Lindsay McKenna - Heart Of The Tiger

“And you do?”

“Why not wait until you hear what he wants before you turn him down?”

Her lips tightened. “You’re very good at your job, Mr. Talbot. Keep victims off balance so they can’t ferret out your real motive.”

He offered her a hint of a smile, his azure eyes darkening with an unknown emotion. “It’s Major Talbot, Mrs. Hamilton. And I’ll pick you up at the university at noon.”

Afterward, Layne stood in the foyer in stunned silence. Was he manipulating her, or was her paranoia from the past haunting her? Her mind spun with questions. But what difference did it make? She had sworn never again to get involved in any way with a man who worked for a government agency. So let Major Matt Talbot play his game of intrigue. It wouldn’t get him anywhere.

* * *

Nervously, Layne gathered her sheaf of papers and put them into her desk drawer. Other teachers milled around, discussing the humidity and high temperatures. The desultory chatter set her on edge even more. She looked at her watch again—for the hundredth time, it seemed. Miserably she sat staring out the window overlooking the university campus. Maybe Matt wouldn’t show up. Twice, Layne had almost picked up the phone to tell Chuck Lowell to have his man back off. She touched the collar of her plum-colored silk dress she’d accented with a hot pink sash. She had chosen the colors to strengthen her emotional state.

“Hey, Layne?” Dr. Fred Gerus called. “You have a visitor.”

Layne forced herself to remain calm. She had purposely woven her raven mane into a chignon, softening it with wispy tendrils at the temples. Smoothing out the folds of the dress, Layne moved slowly toward the door of the teachers’ lounge. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for what awaited her as she rounded the corner.

Matt Talbot was impossibly handsome in uniform, his lean, whipcord body attesting to his peak physical condition. He stood tall and relaxed, hands clasped before him. His azure eyes darkened with pleasure as Layne walked toward him. His blue Air Force uniform boasted a gold major’s oak leaf on each broad shoulder. Layne’s eyes widened as her gaze traveled downward. On the left side of his uniform were silver pilot’s wings and rows of military ribbons attesting to his abilities. He was every inch a warrior, her mind told her. But her heart lurched anyway. He gave her a devastating smile of welcome, barely inclining his head forward.

“Mrs. Hamilton.”

She gripped her purse. “Major Talbot.” And then in a low, husky voice she whispered, “If, indeed, you are a major in the Air Force.”

Matt grinned, confidently settling the officer’s cap on his head, its black bill shading his eyes. “I am what I seem, Mrs. Hamilton. Shall we? I have reservations at La Fleur for twelve-fifteen.”

Layne walked briskly beside him, wildly aware of his fingers on her elbow as he guided her out of the university. “La Fleur? That’s terribly nouveau riche for someone on an officer’s pay, Major Talbot.”

“A classy place for a classy lady,” he murmured, guiding her toward the parking lot.

“Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, Major.”

Matt smiled tentatively, guiding her to a shark-gray Lexus. “I prefer women with silky black hair and beautiful golden eyes,” he corrected.

Layne observed him closely as they arrived at his car. Brad had gone through similar motions hundreds of times: carefully inspecting the vehicle before putting the key in the door. After all, a bomb could have been placed inside, ready to explode upon contact when the key entered the lock. Although it was ninety degrees and the hot sun was beating down upon them, Layne shivered.

Finally satisfied, Matt opened the door for her. Layne climbed in without a word, strapping the seat belt across her body. Then Matt slid in, deceptively relaxed.

“Why are you being so complimentary today?” Layne demanded as he guided the purring Lexus into the noontime traffic.

“Why not?”

Layne fumed inwardly. How many times had Brad answered a question with a question? She’d finally realized she wasn’t supposed to ask questions at all, although she’d had many during the last four years of their marriage. Now, she gave Matt Talbot a murderous look.

“Because you want something from me, Major Talbot, that’s why.” And you’re too handsome, she added silently, aware of his clean profile as he drove. A slight, inviting smile hovered around his mouth, easing the hard planes of his face.

“Why do you confuse my honesty with wanting something from you?”

Layne frowned and clutched her leather purse more tightly between her hands. “Since when did agents become honest?” she retorted scathingly.

“I’m an officer in the Air Force, Mrs. Hamilton.”

“You also work for the Company.”

“Sometimes.”

“Like now. You’re working for them now. This minute.”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve got the nerve to ask me why I don’t trust your compliments?”

He slid a lazy look in her direction, then returned his attention to the driving. “Did you question your husband’s compliments?”

Tears drove into her eyes. She felt as if someone had struck her in the chest with a fist. “That’s unfair!”

“Any more unfair than questioning that I might compliment you because I think you’re attractive?”

Her nostrils flared with anger as she glared at him. “You’re very good at slipping a dagger between someone’s ribs, Major Talbot. Did someone teach you to use personal assaults to net the desired response from the other party, or does it just come naturally?”

His eyes turned glacial. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re paranoid?”

“It comes with the territory.” Layne’s knuckles whitened, and she stared straight ahead.

“There’s an old axiom that the more paranoid the agent, the better he or she is destined to be—” Matt gave her a keen look “—but it’s not recommended behavior for the family of the agent.”

“It rubs off,” she replied, tight-lipped.

As they walked into the elegant French restaurant located in a popular section of Georgetown, Matt leaned over. His voice was low, vibrating through her. “I owe you an apology. It’s been one hell of a rough day, and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. Am I forgiven?”

One look into his eyes and Layne’s retort melted. She avoided his searching look. “Let’s just call it a draw, shall we?”

Matt laughed softly, guiding her into the darkened foyer of the establishment. “Now you see us as sparring partners in a boxing match.”

“Aren’t we?” she needled him.

He gave her an amused look, saying nothing.

Layne was not surprised when Matt shifted into fluid French with the maître d’, and she reluctantly admitted his accent was excellent. As they approached a quiet, intimate table, Layne noticed that Matt was the only uniformed guest. The noontime trade at La Fleur mostly consisted of Hill people.

“You’re getting quite a few daggered looks, you know,” she said when he’d completed the wine order.

Matt’s gaze settled hungrily on Layne. He liked her husky, warm voice. It reminded him of melting honey. “Does it bother you?”

She shook her head, folding her hands and resting her chin on them. “No. They probably think you belong back over at the Pentagon and not on this side of the Potomac.”

He smiled, placing the menu aside and resting his forearms on the table. “There wasn’t a restaurant like La Fleur over there. You deserve the best, Mrs. Hamilton. And if my uniform causes any of the patrons a bit of discomfort, I can live with that if you can.”

“Men in uniform don’t bother me, Major. It’s agents in plain-clothes that I distrust,” Layne reminded him sharply.