive property of the Department of Defense. I turned them down.”

“Surely you don’t think the government is trying to kill you simply because you wouldn’t work for them.”

“No. They don’t want my death. They want my work. And what better way to get it than to place someone, say a bodyguard, in a position where they had a reason to stay with me night and day? Even better, what if they sent a beautiful woman who would have unlimited opportunities to gather information?”

He could see the exact moment she understood his point. Twin spots of color bloomed in her cheeks—and he would bet it wasn’t because he’d called her beautiful.

Her lips thinned. “You think I was sent here to spy on you.”

Dear Reader,

This year may be winding down, but the excitement’s as high as ever here at Silhouette Intimate Moments. National bestselling author Merline Lovelace starts the month off with a bang with A Question of Intent, the first of a wonderful new miniseries called TO PROTECT AND DEFEND. Look for the next book, Full Throttle, in Silhouette Desire in January 2004.

Because you’ve told us you like miniseries, we’ve got three more for you this month. Marie Ferrarella continues her family-based CAVANAUGH JUSTICE miniseries with Crime and Passion. Then we have two military options: Strategic Engagement features another of Catherine Mann’s WINGMEN WARRIORS, while Ingrid Weaver shows she can Aim for the Heart with her newest EAGLE SQUADRON tale. We’ve got a couple of superb stand-alone novels for you, too: Midnight Run, in which a wrongly accused cop has only one option—the heroine!—to save his freedom, by reader favorite Linda Castillo, and Laura Gale’s deeply moving debut, The Tie That Binds, about a reunited couple’s fight to save their daughter’s life.

Enjoy them all—and we’ll see you again next month, for six more of the best and most exciting romances around.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Editor

Aim for the Heart
Ingrid Weaver

INGRID WEAVER

admits to being a sucker for old movies and books that can make her cry. A Romance Writers of America RITA® Award winner for Romantic Suspense and a national bestselling author, she enjoys creating stories that reflect the adventure of falling in love. When she and her husband aren’t dealing with the debatable joys of living in an old farmhouse, you’ll probably find Ingrid going on a knitting binge, rattling the windows with heavy metal or rambling through the woods in the back forty with her cats. You can visit Ingrid’s Web site at http://www.ingridweaver.com.

This book is dedicated to Susan Litman and Kim Nadelson, two extraordinary editors who helped bring Eagle Squadron to life.

Thank you both for sharing the adventure.

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“Dr. Lemay, get down!”

The cry was muffled by the lap of water in the canal below him and the noise of traffic at his back. Hawk couldn’t be certain he’d heard it. Curious, he pushed away from the stone wall that bordered the canal and turned around. The last rays of afternoon sunlight gilded the gabled windows and copper rooftops of Gamla Stan, Stockholm’s Old Town, but the street level was already cloaked in dusk. Headlights bored through puffs of exhaust. Against the glow of shop windows on the other side of the road, pedestrians were swiftly moving shadows, their shoulders hunched against the breeze.

“Dr. Lemay!”

Hawk spotted her then. A woman was running along the sidewalk. He had a quick impression of blond hair and an athlete’s stride before she disappeared behind a bus. As soon as the bus had passed, she leaped off the sidewalk and darted through the traffic toward him.

Tires screeched as a taxi braked to avoid her. There was a thud and the crunch of metal as a boxy delivery truck plowed into the taxi. It spun into the woman’s path. Without breaking stride, she hurdled over the taxi’s hood, slid down the front fender and kept running.

Hawk held up his palms and started forward. Was she suicidal or just plain crazy? “Stop!” he shouted. “Watch out!”

“Get down!” she repeated. She dodged past a station wagon and reached the curb just as Hawk did. She didn’t stop. She launched herself through the air, hitting him square in the chest.

Hawk staggered backward at the impact. She wasn’t a large woman but her momentum was too much to counteract. Off balance, he hit the sidewalk hard on his butt. His hands smacked the pavement behind him. His teeth clacked together, cutting off the oath he muttered.

Instead of apologizing, the woman threw her weight against his shoulders to knock him flat on his back. Before he could catch his breath, she spread-eagled herself on top of him. “Stay down,” she ordered. “The shooter is on the second floor.”

He lifted his head. “What—”

“Building across the street.” She slapped her hand to his forehead and pushed his head back down. “The traffic will provide us some cover as long as you stay low. Keep still while I call for assistance.”

“Ma’am—”

“Captain Sarah Fox,” she said. “United States Army.”

Army? Hawk twisted his head to look at her, but all he could see was her left ear and the curve of her cheek. She wasn’t wearing a uniform. She wore a black wool coat. A silk scarf in a swirl of tropical colors was knotted at her throat. The fringe brushed his nose, bringing with it an aroma reminiscent of cinnamon.

She shifted, taking her hand from his head to reach into the pocket of her coat and withdraw a phone. With her forearm braced against his chest, she used her teeth to yank up the antenna, then thumbed a button. She spoke rapidly in what sounded like Swedish.

As a rule, Hawk didn’t take this long to work things through. Sure, he liked to be confident of his facts before he drew any conclusions because he hated to be wrong, but he wasn’t normally at a loss. He could blame it on jet lag, or on the shock of being tackled by a strange woman…or on the sensation of warm, spicy-smelling female draped over his body and silk tickling his nose.

With an effort he forced his brain into gear. She was an American; she said she was from the army. She knew his name. She said there was a shooter. She had spread herself over him as if she were trying to shelter him…

Damn! She was trying to shield him with her own body. The realization wiped everything else from his mind. Hawk clamped his arm around her back, hooked his leg over hers and rolled them both toward the stone wall he had been lounging against only seconds ago.

She grunted as his full weight settled on top of her. She shoved at his chest. “Dr. Lemay, you have to get off me. Your life is in danger.”

“First of all, I don’t believe the government’s story,” he said. “And second, even if I did, I don’t consider my life worth more than yours.”

“It’s my job to protect you.”

“I never hired you.”

“This is hardly the time to debate my orders.” She bucked beneath him, folding her arms in and her knees up. With a move too quick to follow, she flipped him to his back, then scrambled over him to crouch at his side. Keeping herself between him and the street, she reached into her pocket once more. This time she withdrew a handgun.

The two-tone bleat of a siren sounded in the distance. Voices came from the street. The taxi driver was arguing with the driver of the delivery truck. More cars screeched to avoid them. A crowd was gathering.

But the woman appeared oblivious to the commotion she had caused. She sat back on one heel, bracing her elbow on her upraised knee to steady her gun. Her head moved from side to side as she scanned the area.

Hawk sat up behind her and followed her gaze. He saw plenty of faces turned toward them, but he couldn’t see any threat. He moved close to the woman’s shoulder. “Whatever you think you saw, ma’am—”

“Captain Sarah Fox,” she said again. “United States Army. I would show you my identification but I’m occupied right now.”

“I don’t think anyone’s shooting at me. If they were, we would both be dead.”

“Which is why I knocked you down, sir. I saw a rifle.”

“Where?”

“The dark-yellow brick building. Third window from the left, second floor above the antique store.”

The truck that had hit the taxi blocked his view. Hawk leaned to the side and scrutinized the window she had described. It was a multipaned casement style, divided vertically by a black frame, identical to all the other windows in the quaint, centuries-old structure. One side had been cranked open, which was unusual, considering the chill in the air—it was November —but nothing was visible inside. “I don’t see anything.”

“Chances are he would have retreated when he realized he couldn’t make his shot, but he could still be in the area.” The siren grew louder. She raised her voice. “With the wall and the canal at our backs and the truck giving us cover in front, this is a good defensive position. It would be safest to stay where we are until the police get here.”

Hawk moved his gaze from the open window where there might or might not have been a gunman and focused on the woman at his side.

She had twice identified herself as Captain Sarah Fox. Her military bearing, her physical agility and the ease with which she handled her firearm supported her claim. Yet she didn’t look like a soldier. Her features were a study in classic softness, like something from a painting by Rembrandt. Wisps of hair the color of ripe wheat had pulled loose from the clip at the back of her head to tease her cheeks. The slim fingers that gripped her gun were delicately feminine. Her voice, even when it was barking orders, had a smoky timbre that evoked images of dimly lit bars rather than battlefields.

Hawk wasn’t accustomed to following orders. He didn’t have the temperament to obey blindly. He always preferred to work things through for himself.

But he was no fool. Although he didn’t believe the government’s story about a hired killer out to get him, this woman obviously did. What if he was wrong?

He might be willing to gamble his own life, but he had no right to gamble with hers.

The warm air hit Sarah like a fist the moment she entered the hotel lobby. Until now, the pain had been numbed by the cold. This was supposed to be light duty, an easy breather while the injury she’d suffered during her previous mission finished healing. It shouldn’t have presented a problem, but she hadn’t anticipated needing to tackle her subject within minutes of her arrival.

“Captain Fox, are you all right?”

She paused to glance at the man beside her. She didn’t want to tilt her head, so her gaze only reached his chin. “That’s what I should be asking you, Dr. Lemay.” She began a careful visual sweep of the lobby. The marble-and-gilt old-world elegance of the King Gustav Hotel was illuminated by wall sconces. Great for atmosphere, not good for visibility. “I’ll arrange for a doctor to check you over in case you got a concussion when you hit the sidewalk.”

“I don’t need a doctor. You’re the one who seems to be in discomfort.”

He was more observant than most people, she thought. That didn’t surprise her, considering the number of degrees Hawkins Lemay had the right to string after his name. He was a Nobel laureate, a bona fide genius. He wouldn’t be an easy man to deceive. “No, I’m fine. I regret having to knock you down, but it was necessary.”

“Was it? I thought the police didn’t find anything when they checked that building where you saw the gunman. They appeared to give us a ride to my hotel out of courtesy for your rank rather than out of a need for security.”

Satisfied that the lobby didn’t hold any immediate threat, Sarah started forward. “That’s true, but I hadn’t expected them to find any trace of the shooter. By all accounts, we’re dealing with a professional.”

“Could have been a mop handle.”

“What?”

“The object you saw in the window. It could have been some innocent cleaning crew at work instead of this alleged assassin.”

“Trust me, Dr. Lemay. I do have some experience with firearms and am able to recognize one.”

“It was dusk and you’re probably jet-lagged like me.”

“I’ve been informed of your skepticism. We can discuss this further once you’re somewhere safe.” She gestured toward the front desk. “Let me pick up my bag first. I left it here when they told me you had gone for a walk.”

He put his palm on the small of her back as they moved toward the desk. It was a courtly gesture. It went along with the faint trace of the South that tinged his deep voice, a holdover from his early childhood. It also fit with the gallant way he’d tried to protect her out there on the sidewalk…even though he claimed not to believe her.

Sarah was accustomed to working with men as her equals. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been treated with gallantry. She had to admit it was a pleasant change, but she couldn’t allow it to distract her attention.

She was here to protect him. Those were her orders. Work with the local authorities, organize security and take whatever measures were necessary to keep Hawkins Lemay alive while he attended the Stockholm Energy Conference. Once the conference ended, so did her mission.

She retrieved her suitcase from the desk clerk and turned toward the elevator.

Lemay took the suitcase from her grip before they had gone two steps. “Please, allow me.”

She decided not to argue with the courtesy—she preferred to keep both hands free, anyway. Besides, the weight of the gear in her suitcase was substantial. “Thank you.”

“How did you know where to look?” he asked.

“I was scanning the buildings as I walked and spotted the glint from the sniper’s scope.”

“I meant how did you know where to look for me?”

“Your hobbies include fishing. Since Stockholm is built on islands, I deduced you would likely gravitate toward water so I chose the route that led to the nearest bridge.”

“That’s very astute reasoning, but how did you know about my hobbies?”

“I assembled a background file on you when I accepted this mission and I memorized it on the flight over.” She stopped in front of the elevator. It was an old-fashioned model with frosted glass doors and a folding metal gate. The visibility it provided was an asset—Sarah could see at a glance it was empty.

“Background file?” Lemay asked as they stepped into the car.

“It’s standard operating procedure, Dr. Lemay. Nothing personal. Unfortunately, it appears as if the shooter we encountered this afternoon has acquired information about your habits, as well.” She closed the doors and slid the gate into position. She pressed the button for the fifth floor, which was the top story of the historic building that served as the hotel’s main wing. The elevator started upward with a jerk. “As I said before, we can discuss this once we’re somewhere more secure.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Since I’m your bodyguard, I’ll be staying with you.”

“Wait a minute. I never agreed to this.”

“It’s the only way to do my duty properly. Until the conference is over, I’m your shadow. You don’t go anywhere without me.”

He hit the emergency stop button. The car shuddered as it clunked to a halt between the second and third floors. “This has gone far enough.”

“You have a two-room suite consisting of a bedroom and sitting room. I realize the rooms in the King Gustav are small by North American standards, but there should be adequate space for both of us.”

“That’s not the point.”

“I’ll bunk down in the sitting room. I’ve already arranged to have a cot sent up.”

He set her suitcase on the floor and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “I didn’t agree to any of this. Who sent you? Let me talk to your commanding officer.” He paused. “Captain?”

She had tried to keep her face expressionless but she hadn’t been able to stop the wince when he’d touched her bruises. She shrugged off his grip and stepped back. “My C.O. for this mission is Major Mitchell Redinger. You can reach him at Fort Bragg. I’ll give you his contact number once we’re in your suite.”

He leaned down to bring his face level with hers. “What’s wrong? And don’t tell me it’s nothing.”

There was no point lying—even someone who wasn’t as intelligent as Lemay would be able to see she was in pain. “I took a round during my previous mission,” she said. “My body armor stopped the bullet but the impact of the high-caliber round dislocated my left shoulder.”

He returned his hand to her shoulder. He didn’t touch her. He held his fingers a breath above her coat, then caught a stray lock of her hair and tucked it behind her ear.

The gesture was so unexpected, so…tender, it took Sarah a moment before she could continue. “There was some bruising so the joint is still somewhat sensitive,” she said. “I assure you it won’t interfere with my ability to do my duty.”

He dropped his hand. “You hit me with your left shoulder when you knocked me down,” he murmured. “You reinjured it because of me.”

“My comfort is immaterial. My duty is to protect you.”

“My God, you don’t even know me.”

He was wrong, she thought. She knew every fact about Hawkins Lemay that could be gathered by Army Intelligence. The background file she’d assembled had been impressively thick and contained far more than a list of his hobbies. And it had been a long flight.

His credentials as a scientist were beyond repute, his accomplishments in the field of particle physics were astounding. At only thirty-five, he was the world’s leading expert on nuclear fusion, respected by his colleagues, courted by foreign governments and ambitious businessmen alike…and considered important enough by the American government to warrant personal protection. Major Redinger’s orders had come straight from the Pentagon.

Still, there were things the file hadn’t told her. She’d known Lemay was six foot two, 198 pounds, physically fit because of his daily jogging, but she hadn’t known how gracefully he moved, or how long and tanned his fingers were, or how the battered, brown leather jacket he wore creaked subtly with his motions and smelled so deliciously of fresh air and man…

“You’re the man I’ve been assigned to protect, Dr. Lemay,” she said. “That’s really all I need to know.” She stretched past him to restart the elevator. It resumed its slow ascent with a jerk. Lemay reached out to steady her, but she ignored him and took a quick step sideways.

He picked up her suitcase. His voice was low and tense. “I’m sorry I hurt you. Would it help to put ice on your shoulder?”

“No problem. I’ll be fine.”

“Who were you protecting that time?”

She kept her attention on the passing floors. “Excuse me?”

“When you were shot?”

“It was a hostage rescue. A seven-year-old boy.”

“Since when does the Army do hostage rescue… Ah. I should have seen it.” His voice took on a curl of interest. “Hostage rescue, bodyguard detail. You’re no ordinary soldier, you’re with Delta Force.”

His insight didn’t surprise her. After all, he was a genius. “Yes, sir. Here’s our floor. Stay back until I check the corridor.” She opened the gate with one hand and slipped her gun from her pocket with the other. She listened first, but she heard nothing from the hall. She held up her palm, motioning Lemay to remain where he was, then stepped out of the elevator. When she assured herself the way was clear, she glanced behind her.

She had half expected him to defy her order and follow her, but he was still standing by the elevator, her suitcase tucked under one arm as if it weighed nothing. His jacket gaped open, exposing a wrinkled denim shirt. The lighting in the corridor was as subdued as it had been in the lobby, yet the shadows couldn’t hide the sharp glint in his gaze.

The striking blue eyes he’d inherited from Cynthia Hawkins, his New England mother. The midnight-black hair and strong bone structure had been passed down from Pascal Lemay, his Cajun father. Those were facts she had known since she’d memorized his face from the photograph in his background file.

But the photo hadn’t shown that gleam in his eyes. It was a glimpse of the power that dwelled behind the distinctive features, a hint of Dr. Hawkins Lemay’s awesome intellect.

He held her gaze as he closed the distance between them. His big body moved with the careless ease of a predator, another fact that wasn’t contained in his file. He paused in front of her, once more filling her senses with the scent of leather and man. “Tell me the truth, Captain Fox,” he said. “What’s the real reason you’re here?”

Chapter 2

Hawk crossed his ankles and leaned against the door frame as he watched Captain Fox move through the bedroom. Like the rest of the suite she’d already been through, the bedroom was decorated predominantly in ivory and pale rose, with antique furniture that carried the dark patina of age. But the captain wasn’t interested in the décor any more than he was. She’d claimed she was checking for bombs or booby traps, and she appeared to be doing a thorough job.

His belongings were still in his suitcase—he hadn’t taken the time to unpack before he’d felt the need to go out for a walk—but even the suitcase hadn’t escaped her scrutiny. She was sticking to her story, yet the more Hawk thought about it, the more he wondered whether he should trust her.

That wasn’t anything new. He seldom trusted anyone. “Don’t you find it odd that out of all the soldiers who could have been assigned to guard me, your Major Redinger chose an injured woman?”

She strode past the bed to the window, tested the lock, then closed the curtains. “Not odd in the least, Dr. Lemay. I was the best person for the job.”

“Because you speak Swedish?”

“Yes, that was one of the factors in my favor.”

“What are some of the others?”

“I’m an excellent shot. And like many of the other soldiers of Delta Force, I’ve received bodyguard training from the Secret Service.” She did a final survey of the bedroom and its adjoining bathroom, then walked past him to return to the suite’s elegant sitting area. “And as I already told you, my injury won’t interfere with my ability to do my duty. The bulk of my work will involve coordinating security with the hotel and the local police.”

He pivoted to keep her in sight. Her inspection apparently complete, she unbuttoned her coat as she moved to the carved wooden wardrobe beside the suite’s door. He was relieved to see that she didn’t betray any difficulty moving her shoulder when she hung up her coat. While he still needed to be more certain of his facts before he could trust her, the pain he’d seen earlier when he’d grabbed her had been authentic, he was certain of that.

Her description of her injury had been curtly businesslike. She hadn’t wanted his sympathy. Why? Was it because she was trying to be professional, or because she simply didn’t like admitting vulnerability? Both, he decided. “Is personal protection your specialty?” he asked.

“My duties are varied, depending on the mission,” she replied, taking her cell phone and her gun from her coat. She closed the wardrobe and turned to face him. “But my specialty is intelligence.”

She wore a turtleneck sweater and tailored pants. Like her coat, they were black. Unlike her coat, they didn’t conceal her figure.

Hawk saw that her body was as feminine as her face, an appealing combination of slenderness and curves. Softness over strength, like the silk scarf at her neck that was a whimsical splash of color against the sober black of her clothes. Yet her appeal arose from more than her appearance. It was the fluid way she moved and the confident way she angled her chin. Although she wasn’t tall, she had the kind of presence that gave the impression of height.

She slipped her phone into her pants pocket and reached behind her to tuck her gun into her waistband at the small of her back. The movement tightened her sweater over her breasts. Firm, temptingly rounded breasts that would fit perfectly into his palms…

Hawk lifted his gaze to her face.

She was staring straight at him, so she had to have noticed where he’d been looking. She seemed to have guessed what he’d been thinking, too. Yet she didn’t shrink from his regard. She met it with the assurance of a woman who was at ease with her sexuality and saw no need to deny it.

Sarah Fox was an intriguing woman, a study in contradictions. She handled a gun as easily as a telephone. She had chosen a career in a male-dominated field, yet she was blatantly female.

What kind of woman would risk her life for a stranger?

Or had she?

Damn, he’d lost his train of thought. What had they been talking about? “You said you work in intelligence?”

“Yes.”

Pieces moved into place. An alternate explanation for her presence began to form. “It’s finally starting to make sense.”

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s why the government chose to send you here.”

“I told you why. While you are in Stockholm you are the target of an assassin.”

“And when did you first learn about this assassination plot?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Yes, that’s when I was informed, as well.”

She shook her head. More strands of hair slid loose from her clip to brush the side of her face. “Dr. Lemay, why are you so skeptical? I would have thought that an intelligent man like you would have been grateful for our help.”

“It’s the timing that made me skeptical, Captain Fox. It’s too convenient. The government ‘discovered’ this threat to my life less than twelve hours after I refused their offer.”

“What offer?”

She sounded genuinely puzzled, he thought. Then again, what man would question anything she said in that smoky velvet voice of hers? He looked at the way her hair haloed her face, and he remembered the pleasure he’d felt when he’d held a lock between his fingers.

Was that another reason she’d been chosen for this mission?

The pleasure dissolved. He straightened up from the door frame and moved toward the sitting room window.

“Please, keep away from the window, Dr. Lemay. The curtains are closed, but the lamp casts your shadow on the fabric.”

He still didn’t have enough facts to form a definite conclusion, he reminded himself. He changed direction, crossing the room to the inlaid-walnut desk that held the suite’s fax machine and one of the telephones. He steepled his fingers on the desk’s glossy surface. “What do you know about my work, Captain Fox?”

“You research nuclear fusion.”

“My goal is to develop fusion power as an economically viable energy source.”

“Yes, I’m aware that you published a landmark paper on the subject several years ago, but you’ve kept your research confidential since then. That’s what you plan to speak about before the closing ceremonies on Saturday, isn’t it?”

“Correct.” He lifted his gaze to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk so he could watch her reflection. “Two days ago a representative from our government visited me at my lab in California. He requested that I continue my research under their supervision. All my results would be the exclusive property of the Department of Defense.”

She hesitated. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“No?”

“No, sir. That information was not in any of the sources I accessed.”

“Don’t you find that odd?”

“Yes, it’s definitely odd. A fact like that should have been made available to me. You said you refused?”

“Yes. I turned them down. I gave them nothing.” He folded his arms over his chest and faced her. “Less than twelve hours later, they suddenly discovered someone wants to kill me. I find that odd, too.”

“What does that have to do with—” Her breath hissed out. “Surely you don’t think the government is trying to kill you simply because you wouldn’t work for them.”

“No. I don’t think anyone’s trying to kill me, especially not the government. They don’t want my death, they want my work.” He studied her face. “And what better way to get it than to place someone, say a bodyguard, in a position where they had a reason to stay with me night and day?”

“Dr. Lemay—”

“Even better, what if they sent a beautiful woman, one whose healing injury would arouse my sympathy? She would have unlimited opportunities to gather information. Not only about my work but about whom I associate with while I’m at this conference and what other offers I might receive.”

He watched her string the facts together. It didn’t take her long. He could see the exact moment she understood his point. Twin spots of color bloomed in her cheeks—he’d bet it wasn’t because he’d called her beautiful.

Her lips thinned. “You think I was sent here to spy on you.”

“Were you?”

Her jaw flexed, as if she were clenching her teeth. “My appearance, my sex and my physical condition are irrelevant. I am an officer in the United States Army. I am not a spy.”

“You’re not regular Army, you’re Delta Force. From what I’ve heard, you’re all trained in unconventional warfare. Your stealth and secrecy are legendary. You don’t play by the rules.”

“Sir—”

“In addition, you’ve admitted you’re an intelligence specialist. You’re trained to gather information.”

“Call my C.O.,” she said. “Major Redinger will confirm my orders. I am here to protect you.”

“But that’s the problem. Would he be telling me the truth, or only confirming the cover story you agreed on?”

The color in her cheeks deepened. Her knuckles whitened as she balled her hands into fists. “I didn’t risk my life by running through four lanes of traffic for the sake of a cover story, Dr. Lemay. And I didn’t knock you to the ground and add another bruise to my shoulder for show.”

Her struggle to control her temper was so obvious, Hawk found he wanted to discard his logic and believe her. “There’s another possibility. Perhaps you aren’t yet aware of the true nature of your mission.”

“I saved your life today, sir. That should be enough truth for both of us.”

“Who wants to kill me?”

“We don’t yet know.”

“What evidence do you have the threat is real?”

“I can’t give you details, but Delta’s intelligence-gathering network is extensive. Our informants let us know when Americans abroad are in jeopardy.”

“In other words, you have no hard proof, do you?”

“The only way I can prove beyond a doubt that I’m right is to let you be killed.” She reached behind her for her gun, glared at him for an instant, then turned and ran lightly to the door.

Someone was knocking, Hawk realized belatedly. He’d been so focused on this woman he hadn’t even noticed.

She pressed herself to the wall beside the door and called out in Swedish. A male voice replied. She took a long look through the peephole before opening the door as far as the security chain would allow. After a brief conversation, she replaced her gun at the small of her back, unhooked the chain and swung the door wide.

A thin blond teenager in the hotel’s blue-and-gold bellhop uniform wheeled a folding cot over the threshold. He smiled shyly at the captain, pocketed the tip she gave him and left.

Silence descended on the suite. Hawk looked from the cot to the black-clad woman who stood by the door. The flush in her cheeks slowly subsided. Her breathing steadied. She walked around the cot, inspecting it as carefully as she’d inspected everything else in the suite. By the time she had finished, she appeared to have her temper under control once again.

Hawk wondered whether she ever allowed herself to lose control completely. Then he found himself wondering what it would be like if she did.

She returned to where he stood, clasped her hands behind her back and braced her feet shoulder-width apart military fashion. She focused on a point somewhere behind him. “I will endeavor not to let your doubts about my honor or my integrity interfere with my duty, Dr. Lemay.”

Hawk raked his hands through his hair. She had turned his argument around. He tried to tell himself his skepticism about the death threat business had a logical basis, but that didn’t stop him from feeling like a jerk. “I didn’t mean to question your honor, Captain Fox. I was questioning your orders.” But even as he said the words, they sounded lame. “I apologize.”

“No apology is necessary, sir. Regardless of what you believe, I intend to perform my duty until I am officially relieved.”

“Captain—”

“This is nothing personal. If you object to the presence of a woman in your suite, I will station myself in the corridor outside your door.”

He’d been wrong. Her control wasn’t as total as he’d thought. Her pulse beat rapidly against the side of her neck. Her pupils had contracted to reveal flashes of gold in her green eyes. The elusive spice of her perfume mixed with the scent of hot skin.

Yet she’d been wrong, too. What was happening between them was definitely personal. It had been from the moment she had been willing to offer her life in order to save his.

Or had she?

He should send her away. Put an end to this charade here and now.

But what if he was wrong?

The question still couldn’t be answered with any certainty. And if he did send her away, what avenue would the government try next? Wouldn’t it be wiser to keep Captain Sarah Fox close until he learned what was really going on?

Hawk hated lies. His entire purpose as a scientist was to seek truth. So, not for one second did he believe the lie he’d just tried to tell himself.

His real reason for not sending this woman away had nothing to do with his work or his principles or whatever conspiracy might be playing out here. It was far more basic than that.

He didn’t want her to leave. Right now what he really wanted was to lean over and place his lips on that delicate, vulnerable spot where her pulse beat at the side of her neck and draw her taste into his mouth the same way he was drawing her scent into his lungs. He wanted to slip his arms around her rigidly held body and press her close until she softened against him, until he saw pleasure instead of pain from his touch, until he discovered what other passions she keep reined beneath her impressive control…

“Dr. Lemay?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened up. “You can stay.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And I’d prefer it if you call me Hawk.”

“Sir?”

“Because I intend to call you Sarah.”

Her bare sole brushed lightly across the carpet as Sarah slid her left foot back and made a quarter turn. She shifted her weight, bringing her right arm forward in a smooth arc. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to focus her energy on the ritual slow-motion movements of tai chi. She often used the exercises to relieve stress, but so far she was finding no ease for the tautness in her muscles.

She had thought Hawkins Lemay was gallant. A gentle intellectual. A man of high principles. She had been impressed by the accomplishments she’d discovered when she’d studied his background. She had been determined to keep him safe, not only because she’d been ordered to but because she had honestly admired him.

Yes, she’d admired him. Who wouldn’t?

She hadn’t guessed that within a few hours of meeting him she would want to do him bodily harm herself.

How dare he question her integrity? If she hadn’t been on duty, if he hadn’t been the subject of her mission, if she hadn’t had the concept of personal honor drummed into her from the time she’d learned to talk, she would have…

What? Hauled back and slugged him?

That would have been dangerous. Not because he might strike back. He wouldn’t. She had recognized the way he’d been looking at her, and it hadn’t been violence that had been on his mind. Or hers, either, if she wanted to be truthful with herself. A large source of the tension that had sparked between them had been from something else entirely.

It had been sex.

Sarah wasn’t naive, nor was she a prude. During the course of her missions with Major Redinger’s team from Eagle Squadron, she regularly worked side by side with virile males in outstanding physical condition. She was accustomed to the effects of ambient testosterone. Most of the time she regarded the men as brothers, but a certain amount of low-key sexual awareness was inevitable. She’d never had a problem controlling it before. After all, it was only sex, not love. It was a normal, healthy physical response, nothing to be ashamed of and no big deal. She wasn’t going to let it interfere with her purpose now.

Call me Hawk.

She gritted her teeth. She had to think of him as Dr. Hawkins Lemay, Nobel laureate, renowned physicist and the subject of her mission. Even if she were interested, that final fact made him off-limits.

No matter how good he smelled.

She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, trying again to relax. Stretch to the side, bring the forearm vertical, circle with the palm. She settled into the familiar sequence. For the next ten minutes she moved around the antique chairs and the spindly-legged sofa in the center of the small sitting room, her body relaxing as it flowed through the routine with practiced ease.

A low trill sounded from the table that was in the midst of the furniture grouping. Sarah hopped over the back of the sofa and snatched up her cell phone before the second ring. “Fox here.”

“I got your message, Captain. What’s the situation?”

It was Mitchell Redinger’s voice. Sarah shot a glance at the door of Hawk’s bedroom to verify it was still closed, then curled one leg beneath her and sank into a corner of the sofa. “My flight was delayed, Major, so Lemay had arrived at the hotel before me. There has already been one attempt on his life.”

“Report.”

She gave her C.O. a summary of the afternoon’s events, including the names of the embassy official she’d contacted when she’d arrived and the police officer who had been first on the scene. She finished by relating the security measures she’d coordinated within the hotel.

“Nice work, Captain.” There was a crackle of static. “Is Lemay cooperating?”

“Grudgingly, sir.”

“I have confidence that you can handle the situation.”

Sarah heard the note of dismissal in Redinger’s tone and spoke quickly. “Was Lemay offered a government position two days ago?”

There was another burst of static. “Say again?”

“Dr. Lemay claims to have been approached by a defense department representative who was interested in his research.”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“Is it true Lemay refused?”

“Yes. Why do you ask?”

Sarah felt a momentary unease but she dismissed it. She probably hadn’t been able to uncover this information while she had researched Hawk’s background because the event had been too recent to be on record. The Major might not have thought to tell her about it because he hadn’t considered it pertinent. “Just verifying my facts, sir,” she replied.

After the call ended, Sarah frowned. Had she been infected by Hawk’s paranoia, or had Major Redinger sounded more distant than usual?

She returned her phone to the table, propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands. She wasn’t going to let doubts infect her mind. Hawk didn’t seem to trust anyone, but Sarah had always been able to trust the army. It was her family, the one constant in her life.

Do your duty like a good little soldier.

Her father’s voice played in her memory. Even now, she felt her spine straighten in response. She pushed to her feet and did a circuit of the room, then opened her suitcase, took out a copy of the conference schedule, a floor plan of the hotel and a high-scale map of Stockholm. She carried them back to the sofa and sat down to study them.

The bedroom door clicked open. “The bathroom’s all yours if you want it, Sarah.”

“Thank you, Dr. Lemay,” she said without turning around. “I’ll order dinner from room service. Is there anything in particular you’d like?”

“That won’t be necessary. How’s your shoulder?”

She rotated it briefly, realizing the increased blood flow from her exercises had dimmed the ache. “It’s much better. Thank you for your concern.”

“Is that the conference schedule?” he asked, his voice growing closer.

She picked up the paper and twisted to hold it out to him. “Yes. Now that you’re here, I’d like to go over tomorrow’s and Saturday’s events with…” Her words trailed off. She tried not to stare.

He was no longer wearing the wrinkled denim shirt and casual pants he’d arrived in. He was wearing a tuxedo. And judging by the superb fit, the suit wasn’t any rental. Then again, he didn’t need help from a tailor to make his shoulders look that wide or his chest that broad. The narrow satin stripe down the side of his trousers gleamed as he walked, emphasizing his long legs and the runner’s muscles of his thighs.

“Are you sure you want to do that now?” he asked. He flipped up the collar of his shirt so he could loop his tie around his neck. The ends of the black tie dangled against his shirtfront as he reached over the back of the sofa to take the schedule from her hand. “The opening reception starts in half an hour.”

She caught a whiff of soap. His jaw gleamed from a fresh shave. His hair was damp and combed straight back from his face, but he hadn’t been able to tame it completely. Wayward curls brushed the back of his collar.

“Sarah? Is there a problem?”

She stood. “I’m not anticipating one, sir. The conference events that take place within the hotel are low risk. I’ve been in contact with the hotel security staff. They have experience overseeing international conferences like this one and are accustomed to working in cooperation with personal bodyguards. They will be monitoring the perimeter at all times and won’t allow anyone into the venue without the proper ID.”

He looked at her, his expression unreadable. “You appear to be very competent at your job.”

“I do my best, sir.”

“Have you changed your mind about being my shadow? If you’d prefer to remain here because of your shoulder—”

“No, I came prepared to accompany you to every event.” She brushed the wrinkles from her pants, suddenly conscious of her appearance. She had removed her shoes and loosened her belt. Her sweater was rumpled and her hair was in tangles around her face. “I simply wasn’t aware that you wanted to attend the reception.”

He held her gaze for a long minute, then returned the schedule to her and walked to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk. He appeared to focus his attention on fastening his tie. “My mistake, Sarah. From now on I’ll try to make you more aware of my wants.”

It wasn’t what he said so much as the way he said it that got to her. Or maybe anything he said when he was looking so damn sexy would make any normal, healthy woman imagine he was talking about more than business.

Hawkins Lemay in a tuxedo. The impact of that sure hadn’t been in his file, either. Sarah allowed herself no more than a moment to absorb the view before she grabbed her shoes, picked up her suitcase and headed toward the bedroom. “I’ll need twenty minutes to change into something more appropriate. Please don’t open the door of the suite or go near any of the windows until I return.”

The hotel ballroom had mirrored walls, making it appear larger than it was, multiplying the sparkle of the three enormous crystal chandeliers that hung suspended from the two-story ceiling and turning the crowd that milled on the marble floor into a series of endlessly repeating fragments of motion. White-gloved waiters wove among the guests to offer platters of hors d’oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A string quartet played on a dais in one corner, providing a refined background to conversations that hummed in several languages.

The reception was an elegant affair, an international gathering of the rich and powerful. Money, brains, political clout—everyone here was a player in the high-stakes world of energy production. Some supplied it, some came to bargain for it and some were willing to wage war for it. Some, like Hawk, were here to speak of alternatives to the status quo.

The Stockholm Energy Conference was supposed to be a forum for discussion, although Hawk knew the most significant discussions wouldn’t be taking place at any of the public functions.

“Champagne, Sarah?” Hawk asked as he scooped a flute from a passing waiter.

“No, thank you, Dr. Lemay.” She didn’t look at him as she answered. She kept her gaze moving in the same slow, methodical sweep she’d been using since they had arrived. A miniature radio receiver was nestled in her left ear, her link to the frequency that was being used by hotel security.

He put his free hand on the small of her back as they strolled along the edge of the room, but she didn’t need to be guided. Although she seldom looked at him, she seemed aware of his every move and anticipated each shift of direction he made. He suspected he wouldn’t be able to guide her, anyway. She didn’t strike him as the kind of woman who could be pushed into doing anything she didn’t want. He placed his hand on her, simply because he liked touching her.

True to her word, she had taken exactly twenty minutes to get ready for this black-tie evening. Any other woman likely would have protested the short notice, but not Sarah. She had risen to the challenge and the result was drawing the attention of every male they encountered.

Her dress was ice blue and glittered as she moved, giving a liquid sheen to her breasts and hips. Her arms and shoulders were covered, but she’d gathered her hair on top of her head, baring her neck and emphasizing the graceful curve of her throat. Her skirt was a wrap style, overlapping at her right hip. The panels parted with each step, displaying a teasing flash of her bare calf.

But Hawk didn’t think she had dressed to entice anyone. The gown was a practical choice since the long sleeves would conceal her bruises. The slinky knit fabric would resist creasing, so it would travel well. It also would allow her ease of movement, as would the wrap skirt. The beaded evening bag that hung by a glittering chain from her good shoulder left her hands free. It wouldn’t hold much more than her cell phone, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she was unarmed. His gaze lingered on her leg. She probably had strapped her gun to her thigh.

He spread his fingers, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the dress from her skin. “Although you did mention that your appearance is irrelevant, I have to say you look lovely, Sarah.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I take it that uniform you’re wearing isn’t typical Army issue.”

“As a matter of fact, I acquired it for a previous mission. I was part of an advance reconnaissance team attending a reception at a dictator’s palace.”

“You were spying.”

She walked a few steps in silence before she spoke again. “We were gathering intelligence so that the dictator’s guards didn’t slaughter the American students they were holding hostage there as well as the assault team sent to rescue them. You might call it spying, I call it saving lives.”

“Was the mission successful?”

“Yes, Dr. Lemay.”

“Please, call me Hawk.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“If you plan to spend the next three days with me, what would it hurt?”

“Our relationship is strictly professional, Dr. Lemay. It would be best if we remain focused—” She paused, her back tensing beneath his palm. “There is a middle-aged bald man ten yards to our left who is observing you. Five-ten, around two hundred pounds, stands with his head pushed forward, favors his right knee. Do you know him?”

Hawk sipped his champagne as he glanced to his left, although Sarah’s description had been accurate enough for him to guess who it was without looking. “Fedor Yegdenovich. He’s a physicist.”

“A colleague of yours?”

“Unfortunately, no. He considers fusion research to be a race, and he’s determined Mother Russia will win.”

“And the short, intense-looking man with him?”

“Earl Drucker,” Hawk said. “Of the Texas Druckers. His oil is running out and he wants to diversify into other energy sources. The deal he proposed to me last month was far richer than the government’s. He offered me a fortune in exchange for my research.”

“You’re a popular man, Dr. Lemay. Why didn’t you take his offer?”

“I’m not motivated by money.” He returned his gaze to Sarah. “But since you work in intelligence, you would already know that.”

She dipped her chin in agreement. “Yes, I’m aware of your financial status. The income from the patents you hold on your early discoveries amounts to several million annually and has allowed you to fund your research yourself.”

“Most women would be impressed by that.”

“If I were interested in money, I would have requested an assignment at the mint.”

“Somehow I don’t think that would have suited your temperament.”

“I’m also aware of the fact that you donate the majority of your income to various charities, including veterans’ organizations.”

“Damn, you really are good at your job, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” She met his gaze briefly before she resumed her survey of the room. “Judging by your record of giving to charities, you appear to have a social conscience and a sense of patriotism. Which makes it difficult for me to understand why you refused to accept the offer of our government.”

“Ah. So you checked my story.”

“Of course. No offense meant.”

“No offense taken.” He smiled. “After all, I checked your story, too. As much as I was able to, anyway.”

Her gaze darted to his. “What do you mean?”

“What did you think I was doing while you were going through your tai chi routine? I went on-line with my laptop to do some background research of my own.”

She raised her eyebrows. “And?”

“Your military record is impressive, Captain Fox. I take it your father influenced your career choice.”

If he hadn’t been watching so carefully, he wouldn’t have seen the chink open up in her controlled expression. He glimpsed a tangle of emotions. Pride, longing, pain. He blinked and it was gone.

“Yes, I admired the general,” she said. “It was natural to follow his example.”

The general. Not Dad. Not Pops. A revealing choice of words, Hawk thought. “General Bartholomew Fox, hero of both the Korean and the Gulf Wars, would be a hard act to follow for anyone. Especially a daughter.”

Another momentary chink. She looked away. “I have never shied away from a challenge, Dr. Lemay.”

“Neither have I, Sarah.” He stepped closer, running his palm up the back of her arm. “But I’m surprised you didn’t try to talk me out of attending this reception. If I really am in danger, if the threat to my life is genuine, wouldn’t it have been safer if we remained secluded in the suite?”

A light shudder followed his touch. “Would you have agreed if I’d asked?”

Hawk vividly remembered the way she had looked when he’d first walked out of the bedroom, with her hair loose and her feet bare as she’d curled into the corner of the sofa. She had been even more appealing than she was now, because she hadn’t quite managed to hide the spark of interest that had warmed her gaze as she’d watched him.

But would she have asked him to stay for the sake of her mission or for her? He dropped his hand. “Probably not,” he replied.

“That’s a courageous choice,” she said. “As long as the risk is manageable, it’s better not to give in to threats. The moment we let fear win, we’ve lost.”

“What do you fear, Sarah?”

“Failure, Dr. Lemay.”

It was an honest answer, Hawk decided. Both from the soldier and from the woman.

She pressed her index finger over the receiver in her left ear and stepped away to place herself slightly behind him. A hum of interest spread through the crowd.

Hawk glanced over his shoulder in time to see at least a dozen men in flowing djellabahs stride through the ballroom’s main entrance. They moved as a group, maintaining a ring around the tall, bearded man who walked at their center.

Even though it had been fourteen years since they had last met, Hawk recognized Prince Jibril Ben Nour, the next in line for the throne of the oil-rich Persian Gulf nation of Moukim. The beard was new, but the long nose and the piercing black gaze hadn’t changed. Nor had Jibril’s aura of privilege—he moved with the sure-footed glide of a man who was unaccustomed to encountering obstacles in his path.

The prince and his entourage swept through the crowd without pausing to speak to anyone. They appeared to be heading straight for Hawk. This was what he’d anticipated. Hawk placed his champagne glass on a nearby table and stepped forward to meet them.

Sarah quickly angled herself between Hawk and the approaching men. She pressed her back to his chest and nudged him backward, positioning him closer to one of the emergency exits that led out of the ballroom.

Hawk frowned. Under other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sensation of Sarah’s body rubbing against his, but he knew what she was doing. She was trying to shield him, and he wouldn’t allow it now any more than he’d allowed it this afternoon. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.

“I don’t like the look of this, Dr. Lemay.” She curled her fingers around his wrist. “There are too many of them, and they’re moving too fast. Their floor-length robes could conceal anything.”

He moved his hand to her hip and held her in place. “Relax, Sarah. Nothing’s going to happen.”

She let go of his wrist and lowered her hand to her thigh. Her fingertips brushed the opening in her skirt. She didn’t relax. Hawk could feel a change in the way she held herself, as if she were readying for action. Her breathing became deep and deliberate. Her weight shifted forward to the balls of her feet. The spicy-sweet scent of her perfume strengthened.

In the next instant they were engulfed in a swirl of white. A nasal voice issued a command. The prince’s companions parted, then re-formed into a circle around them, blocking their view of the rest of the ballroom. One man grabbed Sarah by the waist and separated her from Hawk while two others caught Hawk’s elbows. It happened so fast, he was being guided toward the exit before he realized he was moving.

There was a low grunt and a flurry of movement on Hawk’s left. Sarah spun away from the man who held her, anchored her fist in Jibril’s robe and kicked the front panel of her skirt aside. A heartbeat later, her gun was in her hand, the barrel pressed beneath the prince’s beard. “Call off your men,” she ordered. “Now.”

Chapter 3

The moment took on the slow-motion quality of hyperawareness. Sarah’s senses registered everything, from the whisper of settling fabric around her to the lilting strains of the Mozart bagatelle that still played in the ballroom. The receiver in her ear carried a low buzz of inquiry from the hotel security staff who were posted around the exits. They suspected there had been some kind of commotion, but they were unaware of its nature. A human wall draped in white screened their view.

She felt Prince Jibril stir. She knew very well that what she was doing could spark an international incident, but Hawk’s safety was her prime concern. She repositioned her gun beneath the prince’s ear and flicked her gaze across the men who surrounded them. She checked their eyes, searching for a sign that would give away their next move. She was outnumbered and outmuscled. She couldn’t hope to overpower them. She had to play her advantage carefully. “Tell them to release Dr. Lemay, Your Highness.”

“Madam, you are making a serious mistake,” Jibril said.

The prince’s voice was high-pitched for a tall man. His words carried an Oxford accent. Sarah couldn’t tell whether it was fear or anger that tightened his tone. “If I am mistaken, I sincerely apologize,” she said. “But please do as I say. I don’t want to see anyone get hurt.”

The moment dragged out. Sarah kept her breathing even, charging her blood with oxygen, preparing herself for any eventuality. Scenarios flashed through her head, none of them good. Without back-up, standoffs were risky. There were too many variables.

The prince gave a curt order in Arabic. From the corner of her vision, Sarah saw the men holding Hawk let go of his arms and step aside. He seemed uninjured, but she couldn’t spare the time to study him. She kept her attention on the prince’s bodyguards.

They were regarding her with stunned outrage, as if a chair or a hand towel had suddenly developed teeth and bit them.

“Sarah.” Hawk’s voice was a low rumble.

Although she still couldn’t afford to look at him, she responded immediately. She had to let the prince’s men know who was in authority. “Yes, sir?”

“It’s all right. You can put away your weapon.”

She tipped her gun toward the ceiling and took a step to the side, but she remained within easy reach of the prince, her muscles poised to react. This was the trickiest part, like dismounting from a tiger. “It appeared as if Prince Jibril’s men were trying to abduct you, Dr. Lemay.”

The prince gave a barking laugh. “Is that what this is about? Abduct Hawkins? Oh, not at all. I gave orders to escort him from this noisy crowd so we could speak in private.” He spread his hands wide in a gesture of appeasement. “In their zeal to obey me, my men obviously gave the wrong impression.”

Sarah shifted her gaze to the prince. The man was smiling at Hawk, his teeth a white slash in his beard, his black gaze rock steady as he told the lie.

“You’ll have to excuse Sarah, Jibril,” Hawk said, brushing off his sleeves. He straightened his jacket. “She has declared herself to be my bodyguard, and she tends to overreact.”

“An interesting choice, Hawkins. I see the years have not changed your eye for beauty.”

“Nor your appreciation of it. Sarah is very dedicated to her job.”

“And equally as prone to mistakes in her zeal as my palace guard. I do hope those dolts didn’t alarm you.”

Sarah took another look at the men around them. They belonged to the Moukim palace guard? She had been in more trouble than she’d initially thought. These were commandos whose reputation as fighters compared to Eagle Squadron’s best.

“I would like to invite you back to my yacht, Hawkins, so we can converse undisturbed,” the prince continued. “But I wouldn’t want your rather, ah, impetuous pet to misunderstand my intentions again.”

“Sarah,” Hawk said. “Put your gun away. It isn’t necessary.”

“Certainly, sir, as soon as Prince Jibril tells his guards to give us more space,” she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible. “Just to be sure there isn’t another misunderstanding.”

“Jibril?” Hawk asked. “Would you mind humoring her?”

“For you, my old friend, anything.” The prince issued more orders. The men fell back two paces, opening the circle.

As soon as they moved, inquiries crackled over the radio. Sarah saw the hotel security personnel converging on them from the perimeter of the room. Nearby conversations tapered off as guests paused to follow their progress. Within seconds every face in the ballroom was turned toward them.

Satisfied that the several hundred reputable eyewitnesses were swinging the odds back in their favor, Sarah slipped her weapon into the holster on her right leg, twitched her skirt back into place and returned to Hawk’s side.

The moment she was within his reach, Hawk grabbed her gun hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. When she tried to ease away, he pressed her fingers to his sleeve and trapped her wrist against his ribs. Beneath his jacket, his arm was corded steel.

She did a rapid survey of the area, momentarily concerned she had missed some other potential threat, but everything appeared clear. She tipped up her chin to look at him.

It was the first time she’d regarded him directly since the incident had begun. His lips were thinned and his jaw was clenched. The corner of one eye twitched. He dipped his head close to her ear. “This afternoon I wondered whether you were suicidal or just plain crazy,” he muttered. “Now I know you’re both. Don’t move.”

Before she could respond, Hawk released her and stepped forward to shake the prince’s hand. “Jibril, it’s good to see you.”

The prince clasped Hawk’s shoulder. “And you too, Hawkins. How long has it been? Ten years?”

“Fourteen.” He drew back and grasped Jibril’s arm. “You have my deepest apologies for the mix-up. This wasn’t the greeting I would have hoped for.”

“Think nothing of it, my friend. It was rather entertaining. A novel experience.”

“You’re gracious, as always, Jibril.”

The first of the hotel security guards arrived then. Sarah still didn’t like the situation, but she decided matters were under control, now that they were no longer hidden from view. Even a man as powerful as the Moukim crown prince wouldn’t attempt anything overtly hostile in such a public place. She explained to the security staff that it was a false alarm and thanked them for their concern, yet she didn’t relax for an instant.

The glares she was receiving from Jibril’s palace guard were making the hair at the back of her neck tingle. By besting them, however fleetingly, she had not only hurt their male egos, she’d damaged their professional pride. She knew the military mind-set. This insult would not be forgotten.

But it was the emotions she saw when she met Hawk’s gaze that could present a bigger problem.

The danger was far from over. It was only beginning.

Hawk paced across the sitting room, but the suite was too small. He yanked off his tie, balled it in his fist and threw it on the floor, then pivoted and paced to the door. What he really needed was a good, long run to clear his head. Work off the restlessness, the frustration, the fear.

Yes, fear. That was at the root of his anger.

Sarah could have been killed. Any one of Jibril’s guards could have snapped that beautiful neck of hers with one blow. It was a miracle that she had escaped the situation unscathed.

She was an idiot. A madwoman. She’d risked her life unnecessarily because she’d thought she was saving his.

Again.

He hadn’t anticipated this when he’d decided to keep her. He should have thought it through instead of being swayed by the chemistry that was going on between them. Whether the threat to his life was real or not, Sarah was managing to place herself in danger simply because she was so determined to do her job.

Whatever that was.

Damn! He turned away from the door and strode to the sofa. He couldn’t go for a run. He had given Sarah his word that he would remain here. He wasn’t going to add lies of his own to the mix. And who knew what Sarah would do if she came out of the bathroom and found him gone? Would she follow him? Or would she take advantage of the opportunity to hack into his computer?

He peeled off his jacket and looked at the bedroom doorway. Just how dedicated a soldier was she? Could she really have accosted Moukim royalty merely to reinforce her cover story? If so, she’d been a brilliant performer. A true method actor. She’d been completely convincing, from her fighter’s stance to her coolly assessing gaze. And then there had been the way she’d kicked aside her skirt with no regard to modesty.

He dropped his jacket on the back of the sofa. He rubbed his face, forcing himself to take deep breaths. What was wrong with him? The standoff he’d witnessed tonight could have ended in tragedy if Jibril hadn’t decided to defuse the situation, so how could Hawk think of Sarah’s legs?

Yet the image of all that bare skin wouldn’t go away. It had been burned into his memory: delicate ankles, slender calves, taut thighs…with two wide bands of black elastic circling the right one to hold her holster in place. And before her skirt had settled, there had been a glimpse of pale peach lace where her thighs met.

Her underwear was peach-colored lace. Nothing practical or serviceable about that. It was the choice of the woman, not the soldier.

His gaze returned to the bedroom doorway. He heard the flush of the toilet, followed by the sound of running water. He was struck by the intimacy of their situation. Despite the background facts that both of them had dug up, they were still virtual strangers, yet Sarah showed no uneasiness about sharing accommodations with him.

Hawk’s gaze dropped to the cot she had set up. She had placed it between the bedroom and the door of the suite, as if she intended to protect him even while she slept…or give the impression that she protected him.

“I’m finished now. Thank you for waiting.”

He hadn’t heard her approach. She was standing in the doorway. Her face was scrubbed clean of makeup, her hair was a cascade of loose curls around her shoulders. The dress she had worn tonight was draped over her arm in a fall of shimmering ice blue. In its place she wore an olive-green T-shirt and a pair of plaid flannel drawstring pants.

She wasn’t dressed for seduction, she was dressed for bed. Yet the sight of her sent Hawk’s pulse racing. Why was that? Was it the challenge she presented? Or was it because she seemed oblivious to the effect of her appearance? Her lack of vanity was as attractive as the self-assurance she displayed, her take-it-or-leave-it attitude. It arose from that confidence in her femininity he’d noticed the first time she had caught him looking at her body.

The anger he’d been struggling to control shifted. He no longer wanted to grab her and shake her for putting herself in danger. He wanted to kiss her.

He clamped his hands on the back of the sofa. “Sarah, we have to talk.”

“I agree, Dr. Lemay.” She carried her dress to the wardrobe and hung it up beside her coat. Her breasts swayed beneath the T-shirt as she raised her arms. “We need to discuss some ground rules.”

He dug his fingers into the upholstery. “Good. We can’t have a repeat of what happened this evening.”

“Exactly. In the future, I’ll need to know the details of any meetings you arrange.”

“Why? So you can report on them?”

“No, so I can assess the risk and suggest an alternate arrangement.” She took a brush from the bottom of the wardrobe and went over to sit cross-legged in the center of her cot. “I’ll fax a written apology to Prince Jibril tomorrow, but the incident could have been avoided if you had told me you had gone to the reception specifically to meet him.”

She really didn’t give an inch, he thought. And she was right—he had attended the reception in order to meet Jibril. “Sarah, the incident happened because you overreacted. You were jumping at another mop handle.”

“The prince was trying to abduct you, sir.”

“That’s not true. You heard what he said.”

“Precisely.” She tipped her head sideways and ran the brush through her hair from the roots to the tips. “I heard and understood every word he said. I speak Arabic.”

The revelation shouldn’t have surprised him. She had already demonstrated her gift for languages. “And?”

“He lied to you. He didn’t tell his men to escort you to a quieter place. He told them to keep you quiet and get you outside.”

“The two versions sound close. You could have made a mistake with the translation.”

She tipped her head the other way. A shadow of a frown creased her forehead. “I suppose that’s possible, but I don’t believe I did.”

“So now, in addition to the plot to assassinate me, there is a plot to kidnap me? Better not embroider the story too much, Sarah. It’s difficult enough to believe already. I’m just an ordinary man—”

“Bull.”

He let go of the sofa and crossed his arms. “What happened to the ‘Yes, sir. No, sir’?”

“You are not an ordinary man, Dr. Lemay. You’re bright enough to realize the impact that your research into fusion energy could have on the balance of power in the world and even on the course of history, so don’t insult my intelligence by pretending otherwise.” She put down her brush and rotated her shoulder. “People and nations who rely on oil as the source of their income would not be pleased to have their way of life made obsolete. Neither would the big auto companies. Or the unions. Not to mention the various utility companies. I don’t think the issue is who at this conference wants to stop you. It’s who doesn’t.”

He realized her shoulder was probably bothering her again. He already knew she wouldn’t accept his sympathy or any offer of help. Still, he wanted to demand she be more careful, he wanted to shout at her for being reckless enough to get hurt in the first place. He wanted to walk over there and help her finish brushing her hair. “Sarah…”

“And I wouldn’t rule out your good friend Prince Jibril Ben Nour. The oil reserves of Moukim provide his wealth and his political power. How can you trust him when you don’t trust me?”

“What makes you think I trust him?”

That made her pause. Her cheek moved, as if she were chewing it. “You appeared to be friends.”

“We have a connection, but it’s not as simple as friendship.”

“I wasn’t aware of that.”

“Wasn’t it in my file?”

Her gaze flicked over him. “I’ve been discovering there are many things that weren’t in your file.”

There was an intriguing undertone to her words. He crossed the room to stand at the foot of her cot. “Such as?”

She took a deep breath before she would meet his gaze. “Nothing that has any bearing on my duty. What is your connection to Jibril?”

“We met fourteen years ago. I was doing my doctorate at Stanford and he was representing his family in negotiations for a grant to the university.”

“Then your connection is financial.”

Hawk considered leaving it there, but for the sake of Sarah’s safety, he couldn’t. Unless she knew the truth, she might do something insane like taking on Jibril’s commandos again. “That’s how it began,” he said. “We were friends once. Until we both fancied ourselves to be in love with the same woman.”

Her lips parted but she made no sound. The look of shock on her face should have been comical, but it didn’t make Hawk feel like laughing. Didn’t she believe it was possible for him to have once been in love?

Then again, he wasn’t so sure of it himself. He unfastened his cuff links and turned away. “It was a long time ago,” he said.

The cot creaked. Sarah stood up and moved in front of him. “Fourteen years isn’t that long. What happened?”

“Do you mean who won?”

She nodded. “That’s one way to put it.”

“Technically, neither of us. The lady died.”

“Oh, God,” Sarah whispered. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.” She lifted her hand. For a moment it seemed as if she were going to touch him.

And once again Hawk wanted to kiss her. Not out of desire but to absorb the compassion he saw in her gaze.

He closed his fist over his cuff links, feeling the metal jab his palm. “I didn’t tell you as a ploy to gain your sympathy, Sarah. I thought it would be safer for you if you understood that my relationship with Jibril has nothing to do with my work or his oil. The last time we saw each other we met to bury a person we both cared about.”

She dropped her hand. “I appreciate your candor.”

“You would have found out eventually. You do work in intelligence.”

She cleared her throat, as if reminded of her job. “This does put a different spin on the situation.”

“I don’t believe the prince would have waited until now if he had wanted to kill me. If he was harboring some jealous grudge, he knows me well enough to have eliminated me anytime, so there isn’t any reason for you to put yourself in the kind of danger you did tonight.”

“I hope this means you realize my only concern is your safety.”

He walked to the bedroom. “I haven’t changed my mind, Sarah. I still don’t fully trust you, and I think you’re a menace to yourself and everyone around you.” He paused in the doorway to look over his shoulder. “But you’re one hell of an interesting woman and I don’t intend to get rid of you yet.”

Was there such a thing as too much knowledge? Sarah hadn’t thought it was possible. In the course of her work, she was accustomed to using any method available to collect intelligence. Even the tiniest detail, like the location of an air vent or whether a guard was right- or left-handed, could mean the difference between the success or failure of a mission.

So why did she wish that Hawk hadn’t told her he’d been in love?

“It would have been faster to walk,” Hawk said.

Sarah acknowledged his grumbling with a nod but she didn’t take her gaze off the traffic. The low angle of the morning sun glinted from the hood of the rental car, leaving spots in front of her eyes. She took one hand from the wheel to fumble on the seat beside her for her sunglasses. “Faster but more exposed. We still have plenty of time to reach the harbor, Dr. Lemay. I studied the city map before we left the hotel, and although this route isn’t direct, it isn’t predictable, either. That reduces the chance of encountering an ambush on the way to the pier where the prince’s yacht is moored.”

“Hold still.” His leather jacket creaked as he leaned toward her. He set her aviator sunglasses into place on the bridge of her nose and looped the wire arms over her ears. “Is that better?”

“Yes. Thank you, sir.”

He left his arm across the back of her seat, picking up a lock of her hair to rub it between his fingers. “I don’t plan on staying long, Sarah. This is a courtesy meeting, that’s all.”

“I understand. I appreciate the way you kept me informed. I alerted the American Embassy so they will be aware of your movements.”

“The embassy? Why?”

“It’s just a precaution, since we’re dealing with the future ruler of Moukim. Our diplomats will contact his diplomats so they will also know that our people are aware of our movements.”

“Ah.” He curled her hair around his thumb. “You’re setting up more witnesses like you did with the bystanders in the ballroom.”

“Exactly.”

“Is there any chance you would be willing to stay in the car and wait for me?”

She clicked on her signal and turned her head to check the cross traffic. The movement also freed her hair from his grasp. “No, sir. None at all.”

He drummed his fingers on the back of her seat. “I didn’t think so.”

“I’ll stay out of the way as much as possible while you meet with Prince Jibril, but I won’t guarantee anything. If I perceive a threat, I intend to act. I would rather make apologies than funeral arrangements.”

He withdrew his arm.

She felt like thudding her forehead against the steering wheel. “Sorry, sir. That was insensitive of me.”

“What?”

“The remark about funerals. Seeing the prince after all this time must be stirring some very unpleasant memories.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” he muttered. “Your sympathy is misplaced, Sarah.”

She didn’t think so. She knew men. That was one of the side effects of living in the midst of them all her life. She knew full well how whenever they were hurt their first instinct was to bury the pain. At times it seemed the stronger the man, the more determined he was to keep his feelings inside. Some of the toughest soldiers in Eagle Squadron carried around emotional baggage that would cripple most people. They would rather face torture than open their hearts to anyone, especially a woman.

Yet Hawk hadn’t really opened up anything, had he? He’d divulged only the bare facts that he’d deemed pertinent. For that Sarah was grateful. The information he’d given her would allow her to do her job better, because she now understood the source of the tension she’d sensed between Hawk and Jibril despite their cordial greeting.

Hawk had drawn a very clear line. It would be foolish to cross it. It would be grossly unprofessional. It would endanger her objectivity and thus her ability to perform her duty if she allowed herself to feel sympathy for him. Feeling sexually attracted to him was making it difficult enough to maintain her professional distance.

Two more days and this would be over. Then she wouldn’t have to wonder what the woman had been like, or whether even after fourteen years Hawk was still mourning her the way Sarah still mourned Jackson…

Damn. Hawk’s memories weren’t the only ones that were getting stirred up here. She’d better get her head on straight before she let herself get distracted.

Her pulse thumped hard. She realized it had been three minutes since she had checked her rearview mirror for a tail. She pulled to the curb.

“What are you doing?” Hawk asked.

“Making sure we weren’t followed.” She twisted on the seat to get a better view of the vehicles that passed them. None seemed familiar, but that was no guarantee. Until she knew more about who the hired assassin was, she wouldn’t know whether he worked alone or had a team to help him.

“Quicker to walk,” Hawk muttered as he leaned against the door. His jacket creaked again. The warm air that wafted from the heater in the dashboard brought the teasing hint of leather and man.

Something else that he’d said the night before came back to her. I still don’t trust you…but you’re one hell of an interesting woman.

He’d already called her beautiful, but he’d also called her crazy and suicidal. She didn’t take compliments on her appearance any more seriously than she took insults—they were superficial and didn’t affect her one way or another. Yet to be called interesting by a man as intelligent and complex as Hawkins Lemay… Lord help her, now that affected her. It was even more hazardous to her objectivity than the sight of him in a tuxedo.

Sarah settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and put the car back into gear. She couldn’t let this get personal. She was going to do her duty. That’s what she knew best.

Chapter 4

Jibril’s yacht was more like a cruise ship than a private vessel, dwarfing the other ships that were moored along the pier. It was at least two hundred feet long, with enough room for a swimming pool on the foredeck and a helicopter landing pad at the stern. Despite its size, it wasn’t ungainly. Its cream-colored superstructure had a sleek, aerodynamically tapered design. Its black hull gleamed like the coat of a well-tended race horse, straining against the lines that reined it in. Hawk was sure the color choice was deliberate, evoking sand and oil. The very fact Jibril had chosen to use this mode of transport despite the lateness of the season was deliberate, too. It was an ostentatious display of wealth. It was a statement of power.

It also carried a much more subtle message, one that Hawk wasn’t sure how to interpret. The prince had named his yacht Faith.

“This way, please.”

The man who met Hawk and Sarah as they came onboard was dressed in the thick twill pants and navy blue wool jacket of a sailor. His nose was angled to one side like a prizefighter who’d lost too many matches. Hawk recognized him as one of the guards who had accompanied the prince to the hotel the night before, and judging by the tension he sensed in Sarah, she recognized the man, as well. The guard led them past the empty helicopter pad, across the deck and stopped beside a set of thickly varnished mahogany doors. He rapped twice on the panels.

Another guard in the guise of a sailor opened the doors to a luxuriously furnished salon. Warm air billowed outward with the scent of lemon wax. The man dipped his head in a polite bow to Hawk. “This way, please.”

Hawk wondered whether it was the only English phrase the men knew. He also wondered whether Sarah was invisible. The men were ignoring her completely, treating her as she were nothing but a piece of furniture that happened to be trailing behind him. Yet as soon as he and Sarah entered the salon, all that changed.

One of the two men stepped in front of Sarah while his colleague moved behind her. “We ask you to surrender your weapon before you go farther,” the first man said. He held out his hand. “We will return it when you leave.”

To Hawk’s relief, Sarah didn’t argue. She unfastened her black coat, withdrew her gun and handed it butt first to Jibril’s guard. She then slipped her coat from her shoulders. The black sweater and pants she wore wouldn’t conceal much. Still, she spread her arms to the side and allowed the other guard to frisk her. Her face was impassive as his hands ran under her arms and down her hips. It was Hawk who made a sound of protest as the man slid his palms over the insides of her thighs.

Sarah looked at Hawk, her chin lifted with no loss of dignity. “This isn’t a problem, sir. He’s a soldier doing his job,” she said. She moved her gaze to the man in front of her. “I understand that, as I hope he understands that I’m merely doing mine.”

The search was concluded swiftly. Sarah folded her coat over her arm and fell into step behind him as Hawk was led deeper into the ship. They went through another set of mahogany doors, along a carpeted corridor and up a wide staircase bordered by gleaming brass rails. At the top was a sprawling room decorated entirely in white. Sunlight blazed through a bank of windows in one wall, reflecting from the marble tile floor and gleaming from the groupings of low silk-upholstered couches and glass-topped tables.

“Welcome, Hawkins!” A tall, thin shape moved toward them through the glare. “What do you think of my home away from home?”

“A very impressive toy, Jibril.” Hawk paused to look at the prince as they shook hands. Jibril was wearing western clothing today, a neat tweed blazer and trousers with knife-edge creases. Except for the beard, he looked even more like the man he’d been fourteen years ago. “How’s the fishing in the harbor?”

Jibril laughed. “That was one passion we didn’t have in common, my friend. I see you are still accompanied by your lovely but impetuous bodyguard.” He turned to Sarah with a condescending smile. “Your apology was brought to me earlier, Captain Fox. It was prettily worded. How could I not accept?”

She dipped her head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Jibril gave an order to the guard with the crooked nose, then gestured toward the group of couches closest to the windows. “I have asked Ahmed to have coffee sent up for the two of us. Now tell me, Hawkins. What in the world have you done that has caused someone to put out a contract on your life?”

Of all the things Jibril might have said, this wasn’t one that Hawk had anticipated. Hawk glanced at Sarah, but she wasn’t looking at him. She had taken up a position near the window and was scanning the room. She gave no indication that she realized Jibril had just backed up her story, yet Hawk was certain that nothing got by her. “What have you heard?” Hawk asked.

Jibril gave a neat tug to his pant legs and seated himself in the center of the largest couch. He waited until Hawk had taken a seat on the couch across from him before he replied. “A man in my position has many sources of information, as I’m sure you know. I assume you heard of this threat, as well. Why else would you have acquired a bodyguard?”

Why else, indeed? There would be no reason for both Jibril and Sarah to tell the same lie. They likely wouldn’t have had the opportunity to coordinate their stories, either. Therefore, Sarah must have been telling the truth all along.

Hawk was surprised by the spurt of satisfaction he felt. Somehow he would prefer to believe Sarah was honest, even if it meant his life really was in danger.

Hell, that was completely illogical. “You mentioned a contract.”

“Yes. It is rumored to be substantial.” Jibril shrugged his shoulders. “But that is all I know. Who would do such a thing?”

“Apparently, there are many candidates.”

“There is a saying in my country—the way to judge a man’s worth is by the caliber of his enemies. And you, my friend, appear to have angered some powerful people. It must be due to your work. Your research could be viewed as a threat by many.”

“That would be the logical conclusion.”

Jibril smiled. “Always the scientist. You haven’t changed.”

“Nor have you, Jibril.”

A white-coated servant appeared at the top of the staircase, carrying a tray that held a silver coffee service. The guard called Ahmed took it from him, placed it on a low table and set it in front of Jibril, then backed away to stand across from the window, his alert posture echoing Sarah’s.

Jibril poured a stream of steaming coffee into a china cup, set it on a saucer and offered it to Hawk. “You still prefer it black, yes?”

“You have a good memory,” Hawk said, taking the coffee.

“And a long one,” Jibril said, pouring a cup for himself. “How is your research progressing, Hawkins? Are you close to achieving your dream of fusion power? Have you made a breakthrough?”

Hawk sipped a mouthful of coffee, using the time to consider how to word his reply. “A breakthrough is inevitable.”

“Then you haven’t yet achieved it. I must admit I am relieved. I am not looking forward to being competitors again.”

Hawk paused. “This is what I wanted to discuss when I arranged to meet you yesterday. If we work together, we can all win.”

“How could that be? In any competition, there is room for only one winning side.”

“Not if we share a common goal.”

“We share nothing, Hawkins. If you succeed in giving the world this virtually limitless energy supply, I and my people will lose our way of life.”

“Think of it more as a change, not a loss. Your oil brings you wealth, but it also is at the root of too much conflict. How much human suffering can be traced to inequities in resources? How many more wars will be fought over the control of those resources?” Hawk placed the cup and saucer back on the table. “And what will happen to your people and your way of life when your oil runs out?”

Jibril waved his hand. “It will not happen in my generation.”

“It will happen eventually. Wouldn’t it be better to prepare for the future now?”

“Those are noble sentiments, Hawkins. You still aspire to be the hero while I am consigned to the role of a less romantic but practical man.”

There had been an edge to Jibril’s voice. Hawk again chose his words carefully. “I disagree. My sentiments are practical.”

“Then, if that is the case, our first concern should be keeping you safe.” The prince leaned forward, a deep frown line appearing above the bridge of his nose. “You must move out of that hotel and stay here with me.”

From the corner of his eye, Hawk saw Sarah turn her head toward him. Although she remained silent, he could feel the force of her gaze. He could imagine the effort she was making to restrain herself from protesting. “That’s a generous offer,” he began.

“I have many guest suites where you would be comfortable, Hawkins, but this yacht was built for my security as well as my enjoyment. These windows are bullet-proof. The superstructure was designed to the specifications of a tank and the triple hull makes us unsinkable. It is a floating fortress, equipped to defend all onboard. It will provide complete protection.”

“I appreciate your concern, Jibril, but I do have protection.”

“Pah.” Jibril flicked his fingers toward Sarah in a dismissive gesture. “My men are superb fighters and are completely loyal. You of all people must know that women are not to be trusted.”

The prince’s words resounded in the sun-filled room like the sound of a slap. Unlike the other barbs that Jibril had sprinkled through the conversation, this one was too flagrant to let pass. Hawk rose to his feet.

Sarah was at his side immediately. “Sir?”

Hawk waited until he was certain he could control his voice, then looked at Jibril. “I came here willing to work together. I want to let the past rest in peace. But be assured I have as long a memory as you do, my friend. There are certain things one never forgets.”

The hotel fitness room had been installed in the basement like an afterthought, a facility hastily provided for the modern health-conscious guest. It wasn’t large, scarcely half the size of a basketball court. Like the ballroom, a wall of mirrors gave it the illusion of space, but there was nothing elegant about it. Exercise equipment crammed the floor: stair climbers, treadmills, weight benches and devices that mimicked the motions of cross-country skiing. The music that played from the speakers mounted near the ceiling wasn’t the refined strains of a string quartet, it was the pounding rhythm of hard rock. If Sarah’s phone hadn’t been programmed to vibrate, she wouldn’t have known it was ringing.

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