For another unguarded moment Gerard received the full impact of her gaze which was appraising him in open female interest once more. It seemed that because she had caught him doing the same thing to her moments earlier, she felt she’d been given the green light to keep flirting. Her aggression shouldn’t have surprised him. Teenagers these days had few inhibitions.
“You guys go ahead,” he heard her say in a slightly husky voice he found far too attractive. “I need to ask Hank a couple of questions first.”
Disappointment marred the boys’ features as they lingered a moment longer, then walked away disgruntled.
“What’s on your mind, Whitney?”
She bit softly against her lower lip where he could see her small, even white teeth. It angered him that every part of her beautiful face and body appealed to him this strongly, even the flowery scent of what could be her shampoo or perfume.
“My grandmother asked me to talk to you, but I didn’t want Roger or Jeff to overhear me.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Yes. She raised me. Anyway, I know this is going to sound conceited, but I can’t go anywhere without guys bothering me.”
Gerard could believe it. He had half a mind to call her grandmother and tell her Whitney had the kind of looks and sex appeal that shouldn’t be let loose anywhere around males, particularly not in Europe. The inviting glances she’d been giving him had been duly noted. Any man without scruples, be he young or old, would consider her fair game.
“Jeff and Roger are really nice and I like them, but I had hoped there would be another girl in our group to sit with on the bus. Since there isn’t, do you mind if I sit with you? Even in the movie? That way I’ll have you to protect me.”
He had to think fast. “I’m sure I can arrange with one of the other teachers for a female student to be your companion around Europe.”
“Please don’t do that!” she cried out softly. In an instant, her whole demeanor had changed. Her panic appeared real.
“Why not?”
“Because it won’t work. Everyone has a friend already, and they’ve chosen their groups. I know what girls are like. I joined the tour too late and they won’t want to include me. Besides, other girls always accuse me of trying to take away their boyfriends, even when I don’t do anything! They’re mean to me. It ruins e-everything.”
In his gut he knew she was speaking the truth. The girls who had chosen to go to Europe would have made certain they had a friend for the trip. They most definitely wouldn’t want to compete with a young woman who looked like Whitney.
“How is it you signed up to travel alone?”
Her gorgeous violet-blue eyes suddenly glistened with tears. “At the last minute, my best friend got sick and couldn’t come. I live with my grandmother, and when she heard that Leslie was ill, she wanted me to cancel, but I’ve been waiting for this trip forever.
“I earned all the money myself and graduated with a four point average. Because of that she finally said I could go on the tour if I promised to stay by my teacher the whole time. She doesn’t trust boys my age at all.”
Gerard stifled a groan. This was a complication he would never have anticipated.
“A friend of my cousin’s went on the trip with Mr. Bowen last year. She said he was so nice, I assumed he would take care of me. But I signed up too late to get in his group. You don’t mind if I sit with you, do you, Mr. Smith? I’ll be good and leave you alone. I promise.”
The tremor in her voice brought out an unbidden, protective instinct in him he hadn’t felt since long before Simone’s death. It put him at odds with his initial appraisal of her and the situation. “I’ll do what I can to help.”
“Thanks so much,” she whispered.
Right now those moist, ingenuous, lavender-blue orbs were looking at him with an expression akin to gratitude, nothing else.
Maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe he’d just imagined that she’d been sending out signals earlier. To be honest, he didn’t know what to believe, but he felt it would be cruel to disregard her request when she’d worked so hard all year for this trip.
“You’re welcome. Let’s go next door so you won’t miss hearing the instructions.”
By tacit agreement they walked toward the exit. As if to prove she wouldn’t be a nuisance, she didn’t say another word and simply followed him from the other side of the tables. By the time they’d entered the small, semidark auditorium down the hall, the film had already started.
“Hank?” a female voice called out. He looked to his right and saw Fran Ashton who was sitting with her group. She patted the aisle seat next to her. She’d been waiting for him. If he sat by her now, she would assume the attraction was mutual.
Oddly enough, the clear message in her eyes irritated him even more than it had the other night. Deciding that now would be the time to let her know any interest he had in her was purely professional, he placed a hand at the back of Whitney’s waist to guide her in Fran’s direction.
He’d made the physical gesture without thinking, but when he felt the younger woman tremble in reaction to his touch, he realized his mistake and just as quickly removed it.
“Miss Ashton?” he murmured quietly so as not to disturb the others around them. “The auditorium is full. Do you mind if one of my students sits with you?”
The other woman looked chagrined, but she couldn’t very well refuse his request. “No.”
“Thank you.”
To his relief Whitney brushed past him to sit down without protest. In the process, he felt the imprint of her voluptuous body. Though the contact was accidental, it ignited sensations he hadn’t felt for a long time.
Dry-mouthed, he leaned over enough to murmur, “I’ll see you in front of the Global Airlines’ counter on Sunday morning. Six-thirty a.m. sharp.”
“I can’t wait. Thanks again,” she said softly. Her lips came dangerously close to his cheek where he felt her breath. Their intimate exchange quickened his pulse.
Needing some air, he left the auditorium in a few swift strides. It was his job to stay until after the film to answer his group’s questions, but for the moment he craved a little privacy.
What in the hell was he was going to do with Whitney Lawrence for the next ten days? He’d all but promised her she could sit by him throughout the tour.
Roman’s comment about this assignment being a challenge had turned out to be much more prophetic than either of them knew.
“Hank? Wait up!”
He heard his name called and turned around to discover Donald Bowen on his heels.
Gerard had been using ingenious ways to get to know his target better. It pleased him that the other man was the one to seek him out. Gerard was making progress.
“Hey, Don.” Whether the other man liked the abbreviation or not, Gerard had decided to go with it.
Donald flashed him an easy smile. “You weren’t leaving, were you?”
“No. I just wanted to get a drink. How about you?”
“Actually I’ve been waiting to talk to you.”
“Go ahead.”
“Sandy McGinnis, the woman STI sent over tonight, just informed me that you have a student named Whitney Lawrence from Union High who wanted to be assigned to my group. Apparently she was disappointed when she found out mine was full.”
“I had no idea,” Gerard lied, wondering where this conversation was going.
“Was it the tall blonde you brought in late? The one who sat down next to Fran?”
Like every other male on the premises, Donald Bowen had noticed Ms. Lawrence, too. “She’s the one,” Gerard murmured, his senses suddenly on full alert.
“When Sandy assigned her to you, she didn’t realize that you only had boys in your group. She shouldn’t have put a female student with you.
“My group is made up of three girls and three guys. I’ve already talked to Mike Sargeant, one of my boys. He’ll be happy to trade. If you want, I’ll talk to your student after the film
and tell her she’s been switched to me.”
Donald Bowen never did anything without a hidden agenda. Already briefed on the man’s history, Gerard couldn’t figure out why Whitney’s name had even come up, or how she fit into his schemes. The welfare of one student would be the last thing a foreign agent would care about.
Unless he used his female students in some capacity to help pass along information without their knowing it.
But Donald Bowen already had several of his own female students signed up for the tour. Why would he be concerned over what an unknown student from a different part of the state did or didn’t do, especially when the other three girls were available?
As Gerard pondered that question, the thought briefly entered his head that Ms. Lawrence might be an accomplice coming on the scene to help him out. But he as quickly dismissed the absurd notion.
Though Whitney Lawrence could be taken for a full-grown adult, she was only a high school senior. When and where would she have been recruited by Donald Bowen to help him do his dirty work? It didn’t make sense.
The more he thought about it, the only reason he could account for the agent’s interest in Ms. Lawrence was the fact that despite her young years, she was easily one of the most attractive women Gerard had ever seen or met in his life.
If that were true for him, it would hold equally true for Donald Bowen who was a man and had eyes in his head. On or off the job, he probably went through women as a matter of course. He wouldn’t worry about compromising a few willing female students in the process.
One lustful glance at Ms. Lawrence and Donald Bowen had decided to manipulate the situation to his advantage in order to assuage his desires on the tour.
To Gerard’s shock, he felt a distinct distaste at the thought of the other man exploiting her for any reason.
“It’s okay, Don. I’m taking her under my wing so you won’t have to worry about it.”
The man’s smile faded. “Look, Gerard,” he said in a confiding tone. “You don’t understand because you haven’t been a chaperone before. Her parents could cause a lot of trouble if they find out she’s the only girl in the company of a bunch of guys. You can’t guard them all the hours of the day and night, if you catch my drift.”
Catch my drift?
That was a rather obsolete idiom a foreign agent might have learned twenty years ago, but it didn’t fly with Gerard. The man’s hair and bone structure put him in mind of an Eastern block type. Yuri would know his nationality at a glance. Maybe Gerard could arrange for his good friend to fly to Geneva to verify his theory.
“Her grandmother is her guardian and she’ll feel fine about it when she finds out I’m taking personal charge of her.”
“Then you’re asking for a different kind of trouble.” All pretense had fled.
“What do you mean?”
“Come on.” His dark eyes narrowed. “The boys in my group have already been discussing her. One of them said she looks good enough to eat.”
That was no news to Gerard.
“How do you think it’s going to go over when they notice you baby-sitting her the whole time? It might look innocent to you, but that’s how gossip starts.”
The man was trying intimidation tactics on him. For some reason, it really upset him that Gerard wouldn’t play ball where Whitney Lawrence was concerned.
“To be honest, I’m more worried about Fran Ashton,” Gerard commented, pretending to misunderstand. He lowered his voice in the same confiding manner as Donald. “She’s been sending out signals since last week. But nice as she is, I’m involved with someone else. Chaperoning Ms. Lawrence on the tour is going to take care of a potential problem for me. You know how it is when the attraction is only one-sided.”
The other man pondered Gerard’s explanation, then shrugged in a fashion untypical of an American, as if he’d suddenly realized he’d been showing his hand too strongly.
“It happens, mon ami. But to be safe, I suggest you trade the girl off with me from time to time so no one draws too many erroneous conclusions. We’ve never had a problem on the tour. I’d hate for gossip to ruin future trips.”
“Believe me, so would I, particularly since I plan to bring my own group of students next year. I appreciate the word of warning, Don. Let’s just play this one by ear and see what happens, shall we? I know I’m looking forward to picking up on the tricks you use to shepherd these kids around and still keep them happy. Your legend precedes you.”
On the surface the tension had appeared to ease, but Gerard knew Donald Bowen was smoldering with frustration beneath that calm facade.
“Thank you for le compliment, Monsieur Smith.”
“De rien, Monsieur Bowen. From all I hear, it’s well deserved.”
He cocked his dark head. “Your accent. You sound like you’ve spent time in Geneva.”
“Lausanne, actually, but you were close.” Gerard took the greatest of pleasure in correcting the other man. “I’ve been trying to place yours. You must have been in Belgium. There are certain sounds you make I’ve only heard in Charleroi.”
After a brief silence, “You have an amazing ear. It’s true I studied French there for a time.”
“Not so amazing,” Gerard denied. “I did a lot of skiing in Europe when I was much younger. One of my friends came from Charleroi. You sound very much like him when you talk. I’m surprised you don’t plan a side trip to Belgium with your students.”
“They refuse to visit that part of Europe. All they really want to do is buy things in Paris and Switzerland. They don’t care about the stained-glass windows of the Saint-Chappelle, or the Roman ruins around Lake Geneva.”
Evidently the man had decided to make small talk in the hope Gerard would forget how adamant he’d been about trading Ms. Lawrence for his own nefarious purposes.
“All American students are the same. Spoiled and shockingly carefree.”
“You’re right about that,” Donald muttered without humor.
“I’m afraid I was the same at their age. Where did you grow up?”
“Washington State. Bellevue. And you?”
So many lies, Monsieur Bowen. How do you keep track of them?
“Right here in Salt Lake. But I spent all my free time at our cabin in Alta, skiing and rock climbing.”
“My wife’s family is from Salt Lake, Orem, to be precise. Between responsibilities at home and my profession, there hasn’t been much time for sports the last few years.”
“I was married once myself, so I understand how the commitment cuts down on your free time. It’s ideal you can take these trips to keep up your French.”
“That’s why I go.”
“I’d like to keep my French current, as well. It’s a an excellent way to stay in touch with the students and use the language. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get that drink before the show ends.”
“Of course.”
“I’ve enjoyed our chat, Don. Fortunately we’re going to have lots of time during the tour to do more of the same.”
The other man nodded. “If I don’t see you again tonight, we’ll meet at the airport.”
“Are you one of Mr. Smith’s students?”
The film had ended and everyone was getting out of their seats. “Yes, ma’am,” Whitney said on purpose to make herself sound as young as possible.
She’d been expecting Ms. Ashton to say something because it was perfectly clear that the French teacher was more than a little interested in Mr. Smith and wanted to give Whitney a piece of her mind for temporarily thwarting her plans.
What was equally obvious to Whitney was his indifference to Ms. Ashton. Whitney actually felt sorry for the other woman who must have come on several tours hoping for a relationship with him. Too bad she hadn’t caught on that he preferred defenseless teenage girls who couldn’t help succumbing to his charm.
The appraisal he’d given Whitney in the other room earlier provided proof that she’d been chosen for his next conquest. Things c
ouldn’t be working out better.
Slowly she would allow him to believe that she’d fallen into his hands like a ripe plum. Near the end of the tour, when he thought he could maneuver her into his bedroom as he’d done Christine, she’d have all the documentation she needed to expose him.
As far as Whitney was concerned, this would be his last trip with STI since she intended to monopolize and seduce him until she could bring him up on charges of attempting to compromise her. Then they’d have a talk about Christine and Greg.
“Why didn’t you sit with the rest of his group?” Ms. Ashton questioned a little too sharply.
The woman has claws. Whitney decided it was time to unsheathe a set of her own.
“Hank was helping me with a problem that made us late.” Taking a calculated risk she added, “I told him I hated disturbing everyone, but he said you wouldn’t mind, that you were the motherly type, always willing to help out one more. I hope it’s all right.”
No woman wanted to be thought of as a motherly type by the man she fantasized about. The left-handed compliment could even be construed as cruel. But Whitney couldn’t afford to waste any time. With a limit of ten days, she needed to stake out her territory now, thereby eliminating any possible complications down the road.
“Don’t you think you should show him the proper respect and call him Mr. Smith?”
Uh-oh. “I tried to be polite, but he told me everyone calls him Hank and he expects me to use it.”
A deadly silence followed. Whitney didn’t dare look in the other woman’s direction. Instead she stood up, ready to leave the auditorium.
The other woman also got to her feet. “He’s a very busy teacher with a lot of responsibilities. You should be careful not to monopolize his time.”
“I would never do that.” Whitney spoke over her shoulder. “But my grandmother has already made arrangements for him to sit next to me throughout the tour because my best friend had to cancel at the last minute and I’m all alone.”
“I’m sure we can find a girl for you to pal around with.”
“If you did that, I wouldn’t be able to come on the tour. My grandmother says I have to stick with my teacher or I can’t go at all.”
Undercover Bachelor Page 3
