Dayna kept one eye on Kim Li while responding to the eager questions of two kayaking enthusiasts who’d crashed the golf soiree to corner her.
“Have you tried the River Orchay, Ms. Duncan? With the spring runoff, it grows to a stonking grade five.”
Young and brimming with eagerness, the two university students reminded Dayna of herself in her reckless youth.
“I have,” she confirmed, “but my favorite run here in Scotland is the River Findhorn gorge.”
“Oh, aye! The spring melt in the Monadhliath Mountains makes that a bonny paddle indeed.”
“Will you have time to hit the water whilst you’re here?” the younger of the two asked hopefully. “There’s a foine stretch of white in Perthshire, less than an hour from St. Andrews. Chloe and I would be honored to put our paddles in with yours.”
“I might take you up on that if I don’t make the cut for the final round of the tournament.”
“Och, there’s no fear of that happening!”
From the corner of one eye, Dayna spotted her target drifting toward a display of antique golf gear. Kim Li was momentarily alone. She’d left both fans and handlers scarfing down scones and fruit tarts.
At that moment Luke moved into Dayna’s line of sight. His broad shoulders blocked her view of Kim Li handlers—and their view of her. Luke’s small, almost imperceptible nod told Dayna he’d intended precisely that.
She wasted no time detaching herself from the kayakers. With a smile and a promise to let them know if she decided to take to the water, she joined Kim Li.
“We didn’t get to finish our conversation in the sauna this morning,” she said, her voice low.
The girl darted a nervous look behind her. “No, we did not.”
“You told your partner at Cypress Point that you would be here in St. Andrews. You stressed that your father would, too.”
“How do you know what I tell her?”
“She passed your message along, as we think you intended her to.”
With another furtive glance over her shoulder, Kim Li leaned closer. “We?” she whispered. “Who is we?”
Dayna wasn’t about to mention the U.S. government until she got confirmation of Wu’s intentions.
“People who want to help you and your father establish residence in the United States…if that’s your desire.”
“Yes.”
The whisper was soft and desperate.
“We can go tonight,” Dayna murmured, testing the waters. “I’ll arrange for you and your father to…”
“No, no! Cannot go until last day of tournament. After I win, there will be much demand for interviews, many chances to get away from my watchers.”
Dayna refrained from suggesting Wu might not win the tournament.
“You must talk to father,” Kim Li whispered. “Must tell him plan.”
“My partner will contact your father. He’ll identify himself by the code name Hawk. Together, we’ll make sure both you and your father know the plan before we put it into operation.”
Kim Li angled just enough to take in Luke’s broad shoulders, still blocking the view of those in the front of the shop.
“He is your partner?”
“No. He’s window dressing.” Seeing more explanation was required, Dayna elaborated. “He’s a diversion. I’m using him to deflect attention from my business with you.”
A speculative gleam lit the girl’s eyes. “Your romance not real?”
Oh, Lord! The last thing this op needed was for the target to start sniffing around Luke with the idea of adding him to her trophy case.
“It’s real,” Dayna lied, sinking further into the quagmire that was Luke Harper.
Kim Li pouted but seemed to accept that. “When we speak again?”
“After the qualifying rounds. I’ll try to arrange it so we play together in the finals.”
“If you make cut.”
Dayna’s back teeth ground together. First Lightning, then Mackenzie. Now this obnoxious teen.
“I’ll make the cut.”
Like the first qualifying round, the second required intense concentration.
There was no wind, thank God, only an early-morning haze that soon burned off. The sun came out midway through the competition, sparkling on the bay and warming the air so much that Dayna removed the jacket of her wind suit.
To her fierce satisfaction, she posted the fourth lowest score of the day. Fans and sportscasters alike swarmed her when she walked off the eighteenth green. After a wave of clamorous congratulations, they gave ground to the man who shouldered his way through the crowd.
In jeans, a blue oxford shirt and his leather bomber jacket, Luke Harper carried himself with the confidence that marked him as an officer and leader of men.
“Great round, Puddles.”
It was bad enough that every fuzzy-coated microphone extended over the heads of the crowd picked up his comment. Luke’s wicked grin compounded the felony. Dayna could see he wasn’t the least bit sorry about broadcasting the ridiculous nickname to the entire world.
“I’ll get you for that,” she murmured as she tipped her head for their second kiss.
The first had taken her by surprise. Given their decision to play to the cameras, she should have been prepared for this one. Should being the operative word. The sparks it ignited were as unexpected as they were disconcerting.
Her mind made instant excuses for her body’s eager reaction. She was just jazzed from the terrific round. Still thrumming with the thrill of victory. Her pumped-up endorphins magnified the heat generated by the kiss and fired it into a bright blaze.
Despite the determined rationalization, it took a concentrated effort of will to break the contact and stand in the circle of Luke’s arm while she responded to the flurry of questions. One query came zinging her way above the heads of the crowd.
“What do you and Captain Harper have planned during the break between rounds?”
Tournament officials had crammed the so-called “break” with events that ranged from a traditional bagpipe skirl to a children’s golf clinic. Dayna had donated an hour at the clinic. The rest of the day she intended to spend finalizing the details of the plan to extract the Wus. Luke wasn’t included in either of these activities, but Dayna could hardly admit as much publicly.
“We’re just taking it easy,” she said with deliberate vagueness.
“Together?” the persistent reporter wanted to know.
Dayna merely smiled, waved to the crowd and walked up the slope to the clubhouse with Luke at her side. They parted company at the entrance.
“I’ll meet you back at the hotel.”
“Sure you want to?” she asked. “I’m considering several forms of severe retribution in retaliation for you feeding that nickname to the press.”
“Forewarned is forearmed.” Unrepentant, he tugged on her ponytail and dropped another kiss on her nose. “I’ll wear my flak vest.”
The cameras, Dayna reminded herself sternly as she made her way to the officiating table to turn in her scorecard. He was playing to the cameras.
Yet damned if she didn’t take the tingle with her into the locker room. She’d come off the course too late to catch Kim Li in the sauna. The girl was already stretched out on the portable massage table, being pummeled by sumo-mama.
The masseuse kneaded Kim Li’s bare back, but her unblinking stare followed Dayna as she nodded to Kim Li and went to the storage facility to stow her gear.
The residue of that stare stayed with Dayna during the short walk back to the hotel.
Did the masseuse suspect something? Had one of her cohorts observed the brief colloquy between Dayna and Kim Li at Cockburren’s? Was Hawk receiving the same vibes from Dr. Wu’s guard dogs? Anxious to connect with her partner and get his take on these sudden, prickly doubts, Dayna keyed the lock to her hotel room.
Her mind might have been on the Wus but her instincts responded instantly to the shape that materialized when she opened the
door. It came at her from off to the right, unexpected and unexplained.
Dayna swung around. Luke’s face and form registered just in time to halt the knee she had halfway to his groin.
“Whoa!” Hastily, he backed out of range. “You weren’t kidding about retribution.”
“I wasn’t trying to exact retribution, you idiot. Not yet, anyway.” Disgusted, she slammed the door. “A swift knee to the gonads is my normal response to men who pop out from behind doors unexpectly.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“How did you get into my room?”
“The maid saw us on TV.” His mouth tipped. “We must be giving a convincing performance.”
She couldn’t argue with that. An all-too-vivid reminder of their kiss hit her as she unclipped her fanny pack and tossed it on the sofa. Only then did she notice the champagne bucket and crystal flute poised on a heavy silver tray.
“What’s this?”
“Room service delivered it, compliments of the house for your terrific round. Why don’t I get a glass from the bar and we’ll celebrate together?”
“I don’t have time to celebrate. I need to talk to Hawk and…”
“Hawk?”
“Mike Callahan. His code name—call sign, as you flyboys term it—is Hawkeye.”
“I’ll bet his call sign has something to do with the marksmanship patch on his pocket.”
“You’d win the bet.”
Showing no signs of leaving, Luke followed her into the sitting room. “What’s your call sign?”
“Rogue. After the Rogue River in Oregon,” she added when he lifted an inquiring brow. “That’s where I first learned to paddle. Not in a puddle, as you insist on insinuating with that ridiculous nickname.”
“Think of the nickname as another diversion. Wouldn’t you rather have the media focusing on it and our off-course activities than speculating on your sudden friendship with Wu Kim Li?”
The media wasn’t all she had to worry about. Still feeling the needle of sumo-mama’s intense scrutiny, Dayna massaged the back of her neck. Luke watched her for a moment, then crossed to the ice bucket.
“You played a heck of a game, Duncan. You need to celebrate. More to the point, you need to relax.”
The hotel’s very efficient room service—or a very confident Luke—had already popped the champagne cork. An elaborate silver stopper in the shape of a thistle preserved the wine’s bubbles.
Removing the stopper, Luke poured a stream of pale gold into the crystal flute. “Here. Sit down, drink this and let me work out some of the kinks.”
What the hell, Dayna thought. If a massage worked for Kim Li, it could work for her. She could certainly use some unkinking.
Accepting the champagne, she sank onto the sofa and unzipped her windbreaker. The cushions dipped as Luke sat behind her and tucked her ponytail out of the way. When he went to work on her stiff muscles, she groaned.
“Oh, God! You’re good.”
“That’s what they all say,” he returned with a smile in his voice. “So are you, by the way. I still don’t believe the putt you sank on number seven.”
His breath was a warm wash against her cheek. His hands worked sheer magic.
“Neither do I,” she murmured.
“And your drive on number twelve. That was majesty in motion.”
Sabotaged by the compliment and his clever, clever hands, Dayna had to agree. That drive had been pretty spectacular.
“Thanks.”
She tipped the champagne to her lips. The fizz teased her nostrils and added to the seduction of his touch.
“It felt like old times,” he commented. “Watching you compete, whooping and cheering with the rest of the crowd.”
His hands stilled for a moment.
“I hated that I missed the Olympics, Dayna. You don’t know how much I wanted to see you win gold.”
The old hurts put out their spiky tentacles, piercing her pleasure. She’d wanted him there, too. So badly that standing on the winner’s platform, listening to the national anthem, watching the Stars and Stripes being hoisted, had filled her with as much regret as joy.
She’d never admitted that to anyone. Her coach. Her parents. Her friends. Even Gillian Ridgeway, who’d become as close as a sister these past months. Burying her nose in the crystal flute, Dayna tried to drown the lingering resentment. It wouldn’t die.
“You could have been there,” she heard herself say.
“I know.”
“You were the one who decided we should cool it. Not me.”
“I know.”
Maybe it was the champagne. Or the itchy awareness of his chest only inches from her back. Or the slow, kneading rhythm when he resumed the massage.
Or all of the above, Dayna thought on another wave of resentment. This one was so swift and strong it almost made her feel woozy.
“Why weren’t you there, Harper?” Riding the wave, she twisted around to face him. “Why didn’t you think we were worth fighting for?”
He didn’t dodge the question or the raw emotions it evoked. “I knew what the Olympics meant to you. Hell, the last weekend we spent together your palms were so blistered from paddling you had to slather on antiseptic ointment and wear cotton gloves the whole time. You think I wanted to get in the way of that kind of drive, that kind of dedication?”
Dayna’s lip curled. Every moment of their last weekend was so vivid in her mind she might have been back at Columbus Air Force Base instead of in this cozy suite filled with chintz-covered furniture and dark oak trim. Her heart racing, she debunked his quiet explanation.
“Don’t give me that noble sacrifice crap. You explained everything in precise detail. You’d just entered the most intensive phase of pilot training. You were in class or flying all day, studying every night. You didn’t have the time or the inclination for a long-distance love affair. Not that there was much love involved in our affair,” she added. “Lust, maybe, but not love.”
“Lust, definitely.” Stung but obviously trying to hang on to his temper, he grinned. “That hasn’t changed, has it? Or did I misread the signals when we locked lips a while ago?”
Dayna shoved off the sofa, so incensed by the grin that her heart pounded like a jackhammer and black spots danced in front of her eyes.
“Damn straight you misread the signals! Do you think I enjoy performing with you in front of the cameras like a trained seal?”
“Matter of fact, I do.” Jaw locked, he rose, as well. “You didn’t exactly push me away this afternoon, Pud.”
“Do…not…call…me…that!”
Anger held her in such a tight vise she couldn’t seem to breathe. This was insane! Where had all this roiling emotion come from? She’d put Luke Harper out of her life years ago. Out of her head. This crazy situation had thrown them together again, sure, but…but…
But what?
She fisted a hand, shoved it against her breastbone. Why couldn’t she think? Why couldn’t she breathe?
“Dayna?”
She staggered toward him. One step. That’s all she took, all she could manage. Luke leaped forward and caught her as she started to crumple.
“Dayna, what’s wrong!”
She sagged against him, unable to speak, unable to breathe. Her heart felt as though it was about to explode. Panting, she fought for air.
“I…I…”
She clutched her chest, felt the room spin. Her vision blurred, darkening around the edges, until all she could see was Luke’s face.
“Hang on, sweetheart. Hang on.” Mouth tight, eyes grim, he eased her to the carpeted floor. “I’m calling a doctor.”
She dug her nails into his forearms.
“And…Hawk.”
Chapter 7
With Dayna curled in a tight fetal position on the floor, Luke lunged across the room. He snatched up the phone and stabbed 0 for the hotel operator. In the two-second lifetime it took for the operator to come on, he ransacked his memory bank for the e
mergency medical procedures drilled into him during his USAF Survival, Evasion, Resistance and Escape training.
SERE had focused on basic, rough-and-ready medicine to treat injuries suffered by downed aircrews after bailing out or crashing behind enemy lines. Luke had learned to counter shock, improvise splints and shoot lifesaving medications directly into veins and arteries.
He’d also learned to recognize the signs of apparent heart attack. His own chest cramping at the sight of Dayna’s white, pasty face contorted in pain, Luke dragged the phone across the room with him.
“We need an ambulance!” he bit out when the operator came on. “Room 224.”
He was on his knees, rolling Dayna onto her back, before the startled operator stammered a response.
“Yes, s-sir! Room 224.”
“Send up an AED if there’s one in the hotel.”
“Send what?”
What did the friggin’ initials stand for? Luke had no clue.
“One of those portable defibrillators.”
“Yes, sir. Please, stay on the line while I…”
The receiver hit the floor. He’d keep the line open, but he knew every second counted. He had to assess Dayna’s condition and fast.
She was conscious, thank God! And breathing, but every erratic rise and fall of her chest brought a grunt of pain.
Clamping an iron lid over the fear that ripped through him at those agonized breaths, Luke pressed two fingers to the side of her neck. Her pulse beat against his hand with the ferocity of a jungle drum. At least she hadn’t gone into cardiac arrest. Not yet, anyway.
“Dayna. Sweetheart. An ambulance is on the way. Has this happened before? Are you taking medication for a heart condition?”
“N-no.”
“How about aspirin? Do you have any in the bathroom?”
“No.”
“Okay, just lie still. I’m going to elevate your feet.”
She gripped his arm before he could drag the cushions from the sofa. “Call…Hawk.”
Hell, he’d forgotten about Callahan! The man was Dayna’s partner. Maybe she had a medical condition he knew how to treat. Yanking his cell phone from his shirt pocket, Luke flipped up the lid.
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