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A slight grin pulled at Talbot’s sensual mouth. “We’re on your side.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure about that,” she countered tersely, but she took a fortifying gulp of the drink, gripping the glass with both hands.
Talbot moved with easy grace to sit facing her on the opposite couch. Almost reluctantly, Layne shifted her attention back to Lowell. “Why are you here?”
“We’ve just had an international incident, Layne.”
She took another gulp. “So? I’m just an ordinary American citizen. Do you usually go around asking lowly civilians for help on the international intrigue front?” God, she sounded childish. But she couldn’t help it. The beaded coolness of the glass felt good against her fingertips, and Layne concentrated on that instead of on Chuck’s narrow face.
“Look, I know you’re still grieving for Brad. And we have no business coming to you, Layne. But the incident I refer to needs someone of your qualifications.”
She gave him a round-eyed look. “Specifically what in my background qualifies me for this cloak-and-dagger game?”
“You know Chinese. You were born in Japan and raised in the Far East while your father served at the Air Force bases over there.”
“So? I know you have intelligence people expert in Chinese. Let’s see, if I remember the ‘spouse training’ that the Company so generously supplied me with, you have both division offices and stations or bases for your clandestine affairs. Surely your penetration agents or specialists can get you out of whatever quandary you’re in without my help?”
Chuck held up both hands. “You’re also highly knowledgeable about the South China Sea area.”
“So are your operatives.”
Matt leaned back, assessing Layne’s role in the tense exchange. Her honey-brown eyes had darkened in anger. He mentally reviewed what he remembered of her personnel file and life history. In brief, she was a woman whose sensitivity was balanced by keen intelligence. Chuck Lowell would have to be a magician to get her to agree to his plan, Matt realized. In fact, right now he’d put money on the Hamilton woman to win. His eyes narrowed slightly. Why was she so angry with the Company? And with Lowell? He watched his boss struggle to maintain an air of neutrality beneath her scathing attack. No, she certainly wasn’t the rabbit he’d thought her to be. A slight smile tipped one corner of his mouth.
“Believe me, Layne,” Chuck was saying with fervor, “if we had any choice at all in this matter, we’d go with an operative. It’s not our policy to recruit people off the street to help us get out of a jam.”
Layne shot him a dubious look. “Then what was this man doing in my class? That was an ugly calling card, Chuck. The worst.”
Lowell remained low-key despite the strain in her voice. “I sent Matt over because he wanted to see if you were up to the rigors of this forthcoming mission.”
Layne took another hefty gulp of the drink, then directed her gaze at Talbot. Her lips parted as she saw the tenderness burning in his blue eyes as he met her glare. Why? she wondered, finding her resistance melting. Her eyes filled with hot, scalding tears, blurring Talbot’s face.
Matt eased himself from the chair, sending Lowell a sharp look. “We’ve upset Mrs. Hamilton enough, Chuck. I don’t feel she can do it. Why not leave her with what little peace she has left?”
Layne’s heart wrenched, and she lifted her chin, staring directly into those azure eyes that seemed to understand her. Careful, she told herself. He’s an agent, a robot taught to act and react, both on and off the job, showing no humanity or compassion. Swallowing tears, she choked out, “He’s right, Chuck. Why don’t you just leave? I’ve told you, I want nothing to do with you or your people ever again.”
Lowell shot Talbot a glance, then rose. “All right,” he said stiffly. “We didn’t mean to upset you, Layne. I know it’s been rough on you…”
She bowed her head. “Just leave, Chuck.”
“I’ll drop over and see if you’re feeling differently tomorrow.”
“Don’t bother,” she murmured, not looking up as the door quietly opened and closed. Layne stared numbly at her drink: most of it was gone. Oh, well, she thought. Might as well kill the pain with the rest of it. She lifted the glass to her lips.
“Take it slow,” came Talbot’s husky voice. “That was a double.”
Layne gasped, nearly dropping the glass. He stood by the door, watching her in the explosively charged silence. With a swift stride, he reached her, and his long, slender fingers closed around the drink in her hand. As their fingers met, Layne released the glass instantly, as if burned.
“I told you to leave!”
Talbot gave her a distant smile and set the glass down on the black lacquered coffee table. “You asked Chuck to leave, not me. Besides, I didn’t feel you should be left alone just yet.”
Layne stared up at him in disbelief, startled by the tenderness in his voice and eyes, as unmistakable as it was unexpected. Layne could have dealt with anger or even coldness, but not this kindness. Company men weren’t supposed to show their emotions—ever. She felt warm tears begin to trickle down her cheeks.
Matt crouched down, his hands moving to caress Layne’s raven hair. It felt like thick silk beneath his fingers. As he framed her pale face, he was struck by the pain in her luminous golden eyes. He had thought he was carrying enough of his own anguish around, but now…His brows drew into a slight frown.
She was pale beneath her tan; her skin pulled tautly across her cheekbones. And her lips…he groaned inwardly. Her full mouth could curve into a sunlit smile or tighten as it did now, with agony. Tears slid down to her soft lips, and she licked them away.
Matt opened his arms to her, drawing her forward until she rested against him. “Go ahead,” he whispered thickly against her hair. “Cry. Get it out of your system.”
The shock of seeing Chuck Lowell again had dredged up the shattered past Layne had tried desperately to forget. The instant Matt’s hands had framed her face, she’d begun to cry. His touch was so male and yet so gentle, and his firm, strong body supporting her brought forth deep, wrenching sobs—sobs she’d suppressed for months. But the arms now cradling her against him had released her from her self-made prison of pain.
Matt closed his eyes, resting his head against her ebony hair. He inhaled deeply. She smelled good—like lilac—her body warm and yielding against his hard frame. He murmured endearments to ease her heart, feeling her tremble within his arms. Layne Hamilton was a woman of great sensitivity, he thought as he stroked her hair, burying his face in the fragrant mass and longing…longing…
Layne became aware of the deep, steady beat of Matt’s heart in his taut chest. She gripped his shirtfront, her nails digging into it as her tears dampened the material to a darker shade of burgundy. His male scent was a heady aphrodisiac, awakening her dormant senses. He was, she realized, an intensely sensual man. She buried her head deeper in the hollow between his shoulder and chin as each stroke of his hand upon her hair released a little more of the old hurt from the five years of Brad’s deception.
Another feeling was woven into the remnants of her grief: Matt Talbot cared. She could almost feel an imperceptible trembling of his long, expressive fingers as they grazed the crown of her head. He was still a stranger—one whose appearance had reminded her of five years she’d fought to forget. Yet he had remained behind, somehow realizing that she needed to be held.
“It’s all right, kitten,” he whispered huskily, “you’re going to be all right now…”
A hunger for more than emotional support spread heatedly through her. The touch of his hands, his intoxicating scent and the hard planes of his body against hers unleashed a raw, aching need for closeness, for intimate contact. Unintentionally Layne nuzzled against his jaw, and she heard him draw in a deep, ragged breath. Then, trapping her face between his callused hands, he carefully lifted her mouth upward.
Matt groaned as he guided Layne’s face to meet his descending mouth. God, he shouldn’t be doing this! He knew better. But she was so warm and feminine, drawing him out as effortlessly as spring rain drew forth the first shoots from the cold, freezing earth. Her black lashes, thick with tears, were a sharp contrast to her golden skin. Her lips glistened, parting for his as he leaned down…down to claim them.
Layne uttered a small moan of protest as she felt his mouth settle firmly upon hers. But she knew it was hopeless. All common sense fled, and she folded against him as he molded his mouth hotly to her own, building a fire of longing that sent an aching need through her hungry body. Slowly she began to respond to his gentle exploration of her lips with his tongue. His breath was warm and moist against hers, his fingers imprisoning her face, tipping it to meld his mouth completely to her yielding lips.
“Let me taste you,” he commanded hoarsely.
With a sigh, Layne acquiesced, her arms lifting, sliding about his broad, capable shoulders and drawing him to her. As her breasts brushed the wall of his chest a slight gasp broke from within her. Matt’s tongue coaxed her further, cajoling her into heated participation as he stroked every moist crevice of her mouth.
Gradually Matt made himself draw back. He traced her swollen lips gently with his tongue to soothe any bruises he might have caused. Did she realize how much of an impact she’d had upon him? Her golden eyes were hazy with invitation, and Matt inhaled deeply, trying to get a grip on himself. He eased Layne back onto the chair, and in that heart-stealing moment, she seemed as innocent as a child. She reached her slender fingers up unbelievingly to touch her well-kissed lips.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Matt said, his rough voice laden with desire. She looked so helpless. He could take her to bed; he knew she would come willingly. His body was screaming deep within for her warmth, her humanity, and he was hungry for her touch. But one look into those golden eyes, now filled with confusion, and he knew: He had to do the right thing for both of them.
“We have an old saying in the Air Force for women like you,” he said huskily. A slight smile broke the planes of his lean face. “You’re heady stuff, lady. The kind that dreams are woven from.”
Chapter 2
Blood raced through Layne’s veins, pounding in unison with her heart. Matt was so close, so incredibly virile that she was slightly dizzy. Raising her hand, she touched her brow. Even as she felt him rise away from her, she mourned the loss of contact with him.
“Stay here,” he ordered gruffly, moving toward the bathroom.
Layne lay back against the chair, her eyes closed, experiencing a wild gamut of emotions. She didn’t realize Matt had returned until she felt him press a cool washcloth against her hot, tearstained face.
“Here…let me do that,” she whispered, forcing her eyes to open and taking the cloth from his hand.
Matt rested easily on the back of his heels, watching her in the comfortable silence. “Your mascara ran.”
Layne grimaced, pressing the cold, damp cloth against her aching eyes. “I probably look a sight.”
“No,” he answered softly. “Just the opposite.”
Her black hair tumbled across her shoulders and lay against her breasts as she leaned forward, burying her face in the washcloth. She tried to wipe away the mascara that had run from her unexpected tears, then she straightened, looking uncertainly at Matt.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
A wry smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I know.”
“Why did you?”
He shrugged. “I’m a sucker for women with tears in their eyes who refuse to cry.”
Layne knew he was referring to the meeting with Lowell. “I see….”
“I’m sorry we upset you.”
She searched his lean face with penetrating thoroughness, seeking the truth behind his words. Brad had been a consummate liar.
“That would be a first—an operative sorry for his actions.” She leaned back, pushing several rebellious strands of hair out of her face. And then Layne realized how harsh her sentence sounded after he’d been so kind to her. “I didn’t mean to sound callous. I’m a casualty of the Company’s attitude toward spouses. Wives are the last to know, if at all.”
Matt rose slowly to his feet, unwinding from his coiled position. “There’s some truth in that, I suppose.”
Layne sat up, her eyes wide. “I’m sure I appear temperamental, but you don’t understand why.”
His eyes grew hooded as he looked down at her. “Just because I held you doesn’t mean you owe me an explanation.”
She felt chilled by his sudden withdrawal. “You might have had something to gain by your display of humanity,” she pointed out.
Matt smiled calmly, watching the golden fire of anger igniting within her luminous eyes. “Is that your experience? Did your husband premeditate everything he did, including intimacy with you?”
Layne gasped, crumpling the washcloth in her right hand. “You have no right to information about my personal life!”
Matt suddenly looked weary, exhaustion shadowing his azure eyes. “That’s the name of the game, isn’t it? You think we all manipulate others in subtle ways, bending people’s wills to overcome their resistance. Look, we’re both tired. You’ve had a rough couple of days, and I think a hot bath and some sleep are in order.” He ran his fingers through his short, neatly cut hair. What he really wanted to do was reach out, move into her arms and simply be held by her. He was so tired of the loneliness aching inside him.
Layne slowly got to her feet, standing mere inches from him, and tilted her chin upward to meet his shadowed eyes. “I lived with an agent for five years,” she began tensely. “He was a master of the very thing you’re talking about. I’d like to believe that what you did was out of human need and compassion, but I’m afraid all my conditioning tells me differently.”
Matt’s mouth pulled into a grimmer line. Carson must have wounded her deeply to make her this distrustful of his own intentions. He wondered how much of her sensitivity had been left intact over the years.
Matt reached out, taking a damp wisp of black hair curling along her cheek and placing it behind her delicate ear. Her skin was soft as a ripe peach. A rose hue stained her cheeks as she met his intense gaze. “I stayed because you needed someone, Layne. Good night.”
Layne swallowed hard. There was a lump in her throat and her heart was pounding heavily. How could this man walk into her life and literally turn her world upside down in fifteen minutes’ time?
“Wait!”
Matt rested his hand on the doorknob and turned his head slightly toward Layne. She looked almost ethereal, that glorious cloud of black hair surrounding her pale face, her lips parted breathlessly.
Layne slowed to a halt. “You haven’t yet earned my trust, Mr. Talbot, but you don’t deserve my anger.”
“Prove it. Have lunch with me tomorrow.”
Her heart gave a sudden thud. “Why bother?” she challenged him. “I already gave Chuck Lowell my answer.”
“He didn’t know how to handle you.”
“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.
