Licensed to Marry

by Charlotte Douglas

  Judging from the red hair and freckled countenance of the young man who’d just entered, Kyle pegged him as Gary Bowen, a research assistant in his twenties who worked primarily with Dr. Tyson. Bowen slid awkwardly into a chair next to his boss and sat clicking and retracting the nib on a ballpoint pen and shifting constantly in his chair, a perfect poster boy for hyperactivity.

  Following close on Bowen’s heels was Dr. Robert Potter, a rotund, balding little man in his forties, second in command to Tyson, according to the notes in Josiah Quinlan’s desk. Potter seemed to bounce on the balls of his feet, his smile was one-hundred-watt and his cheery, “Good morning, all,” reverberated through the room. He took a seat next to C.J. and surveyed his fellow staff members with what appeared to be eager expectation.

  Wayne Pritchard, the other research assistant, who floated his duties between the remaining four scientists, sauntered into the conference room last. Kyle didn’t regard himself as a judge of masculine pulchritude, but he figured Pritchard, with his symmetrical, well-shaped features, tall, athletic build and thick, dark hair above keen brown eyes would be considered handsome by most women. With a nod to the others in the room and a murmured, “Sorry, I’m late,” Pritchard hurried to his place.

  As soon as Pritchard had folded his long legs into the chair on the other side of Bowen, Kyle moved to the front of the room and sat at Laura’s left. Kyle had known better than to hope one of the staff would have sported a guilty expression that gave him away, but he was disappointed that his usually sensitive radar, a very dependable intuition, hadn’t sent him any signals about who the terrorist informant in the group might be.

  Laura stood and addressed the group. “Good morning, everyone, and thank you for coming on such short notice. I’ll try not to keep you from your work any longer than necessary.”

  Kyle felt a rush of pride. Any man would be proud to call Laura Quinlan wife. Even in casual navy wool slacks and a muted plaid blouse, she looked fashionably elegant. Wings of dark, thick hair swept her temples, and her eyes, as deep and blue as the October sky, sparkled.

  “First,” she continued, “I want to thank you again for the kindness you’ve shown me since my father died. You’ve been my family and seen me through the darkest time of my life. Words are inadequate to express how much I appreciate your support.”

  While she spoke, Kyle scanned the faces of the people gathered around the table, ready for the slightest nuance of expression that might give away a traitor.

  “You’ve carried on your work unfailingly in these hard times,” Laura was saying, “and I know Daddy would be proud of your dedication and professionalism.”

  “You’ve done your fair share, too, Laura.” Dr. Potter’s round face beamed like a proud papa’s. “In spite of your difficult circumstances.”

  “Thank you.” With an attractive blush staining her high cheekbones, she acknowledged his compliment with a gracious nod. “And that brings me to the real reason for this morning’s meeting.”

  Tyson, Potter and Bowen leaned forward in their chairs in anticipation of her announcement. Kwan, Kyle noted, hadn’t moved, and Pritchard looked bored. C.J., like Kyle, was watching their reactions.

  Laura took a deep breath and gestured toward Kyle. “I want to introduce my husband, Dr. Kyle Foster.”

  “Husband!” Dr. Tyson sputtered as if she’d blasphemed. “You’re married?”

  Kyle’s focused gaze swept the room. Potter’s smile grew even broader, Kwan’s attractive Asian features remained impassive and Bowen grinned and continued to clean his fingernails with a penknife. Emotion flashed briefly across Wayne Pritchard’s handsome features, too quickly for Kyle to identify it, but he thought it might be jealousy. Not that he blamed the man. Laura Quinlan was a gorgeous woman.

  “Kyle and I were married day before yesterday in Los Angeles.” Laura was playing her role as new bride so flawlessly, Kyle found himself believing her. “We’d planned a wedding for next spring, but after Daddy died, we decided to marry right away so I wouldn’t be alone here.”

  Scowling, Tyson slumped in his chair.

  Potter rose to the occasion, his pleasant grin a happy counterpoint to Tyson’s disapproval. “Congratulations and best wishes to you both. We all, I’m sure—” he fixed his stare on Tyson “—wish you much happiness.”

  He resumed his seat amid murmurs of congratulations from the others. Even Tyson managed to mutter, “Best wishes,” but in a begrudging tone.

  “But that’s not all my news,” Laura continued. “As you know, Daddy administered the Institute as well as working as a researcher. I’ve asked Kyle to step into Daddy’s shoes, both to run the business end of our endeavors and to help with exploration of new antidotes and vaccines.”

  “What?” Tyson was on his feet, towering over Laura, his face livid, the veins bulging in his neck. Even the most casual observer could tell the scientist struggled to maintain his composure. “That’s impossible.”

  Kyle was ready to leap to Laura’s defense, but she remained unperturbed. With admirable poise, she faced Dr. Tyson. “Impossible, Lawrence? Why would you say such a thing?”

  Tyson glared past her to Kyle with a look that could kill. “Because the man’s a fraud.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kyle exerted every ounce of physical self-control not to respond to Tyson’s verbal bullying, while his mind struggled with the scientist’s accusation.

  Fraud?

  What did Tyson know? Was he going to blow Kyle’s cover before the operation even started? As much as he was torn between wanting to punch the pugnacious old geezer between the eyes or to demand what he meant by charges of fraud, Kyle sat, outwardly calm, knowing that Laura, with her longtime association with Tyson, was best able to defuse the situation.

  She flashed Tyson a tight smile. “I’m trying very hard not to take offense at the insult you’ve just flung at my husband, Lawrence, and to attribute your lack of courtesy to the fact that you’re overworked—and stressed out by Daddy’s death. I know he was your best friend.”

  The fight seemed to leak out of Tyson like air from a punctured balloon. He slumped back into his chair. “You’re right. Forgive me, Laura. You took me by surprise.”

  “It’s okay.” Her voice was gentle, and she placed her hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. “I understand.”

  Tyson made a visible effort to pull himself together. He pushed to his feet, approached Kyle and extended his hand. “My apologies to you, too, Dr. Foster.”

  Kyle grasped the man’s hard, bony hand. “Call me Kyle. No offense taken.”

  Tyson returned to his seat, and at the other end of the table, Melinda Kwan, her face as inscrutable as ever, spoke for the first time. “Meaning no disrespect, Laura, but you know how dangerous our work is here. For all our sakes, I’d like to know what Dr. Tyson meant when he called your husband a fraud.”

  Tyson had the grace to look embarrassed. “All I meant was that I’ve never heard Dr. Foster’s name mentioned in our line of work. I’ve never seen him published or heard him speak at a conference. He’s an unknown as far as I’m concerned.”

  Kwan looked at Laura. “Dr. Tyson has a point.”

  Laura turned to Kyle, her face calm but with a hint of panic in her eyes. “Maybe you’d better respond.”

  Kyle rose slowly to his feet. “Dr. Tyson’s right, although I wouldn’t call myself a fraud. My degrees and credentials are as valid as anyone’s in this room. I don’t, however, have as much experience as most of you in this field, nor am I as well known. That’s one reason Laura and I felt the bulk of my time will be better spent in administration, to free the rest of you for the work you’re so good at.”

  “Sounds reasonable to me.” Dr. Potter nodded with approval. The others’ expressions remained neutral.

  “I’ll be meeting with each of you individually,” Kyle said, “both to get to know you better and to learn your views on how the Institute should function. I’m here to help you not compete
with you.” He took his seat.

  “I won’t keep you from your work any longer,” Laura said, “but before you go, I want to invite you and your families to a party at our house tomorrow night to help us celebrate.”

  After the staff dispersed, Kyle walked with Laura back to the house. He grasped her hand, intending to maintain their romantic charade, but he found himself enjoying the warmth of her hand in his and savoring the intimacy that small contact gave their stroll in the bright October sunshine.

  “You didn’t tell them about beefing up security,” Laura said.

  Kyle shook his head. “They’ll find out soon enough. I don’t want to alert the informer in case the Black Order has plans to steal anything else from the lab. Let’s put the extra protection in place first.”

  She squeezed his hand, then halted her steps and turned to him, a softness in her expression that made his knees weak. “I can’t thank you enough for being here. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  He started to say he was just doing his job, but the sight of her checked his words. Through the quivering leaves of golden aspens that lined the road, the sun danced across her face, lighting her bright blue eyes and giving her silken skin an ethereal glow. Her rosy lips parted in a smile over perfect teeth, and the gentle breeze stirred her vibrant ebony hair, exposing her high, smooth forehead.

  Without thinking, he placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her toward him, claiming her lips with his own. Her unique orange-blossom scent swirled around him on the autumn air, firing his senses. He tugged her closer, and she came to him without resistance, draping her arms around his neck, molding her body to his. Even through the thickness of his denim jacket and chambray shirt, he felt the softness of her breasts against his chest and the thunderous beating of her heart.

  He wanted to stand there forever with her in his arms, but his training kicked in, reminding him of his duty. If he didn’t establish some emotional distance, he would be placing them both in danger. Reluctantly he pulled away.

  The sweetness of her smile almost banished his resolve.

  “I take it we were being watched again?” Her voice had a breathy quality, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

  Struggling for oxygen himself, he glanced back toward the glass facade of the Institute. “I thought I saw someone,” he lied, “but whoever it was is gone now.”

  He couldn’t let Laura know he was attracted to her. Although, on the one hand, he hoped, even suspected, she might welcome the idea, he had a double reason for maintaining his objectivity. First and foremost was his need to stay focused on his mission. But he also realized how emotionally vulnerable she was, having recently lost her father in such a violent and tragic way. Even if he was free to give rein to his growing affection for her, she deserved time to grieve and heal without other encumbrances.

  “You’re getting pretty good at this playacting,” he said with a lightness he hoped would convey he hadn’t taken their kiss seriously.

  Her eyes darkened briefly, as if shrouded by a passing shadow, then she laughed. “I’ll race you back to the house. Last one there has to fix lunch.”

  He permitted her a head start, not out of chivalry but to allow himself the pleasure of watching her long legs and slender hips glide up the road ahead of him. When she rounded a curve and disappeared, he took off running in earnest.

  SINCE THEIR FOOTRACE had ended in a dead heat, Laura grilled cheese sandwiches while Kyle heated soup. She liked the way they worked together in the kitchen. Curt had never helped with meals, claiming them “women’s work,” but Kyle’s familiarity with utensils did nothing to diminish his masculinity.

  If anything, his willingness to pitch in made him even more attractive. And even more of a problem. When Laura had concocted this marriage scheme, she’d believed herself invulnerable to Kyle Foster’s magnetism, believed the pain Curt had caused her would shield her from attraction to the handsome cowboy. She hadn’t counted on being knocked off her feet by his kisses. Earlier on the road to the lab, she’d been disappointed when Kyle had pulled away. She’d wanted the kiss to go on forever.

  She chalked up her fascination with her new husband to stress and the emotional imbalance of grief, and tried to push it from her thoughts, reminding herself they had an informant to catch.

  “Now that you’ve met the staff—” she turned the sandwiches on the griddle “—what are your impressions?”

  Kyle straddled a tall stool by the counter and kept an eye on the simmering soup. “Dr. Tyson doesn’t like me and makes no effort to hide it.”

  “At least that gives him honesty in his favor.”

  “I studied his file last night. Do you know his wife is Lebanese?”

  “Zahra? I’d forgotten.” Laura pictured the plump, smiling woman, her dark hair shot with gray. “She’s been in this country since she was a little girl, so she seems totally American. She doesn’t even speak with an accent.”

  “Does she have relatives in the Middle East?”

  The intense expression on Kyle’s face chilled her. She was glad she had nothing to hide from this man, who looked as if he’d spend his last breath to find the traitor. “I don’t know, but I know neither she nor Lawrence would ever jeopardize the Institute.”

  “Even if the Black Order threatened her family?”

  Laura shifted the sandwiches to plates, sliced them into quarters and placed them on the counter next to Kyle. He was ladling the fragrant vegetable soup into bowls, but she’d lost her appetite.

  Kyle tugged a tall stool up to the counter and motioned for her to sit. He pulled another stool next to hers and settled down to eat. He swallowed a bite of sandwich. “Did you know Gary Bowen has a gambling problem?”

  “Was that in Daddy’s files?”

  Kyle shook his head. “I faxed the names and social security numbers of everyone on the staff to Court last night. He’s running background checks and has already uncovered that Gary Bowen is deep in debt. The gambling connection was easy to uncover.”

  “But Gary and his wife are just kids. I can’t imagine either of them involved with the Black Order.” Laura broke a crust of her sandwich and crumbled it with her fingers as a thought struck her. “You suspect everyone, don’t you?”

  Kyle had finished his soup, his appetite obviously unaffected by the gravity of their conversation. “Until we find the real informant.”

  “Does that include me?”

  Her heart plummeted at his sudden stillness. With his forest-green gaze boring into hers, he reached across the counter and took her hand. The heat of his body accentuated the coldness of her skin.

  “I won’t lie to you, Laura. We considered that possibility in the beginning.”

  The idea that anyone could think her capable of helping her father’s murderers sickened her. “And what conclusions did you reach?”

  “We believe you’re an unlikely suspect.”

  “Unlikely? But you haven’t ruled me out?” Outrage boiled inside her.

  Kyle’s gaze didn’t waver. “We can’t rule anyone out completely until we have our informant under arrest—”

  She tried to yank her hand away, but he held it firm. She twisted her head to avoid his eyes, but he slid from the stool, grasped her chin gently in his fingers and turned her face toward him.

  “I wouldn’t be here, married to you,” he said, “if I had any doubts. I’ve put my life in your hands.”

  The truth of his words and the earnestness of his expression dissolved her anger. Hovering just inches away, he dropped his gaze to her lips, and she thought for an instant that he was going to kiss her again. When he pulled away instead, disappointment washed over her.

  “Eat your lunch. You’ll need your strength.” He gave her shoulder a friendly pat. “You must try not to let my investigation upset you.”

  Because he seemed genuinely concerned about her, she sipped her soup. “Find any other skeletons in our staff closet?” she asked.

  “
Dr. Kwan and Wayne Pritchard seem squeaky clean, but Dr. Potter belonged to some questionable organizations during his college days.”

  Dismayed, she dropped her spoon into the bowl. “Uncle Bob?”

  “You’re related?”

  “Not really. But I’ve known him all my life. My father and he went to college together.” An unpleasant thought struck her, and she felt her eyes widen.

  “In fact, Daddy belonged to those same ‘questionable organizations’ you mentioned.”

  A pained expression flitted across Kyle’s handsome features. “We know.”

  “Good grief, you don’t suspect Daddy?”

  As if suddenly uncomfortable, he shifted on his seat. “We haven’t ruled out any suspects yet.”

  Her earlier anger paled compared to the fiery rage that consumed her now. “If you think I’m going to help you frame my father—”

  “Whoa, hold on.” His green eyes reminded her of storm-tossed seas, and he appeared to be fighting to maintain his self-control. “I’m not pointing the finger at anyone, but to do my job right, I have to cover all the bases. That includes checking your father’s background and all his contacts. If Josiah is innocent—”

  “If?”

  “—you have nothing to worry about.” He shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Look, Laura, someone has used his or her connections to your father to access the biological weapons at the lab. We have to investigate everyone to find out who that person is. I believe your father, if he were here, would support what we’re doing.”

  She pushed away her plate and laid her head on her arms, folded on the counter. “I guess I’m not as tough as I thought I was.”

  Suddenly she found herself gathered up in Kyle’s arms, her face pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his head against her hair. She could feel the thud of his heartbeat against her cheek, and she welcomed the security of his embrace. Feeling like a tiny boat floundering on heavy seas, she considered the warmth of Kyle’s arms a port in the storm.