One agent is already missing, and now the U.S. government’s most confidential secret is in danger of falling into a power-hungry dictator’s hands.

The top-secret agents of ARIES are the world’s only hope.

Agent Ethan Williams: Haunted by childhood memories of his parents’ deaths, this millionaire playboy is deadly serious about protecting those close to him. And these days that means his alluring new partner, Kelly Taylor—a woman he can’t keep close enough….

Agent Kelly Taylor: She may look innocent, but this young linguist is no stranger to danger—or desire. She’s always wanted to be an operative, and she’s finally gotten her chance. But posing undercover as Ethan’s lover has awakened another longing….

Samuel Hatch: A lifetime in the CIA has shown him secrets the rest of the world would never imagine. And as director of the top-secret ARIES agency, it’s up to him to make sure those secrets stay safe. His agents are the best of the best, and he’s not going to lose one now….

Dr. Alex Morrow: Hatch’s most covert operative is missing somewhere in war-torn Europe. Morrow’s last message mentioned mythical jewels with devastating powers, but the transmission was unclear. If ARIES can’t locate the good doctor soon, the world may pay the price….

Dear Reader,

This month we have something really special on tap for you. The Cinderella Mission, by Catherine Mann, is the first of three FAMILY SECRETS titles, all of them prequels to our upcoming anthology Broken Silence and then a twelve book stand-alone FAMILY SECRETS continuity. These books are cutting edge, combining dark doings, mysterious experiments and overwhelming passion into a mix you won’t be able to resist. Next month, the story continues with Linda Castillo’s The Phoenix Encounter.

Of course, this being Intimate Moments, the excitement doesn’t stop there. Award winner Justine Davis offers up another of her REDSTONE, INCORPORATED tales, One of These Nights. A scientist who’s as handsome as he is brilliant finds himself glad to welcome his sexy bodyguard—and looking forward to exploring just what her job description means. Wilder Days (leading to wilder nights?) is the newest from reader favorite Linda Winstead Jones. It will have you turning the pages so fast, you’ll lose track of time. Ingrid Weaver begins a new military miniseries, EAGLE SQUADRON, with Eye of the Beholder. There will be at least two follow-ups, so keep your eyes open so you don’t miss them. Evelyn Vaughn, whose miniseries THE CIRCLE was a standout in our former Shadows line, makes her Intimate Moments debut with Buried Secrets, a paranormal tale that’s as passionate as it is spooky. And Aussie writer Melissa James is back with Who Do You Trust? This is a deeply emotional “friends become lovers” reunion romance, one that will captivate you from start to finish.

Enjoy! And come back next month for more of the best and most exciting romance around—right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

The Cinderella Mission
Catherine Mann

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Joanne Rock, a fabulous critique partner and an awesome friend. Thank you for the tireless reads, endless support and countless bags of shared Jelly Bellies!

CATHERINE MANN

began her career writing romance at twelve and recently uncovered that first effort while cleaning out her grandmother’s garage. After working for a small-town newspaper, teaching at the university level and serving as a theater school director, she has returned to her original dream of writing romance. Now an award-winning author, Catherine is especially pleased to add a nomination for the prestigious Maggie to her contest credits. Following her air force aviator husband around the United States with four children and a beagle in tow gives Catherine a wealth of experience from which to draw her plots. Catherine invites you to learn more about her work by visiting her Web site: http://catherinemann.com.

Contents

Prologue

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

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Prologue

Dr. Alex Morrow was dead.

Samuel Hatch feared it all the way to his sixty-year-old, ulcer-riddled gut.

The aging operative bolted back breakfast in his office—two antacids with cold coffee. His job as the Director of ARIES came with countless rewards and endless holes in his stomach. Since Hatch had created the top-secret section of the CIA, ARIES had become his family, his agents the children he and Rita had never been able to conceive.

Now he suspected he’d lost one.

Restrained tension hummed through him, stringing him as taut as the twine he worked to twist around the wilting plant behind his desk. He aimed the sunlamp with meticulous care, grounding himself in the ritual while he plotted how best to utilize his unlimited resources.

One day’s silence he could accept, especially given the unstable climate in European Holzberg and neighboring Rebelia. But three days and Alex’s tracking device inactive…

Every inch of Hatch’s raw stomach burned after ten years of worrying about his pseudo offspring. Yet their mission was too important to abandon. ARIES operatives embraced assignments no sane CIA agent would touch.

Their country owed these silent knights countless debts that could never be acknowledged.

Hatch anchored the stake on a struggling strawberry plant he’d grafted from home. He mentally sifted through Alex’s final transmissions like the soil through his fingers as he looked for the proper texture to bear fruit. Heaven help them all if Alex fell into DeBruzkya’s hands. The crazed Rebelian dictator under investigation was a sick bastard.

Heaven help Alex.

His fingers twitched, snapping a limp stem off the plant. He wouldn’t let even one of his operatives, especially this one, go down without unleashing the full arsenal at his disposal. Hatch clutched the crumpled leaves in his fist and turned back to the conference area of his office.

And what a mighty arsenal it was, compliments of the government’s blank check.

Large flat-screen monitors lined one wall, glowing with everything from CNN to satellite uplink status. Computers hummed from his desk, as well as along the conference table where laptops perched in front of eight seats. Electronic cryptology equipment for encoding and decoding transmissions littered the workspace.

In the midst of it all, he relied on an old-fashioned map of the world with pins marking locations of his operatives. The cover of each agent’s private-sector identity offered the freedom to travel anywhere undetected. Already, he’d alerted European operatives to begin searching, but without a narrowed field, there was only so much he could expect.

He needed focus, someone to pull together the minuscule threads of information left behind in a handful of transmissions from Alex. Hatch rubbed the bruised leaves between his fingers like a talisman as he studied the map. Slowly two pins on the board paired in his mind.

The perfect duo for finding answers to the questions left in those last transmissions. Logical Kelly Taylor would balance well with Ethan Williams, a rogue operative who thought so far outside the box he invented his own rules.

And their personal baggage?

They would either have to work through it or ignore it. He didn’t need any fireworks drawing unwarranted—and potentially deadly—attention to this mission.

Hatch reached for one of the seven phones on his desk and punched a three-digit code. One ring later, he carefully placed the mangled leaves on the soil at the base of the struggling strawberry plant. “Taylor, Director Hatch here. I need you to locate Ethan Williams, then meet me in my office with his after-action report from Gastonia.”

Her affirmative barely registered. Hatch studied the sole remaining plant from Rita’s garden that hadn’t been killed by his black thumb. Since Rita’s death, that plant and ARIES were all he had left, and by God, they would bear fruit.

Hatch packed the soil around the base of a new sprout and refrained from reaching for the antacids again. Williams and Taylor would find Alex.

Assuming there wasn’t—as his roiling gut kept telling him—a Judas in their ranks.

Chapter 1

“Judas-freaking-priest!”

ARIES operative Ethan Williams stumbled back a step. His hoarse croak ping-ponged through the cavernous room in a mocking echo. He gasped past the pain exploding in his head.

But he stayed on his feet, damn it.

Ethan swiped his wrist under his bloody nose. Three fast blinks cleared the haze from his vision, if not the dull ache and metallic taste of blood.

Screw pain.

He charged back into the cutthroat battle that reeked of sweat and resolve. He dodged shadows cast by light filtering through the thick plate-glass windows overhead.

Perspiration plastered his T-shirt to his skin. Salt stung the healing nick in his side from a brush with a bullet last week. He ignored it.

The second’s hesitation had already cost him his advantage. He needed to stay sharp. After his near miss in Gastonia eight days ago, he feared his edge had dulled. Losing that edge could mean losing his life.

Or worse yet, his job—his only reason for crawling out of bed every morning.

Without it, he might as well step in front of the next bullet. He’d come damned close to doing just that more than once after Celia died, before his recruitment into ARIES had given him the ultimate way to fight back against a world that didn’t play fair.

Ethan led with his shoulder in a low blow. His opponent grunted. Adrenaline surged.

ARIES operatives had precious few rules, and Ethan liked that most about his job in the special section of the CIA. Free rein to win in any arena. Essential with life-or-death stakes.

Not that Ethan had much use for his own life. But winning? Yeah, Ethan had a hell of a lot of respect for the thrill of winning.

He pivoted, boxed out, threw in an elbow, looking…for…that…

Rebound!

Basketball tucked to his stomach, he swung around. Ethan on offense now that he had possession, fellow ARIES operative Robert Davidson manned defense in their half-court game.

To some, it might seem a simple hour of pick-up. But even basketball in a CIA training facility in Virginia provided the chance to hone skills, search for potentially lethal weaknesses and overcome them so he could stay in the real game a little longer.

Ethan dribbled, waited, hunting for the opening.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

Patience. Don’t rush. Find the mojo.

Halogen lights in the gym threw a bluish haze across his opponent. Ethan mentally zoned out the sounds of others shooting hoops on the second court, the bleed-over noise from the connected weight room.

Davidson taunted, “Don’t be bringing it to me weak like before, rich boy.”

“Gonna go right by you,” Ethan promised, ignoring the taunt about his family’s obscene bank balance.

This could get ugly. Oh, yeah. Excitement pulsed.

Ethan sprinted for the net. Crossover dribble. Nikes squeaked on polished plank. Bolt past. He caught an elbow in the side, his pager digging deep. Ignore it. Keep his hands on the ball, mind on the mission.

Launching into the air, he plowed past for the lay-up. The thrill nudged closer, his elusive edge slipping back into reach.

He jammed it home.

“Weak, my ass.” Ethan hung from the rim for an extra three victorious seconds. “I’ve got a whole lot more of that where it came from.”

Davidson landed on his butt, sliding backward. He raised his hands in surrender. “I give. You’re one crazy son-of-a-bitch.”

No newsflash there.

Ethan dropped to the court and scooped up the ball. A surprise kick of sympathy for Davidson caught him unaware. The guy had almost died nearly two years ago. He looked in top form now, but could anyone ever fully recover from the blast of shrapnel he’d taken to the leg?

A ghostly whisper of that stray bullet echoed through Ethan’s memory.

He tucked the ball under his arm and extended a hand. “Let’s call it quits. Good game, man.”

“Thanks.” Reaching up, Davidson hooked hands with Ethan. “But it’s not over yet.”

Davidson yanked.

Ethan lurched forward. The basketball jarred free. He landed with a teeth-jarring thud on the slick wood floor, his pager ramming into his side like a brick. He rolled to his back just in time to see the guy sink a three-pointer.

“Oh, yeah.” Davidson punched the air with his fist. “Nothing but net.”

Ethan sank back on his elbows. If this had been a real-life operation, that lapse could have cost a life.

Number-one rule, nix the emotions.

He’d pretty much mastered covering the ice block inside himself with a smile. Sure everyone considered him a bud, but he knew the truth. Only with a select few—three to be exact—did he reveal a genuine glimpse of himself. With his boss. With his aunt who’d raised him.

And with Kelly.

Shy Kelly, Hatch’s top informations assistant and languages specialist in the operational support unit. Seeing her innocence always reminded Ethan of all the reasons he’d joined the CIA in the first place, back in his idealistic days. Their office friendship had been a real port in the storm for him in his messed-up world.

Until he’d realized she harbored a damned misguided infatuation for him. He’d been with too many women to miss the look that had crossed her face as she’d whispered, be careful, just before he’d left for the Gastonia assignment.

Gastonia?

His bullet wound stung.

Ethan swept the rolling ball back into his grasp.

No way was there a correlation between his missing mojo and discovering Kelly’s crush. Even considering a link gave too much importance to their friendship when he simply didn’t have it in him for anything more.

Ethan leapt to his feet and shook off doubts with a laugh, his most reliable cover for facing the world.

Davidson thumped him on the back. “If style counted for points, my friend, you’d have won hands down.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Ethan tempered his grousing with a grin. “Go shove your sympathy along with those style points.” He smacked the ball out of Davidson’s hands.

A humming sound started, low, the buzz of a pager. Ethan and Davidson both slapped their hands on the waistbands.

Ethan glanced down at the LCD screen.

Code Delta. Highest level of urgency. Report to ARIES immediately.

Adrenaline surged double-time.

Davidson’s hand fell away. Disappointment shadowed his face. “Just you, rich boy.”

“Let ’em know over at the shooting range I won’t be making it in this morning. Catch you later,” Ethan called, already four steps closer to the door. The drive to the remote ARIES underground compound outside of DC would give him time to get his head together.

Without breaking stride, he swiped his water bottle off the bleachers. Ducking into the locker room, he poured the water over his head and pitched the bottle in the trash. A towel across the face cleared away sweat and blood. A quick hand through his hair slicked back the shaggy length he hadn’t bothered to trim since his deep-cover assignment in Gastonia. He snagged his clothes on the way out.

A rogue thought diluted his adrenaline. What the hell would he say to Kelly when he saw her for the first time since his return? God, he hoped he’d read her wrong.

He knew he hadn’t.

Ethan took the winding hall at a slow jog, flashing his ID through multiple security checks. With any luck, less than an hour from now he would be back on line for his next mission, away from Kelly Taylor and the feelings in her eyes he didn’t know how the hell to handle.

Bitter February wind moaned through the parking garage. Ethan thumbed his remote, disarming the car alarm. He threw his change of clothes over to the passenger side and slid into the embrace of the leather seats in his retooled vintage Jaguar.

Fifteen minutes later, he broke the city limits and opened up the engine. Deserted roads zigzagged in front of him with trees alongside creating a twisting icy tunnel into the Virginia hills.

Steering with his knee, he whipped his T-shirt over his head. He reached to the seat next to him for his black turtleneck. He accommodated for his disdain of ties with great suits.

His car phone chimed over the heater blast.

Ethan yanked the shirt over his head, only blinded for a second before he reached to jab the speakerphone. “Williams, here.”

ARIES’s number flashed across the screen. He alternated hands on the wheel to slide his arms through the sleeves while waiting for the communications operator to speak the code.

“Confirming your dentist appointment with Dr. Brown.”

Ethan rolled out his answer that signified he was alone. “Tuesday at eleven.”

“Thank you, sir.”

An answer of “I don’t have my day planner with me” would have signaled that he could not speak freely because a passenger could overhear.

Modem sounds drifted through the speakerphone in their digital dance to link encrypted lines for secured conversation. Ethan activated cruise control along the empty expanse of rural highway. He kicked off his Nikes and shucked his sweatpants.

The telecommunications squeaks ended. “Confirm we have a secure line. Stand by for your party from Director Hatch’s office. Go ahead, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Hatch’s office?

A burn started in his brain, firing an instinctive awareness that fate had targeted his mojo again. He had a fair guess who the agency ma’am from Hatch’s office would be. That ma’am would be the freaking icing on his bad-luck cake that had started with someone shooting at him as he hurtled through the sky dangling from a streamer parachute.

Foreboding made a drive-by in Ethan’s brain with a mere second’s warning before her voice flowed through the speakerphone in the last kind of distraction he needed today with a Code Delta in his future.

“Ethan?”

Kelly Taylor’s single word swirled through his car and conscience.

“Roger, Kel. I’m here.” He kept it light. No way would she discuss anything too deep with the agency monitoring their call. “What do you have for me?”

“Director Hatch requested that I let you know he’s waiting in his office when you arrive. Something to do with your Gastonia assignment.”

Damned if she didn’t have the most incredible voice caressing the airwaves with a richness that could make reading a menu sound like foreplay. And she thought she wanted him when he knew damned well he couldn’t have her.

He still remembered the impact of hearing her for the first time two years ago. He’d nearly crawled through the phone line. In five seconds flat, he’d planned seventeen ways to romance her into his bed where he would tangle himself up in that smoky suggestiveness for a solid week.

Then he’d found Kelly Taylor’s voice didn’t fit the rest of her. At all. Face-to-face, the woman personified innocence and happily-ever-after. He might have wanted those things once, but since Celia, he preferred his women with eyes wide open. Liaisons with innocents were especially taboo. And Ethan suspected they didn’t come any more innocent than Kelly Taylor.

So instead of a lover, he’d found a friend, a much more valuable commodity.

“Ethan?” Her voice glided over his name like bourbon swirled on the sides of a glass. “Are you still there?”

“Yeah, Kel.” He grabbed his pants off the seat beside him, steadying the wheel as snowflakes dotted his windshield. “Just kinda busy right this second.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

Ethan glanced down at his bare legs and boxers. “No, thanks. I’ve got it under control.”

His body tightened.

“I’m always here to give you a hand.”

Ethan stifled a groan.

“Are you okay? Should I tell Hatch we’ll debrief later?”

Debrief? Ethan resisted the urge to cover himself. He drove one-handed down the lonely stretch of road while sliding into his Brooks Brothers pants. “No thanks.”

“If you’re sure you’re up for the meeting.”

He was seconds away from being “up” for a hell of a lot more if he didn’t finish this call. He resolved to focus on her words rather than her voice. “I’m only five minutes out. Once I upload my after-action report from the Gastonia assignment—”

“Already done. I had a head start to get on top of things.”

An image of her on top of other things nearly sent Ethan into a snow-filled ditch.

Apparently her words posed a hazard after all with each syllable blanketed in her intoxicating tones. The afternoon promised to be long and painful. “Thanks, Kelly.”

“My pleasure.”

Ethan swerved short of driving up a road sign.

Now that would be a hell of a way to go, pants down and totally turned on by the equivalent of encrypted phone sex.

A voice like that should come with some kind of warning label. Don’t use while others are driving or operating heavy machinery.

Ethan buckled his belt while driving past the agency radar detector at the designated speed to signify he wasn’t under duress. “Need to sign off. Approaching the perimeter.”

“See you soon.”

The connection died.

Silence echoed in his car. Ethan accelerated around the corner back up to eighty, steering one-handed while exchanging his diver’s watch for a Cartier timepiece.

His senses cleared and a mental image of Kelly overlaid the sensual torture of her voice. Large chocolate eyes invited a person to climb right into her soul.

Those vulnerable eyes, too full of some misguided infatuation, offered all the reminder he needed to leave her the hell alone. He knew firsthand how a broken heart crippled a person and wouldn’t deal the same blow to anyone else.

Especially not to Kelly.

Besides, he had enough on his agenda with a Code Delta—make or break for a man testing his ability to stay at the top of his game.

Ethan squashed doubts and slowed over the grate in the road that held the covert camera to check the Jaguar’s undercarriage for explosives. He would simply keep his mind on the mission. He’d identified his weakness, right? No softening, none of that sensitivity garbage.

Nix the emotions. Just as on the basketball court, he needed to keep his head clear and his emotions locked up tight. He would plant his eyes firmly on her sweet, wholesome face at all times as a reminder that the voice was a red herring.

The rush of an impending job simmered. Every life saved brought the thrill of cheating death, a beast that had already taken too much when it had snatched Celia, when it took his parents.

Ethan plowed around the last curve, the brick quadrangle of ARIES buildings slipping into sight behind a deceptively decorative fence. He only had to endure the next few hours—one day, max—and he’d be back out in the field, far away from Kelly Taylor’s romanticized notions.

Kelly Taylor hated Valentine’s Day.

After having spent all twenty-four of hers alone, she dreaded the season when Cupid shoved her social ineptitude in her face like a Boston cream pie. And this one promised to be a whopper.

Perched at the conference table, Kelly clicked away on one of the laptops beside Hatch while they waited for Ethan Williams to arrive. She’d hoped the Gastonia assignment would keep Ethan occupied through the holiday.

Apparently Cupid had ignored her wishes yet again.

She still couldn’t believe she’d given herself away to Ethan with one silly look. After two years of keeping the ridiculous infatuation to herself, she’d let a single moment of weakness betray her.

As if the whole crush wasn’t embarrassing enough.

Ethan, with all his playboy ways and bad-boy smiles, was totally not the sort of guy she wanted for anything other than friendship. Not that her hormones seemed to care one bit what she wanted.

At least she wouldn’t be stuck out there with him and all those Valentine’s Day decorations some romantic fool had plastered through the stark ARIES lobby in an incongruous display.

Part of her insisted she bore partial responsibility for her dateless status. Years spent in the classroom conjugating verbs from every European language imaginable left her with minimal real-world experience.

So what if she cared more about her career than clothes? Who could keep up with all the trends anyway? And if her mother waved one more make-up gift pack in her face, Kelly vowed she would scream. She’d tried lipstick once and had paid a price far too high for the wrong kind of attention it brought her way.

Never again would she be the helpless graduate student at the mercy of a stalking professor.

The CIA job offer had seemed like a liberating gift from the gods. She certainly hadn’t expected to spend ten hours a day behind a desk in operational support. The closest she’d come to a weapon was her docu-binder.

The speakerphone buzzed on Hatch’s desk, announcing Ethan’s arrival. Kelly’s stomach clenched around her breakfast bagel.

Hatch pushed away from the conference table as Ethan sauntered through the open door. She allowed herself a weak moment to soak up the image of him.

How strange that a man who’d made it to ARIES headquarters in half the normal time still looked as if he’d strolled the whole way. His charcoal-gray suit over a turtleneck hung from his lean body with a negligent élan.

Jet-black hair gleamed with molten life under the sterile office lights. She always liked his hair right after a deep-cover assignment, the longer length giving him a more reckless air—if that was possible.

Deep-blue eyes glinted with the knowledge of things she dreamed of experiencing, places she knew all about but never visited. Ethan Williams personified every risk she’d ever wanted to take and didn’t dare, all wrapped up in one dangerous, six-foot-three, bad-boy package.

“Good morning, sir.” Ethan shifted toward her, jammed his hands in his pockets and nodded. “Kelly.”

Heat crawled up her face and for once she was glad she always forgot to pull her hair back. She longed to duck under the conference table and die of embarrassment over the awkwardness she’d brought to their friendship. But she wouldn’t. She was through backing down from life.

“Welcome home, Ethan. Congratulations on the Gastonia mission,” she managed to say.

“A simple in-and-out operation. Nothing to worry about.”

Her accidental be careful warning loomed between them like a big pink elephant on the plush navy carpet.

Director Hatch motioned for him to sit, taking his own seat at the head of the table with a fresh mug of coffee. “Thank you for coming in so quickly, Ethan. I’m sorry to pull you off R and R.”

“No problem, sir.”

“You’ll be rewarded.”

Kelly admired the director; he looked more like an old gumshoe with fashion sense almost as bad as her own. Knowing his rumpled appearance covered a man rumored to have more power than the vice-president and the CIA director combined gave her hope for herself.

Appearances weren’t everything, damn it.

Man, she wanted to trade her docu-binder in on a SIG-Sauer 9mm. She yearned to step out from behind her desk and into the world reflected in Ethan’s world-wise eyes.

Hatch’s piercing green gaze met theirs. “Have you heard of Dr. Alex Morrow?”

Ethan hooked an elbow on the chair next to him. “Some kind of rock doctor, right?”

Kelly shoveled her hair out of her face. Typical Ethan to make a multi-degreed scientist sound like a Rolling Stone magazine shrink who’d obtained his Ph.D. over the Internet. “Dr. Morrow is a world-renowned geologist.”

Ethan nodded. “Right.”

Hatch rolled the mug between his palms. “Dr. Morrow has gone missing from a conference in Holzberg. You may have run across Morrow while you were in Gastonia.”

“Never met the guy. But I heard some buzz about Morrow attending a European conference on environmental issues. American civilians make too damned tempting targets for terrorist factions these days.”

Hatch’s hand clenched around his mug, a small but telling gesture from the man who showed so little. “Morrow is one of ours. One of ARIES.”

Kelly’s head snapped up. “Morrow?”

“You’re surprised?” Hatch tipped back his mug for a sip.

Were his hands shaking?

Ethan and Kelly exchanged a quick glance across the table. Who the hell was this Morrow person to warrant such a strong reaction?

Ethan straightened in his seat. “Of course not. I’m a prime example of how the CIA and ARIES both recruit from the civilian sector. I’m sure I’ve crossed paths with more than one ARIES agent without knowing it.”

His cover focused on his wealthy background, giving him blanket acceptance to travel anywhere as one of the idle rich. Sometimes he donned a deeper cover, as he had in Gastonia. Other times, he simply played his role of rich playboy to gain access into the upper echelons of the corrupt wealthy. Once in place, ARIES operatives fulfilled the legacy of their mythological namesake who rescued the persecuted Greek twins Phryxius and Helle.

Lucky Ethan busted bad guys while she sat behind her desk decoding encrypted messages in multiple languages. “How long since we last heard from him?”

“Dr. Morrow went silent three days ago.” Hatch clicked through a series of keys on the laptop in front of him. “I’m transferring copies of all the transmissions to your data bases. They’ve already been decoded, but I’m hoping you’ll be able to find something more.”

Why all the worry about an agent going silent for seventy-two hours?

Hatch shoved up from his chair, his restlessness apparently winning out as he poured more coffee from a corner bar. “Two hours after the last transmission, we lost total contact. The signal on Morrow’s tracking device went dead.”

Silence echoed, broken only by the drip of the coffee maker and the low hum of fluorescent lights. The covert transmitters were virtually undetectable, and so pricey only operatives in deep cover warranted the expense. Even super space-power countries with access to a constellation of satellites barely stood a chance of detecting the nanosecond microburst of data from the tracking device, activated only when an agent disappeared.

Just three causes came to mind for a surgically embedded transmitter to fail. Satellite interference. Physical removal.

Or complete destruction of the agent.

Kelly’s breakfast bagel weighed like lead in her stomach.

Hatch turned to face them. “I’m employing agents throughout Holzberg to search. Now I need to work the stateside angle. Morrow’s last transmission points to a shakedown of some sort at an upcoming European summit in DC. Ethan, your social connections make you the obvious operative to slide in place.”

Damn. Kelly mourned the impending loss of that gorgeous hair of his about to be sacrificed for appearances. “And why am I here, sir?”

Hatch could have easily sent the transmissions along with a memo.

“The summit ends with a gala celebration and jewel display. We’re fairly certain from Morrow’s intel there will be a hit. With any luck, tracking those responsible for the attempted heist will give us a lead back to Morrow. For safety’s sake Ethan’s date needs to be one of ARIES.”

He couldn’t mean—

“And what better partner than an expert in the regional languages of the dignitaries attending?”

“Partner?” Ethan’s eyes narrowed.

Already Kelly could feel the constraints of her desk loosening their hold, the weight of that SIG-Sauer in her hand. Excitement tingled over her. Only because of her first real field assignment, right? Not because of her partner on that assignment.

“For the next two weeks, you’ll be joined at the hip 24/7 right up to the night of the gala.”

Ethan half stood. “But, sir…”

“You and Taylor will make the perfect couple.”

Chapter 2

Couple?

Ethan dropped back into his chair. “A couple?”

Just as he chose his women with their eyes wide open, he preferred his partners with more experience. Kelly sat across from him, her peaches-and-cream complexion shouting innocence. She studied him with those doe eyes for three seconds before her head fell forward. All that sable hair glided onto the open file in front of her.

Hatch couldn’t really expect to throw her into a Code Delta with only her entry-level training. Ethan’s instincts screamed a red alert. A missing agent linked to missing jewels? Something didn’t add up.

The ARIES director cupped his mug with both hands. “The couple cover is common, but effective. Hopefully you’ll be able to avert a heist attempt prior to the gala. If not, I need you both in place. Taylor’s facility in European languages will prove invaluable.”

Fan-freaking-tastic.

He would get to spend the next two weeks exchanging language-of-love quips with her.

Kelly looked up. “Sounds like a practical application of my specialty.”

Her do-me-honey tones wrapped around languages with as much power as they twined through a man’s libido.

His libido.

Ethan reminded himself to stare squarely at her innocent face for his reminder that the voice was a red herring.

Except her warm brown eyes deepened to onyx with excitement over the impending assignment, and he couldn’t help but wonder if sex would bring the same heat to her eyes. “Sir, with all due respect, I can handle this one alone.”

The spark in Kelly’s eyes muted to muddy brown. Ethan refused to let her wounded-puppy look sway him. He was just thinking of her safety.

Yeah, right. “I don’t need backup. Kelly can perform any language analysis from here without the risk of putting her in the field.”

“Maybe, maybe not.” The director’s restless feet tracked the room, taking him past a line of mementos down one wall that included diplomas from his scientific background. The man had been a grassroots planner in everything from missile programs to genetic testing. “I’m not willing to risk it. Davidson and Juarez will be at your disposal to coordinate anything you need back here at headquarters. Anything.”

Finally the director stopped by a four-drawer safe. Reaching toward the back, he pulled out a bottle of vodka. “Do you know what this is?”

Ethan worked to follow the director’s train of conversation. “Aside from the obvious? No, sir.”

He turned to Kelly. “Taylor?”

She shook her head, staunchly avoiding Ethan.

Hatch held the bottle up to light. “There’s an old tradition in the agency and the military. Many leaders keep a bottle similar to this. Whenever an agent or soldier dies, a toast is lifted in honor. The weight of responsibility is as strong as if a family member has been lost.” He traced his finger along the empty space a quarter way down the bottle as if remembering a face with every shot glass. “I don’t want a drink with Alex Morrow’s name attached.”

Ethan watched remorse flicker through his mentor’s eyes and surrendered to the inevitable reality of two weeks with Kelly. Aside from being honor-bound to protect his fellow operative like family, he owed Hatch for giving him a reason to live after Celia died.

If Hatch needed a kidney, Ethan would start cutting. “Consider Morrow found.”

Hatch nodded. He replaced the bottle with cradling care before turning back to face them, all traces of emotion long gone. The director had returned. “Taylor, this will be your testing ground. Succeed and I’ll expedite your request for upgrade to full operational status.”

She sat straighter, her hair sliding back over her shoulders, swinging along her bulky sweater. “I’m ready for the challenge.”

“Take the afternoon to review the directives uploaded to your computers and let me know if there are any questions.” Hatch stepped behind his desk in tacit dismissal.

Kelly stood, swiping wrinkles from her ankle-length skirt. “Thank you for this opportunity, sir. I won’t let you down.”

Ethan gave himself a three-second window to avoid bumping into her outside the door and rose slowly.

“Ethan?”

Hatch’s voice stalled his steps. Ethan pivoted. “Sir?”

The director pinned him with a calculated look that made Ethan want to check his back for an ambush.

“I realize you’re going above and beyond coming in off R and R. I consider this a personal favor that deserves to be rewarded. I pulled something for you from the CIA archives.” He nudged a battered-looking file forward. “The file on your parents’ deaths.”

The file’s ragged state declared it to be original, copies no doubt scanned and stored. All the same, those dog-eared documents from a time so close to his parents’ deaths brought phantom whispers of deep laughter and lilac cologne. Muddled memories quickly followed of the kidnapping attempt gone wrong that had left his parents dead and Ethan alone except for his father’s sister. He ached to know every detail his mind hadn’t been able to absorb at five years old.

Hatch’s words slowly filtered through the memories. Why would a simple kidnapping attempt on a Fortune 500 offspring warrant CIA classified status?

“Finish this for me, and it’s yours.”

To some it might seem cruel for Hatch to hold that file just out of Ethan’s reach. But he knew the rules of the office and that included nixing emotions to get the job done. He respected the man’s use of all weapons at his disposal, even as he longed to wrestle the file from the director’s desk.

Ethan’s elusive edge returned with a full burn. “I see now how you rose to your position.”

Hatch’s hand fell to rest on the edge of a potted plant beside his desk. “Family is everything.”

Kelly charged toward her cubicle, tears and anger battling for domination. Anger won by a long shot.

How dare Ethan try to ruin her chance with his poorly disguised—hell, blatant—disdain at the prospect of working with her?

She wanted to kick him right in his overblown ego. Instead, she took out her frustrations on her office furniture. She yanked her chair away from her government-issue metal desk and flopped down. A wall calendar grinned back at her with a dimple-butted angel.

Kelly ripped a Post-it Note off a pad and slapped it over Cupid’s face so hard the divider walls shook.

“Problems, sugar?”

Kelly inched her chair back to look at the woman in the next cubicle. “Not really, Carla. Thanks for asking, though.”

No one would suspect the willowy brunette punching away on the keyboard had once been a field operative—until a bullet to the back during dark ops in eastern Europe had left her in a wheelchair. Now she worked with Kelly in the operational support division, developing high-tech toys for the agents she used to stand alongside.

Carla always insisted she enjoyed her new position since operational support had direct contact with field agents, a fact that had soothed Kelly through two years of waiting for her chance. Hundreds of agency workers never knew the identity of a single agent. In fact, many agents never knew other agents.

All the same, Kelly knew that hadn’t stopped the yearning in Carla to step into the field any more than it had in her. Suddenly Kelly felt damned small for being angry when she had the very thing Carla wanted. “I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“Men can be a real pain.”

“Men?”

“I couldn’t help but notice Ethan Williams joined your meeting. I assume he’s the reason you’re out of sorts.”

Carla Juarez’s pitying look stoked Kelly’s temper back to life. This ridiculous crush had gone on long enough.

With impeccable timing, Ethan rounded the corner. Of course, he would choose now to make his appearance.

And walk toward her.

There’d been a day when she’d waited for him to lounge on the corner of her desk. She’d lived for the occasional invitation to join him for a sandwich in the cafeteria where they would discuss his latest overseas jaunt. Not today.

Not anymore.

Ethan cruised to a stop beside her. The spicy mix of aftershave and masculine sweat wafted her way. Her heart pitched. Damn.

“Kelly, I guess we should get together and review before meeting with Director Hatch later.” He sat on the corner of her desk like countless times before.

“Whatever you say.” She scraped stray paper clips into her hand and dumped them into the magnetic holder as if cleaning her desk might somehow restore her chaotic emotions to order. “You’re the hotshot agent. I’m just a desk jockey.”

Confusion flashed in those sapphire eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

The docu-binder suddenly looked like a not-so-shabby weapon after all if she used it to clock him upside his thick head. She spun her chair to meet him face on—and came a little too close to his knees for her comfort level. “Could you have been any more obvious in there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Quit being dense.” She inched her chair back. “You know exactly what I mean.”

His face blanked. “Help me out here.”

She forged ahead. “Can you imagine how embarrassing it was for me?”

Still he didn’t move or speak. No emotion showed at all, darn his strong, stubborn chin. He was going to make her spell it out.

“That you don’t want to work with me.”

He scooped up her Eiffel Tower paperweight, studying it as if the snowglobe held answers. “You’re a top-notch informations agent, but you’re still operational support. You’re a rookie in field craft. If you can’t pull your own load, it puts me in danger.”

That gave her pause. The story of the mythological Aries teased through her mind, how the ram was sacrificed after his mission to save the Greek twins. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if Ethan died or ended up with a bullet in his back because of her. Old insecurities marched over her.

Careful, Kelly. You know how easily you break things.

Watch your step, Kelly. Don’t trample Mama’s flowers.

After a litany of warnings, the dance had left her feet altogether until she found her sedentary refuge in books, the one place she never stumbled.

Cubicle walls threatened to close in on her with a familiar loneliness. Something she refused to let happen again. She wasn’t thirteen anymore, and no one would ever steal the dance from her steps again.

Kelly snatched the paperweight from Ethan and slammed it on her desk. Did he even remember he’d bought it for her? Was he laughing inside over her keeping it?

She launched to her feet. “Director Hatch wouldn’t have put me on the assignment if he didn’t have faith in my abilities.”

The cubicle closed in on them both now in a totally different way. She tried to inch away from the insistent heat of him radiating toward her belly.

Kelly backed farther until she bumped the wall. A picture on the other side rattled, then thumped. Kelly winced at her clumsiness. She would apologize to Carla later.

Ethan rose from the desk, brows pinched and his eyes filled with concern or sympathy. She didn’t know which but couldn’t bear either.

She’d had enough of that from Carla and everyone else in the office. No more hiding behind her hair and her fears. Kelly flipped the too-convenient camouflage of her brown mane over one shoulder and met him nose-to-nose.

Well, nose-to-neck actually, given their height difference. “Can’t you at least be honest with me?”

“About what?”

Damn him, always the agent on the job answering a question with a question. She would give him some answers guaranteed to knock him on his fine butt. “About why you don’t want to work with me.”

His jaw flexed with his gritted teeth for a few telling seconds too long.

Fine. She wanted it out there and acknowledged so they could sweep it away. “It’s because of that ridiculous moment before you left for Gastonia.”

His head angled toward her, his voice lowering. “Kelly, there’s no need to—”

“My work is the most important thing in my life.” This assignment offered hope for finding her voice. She refused to give ground, even though the scent and heat of him swirled through her until she could have sworn she’d pirouetted herself dizzy. “There’s no great risk in saying you feel the same about your position here. That being the case, there certainly is a need to discuss anything that interferes with job performance.”

He glanced down the length of twenty cubicles, then grabbed her elbow. “Okay, you want to talk, we’ll talk. But not here.”

She jerked free. “Why not here?”

“Geez, Kelly.” The force of his whisper caressed over her. “Do you really want to unroll this for everyone to overhear? Even if they’re polite enough to slap on their dicta-phones, every word spoken in this building is taped.”

“So what?” She rubbed her tingling elbow.

“Kel, I’m just thinking of your feelings here.” He reached toward her hair, then stopped midair.

That ripped it.

There was only so much pity a woman could be expected to take in one day, even a woman well-versed in submerging her feelings. First Ethan in Hatch’s office. Then Carla. Even Cupid in his fuzzy felt heart, mocking her from behind his Post-it Note mask.

She hated the way her body reacted to Ethan almost as much as she hated the new awkwardness between them. She wanted this dead-end infatuation gone so she could move on with her life and her dreams.

Kelly cursed Cupid yet again for threatening to ruin what should be an incredible day. Nothing, especially not Ethan Williams, would stand in her way. She wasn’t the studious mouse any longer, afraid to leave her room for fear of causing ripples in her mother’s perfect world. She wasn’t the shy student afraid to report a pervert professor to the dean. Time to take charge of her future.

Kelly climbed up onto her chair and filled her lungs for a proper roar.

Ethan watched Kelly climb up on the chair and wondered what he’d missed. He liked to think he understood women, but this had him stumped.

Other than the fact he’d somehow managed to piss her off. A lot.

Fiery resolve crackled from Kelly in surprise heat waves that had Ethan taking a second look to verify what he saw. Back straight, she smoothed her skirt, tugged the hem of her sweater—outlining the most perfect pair of breasts Ethan had ever seen.

Well, damn. His mouth dried right up. She definitely had his attention.

“Hey, gang,” Kelly projected down the line of cubicles.

He tore his gaze back up to her face where it belonged.

“You all know Ethan Williams, right?”

Heads popped over the cubicle walls, prairie-dog style. Carla Juarez rolled back six inches.

“Is there anyone here who doesn’t know that I have the hots for him?”

Ethan choked on his tongue.

All eyes zeroed in on him. Silence reigned supreme. Ethan resisted the urge to squirm like a spider pinned to a science-project board.

“No? Nobody?” Kelly turned on her chair, her skirt swirling around her scrunched socks and tennis shoes as she checked for the consensus. “That’s what I thought. Can you believe he only just figured it out? Doesn’t say much for his operational skills, if you ask me.”

He had to stop this train wreck in the making. “Kelly, you don’t want to do this.”

She peered down at him with eyes full of steely black resolve. “Since when are you an expert on what I want, Agent Doesn’t-Have-a-Clue?” She returned her attention to her captivated audience. “Now, I suspect I’m not the only one who’s appreciated his fine bod. I’m just not too sly about checking out a man.”

She jumped down from her chair and planted her hands in the small of Ethan’s back. Her shove propelled him into the aisle with surprising strength.

Ethan shot a frown over his shoulder. “Kelly—”

“Of course, what’s not to drool over? Killer-blue eyes. And all that hair.” She whistled long and soft. “Man, I’ll be sorry to see it go.” Arms crossed over her chest, she circled him in a slow perusal. “Hmmm, let’s talk body specifics.”

“Let’s not.”

“He’s got nice legs. Runner’s legs. And those washboard abs—” She pivoted to the woman in the cubicle beside her. “What do you think, Carla?”

The woman’s gaze raked him with bold appreciation before she gave Kelly a wink and a nod. Heat burned over him. Damn it, he absolutely was not blushing.

“Time to go.” Ethan grabbed Kelly’s arm and started hauling her toward the hall, all the while trying to ignore the soft give of womanly flesh beneath his hand.

He may have been dragging her, but her straight back made it clear she was walking tall at her own pace. She called over her shoulder, “What’s the verdict on his butt, Carla? Pretty fine, huh?”

The low rumble of laughs swallowed any answer, laughs from everybody including one from Robert Davidson, who lounged just inside the door. Kelly’s eyes turned razor-sharp again in a warning Ethan picked up two seconds too late.

She jerked loose and stood her ground. “But of course we all know his butt’s great…since he shows it often enough.”

Uh-oh. Ethan jammed his hands in his pockets and prepared to weather the storm.

“As a matter of fact, he was showing that awesome ass of his about four minutes ago. You see, the thing is, now that he finally figured out I’m attracted to him, he assumes his hot body is so appealing it will render me incapable of working with him. Now silly little ole me thinks I’ve managed to do my job quite well for two years with him around. Somehow he must have forgotten that.”

Kelly advanced to stand toe-to-toe with Ethan. “Just so everyone’s clear, you’re a good-looking guy. No question. But you know what else? Big deal. Get over yourself.”

She flicked her hair over her shoulder in a tidal wave of silk that caught him square in the libido before she whipped around him and out the door.

Her tennis shoes thudded all the way down the corridor.

Davidson applauded. “Well done.”

Low chuckles echoed as everyone ducked back into cubicles.

Davidson shoved a hand through his damp hair. “Nice to see a woman have you on the run for a change.”

Kelly? Have him on the run? Ethan didn’t like the sound of that at all. And he wasn’t on the run, damn it, just off his game today. “I was only protecting her feelings.”

“And instead you hurt them.”

That stung more than it should have. “Looks that way.”

His fellow operative nodded toward an open meeting room and gestured for Ethan to follow. “So you’re going to be working with her?”

Ethan paused, then closed the door to the windowless room. Davidson would be briefed soon enough anyway—and probably laugh himself sore.

“The couple-cover deal.” Ethan paced around the room, restless energy fueling his feet.

Davidson tugged a chair from the conference table and dropped into it. “Tough gig, working with a woman you’re attracted to.”

Weary eyes said Davidson had already taken that walk.

Stopping beside a Power Point projector, Ethan readjusted the cord with too much attention. “Who says I’m attracted to her?”

“You’re not?”

Ethan blocked the image of her breasts straining against her sweater, the memory of her voice flowing over him in the car while he dressed. “She’s a friend. Or at least she was.”

“Whatever.” Davidson worked a hand along his left thigh where he’d been hit two years ago. “Sure will kill that playboy image of yours to be seen with her.”

Defensiveness crept through Ethan. He’d never thought of Davidson as shallow. Couldn’t the guy see the patrician cheekbones Kelly almost managed to hide under all that magnificent hair? And she could layer on enough clothes for an ice storm and it wouldn’t disguise the curve of those breasts he suspected were as incredibly generous as the woman.

He opened his mouth to set Davidson straight.

Then stopped.

Rumor had it the man was still reeling from some kind of relationship on his near-fatal assignment in Rebelia. The last thing Ethan wanted was for this guy to go seeking some of Kelly’s sweet, gentle warmth.

Not that she’d been particularly sweet three minutes ago when discussing his butt with a room full of co-workers.

If she channeled half that fire into watching his back, they’d be fine. He had to admire the spark of her rampage. The office would talk for years over that one.

She sure knew how to make her point. A smile slid over his face.

“Just a friend, huh?” A smirk twitched Davidson’s mouth.

Ethan’s smile fell away. “Why do you want to know?”

“Back off, rich boy.” He raised his hands in surrender. “I had enough of you on the basketball court this morning. I’ve got a point here if you’ll quit thinking with your libido long enough to listen.”

“Then spit it out in plain English so us slow folks can understand.”

“She’s not your usual type. No one outside this office knows you two have even met, so the couple deal is going to stir questions when you need to keep a low profile.”

Why the hell hadn’t he thought of all that back in Hatch’s office when he needed to persuade his boss to ditch this plan of action? Because it never crossed his mind people wouldn’t believe he could be attracted to her.

Damn. He was in serious trouble here. “We’ll just have to be convincing.”

“She’s still going to need some polish if you expect to pull this off.”

Fine in theory, if it wouldn’t bring the fires of hell down on his head. Or worse yet, some kind of wounded-doe look to her eyes.

He’d been around enough women to know that while a man might appreciate individual assets, women had the unerring knack for zeroing in on the least perceived imperfection. Heaven help the man who failed the how does this dress look? test.

As much as he wanted to protect Kelly, Ethan knew Davidson had a point. Other less-discerning eyes might not appreciate her allure. “How the hell am I supposed to take care of that without hurting her feelings? The last thing I need is for her to climb on the roof with a bullhorn to discuss my ass again.”

“That’s your problem, pal, not mine. Good luck.” Davidson stood and rolled the chair back under the table. He headed out the door, laughing under his breath. “Washboard abs…”

Not a reassuring farewell salute to a man with a missing mojo.

ARIES could provide Kelly with all the guns and explosives imaginable. But the social world he cruised would chew her alive if he didn’t give her a whole different set of “tools” to protect herself.

His world.

Suddenly Ethan knew the one person he could trust to help Kelly without hurting her.

He just wished he could say the same for himself.

Kelly hunched over her desk, ignoring the persistent ache in her back. Her computer screen hummed in the late-night air, her only company the whir of a janitor’s vacuum and a lone light from under Hatch’s office door.

Nuances of verb tenses swirled through her head, soothing her with the familiar oblivion of work. She was in control here, with her languages and academics. If only she could find the same control away from her books.

She’d made a fool of herself this afternoon, proving full well she didn’t deserve this assignment. Not that Director Hatch had listened when she’d tried to bow out later.

Kelly whipped away the grit in her eyes and reached for her mug of herbal tea. She blew into the steamy heat, hints of raspberry steaming from the mug. She stared at the glowing words on the screen from an intercepted missive. The rural Rebelian dialect, a mix of German and Russian, seemed to be discussing some kind of sapphire. A jewel? Or the color itself?

The color of Ethan’s eyes.

She screeched those thoughts to a complete halt. Just a crush, she reminded herself.

Her nose itched with the phantom scent of masculine cologne and sweat mingling with her raspberry tea. A shiver tingled through her and her eyes fluttered closed. She inhaled the memory of Ethan.

So real.

Too real.

Her eyes snapped open.

A shadow fell across her desk. She didn’t look up.

“So you really like my butt?” Ethan’s rumbling voice filled her workspace.

Mortification seared her. She scrolled through the text on her computer screen as if he hadn’t even spoken.

He sat on the edge of her desk as he’d done at least a hundred times before. “Well, I like your smile. And I’m mad as hell at myself for having done something to take it away.”

Damn, he was good. Already she could feel her anger melting like a bowl of her favorite rocky road ice cream left in the sun.

“You’ve earned this assignment, Kelly. I had no right to tamper with that.”

She studied her still fingers on the keyboard and mumbled, “As if you could.”

“Ah, that’s right. I need to ‘get over myself.’”

His ability to laugh at himself made him all the more appealing and she could almost hate him for that. Sure he showed that fine butt of his on occasion, but once her anger had cooled she knew he’d been trying to protect her feelings—in his own man-dense kind of way.

Sort of sweet, actually. And gorgeous. And smelling so good she wanted to crawl over the desk to bury her face in his jacket.

Ethan hitched his knee farther on her desk and moved closer. “I looked over the data on Morrow’s disappearance this afternoon and came to a conclusion.”

He might as well have dangled a carrot in front of her. No way could she resist. “And?”

“Hatch was right about us as a team.”

She looked up at him. “Really?”

“I’m okay with foreign languages conversationally.” Ethan scooped up her paperweight again. “Written translations, however, are not my strong suit. And I sure as hell don’t speak as many languages as you do.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So you need me.”

Ethan went still. His eyes fell from her face, lower. He couldn’t be looking at her breasts?

He glanced away, replacing the paperweight. “A good field operative needs to know his or her limitations. Which means you have to accept I have something you need, too.”

“You do?” she asked, her breasts suddenly warm and heavy beneath her crossed arms.

He swallowed, long and slow, before his eyes locked firmly on her face. “Things could turn ugly at that summit ball. You have to be able to defend yourself. I need to know you can defend yourself or I won’t be able to concentrate on my end of the operation.”

“Okay.” Feet planted, she heeled her office chair back for distance from the draw of those sapphire eyes. “I’ll log in extra training hours.”

“Not good enough. If you’re going to be ready in two weeks, it’ll take more than a few extra agency courses. I require a personal reassurance my partner can protect herself, and even watch my back, too. I’ll only have that if I take part in the training 24/7.”

Kelly scrambled to follow the conversational thread with the scent of him filling her tiny cubicle. She needed air. She needed space.

She needed another partner.

Ethan canted forward. “I think we should live together.”

Chapter 3

“Live together?”

If Kelly’s horror-filled eyes were anything to gauge by, Ethan guessed he was being subjected to a crash course in “getting over himself.” His bruised ego would have to move aside. He had to convince her to move in with him so his Aunt Eugenie could orchestrate a makeover in a way that wouldn’t hurt Kelly’s tender feelings and he would be one step closer to securing the file on his parents.

Ethan reached to stop her chair before she backpedaled into the next cubicle. “Hear me out.”

She smacked his hand away. “If this is your idea of revenge for what I said this afternoon, it’s not funny.”

“Kelly, this afternoon was,” he paused, “surprising. It’s not exactly something I’d like to repeat. But no harm, no foul.”

“Really?” Suspicion stained her eyes.

He’d have to teach her to hide her emotions better. “You were absolutely right. We’re both professionals and I should have treated you as such.”

“Now you show that by suggesting we live together?”

Ethan opted to ignore her sarcasm. “Hear me out. You’re off office duty once you leave today.”

“But the computer intelligence—”

“I have secure link-ups at home. That summit ball is only two weeks away. We need every minute between now and then to trade services.”

“What services are you offering at your playboy bachelor pad?”

Her meaning sucker-punched him. Apparently he hadn’t hidden his attraction as well as he’d thought.

Kelly’s jaw tipped with a defensiveness that spoke louder than her words. “I mean, why not take the warm and willing woman up on her offer? After all, she announced it to a whole room of people.”

How could she see herself as nothing more than a warm and willing body? Who the hell had abused her trust?

Guilt pinched him. Hard. But damn it, her safety depended on her cover’s believability. He had to trust his Aunt Eugenie could pull off her fairy godmother role for him.

Ethan decided not to acknowledge the “warm and willing” comment and rolled out his excuse for getting her out of the office. “We’ll exchange language brush-up lessons for self-defense training.”

Her arms fell to her lap. “Oh.”

“And I don’t live in a ‘bachelor pad,’” he felt compelled to add. “When I’m in town, I live in the family home with my aunt.”

A grin crept over her face. “You live with your aunt?”

She laughed.

He was worrying himself cross-eyed over hurting her feelings and she was laughing at him.

Kelly clapped a hand over her mouth.

Heat inched up the back of his neck for the second time in one day—hell, for the second time in his life—thanks to this woman. “Kelly—”

Her laughter caressed the air with the same husky sensuality of her voice. “The great playboy of the western world lives with his aunt.”

Ethan bristled. “It’s a big house.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“I’m gone a lot. She watches over my stuff.”

“Makes sense.”

Her laughter faded. Silence fell. Kelly fidgeted with the paperweight. The vacuum cleaner silenced and he still hadn’t convinced her. He would have to play dirty. But then rules had never been his strong suit. “I thought you wanted to do whatever it took to get out from behind that desk.”

Her hand clenched around the paperweight. He’d won. He could see it in the sigh lowering her shoulders.

“Your aunt won’t mind a guest for two weeks?” Kelly offered a final token resistance.

Damn it, Kelly had been pushing his buttons left and right while he was trying to be Joe Sensitive. Well, not anymore. He’d maneuver her where he wanted her, damn it, mouthiness and all. He wouldn’t let his rogue feelings get in the way of his quest for that file Hatch had on his parents.

“Aunt Eugenie knows I work for the CIA, just not about ARIES. She doesn’t ask questions. I’ve already spoken to her. Do you want to follow me out there?”

“I don’t have a car. I take the train in—”

“Good.” His mojo was positively humming. “Then I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

“Well, I don’t know—”

“Be ready by seven. I want to get an early start.”

Kelly watched the morning sun creep over the Virginia suburban skyline from the comfort of luxurious leather in Ethan’s vintage Jaguar.

A really messy Jag.

She nudged the gym bag at her feet with her tennis shoe in a vain attempt to make room for herself amidst the piles of books on tape and empty coffee cups.

Over the hills and through the woods to Aunt Eugenie’s house they drove. Ice-laden trees and street signs sped past her window outside, while blues music swirled from the CD player inside.

Ethan had steamrollered her in the office the night before. Sure his plan sounded logical, but she could have come up with an alternative if he hadn’t been hogging all the air. How could a girl think when she could barely breathe? But she’d surrendered rather than risk spending more time alone with him in the intimacy of the darkened office. She’d waited to start her list of alternatives in the solitude of her apartment.

Three hours and two bowls of rocky road ice cream later, she’d decided his plan had merit, even if not for the reasons he thought. Regardless of her rampage in the office, she doubted her ability to work if she couldn’t think whenever he walked into the room. What better way to kill her infatuation than to spend more time with him and uncover his faults?

Ethan stopped for a light. A soda can rolled from under the seat.

Perfect. Her plan was already well under way. A much-needed smile pulled at her.

“What?”

Kelly peered out the windshield at the pristine yards of snow, all viewed over a sludge-covered hood. “Why in the world would someone own a car this expensive and never wash it?”

He adjusted the rearview mirror, an air freshener shaped like a pine tree swaying. “Lesson number one in field craft. Sometimes the simplest tricks are the most effective.”

“Having a car with Wash Me scrawled across the back is field craft?”

“Actually it is.” He turned another corner, downshifting. His legs flexed as he worked the clutch, brake and gas pedal. “Think about it. What happens if someone rubs away those words?”

“It leaves a big smudge,” she answered absently, admiring the impressive play of muscles beneath faded denim.

“And if someone tampers with other parts of the car…”

His words sank in, pulling her attention back to chilling reality. “Their handprints will be noticeable—or smudged.”

“Exactly. Sure, ARIES provides plenty of the high-tech gadgets. But sometimes simple works well, too.”

He existed in a world of constant threats and car bombs, and all for a higher good. How could she not admire him? Even his freshly shorn hair reminded her that every facet of his life bowed to the demands of his job.

Her plan was not going well at all. Time to dig deeper into his real life for those flaws.

“How long have you lived with your aunt?” she asked, envisioning some teenage rebellion that led him to being shuffled to another relative.

“Since elementary school.”

“That young?”

His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “My parents died in a car accident.”

How did she not know this about him? “I’m so sorry.”

“Me, too.”

Much more of emotion-tugging Ethan and she’d leave this assignment with a marshmallow heart. “I’m sorry for laughing earlier, about you living with your aunt, I mean. It’s really sweet that you stayed on to take care of her.”

“Take care of her?” Ethan snorted. “Better not let Aunt Eugenie hear you insinuating she needs help for anything. She’s sixty-five going on twenty.”

“Oh, okay.” Was his aunt some kind of socialite poster-girl for plastic surgery? Panic tickled her lungs. She might like herself just fine the way she was. That didn’t mean she wanted to spend the next two weeks with Ethan’s aunt questioning what he saw in such a quiet wallflower. “She knows this is just a working relationship, right?”

“Yes.”

Her panic faded. “Good.”

“But the servants don’t.”

“Servants?” Kelly pulled her gaze away from Ethan and looked out the window. Sprawling houses loomed on either side of the road—brick, columns, even the occasional turret. Plots of land acres large spread between gates and towering homes. With every block, the houses grew bigger and Kelly grew more uncomfortable.

“We need to protect the cover,” Ethan continued. “The servant network is tight in my aunt’s world. We don’t want them wondering and passing along their doubts. If we expect to pull this off, they need to think we’re a couple and we can use the practice.”

A couple? How had she gone from getting over him to pretending to be his girlfriend for two weeks? “What have they been told?”

“That you work for an embassy as a translator. I met you through a friend. We fell for each other, and you’re taking an extended vacation to meet my family.”

The sense of having been maneuvered washed over her and she didn’t like it. If he’d told her this the night before, she would have shot down his plan.

And he probably knew it. “When were you going to tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

Kelly stared out the window and counted passing houses to calm her temper. Of course she didn’t get to count very many since the yards were so darned big. No snowmen littered these lawns like in her Nebraska hometown.

She’d realized he was wealthy. But this neighborhood wasn’t just rich. It was filthy rich. Beyond-her-comprehension rich.

He obviously didn’t have to work. She recognized his thrill-seeking need, but he could have channeled that into any number of expensive hobbies. Instead of swimming with sharks in Aruba, he dodged bullets to make others safe.

Damn. He grew more admirable with each passing Mercedes.

“This didn’t have to be so complicated.”

“It isn’t,” Ethan insisted. “If anything, there will be fewer questions and more acceptance than if I’d just shown up at the summit ball with you. People would have been curious about you, which would attract too much attention. This gives everyone two weeks to become accustomed to the idea.”

“And afterward?”

“We break up.”

Breaking up with a guy she’d never gotten to enjoy. That depressed her as much as the loss of his longer hair, the lost chance to test the length and texture with her fingers.

Ethan turned off the road, pausing at a security gate to punch in a code. Kelly peered through the metal bars.

This wasn’t just a big house. It was a mansion.

A white-columned palatial home sprawled before her. Towering evergreens with snowcapped branches proclaimed age and heritage. An iced-over fountain bigger than most pools perched in the middle of a horseshoe driveway.

All of Ethan’s altruistic qualities aside, he came from a different world. He might as well reside on a different planet. She’d harbored dreams and fantasies about this man for two years, and yet she didn’t know the first thing about him.

No doubt, their break up would be completely believable.

Steering up the drive, Ethan thought through the round of introductions he would have to make—housekeeper, chauffeur, cook. Thought of all the times he would touch Kelly like an attentive boyfriend. Like a lover.

His great plan had a serious flaw.

Too late now. Bottom line, this would protect Kelly on a number of levels. Not only would she be better prepared by his aunt, but Ethan also fully intended to follow through on the plan to teach her self-defense. Who knew what their digging into foreign embassy workings might stir? All the more reason to have her close by where he could guard her.

At least her voice wasn’t tormenting him anymore since she’d started clamming up four blocks ago. The tension emanating from her had increased with the size of the houses. He dreaded the moment she would turn and look at him differently, when she wouldn’t be able to see past the stacks of money to the man anymore.

The house might be his but it wasn’t him, and for some reason it became important that Kelly understand that.

Forget front-door welcomes. He didn’t want her first impression of his home to be some three-story winding staircase and a cathedral ceiling. He sped past the horseshoe driveway and circled around to the back. Pulling into the five-car garage, he parked between his aunt’s Mercedes and the housekeeper’s VW Beetle.

Ethan shut off the engine as the door slid closed behind them. “Leave your luggage. I’ll bring it up later when I take you to the main house. First, we’re going to head upstairs to the apartment.”

“Where I’m staying?”

“No.”

“Your Aunt Eugenie has a suite over the garage?”

“No. I do.” The surprised lift to her brow brought a rush of victory. He’d find his footing with this complex woman yet. “I thought you could use the time to ask any more questions before you meet everyone.”

“You mean questions about how you set me up.” Her eyes probed him with quiet censure.

She couldn’t have already figured out why he needed her here, could she? Heaven help him if he’d been too obvious about the socialite polish.

He reached behind the seat for her laptop computer to give himself a reason to look away. “Set you up?”

“By not telling me about the real reason for coming here.”

He twisted forward with her laptop and lapsed into the foolproof method of answering questions with questions. “Suppose you tell me since you do such a good job at spelling things out.”

“Because even with everything I said yesterday, you still don’t trust that I can keep my head on straight while posing as a couple. So you’ve planned this ‘lover practice’ in front of your servants for the next two weeks.”

Lover-practice. Now that had a tempting ring to it. “Kelly, I’m not doing anything more than I said. We’re here to work through leads in hopes of finding Alex Morrow before someone tortures him to death. And maybe we’ll be able to stop the whole heist attempt before the summit so a room full of people won’t be in danger. And if that doesn’t work, we’re going to make damned sure we both have every tool available so no one gets hurt.”

So Kelly wasn’t hurt.

He ignored the nagging voice that insisted he was already hurting her by not being honest. But he’d abandoned scruples long ago in favor of winning, and he wanted that thirty-year-old file on his parents.

Kelly threw her door open. “Then let’s get started.”

Ethan led her up the stairs, punching in the alarm code onto the pad outside his door before pushing inside. As always, he made a quick sweep through his barnlike studio apartment. He held up a hand for Kelly to stop while he took the six steps in three strides up to his loft bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he jogged up another half set of stairs to the open gallery computer area. Loping back down, he nodded. “All clear.”

“Do you always check your own house this thoroughly?”

She thought that was thorough?

“Yes.” He tucked his hands in his back pockets and cruised to a stop in the seldom-used kitchen area.

Kelly trailed a hand along the back of a gray leather sofa, her gaze sweeping the sparse furnishings. “So you brought me to your bachelor pad, after all.”

“I’ve never brought anyone outside of family here.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Solemn brown eyes studied him with confusion and an odd sort of expectation he knew he couldn’t fulfill.

Ethan turned his back on eyes that threatened to become as tempting as her voice. “If we’re going to work together, this is the only truly secure place.” He swept an empty pizza box off the kitchenette table. “You can set up your laptop here today. I’ll arrange something better by tomorrow.”

Shrugging out of her coat, she strolled through the cavernous room. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the bright tiles his Aunt Eugenie had ordered from Italy. She’d insisted he needed something lively in his dark world.

“There’s certainly plenty of space. My apartment would fit in here twice.”

“I like how open it is.” Easier to watch. Even at home, he never relaxed his guard, probably hadn’t slept through the night since he was five.

Ethan pitched his jacket over a kitchen chair. He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a can of orange juice for himself. “Want one? Or something more substantial—like a two-day-old burrito?”

He earned her genuine smile for the first time in twenty-four hours, a heady victory.

“No, thanks. I had breakfast already.”

Ethan elbowed the refrigerator closed and planned his next move for relaxing her. His computer system upstairs might not make a bad start.

Footsteps sounded in the stairwell. Ethan tensed a second before—

“Yoo-hoo, Ethan?” His aunt’s voice floated up the hall. Eugenie Williams charged through the door and across the room. The sleeves of her mummy-covered caftan, a souvenir of her latest trip to Egypt, fluttered from her open arms. “You’re early! Why didn’t you come into the house?”

“Because we’re early.”

“Like manners have ever mattered to you.” She folded him in a hug.

He dropped a kiss on her head. “You tried your best.”

A soft smile creased her round face. “I certainly did.”

Ethan couldn’t stop his smile in return as she stepped back. He loved his aunt, eccentricities and all. She’d been the only constant during his childhood after he lost his parents. He would never forget how she’d put her own jet-setting life on hold for him.

Well, not exactly on hold, but she’d carted him along on one extended field trip after another, giving him purpose, just as ARIES had done after Celia. “Aunt Eugenie, this is Kelly Taylor.”

She spun to face Kelly, stirring a drift of flowers and some kind of spice. No doubt his aunt had been knee-deep in aromatherapy this morning. Every time Ethan turned around, she sported a new mood-enhancing scent concocted by her masseur.

Eugenie studied Kelly with keen eyes, before nodding. “Ethan, go put her things in the Jefferson suite. And don’t blow out the candles the way you always do. I ordered a special blend of sweet marjoram, lavender and ylang ylang for serenity.” She flapped her hands to shoo him away. “Now scoot, so we can talk.”

The tension Ethan hadn’t even realized gripped him eased. There might be something to all Eugenie’s mood oils and fragrances after all.

He should have trusted his instincts, which had told him he’d made the right decision in handing Kelly over to Aunt Eugenie’s tutelage. The woman was a miracle worker. She’d actually made something halfway productive out of a screw-up rebel like himself.

This would come together. Aunt Eugenie would not only transform Kelly, but she would also be the perfect buffer for any awkwardness.

And while they worked on hairstyles, he could figure out who the hell had been following them.

Chapter 4

Kelly trailed Ethan’s aunt to the sofa. Not that she had much choice unless she wanted to stand in the middle of the room pinned by the woman’s curious eyes and the gaze of all those gold mummies on her muumuu.

Why didn’t Ethan hurry? She wanted to work, not chit-chat with his eccentric aunt. She would prove herself a worthy partner, not a woman who had to practice something as simple as pretending to be a girlfriend.

At least she wouldn’t have to pretend when she was alone with Eugenie Williams, since Eugenie knew Ethan and Kelly were working together. Kelly relaxed onto the sofa, grateful she didn’t have to hide her lack of polish for the next few minutes.

Her crush on Ethan, however, Kelly intended to keep well hidden around his aunt.

Eugenie swept across the room toward the gray leather couch, her steely bun twined on top of her head adding two inches of height. As she drew closer, the older woman’s vitality radiated through despite the tiny lines around her eyes.

Eugenie Williams sat.

Well, sort of. Just sitting seemed too ordinary a word to describe any motion from this woman. Her imposing presence made a simple stroll across the rug seem as if it deserved a diva spotlight.

Apparently Ethan had learned to command a room from a master.

Her caftan settled to rest around her, revealing strappy yellow sandals. Those snow-encrusted spike heels would have sent Kelly sprawling. “Tell me about yourself, dear.”

“Well…” Kelly couldn’t imagine anything about her upbringing on a Nebraska wheat farm that would be of interest to this woman. “I work with Ethan.”

“So I hear.”

Kelly searched for a safer topic. The woman might be a fountain of information for the quest to learn more about Ethan, but those shrewd eyes would be onto her in a heartbeat. Kelly tapped an edge of the woman’s caftan. “This is lovely.”

The pattern of Egyptian sarcophagi on silk stared back with eerie voids for eyes. “No, it’s not.”

“Pardon me?”

Eugenie fluffed her silver hair with her fingernails. “It’s a godawful eyesore I bought with the sole intention of shocking the Chanel right off those pastel suits worn by the country-club set.”

“Oh.”

“But it’s comfortable.”

Kelly snuck a quick glance at the door. Still no Ethan. “That’s important.”

“Essential. Life should be lived. Enjoyed.” She whipped the air with her bejeweled fingers. “Savored.”

Kelly agreed a hundred percent. She inched back farther on the sofa. “How wonderfully liberating not to worry what others think.”

“Oh, I do care. Very much.” Eugenie’s hands fell to rest on her lap. “I absolutely cannot tolerate the thought that someone might think I’m bowing to the god of status quo.”

Not much chance of that. “Where did you find this, uh, comfortable eyesore?”

“In Egypt, of course.”

Kelly’s soul soaked up the thoughts of travel. “Did you buy it at one of the street markets?”

“Oh, I like to tell most people I haggled with a vendor in the old Turkish bazaar. Ba Kum?”

Kelly searched her memory for the translation— “How much?”

“Excellent. Ethan always struggled with languages, no matter how many informal field trips I took him on abroad. Of course he did get an A on his volcano science project after our weekend jaunt to view one in Italy.”

Kelly smiled at the image. What had it been like for Ethan being brought up by this unconventional woman?

The answer came to her in a flash.

Fun.

No doubt spelling drills for Ethan hadn’t consisted of sitting in a straight-backed chair until his legs fell asleep. “So you got your deal on the caftan at the market?”

“Actually I bought this in the airport on my way home. I just said I like to tell people it came from a vendor. Without the story, my caftan has no allure for them.”

“Of course,” Kelly agreed, rather than admit she’d lost the thread of Eugenie’s reasoning back at the bazaar.

Where was she going with this rambling? Or was Eugenie Williams one of those people who just liked to talk? Either way, Kelly knew she didn’t stand a chance of stepping off the roller coaster. Not that she wanted off just yet. “What a, uh, fascinating concept.”

The older woman waggled a bejeweled finger. “Ethan didn’t tell me what a diplomat you are. Not one of his strong points, I might add. Diplomacy. I missed the mark in teaching him that one. But I did a fair job in showing him how to savor life.”

Kelly decided she would pass on hearing about Ethan’s exploits.

Eugenie twisted rings around her fingers with her thumb, one sapphire set in platinum, a double ruby and an emerald-cut diamond. “In the interest of savoring life, I want you to come with me to my spa.”

It sounded heavenly, but she didn’t have the time. The story of her life, but a price worth paying to rise to the top. “I’m here to work.”

“You can’t work for every waking minute. We’ll go after hours.”

“Thank you, but I really can’t—”

“We’ll have mud wraps and a massage. My masseur does the most wonderful relaxation therapy with river stones along the back to ground and center you.” Her eyes drifted closed, her fingers wavering down in front of her face as she exhaled deeply.

Kelly twitched her foot. How long should she wait for Ethan’s aunt to come to?

Eugenie’s eyes snapped open. “After that, we can indulge in a pedicure, and maybe even work in a hair trim.”

“A hair trim.” Realization trickled over her like the stinging bite and stench of the home perm solution her mother had squeezed onto her head in the eighth grade.

Kelly stared at the woman with a new understanding. She’d dodged her mother’s mall salon gift certificates often enough to recognize a makeover offer when she heard one.

Ethan had set her up again.

And that royally pissed her off.

Why hadn’t he just told her? She could have handled hearing she needed a new wardrobe to make this work. She wasn’t so socially inept that she expected to wear tennis shoes to an embassy ball.

But he’d obviously worried about hurting her feelings, and that reeked of a pathetic air she could not stomach. “So that’s why I’m here. For you to concoct a cover story. Like with your caftan, you’ll set up an allure to your social set so they’ll accept me.”

A part of her wanted Eugenie to deny it, but she knew better. Those extra IQ points carried the burden of being right quite often.

Eugenie’s bittersweet smile confirmed the scenario before her words. “Sadly, my dear, I’m afraid there are people in this world who don’t trust what their own eyes tell them. They can’t believe something has beauty or worth unless it conforms to their standards. I’m sorry about that. But most of all, I’m sorry you had to find out this way. Ethan should have told you.”

“Yes, he should have.” She couldn’t stem the anger in her voice.

“Remember, he is a man. And when it comes to second-guessing what women want, men can be the most clueless creatures since the Komodo dragon.”

Kelly couldn’t help but be affected by the woman’s whimsy. A snort of laughter slipped past her anger. “He should put you on the payroll for damage control, as well as makeovers.”

“My nephew can be an insensitive ass.”

“It’s not your fault. He’s just doing his job.” Her frustration redirected itself all onto one, all-too-deserving target. Ethan.

“Consider it a cover, like Ethan’s ever-changing hair length. We’ll drape you in Versace and diamonds. Then we’ll tell people your parents are Nebraska land barons.”

“They’re wheat farmers.”

“No, no.” Eugenie batted the air as if whipping up her story. “They launched an exclusive brand of hybrid organic wheat germ that’s all the rage in Paris.”

“Wheat germ? My father is somewhere right now cringing over his cholesterol-laden breakfast and doesn’t know why.” No doubt this woman would have her way. Kelly surrendered to the inevitable. “I guess I can live with Versace and the wheat germ. But no feathers.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The wicked glint in cerulean eyes so like Ethan’s made Kelly doubt the woman’s word. She picked at the hem of Eugenie’s caftan. “And no sarcophagi.”

“Brat.”

Kelly relaxed into the sofa with an exaggerated sigh. “Okay, then, maybe one chiffon diamond-studded turban.”

Eugenie’s face smoothed, no laughter in sight. She lifted a lock of Kelly’s hair from the sofa back. “Oh no, my dear. I wouldn’t cover this glorious mane for anything.”

Her hair?

She’d never thought of her hair as anything other than an obnoxious tangle. Kelly looked for signs that Eugenie might be flattering her just to win her point and found nothing of the sort. The woman meant it.

Not that it should matter in the least.

But it did. After years of waiting for even one affirmation from her mother, Kelly soaked up that single comment. If this woman ordered a torturous combo of a seaweed wrap and bikini wax, Kelly would be first in line.

Ethan, on the other hand, would pay big-time for his latest deception.

“It’s all about deception, Kelly. Make your attacker believe you can’t defend yourself.” Ethan stood across from Kelly on the exercise mat in his private gym. He hoped like hell this hand-to-hand combat lesson would end soon. He’d had enough of flipping, tripping and touching to last him two lifetimes. “Use your smaller size to your advantage by lulling him into a false sense of security. Then blast him with an explosive surprise shot.”

Security? He wanted the security of a mission in, say, Taiwan. Yeah, Taiwan, where he could kick butt against a pack of bad guys.

Instead, he was stuck in the mansion gym serving as Kelly’s personal trainer.

Much more body tangling and he would lose his mind. Please, Lord, he hoped she’d absorbed today’s self-defense lesson and they could move on to weaponry. He could use some time with his 9mm to blast holes in a target, a safe outlet for his frustration.

“Remember, Kelly, it’s all in the hips.” He did not want to think about her hips. “Lower your center of gravity so the power of your punch comes from your body and not just the body part.”

“Right.” She nodded, her ponytail bobbing. “Sling hips into the punch and follow through.”

“Good. Now roll out the moves we reviewed. Got it?”

“Got it.” A stray lock of hair whispered across her damp brow. Kelly braced her feet apart, her sweat pants pulling taut across her hips.

Ah, hell. Not her hips again.

He forced his eyes up to her face. Not that it offered his libido any relief. Her swept-back hair revealed high cheekbones models paid big bucks to create with implants.

The Nebraska State T-shirt showed a lot more than her bulky sweaters. Even a sweaty mess, she looked damned good inside that T-shirt—and felt good underneath it.

He wanted to crawl into a cold shower.

Not wise when he still didn’t know who’d followed them or why. His review of the security camera footage from when they’d arrived had revealed zip, nada, zilch. The tail could have been a fluke—except he didn’t believe in coincidence.

“Ethan?”

Kelly’s voice kicked through his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“Are you ready?”

“Of course.” He advanced a step and ignored the perfume of Kelly’s shampoo mingling with perspiration, so close to the scent of sex. “Just waiting for your go-ahead. Let’s try it again.”

Friendship was more important, he reminded himself.

Says who? his libido asked.

“Shut up.”

Kelly looked up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Too much of nothing at the moment.

Friendship did count, especially for a man who didn’t allow many into the inner circle of his life. The fewer people he let in, the less chance he had of losing them.

And no way in hell did he intend to lose Kelly on this mission. He would train her until she dropped. “Envision someone you want to hurt.”

She blinked once and nailed him with her gaze. “Done.”

“No time for sympathy.”

“Got it.”

“Focus. Pull your mind in tight. You have to quit thinking about all those pretty kicks you see on TV or in whatever class you took. This is about street fighting, blending techniques that work for your body.” He’d spent the whole night before putting together a Kelly plan, a mix of women’s defense courses and Krav Maga used by elite forces around the world.

Ethan stepped closer, crowded her space to emphasize the differences in their size. Recognizing limitations was the first step to overcoming them. “No rules. Fight dirty. Fight to win because losing means you’re dead. List target zones.”

“Vulnerable tissue areas—throat, eyes, inner arm, inner thigh. And of course the cro—”

“Yeah, I’ll let you slide by without practicing that one.” Technically, it didn’t qualify as a soft tissue area at the moment, anyway. “Run the strikes.”

“The palm strike, eagle claw, bear strike,” she paused, flexing her hand into the proper form for each, “and my favorite, the double dragon.” She swung her hand forward as if tossing something, two fingers jabbing toward his eye.

He blocked her wrist. “Well done.”

His fingers curved around her and held a second beyond necessary before he dropped her hand.

“I have to admit,” her voice whispered through the air, husky bedroom tones gliding over him as she circled to his back, “the tiger claw seems so violent.”

Her breath stroked across his skin. Ethan swallowed. “That’s the idea.”

“How can I know I’ll be bloodthirsty enough to go for the throat like that?”

The husky catch in her question caressed the skin on the back of his neck. “Instinct to live.”

“But to pinch through the Adam’s apple…” She crossed to his other side, a full-out attack on his senses. Her hand fell onto his shoulder, curved around. “I think I prefer to just—”

His world rocked.

Whoosh. Air abandoned his lungs.

The ceiling stared back down at him as he lay flat on his back.

Kelly leaned over him. “—do something like that?”

Damn. She’d lured him with a pretended weakness and then flipped him. Tripped him, actually, but a minor technicality since either way, he’d met the mat.

“Yeah, Kel, just like that.” He pushed the words out with minimal oxygen left in his lungs.

His head thunked back and he stared at the ceiling. When the hell had someone painted stars up there?

Never mind. The last one faded.

Kelly smiled, hands on both her knees as she leaned closer, nearly nose-to-nose, her ponytail swishing like a pendulum over his chest. “I took you down. Flat on your back. Oh, yeah.”

She swung upright, dancing around him in her victory trot, her eyes laughing as much as her full, luscious mouth.

Ethan just lay on the floor and watched her come alive.

He hadn’t been dropped since early training, only to be taken down by a woman in bobby socks. He wondered if maybe he needed some self-defense courses of his own before those dainty sneakers danced right over his focus.

No more hand-to-hand, body-to-body combat today. “Time for target practice.”

Maybe she’d miss and put him out of his misery.

She couldn’t shoot worth a damn today.

Kelly clicked away on her new computer in Ethan’s loft, the man himself absorbed in his own keyboard three feet away. The locale may have changed, but apparently her role was still the same. Desk jockey.

Aim low. Aim low. Aim low. She chanted the too damned rudimentary advice Ethan had given her every time her arm bucked and her shots went wild.

Her victory in the exercise room had been short-lived once they’d shifted to his private shooting range. Okay, so her poor aiming could have had something to do with the fact that she’d spent the hour prior tangling her body up with his on exercise mats.

Talk about exercise—more like an exercise in self-torture. He’d stood so darned close to her, smelling so damned awesome. Which made her shots go wild.

Which made him stand even closer.

Bottom line, she needed what he could teach her about self-defense. Sure she’d been given entry-level defense courses upon joining the agency, and she’d learned some basic moves after her grab-happy ancient languages professor had started stalking her. Her regular Pilates Method exercise and relaxation training kept her toned.

Not that she planned to let on about those and give away her miniscule edge. Besides, she’d learned more in the hour with Ethan than in her six-week course at the campus community center.

At least here at the computer with Alex Morrow’s final transmissions in front of her, she could be certain of her footing.

She snuck a glance at Ethan at his computer. A miniature ivory elephant perched on top. A gift from his Aunt Eugenie, no doubt. How sweet that he’d kept it.

Kelly shoved the sympathetic thought away. The rat bastard had set her up and hurt her feelings. Twice in one week. One simple flip onto an exercise mat didn’t come close to canceling that debt.

Although it made a decent start.

What was he doing? His computer screen split into multiple images of the mansion grounds. He clicked keys. Angles widened.

Kelly spun her chair for a better look. She hadn’t considered there might be a threat behind Ethan’s fortress walls. She understood the risks involved in setting a trap the night of the embassy gala. But why would there be safety concerns prior to that?

She hoped his grounds perusal was only routine.

He tapped two more keys, then leaned back. His chair squeaked a slow call almost as lengthy as his legs. “Whatcha got there, Taylor?”

The warm glow of lamps over the desk cast an umbrella of privacy in the darkened apartment, almost as if they were suspended in air together. Every detail of his face called to her for study, for touching—the thick arch of his dark brows, the strong jaw with an enticing cleft in the chin, and a thin scar on the side of his neck. Only about two inches long, it had faded so much she might not have noticed except it contrasted with his tan.

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