Lisa Childs - Agent Undercover

It could have been the crimson shade of her tight dress or the pale yellow of her hair that made her skin look translucent. But he knew it wasn’t—even while he admired the fit of that dress and the bright shade of lipstick on her wide mouth and the shimmer of her light hair.

The woman snorted derisively. “She looks like she hasn’t been out in the daylight for years.”

Ash knew why Claire Molenski looked that way. She hadn’t been out in the daylight for years. And if he had his way, he would be locking her back up again soon.

He just had to catch her before she and her greed put into motion an economic and security catastrophe of epic proportions.

* * *

CLAIRE’S HEAD WAS THROBBING, and the smile felt frozen on her face. Her lips were so dry that they were now stuck to her teeth, so she couldn’t pull them down again. This is what you wanted , she reminded herself.

A new life. A life that wasn’t so lonely and empty.

She doubted she was going to find that new life in the dining room of the Waterview Inn, though. Most of the guys were much older than she was and some, from the deep indents on their ring fingers, were not as eligible as they claimed. In fact, when she sneezed, one pulled out a handkerchief for her and whipped out his ring as well, which rolled across the grape-leaf-and-vine-patterned carpet.

She giggled as he chased after it. But then that strange feeling assailed her—as if everyone was staring at her. She looked around the room but noticed no one overtly studying her. Maybe she was just paranoid because she hadn’t been out in public for a while—for a long while.

That was the whole purpose of coming here. She could have just signed up for online dating. But she’d wanted to go out and actually meet real people—people with personality and character. Only she hadn’t yet met anyone she cared to date. The bell dinged again, so she drew in a deep breath to brace herself for the next man to take the chair across from her.

First she looked at his hands, which he’d braced on the table in front of him. The ring finger held no telltale indentation. So she glanced up, and the breath she’d drawn escaped in a gasp of surprise.

Very pleasant surprise. This man wasn’t too old for her. His hair was thick and black, and his eyes were a piercing blue. So piercing that he seemed to peer right through her. Had it been his stare that she’d felt earlier?

“Hello,” she said. “My name’s Claire.”

So many of the other men had remarked that it was odd that such a young woman had such an old-fashioned name, but he just nodded, almost as if he’d known her name. But she had never met him before; he was the kind of man a woman would never forget meeting.

So she was definitely just paranoid.

“What’s your name?” she asked when he didn’t freely offer it.

“Ash,” he replied almost reluctantly.

She floundered around for something clever to say, but her mind was blank. Maybe it was because he was so damn good-looking; maybe it was just because she had no idea how to date anymore. It had been too long.

She had read some books about how to flirt when dating. But none of what she read came to her mind. It remained blank, which was a novelty since she was usually unable to stop thinking.

“What do you do for a living, Claire?” he asked.

Several other men had asked that same question, but she actually wanted to tell him the truth. “I work with computers,” she said.

“A programmer?”

She was more like a deprogrammer, but she didn’t want to explain that. Legally, she really couldn’t. So she just nodded. “Yes, it’s boring. What about you?” she asked. “What do you do for a living?”

“Government job,” he replied. “It’s boring, too.”

“Politics?” she asked. With that face, she could see him smiling at voters, kissing babies, shaking hands...

He shook his head. “That probably wouldn’t be boring.”

“Probably not,” she agreed. “So you have a desk job, too?”

“Sometimes,” he replied.

He had that whole mysterious thing going on, which had probably worked well for him with some of the other women. But Claire wasn’t looking for complicated. She’d already had enough of that in her life. She was looking for simple and open and honest and fun—which was why none of the other men had worked for her, either.

Finally the smile left her face. She didn’t have the strength to make the effort to fake it anymore. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe she hadn’t done enough research. Maybe it was that feeling of being watched—even if she was totally wrong—that unnerved her.

“Aren’t you available after all?” he asked.

Again she felt as if he asked a question to which he already knew the answer. She shook her head and tried to shake off her uncharacteristic paranoia. “That’s not it,” she said. “I’m just not ready...”

She pushed back her chair and stood up as he stood up, too. He towered over her in height and breadth with his impossibly wide shoulders and chest. His black sweater and dress pants made him look incredibly handsome and incredibly imposing. She definitely wasn’t ready—especially not for him.

She couldn’t believe someone like him would have even come to a speed dating event. He had to have women throwing themselves at him constantly. He didn’t belong here, either. But she would leave it up to him to figure that out.

“I have to go,” she said, and now panic was joining the paranoia, pressing down on her chest so that she struggled to draw a breath.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I need some air...” She whirled around so quickly that she knocked over her chair before rushing from the room.

His deep voice called after her, “I hope it wasn’t something I said...”

A woman Claire passed on her way out laughed. “That’s not likely...”

Claire heard nothing else but the sound of her own pulse pounding in her ears. What about that man had made her so nervous?

She hadn’t even waited for the bell to ding before leaving him. For some reason she hadn’t dared. Maybe it was the feeling he already knew things about her that she hadn’t told him that had unnerved her. Or had it been the way he had looked at her—as if he could see right through her?

Or maybe it had just been the way he looked—too handsome. Dating him would be like going from a bicycle to racing motorcycles. If she was going to start dating, she needed to start on the bicycle with training wheels.

She had taken a room in the hotel for the night in case she’d had too much to drink and hadn’t wanted to risk her life or anyone else’s by driving. But she had barely taken more than a sip of her glass of wine, so she could drive herself home. She would feel safer in her apartment than this hotel. As she crossed the lobby, she felt as if even the eyes in the portraits were following her. She didn’t need to go up to the room since all her overnight things were still in her oversize purse. So she headed straight for the front doors.

Night had fallen since the speed dating event had started. Even with the streetlights, the parking lot was dark. This hotel was outside the city of Chicago, so it had no parking garage and no valet service. She had to find her own vehicle but at least the lot was just out in front of the hotel.

She was reaching inside her bag, digging for her keys, when someone grabbed her. A strong arm wrapped tightly around her, binding her arms to her sides, as the man lifted her off her feet. She parted her lips to scream, but a big hand clamped down hard over her mouth, muffling her cry for help and nearly smothering her.

Or maybe it wasn’t the hand but the handkerchief it held against her mouth and nose that smothered her—with the sweet, cloying scent of chloroform.