The gesture was so unexpected, so…tender, it took Sarah a moment before she could continue. "There was some bruising so the joint is still somewhat sensitive," she said. "I assure you it won't interfere with my ability to do my duty."
He dropped his hand. "You hit me with your left shoulder when you knocked me down," he murmured. "You reinjured it because of me."
"My comfort is immaterial. My duty is to protect you."
"My God, you don't even know me."
He was wrong, she thought. She knew every fact about Hawkins Lemay that could be gathered by Army Intelligence. The background file she'd assembled had been impressively thick and contained far more than a list of his hobbies. And it had been a long flight.
His credentials as a scientist were beyond repute, his accomplishments in the field of particle physics were astounding. At only thirty-five, he was the world's leading expert on nuclear fusion, respected by his colleagues, courted by foreign governments and ambitious businessmen alike…and considered important enough by the American government to warrant personal protection. Major Redinger's orders had come straight from the Pentagon.
Still, there were things the file hadn't told her. She'd known Lemay was six foot two, 198 pounds, physically fit because of his daily jogging, but she hadn't known how gracefully he moved, or how long and tanned his fingers were, or how the battered, brown leather jacket he wore creaked subtly with his motions and smelled so deliciously of fresh air and man…
"You're the man I've been assigned to protect, Dr. Lemay," she said. "That's really all I need to know." She stretched past him to restart the elevator. It resumed its slow ascent with a jerk. Lemay reached out to steady her, but she ignored him and took a quick step sideways.
He picked up her suitcase. His voice was low and tense. "I'm sorry I hurt you. Would it help to put ice on your shoulder?"
"No problem. I'll be fine."
"Who were you protecting that time?"
She kept her attention on the passing floors. "Excuse me?"
"When you were shot?"
"It was a hostage rescue. A seven-year-old boy."
"Since when does the Army do hostage rescue…Ah. I should have seen it." His voice took on a curl of interest. "Hostage rescue, bodyguard detail. You're no ordinary soldier, you're with Delta Force."
His insight didn't surprise her. After all, he was a genius. "Yes, sir. Here's our floor. Stay back until I check the corridor." She opened the gate with one hand and slipped her gun from her pocket with the other. She listened first, but she heard nothing from the hall. She held up her palm, motioning Lemay to remain where he was, then stepped out of the elevator. When she assured herself the way was clear, she glanced behind her.
She had half expected him to defy her order and follow her, but he was still standing by the elevator, her suitcase tucked under one arm as if it weighed nothing. His jacket gaped open, exposing a wrinkled denim shirt. The lighting in the corridor was as subdued as it had been in the lobby, yet the shadows couldn't hide the sharp glint in his gaze.
The striking blue eyes he'd inherited from Cynthia Hawkins, his New England mother. The midnight-black hair and strong bone structure had been passed down from Pascal Lemay, his Cajun father. Those were facts she had known since she'd memorized his face from the photograph in his background file.
But the photo hadn't shown that gleam in his eyes. It was a glimpse of the power that dwelled behind the distinctive features, a hint of Dr. Hawkins Lemay's awesome intellect.
He held her gaze as he closed the distance between them. His big body moved with the careless ease of a predator, another fact that wasn't contained in his file. He paused in front of her, once more filling her senses with the scent of leather and man. "Tell me the truth, Captain Fox," he said. "What's the real reason you're here?"
Chapter 2
Hawk crossed his ankles and leaned against the door frame as he watched Captain Fox move through the bedroom. Like the rest of the suite she'd already been through, the bedroom was decorated predominantly in ivory and pale rose, with antique furniture that carried the dark patina of age. But the captain wasn't interested in the décor any more than he was. She'd claimed she was checking for bombs or booby traps, and she appeared to be doing a thorough job.
His belongings were still in his suitcase—he hadn't taken the time to unpack before he'd felt the need to go out for a walk—but even the suitcase hadn't escaped her scrutiny. She was sticking to her story, yet the more Hawk thought about it, the more he wondered whether he should trust her.
That wasn't anything new. He seldom trusted anyone. "Don't you find it odd that out of all the soldiers who could have been assigned to guard me, your Major Redinger chose an injured woman?"
She strode past the bed to the window, tested the lock, then closed the curtains. "Not odd in the least, Dr. Lemay. I was the best person for the job."
"Because you speak Swedish?"
"Yes, that was one of the factors in my favor."
"What are some of the others?"
"I'm an excellent shot. And like many of the other soldiers of Delta Force, I've received bodyguard training from the Secret Service." She did a final survey of the bedroom and its adjoining bathroom, then walked past him to return to the suite's elegant sitting area. "And as I already told you, my injury won't interfere with my ability to do my duty. The bulk of my work will involve coordinating security with the hotel and the local police."
He pivoted to keep her in sight. Her inspection apparently complete, she unbuttoned her coat as she moved to the carved wooden wardrobe beside the suite's door. He was relieved to see that she didn't betray any difficulty moving her shoulder when she hung up her coat. While he still needed to be more certain of his facts before he could trust her, the pain he'd seen earlier when he'd grabbed her had been authentic, he was certain of that.
Her description of her injury had been curtly businesslike. She hadn't wanted his sympathy. Why? Was it because she was trying to be professional, or because she simply didn't like admitting vulnerability? Both, he decided. "Is personal protection your specialty?" he asked.
"My duties are varied, depending on the mission," she replied, taking her cell phone and her gun from her coat. She closed the wardrobe and turned to face him. "But my specialty is intelligence."
She wore a turtleneck sweater and tailored pants. Like her coat, they were black. Unlike her coat, they didn't conceal her figure.
Hawk saw that her body was as feminine as her face, an appealing combination of slenderness and curves. Softness over strength, like the silk scarf at her neck that was a whimsical splash of color against the sober black of her clothes. Yet her appeal arose from more than her appearance. It was the fluid way she moved and the confident way she angled her chin. Although she wasn't tall, she had the kind of presence that gave the impression of height.
She slipped her phone into her pants pocket and reached behind her to tuck her gun into her waistband at the small of her back. The movement tightened her sweater over her breasts. Firm, temptingly rounded breasts that would fit perfectly into his palms…
Hawk lifted his gaze to her face.
She was staring straight at him, so she had to have noticed where he'd been looking. She seemed to have guessed what he'd been thinking, too. Yet she didn't shrink from his regard. She met it with the assurance of a woman who was at ease with her sexuality and saw no need to deny it.
Sarah Fox was an intriguing woman, a study in contradictions. She handled a gun as easily as a telephone. She had chosen a career in a male-dominated field, yet she was blatantly female.
What kind of woman would risk her life for a stranger?
Or had she?
Damn, he'd lost his train of thought. What had they been talking about? "You said you work in intelligence?"
"Yes."
Pieces moved into place. An alternate explanation for her presence began to form. "It's finally starting to make sense."
"I don't understand.
"
"That's why the government chose to send you here."
"I told you why. While you are in Stockholm you are the target of an assassin."
"And when did you first learn about this assassination plot?"
"Yesterday morning."
"Yes, that's when I was informed, as well."
She shook her head. More strands of hair slid loose from her clip to brush the side of her face. "Dr. Lemay, why are you so skeptical? I would have thought that an intelligent man like you would have been grateful for our help."
"It's the timing that made me skeptical, Captain Fox. It's too convenient. The government 'discovered' this threat to my life less than twelve hours after I refused their offer."
"What offer?"
She sounded genuinely puzzled, he thought. Then again, what man would question anything she said in that smoky velvet voice of hers? He looked at the way her hair haloed her face, and he remembered the pleasure he'd felt when he'd held a lock between his fingers.
Was that another reason she'd been chosen for this mission?
The pleasure dissolved. He straightened up from the door frame and moved toward the sitting room window.
"Please, keep away from the window, Dr. Lemay. The curtains are closed, but the lamp casts your shadow on the fabric."
He still didn't have enough facts to form a definite conclusion, he reminded himself. He changed direction, crossing the room to the inlaid-walnut desk that held the suite's fax machine and one of the telephones. He steepled his fingers on the desk's glossy surface. "What do you know about my work, Captain Fox?"
"You research nuclear fusion."
"My goal is to develop fusion power as an economically viable energy source."
"Yes, I'm aware that you published a landmark paper on the subject several years ago, but you've kept your research confidential since then. That's what you plan to speak about before the closing ceremonies on Saturday, isn't it?"
"Correct." He lifted his gaze to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk so he could watch her reflection. "Two days ago a representative from our government visited me at my lab in California. He requested that I continue my research under their supervision. All my results would be the exclusive property of the Department of Defense."
She hesitated. "I wasn't aware of that."
"No?"
"No, sir. That information was not in any of the sources I accessed."
"Don't you find that odd?"
"Yes, it's definitely odd. A fact like that should have been made available to me. You said you refused?"
"Yes. I turned them down. I gave them nothing." He folded his arms over his chest and faced her. "Less than twelve hours later, they suddenly discovered someone wants to kill me. I find that odd, too."
"What does that have to do with—" Her breath hissed out. "Surely you don't think the government is trying to kill you simply because you wouldn't work for them."
"No. I don't think anyone's trying to kill me, especially not the government. They don't want my death, they want my work." He studied her face. "And what better way to get it than to place someone, say a bodyguard, in a position where they had a reason to stay with me night and day?"
"Dr. Lemay—"
"Even better, what if they sent a beautiful woman, one whose healing injury would arouse my sympathy? She would have unlimited opportunities to gather information. Not only about my work but about whom I associate with while I'm at this conference and what other offers I might receive."
He watched her string the facts together. It didn't take her long. He could see the exact moment she understood his point. Twin spots of color bloomed in her cheeks—he'd bet it wasn't because he'd called her beautiful.
Her lips thinned. "You think I was sent here to spy on you."
"Were you?"
Her jaw flexed, as if she were clenching her teeth. "My appearance, my sex and my physical condition are irrelevant. I am an officer in the United States Army. I am not a spy."
"You're not regular Army, you're Delta Force. From what I've heard, you're all trained in unconventional warfare. Your stealth and secrecy are legendary. You don't play by the rules."
"Sir—"
"In addition, you've admitted you're an intelligence specialist. You're trained to gather information."
"Call my C.O.," she said. "Major Redinger will confirm my orders. I am here to protect you."
"But that's the problem. Would he be telling me the truth, or only confirming the cover story you agreed on?"
The color in her cheeks deepened. Her knuckles whitened as she balled her hands into fists. "I didn't risk my life by running through four lanes of traffic for the sake of a cover story, Dr. Lemay. And I didn't knock you to the ground and add another bruise to my shoulder for show."
Her struggle to control her temper was so obvious, Hawk found he wanted to discard his logic and believe her. "There's another possibility. Perhaps you aren't yet aware of the true nature of your mission."
"I saved your life today, sir. That should be enough truth for both of us."
"Who wants to kill me?"
"We don't yet know."
"What evidence do you have the threat is real?"
"I can't give you details, but Delta's intelligence-gathering network is extensive. Our informants let us know when Americans abroad are in jeopardy."
"In other words, you have no hard proof, do you?"
"The only way I can prove beyond a doubt that I'm right is to let you be killed." She reached behind her for her gun, glared at him for an instant, then turned and ran lightly to the door.
Someone was knocking, Hawk realized belatedly. He'd been so focused on this woman he hadn't even noticed.
She pressed herself to the wall beside the door and called out in Swedish. A male voice replied. She took a long look through the peephole before opening the door as far as the security chain would allow. After a brief conversation, she replaced her gun at the small of her back, unhooked the chain and swung the door wide.
A thin blond teenager in the hotel's blue-and-gold bellhop uniform wheeled a folding cot over the threshold. He smiled shyly at the captain, pocketed the tip she gave him and left.
Silence descended on the suite. Hawk looked from the cot to the black-clad woman who stood by the door. The flush in her cheeks slowly subsided. Her breathing steadied. She walked around the cot, inspecting it as carefully as she'd inspected everything else in the suite. By the time she had finished, she appeared to have her temper under control once again.
Hawk wondered whether she ever allowed herself to lose control completely. Then he found himself wondering what it would be like if she did.
She returned to where he stood, clasped her hands behind her back and braced her feet shoulder-width apart military fashion. She focused on a point somewhere behind him. "I will endeavor not to let your doubts about my honor or my integrity interfere with my duty, Dr. Lemay."
Hawk raked his hands through his hair. She had turned his argument around. He tried to tell himself his skepticism about the death threat business had a logical basis, but that didn't stop him from feeling like a jerk. "I didn't mean to question your honor, Captain Fox. I was questioning your orders." But even as he said the words, they sounded lame. "I apologize."
"No apology is necessary, sir. Regardless of what you believe, I intend to perform my duty until I am officially relieved."
"Captain—"
"This is nothing personal. If you object to the presence of a woman in your suite, I will station myself in the corridor outside your door."
He'd been wrong. Her control wasn't as total as he'd thought. Her pulse beat rapidly against the side of her neck. Her pupils had contracted to reveal flashes of gold in her green eyes. The elusive spice of her perfume mixed with the scent of hot skin.
Yet she'd been wrong, too. What was happening between them was definitely personal. It had been from the moment she had been willing to offer her life in order to save his.
Or had she?
He should send her away. Put an end to this charade here and now.
But what if he was wrong?
The question still couldn't be answered with any certainty. And if he did send her away, what avenue would the government try next? Wouldn't it be wiser to keep Captain Sarah Fox close until he learned what was really going on?
Hawk hated lies. His entire purpose as a scientist was to seek truth. So, not for one second did he believe the lie he'd just tried to tell himself.
His real reason for not sending this woman away had nothing to do with his work or his principles or whatever conspiracy might be playing out here. It was far more basic than that.
He didn't want her to leave. Right now what he really wanted was to lean over and place his lips on that delicate, vulnerable spot where her pulse beat at the side of her neck and draw her taste into his mouth the same way he was drawing her scent into his lungs. He wanted to slip his arms around her rigidly held body and press her close until she softened against him, until he saw pleasure instead of pain from his touch, until he discovered what other passions she keep reined beneath her impressive control…
"Dr. Lemay?"
He shoved his hands into his pockets and straightened up. "You can stay."
"Thank you, sir."
"And I'd prefer it if you call me Hawk."
"Sir?"
"Because I intend to call you Sarah."
* * *
Her bare sole brushed lightly across the carpet as Sarah slid her left foot back and made a quarter turn. She shifted her weight, bringing her right arm forward in a smooth arc. She concentrated on her breathing, trying to focus her energy on the ritual slow-motion movements of tai chi. She often used the exercises to relieve stress, but so far she was finding no ease for the tautness in her muscles.
She had thought Hawkins Lemay was gallant. A gentle intellectual. A man of high principles. She had been impressed by the accomplishments she'd discovered when she'd studied his background. She had been determined to keep him safe, not only because she'd been ordered to but because she had honestly admired him.
Aim for the Heart Page 2
