Shadow Soldier

She thought his voice was unnecessarily sharp. Maybe it was her imagination, but the air seemed to have been charged with electricity between them all day. She had half expected her hair to start standing up. As much as Alex had assured her that he was there to protect her, every time he came near, her instincts screamed, Run for your life.

For the past couple of weeks, he’d been an unattainable fantasy, a gorgeous stranger she’d discreetly ogled to take her mind off the pain in her thighs as she suffered on the treadmill. And now here they were. Together.

He was too much—too strong, too tall…too sexy. She had no idea what to do with him, how to relate to him. Men like Alex weren’t exactly common in her life. Other than her middle-aged married neighbors, the only men she associated with were strictly business acquaintances. Well, other than Richard, one of her father’s aides. But Richard had never made her feel like Alex did. Like she wanted to jump out of her skin.

As the U.S. ambassador’s daughter in China, she had been watched constantly, left with few opportunities to socialize with boys her age. When her family had returned to the States, her father had shipped her off to a women’s college. Her mother had been gravely ill by then, so she spent her weekends at home missing the coed parties.

Then came Richard the Slime. She must have been pretty pathetic to fall so in love with someone who wanted nothing from her other than her father’s favor. After the breakup she’d sworn she wasn’t ever going to come within a hundred feet of a government man. It scared her how little judgment she had when it came to the opposite sex—Richard first, and now Alex, some kind of a secret agent.

The key was not to think of him as a man she was attracted to. If she pretended he was a business opponent, maybe she would have better luck with summoning her courage to stand up to him.

She was the one with her life at stake. She wanted to be part of whatever decisions were to be made. No, not just part of. She wanted to be the one who made them.

“Could we at least go home to get some of my things? I need to keep my business running.”

He shook his head.

“It wouldn’t take long and you’d be there to protect me.”

He ignored her.

“You said I could leave anytime I wanted.”

“Didn’t want to have to fight with you in the middle of a chase.”

She came to her feet. “You lied?”

“You should have known better than to start an argument and try to distract me while people were shooting at us.”

“Of all the highhanded—” She moved toward the back door. As indignation filled her, she didn’t find him nearly as intimidating. “I can walk out of here right now. I don’t need your permission.”

He threw her a challenging look. “You think you can get through me?”

Ohh, that did it. “Are you telling me I’m a prisoner and there’s nothing I can do about it?” She welcomed the anger that replaced her earlier mix of confused emotions. She felt much more comfortable being angry at the man than mooning after him.

“You’re in protective custody. Appreciate it.”

She stopped and leaned against the wall with her arms folded, noting the small dark triangle of sweat on the back of his shirt. Who the hell did he think he was to order her around?

His forehead touched his knees with each sit-up, his combat boots planted firmly on the floor. His movements were smooth and efficient; she could almost feel the tightly coiled power in his body. A military man, no doubt, but tougher and older than the Marines who had guarded the embassy in Beijing. She figured him to be in his mid to late thirties.

“Are you a Navy SEAL?”

He stopped for a moment and looked at her, his dark eyes assessing, the tone of his voice light when he spoke. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

“You telling me the truth would make me feel more comfortable.” Although she had less chance of that than a bucket of Häagen-Dazs in hell. That was not how government men operated. Wouldn’t recognize a straight answer if it got elected.

“I’m whoever you want me to be,” he said, and went back to his workout.

His fingers linked behind his head, he lowered his upper body to the floor then pulled up twisting his torso to touch his right elbow to the left knee, down to the floor, then back again to touch his left elbow to his right knee. He repeated the exercise over and over again without the slightest sign of strain.

He was ignoring her. Frustration tightened her jaw. “You sound like a cheap prostitute.”

She was sick of not being told the truth for her own protection. She had worked hard to get away from the suffocating life she had, courtesy of her father. And now somehow she’d gotten sucked back again.

Alex sat on his haunches like a jungle cat ready to pounce. His dark gaze held hers, cold and unyielding. “Is that what you want?”

What was he talking about? She had to search her brain to think what she’d said. God, had she just called him a prostitute? “It’s not what I meant.” She watched, rooted to the spot, as he unfolded his enormous frame and moved toward her.

And kept moving closer. “I—” She tried to step away, but it was too late. They were nose to chest, an arm braced on either side of her. She couldn’t do anything but stare at the muscles that bulged under his shirt in front of her face. How did he get there so fast?

“Do you have a problem with me, Nicola?” His voice was velvety smooth.

She lifted her chin, and their eyes met. Holy Mother and the Trinity. He’s a business opponent, he’s a business opponent, he’s a business opponent. This is a professional discussion.

“No. Of course not.” She tried to wiggle away. Even in business, there were times when the best course of action was to step back a little.

His gaze swept her face. He was measuring her up, testing her. She stiffened her spine and gave him a level look. “No problem at all.”

“Good,” he replied without letting her go. “Because we are going to have to work together.”

Dear Lord, his lips were close. Great lips, but too close. Not at all what you’d expect in a strictly business-type situation.

Chapter Three

She had to focus on something else. Nicola let her gaze slip to his neck, to the tail of what she supposed was a tattoo of a snake disappearing under his shirt. The tail seemed to wiggle with each pulse of the artery underneath and she felt mesmerized by it. She didn’t like snakes. Snakes ate birds, and she loved birds. She was definitely losing her mind.

“The finches.” She said the first thing she could think of. “They’re all alone.”

He stepped back.

“We have to get them. What if the terrorists hurt them?” Now that she thought of it, the possibility horrified her. Would they go that far? If they were willing to kill her, they probably wouldn’t balk at doing in a couple of defenseless birds. “What if they’re kidnapped?”

He pulled up a black eyebrow and watched her closely as if he were trying to determine whether she was serious. “I don’t think that’s a worry at this stage.”

“It is for me, damn it! I’m not going to sit here safe and sound while who knows what’s happening to them.”

A slight grin played on his lips. “Politically motivated assassinations of small birds are a relatively rare occurrence.”

“I’m not kidding. At the very least, I need to call my friend to go over and get them.”

He shook his head. “Not a good idea. I don’t want anyone in the house.”

Right. In case the terrorists were hanging around to blow it up. The thought took a moment or two to digest. Her brain wasn’t used to running along those lines. She had to keep her girlfriend Sheila out of this.

“I want my babies. My Tweedles need me.” She hung on to the issue, knowing in the back of her mind that she was probably using the birds to take her thoughts—and his—off more immediate things.

“Tweedles?”