Man of the Hour

by Diana Palmer

  “She’ll be sorry that she didn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye to you,” Steve told him.

  “We will meet again, my friend,” he said with certainty.

  Steven walked him to the outer office, where a slender, dark-haired girl was glaring at the Arab from behind a propped-up shorthand tablet with information that she was copying into the computer. She quickly averted her eyes.

  Daphne motioned to Steve and pointed at the telephone.

  “I’ll have to go. Have a safe trip. I’ll be in touch when we get a little further along in the assembly.”

  “Yes.”

  Steve shook hands again and went back into his office to take the telephone call.

  Daphne hesitated, hoping to provide a buffer between the angry look in Ahmed’s eyes and the intent look in Brianna’s, but Steve hung up the telephone and buzzed her. She grimaced as she finally went to see what he wanted.

  Ahmed stood over the young woman, his liquid black eyes narrowed as he glared at her. “You have had too little discipline,” he said flatly. “You have no breeding and no manners and you also have the disposition of a harpy eagle.”

  She glared back at him. “Weren’t you just leaving, sir?” she asked pointedly.

  “Indeed I was. It will be pleasant to get back to my own country where women know their place!”

  She got out of her chair and walked around the desk. Her pretty figure was draped in a silky dark blue suit and white blouse that emphasized her creamy complexion and huge blue eyes. She got down on her knees and began to salaam him, to the howling amusement of the other women in the typing pool.

  “How dare you!” Ahmed demanded scathingly.

  Brianna looked up at him with limpid eyes. “But, sir, isn’t this the kind of subservience you demand from your countrywomen?” she asked pleasantly. “I would hate to offend you any more than I already have. Oh, look at that, a nasty bug has landed on your perfectly polished shoe! Allow me to save you, sir!”

  She grabbed a heavy magazine from the rack beside her desk and slammed it down on his shoe with all her might.

  He raged in Arabic and two other unintelligible languages, his face ruddy with bad temper, his eyes snapping with it.

  Daphne came running. “Brianna, no!” she cried hoarsely.

  Ahmed was all but vibrating. He didn’t back down an inch. Daphne motioned furiously behind her until Brianna finally got the hint and took off, making a dash for the ladies’ rest room.

  “In my country…” he began, his finger pointing toward Brianna’s retreating figure.

  “Yes, I know, but she’s insignificant,” Daphne reminded him. “A mere fly speck in the fabric of your life. Honestly she is.”

  “She behaves like a savage!” he raged.

  Daphne bit her tongue almost through. She smiled tightly. “You’ll miss your flight.”

  He breathed deliberately until some of the high color left his cheekbones, until he was able to unclench the taut fists at his side. He looked down at Daphne angrily. “She will be punished.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “Oh, yes, of course, she will,” Daphne swore, with her fingers tightly crossed behind her back. “You can count on that, sir.”

  Ahmed began to relax a little. He pursed his lips. “A month in solitary confinement. Bread and water only. Yes. That would take some of the spirit out of her.” His dark eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It would be a tragedy, however, to break such a beautiful wild spirit. Do you not think so?”

  “Indeed,” Daphne agreed quickly.

  He nodded, as if savoring the thought. “Your country has such odd people in it, mademoiselle,” he said absently. “Secret agents with quirks, secretaries with uncontrollable tempers…”

  “It’s a very interesting country.”

  He shrugged. “Puzzling,” he corrected. He glanced at her. “This one,” he nodded toward the door where Brianna had gone. “She is married?”

  “No,” Daphne said. “She has a young brother in a coma. He’s in a nursing home. She has no family.”

  His dark brows drew together. “No one at all?”

  She shook her head. “Just Tad,” she replied.

  “How old is this…Tad?”

  “Ten,” Daphne said sadly. “There was an automobile accident, you see. Their parents were killed and Tad was terribly injured. They don’t think he’ll ever recover, but Brianna goes every day to sit by his bed and talk to him. She won’t give up on him.”

  His face changed. “A woman of compassion and loyalty and spirit. A pearl of great price indeed.”

  Daphne heard the buzzer and went to answer it, leaving Ahmed to rejoin Steve.

  Steve put the Arab on a plane—a chartered plane owned by Ahmed’s government—later that morning, with Daphne and two taciturn American agents at his side.

  “Have a safe trip,” Steve said.

  “How can I help it?” Ahmed muttered, glancing at the number of armed guards in his country’s uniform gathered at the walkway to the plane. “Many thanks for your help,” he added to the agents, and Daphne, who was standing close to the tall blond agent.

  “It was our pleasure. Anytime,” Wayne replied.

  Lang grinned at him. “Just give us a day’s notice and we’ll cover you like tar paper, sir,” he replied.

  Steve glared at him. “And watch your every move on hidden cameras,” he added icily.

  “What can I tell you?” Lang sighed, lifting his hands and letting them fall. “I am a spy, after all. I get paid to spy on people. It’s what I do.” He looked somber as he faced Ahmed. “You’d just be amazed at the things you see on a hidden camera, sir. Like last night, for instance…”

  Steve moved toward him threateningly.

  Lang grinned. “Actually,” he clarified, “I meant this rich guy we were watching who likes to play video games and when he wins, he takes off all his clothes and pours Jell-O over himself.”

  “So help me!” Steve began.

  Lang threw up both hands. “I’ll reform. I really will. I’m going to ask that little brunette out and see if she’d like to take me on,” he added. “She’s dishy, isn’t she? I hear she likes to throw things at foreign men. Good thing I’m domestic.”

  Ahmed looked at Lang with kindling anger, and Steve saw problems ahead. “Better get aboard,” Steve told the Arab. “Keep in touch.”

  Ahmed seemed to realize where he was and to whom he was speaking. He shrugged, as if he’d experienced a minor temporary aberration. “Of course. Au revoir, my friend.”

  He waved and turned to go into the plane, with his entourage at a respectful distance, watching his back.

  “Regal, isn’t he?” Lang said with reluctant admiration. “I’m sorry to see him go.” He grinned at Steve. “Now that this is all over, are you sure you’re going to marry that girl of yours? I do like her temper.”

  “So do I,” Steve replied. “Yes, I’m going to marry her. And the next time you point a camera in my general direction, it had better have a lens cap on.”

  “Yes, sir,” Lang said, chuckling. “You’ll be glad to know that as of now you are officially unobserved. But if you’d like the results of our straw poll last night, we think you’d give Valentino a run for his money.” He threw up a hand and walked away. Wayne followed him a minute later, leaving a sighing Daphne behind with Steve.

  “Are you really going to marry Wayne?” Steve asked as they walked back toward the airport entrance.

  “The minute we can arrange a ceremony. How about you and Meg?”

  “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do,” he replied dryly. “But I think she’ll understand. I hope she will, at least.”

  “She’s a sweet woman, Steve. You’re very lucky.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he mused.

  He left Daphne at the office and gave himself the rest of the day off. First on the agenda was to tell Meg the truth.

  She was sprawled on the couch going over projection figures the bank had given her whe
n she went to inquire about starting up her own business. Steve came in the old way, through the back door without knocking, and stood over her with relief written all over him.

  “It’s over,” he told her. “Ahmed’s on a plane home and the secret agents have gone to root out enemy spies somewhere else. We’re free.”

  She put down her figures and smiled up at him. “So?”

  “So,” he replied, dropping down beside her, “now that it’s over and we’re unbugged, I can tell you that Daphne is engaged to that blond agent who hangs out with Lang.”

  “What?”

  “She was the unofficial liaison between us. She had to go where we did.”

  “But you said…!”

  “I wasn’t allowed to tell you what was going on,” he told her. “Now that Ahmed’s out of danger, there’s no more risk.”

  She frowned. “I thought they were after you.”

  “Only as a way to get to Ahmed.” He got up and poured brandy into a snifter and handed it to her.

  “Do I need a drink?” she asked.

  “You may.”

  “Why?”

  He smiled down at her. “Ahmed isn’t a cabinet minister. He’s the sovereign of his country. To put it more succinctly…he’s a king.”

  11

  Meg took a good swallow of the brandy and coughed a little. “That explains a lot,” she told him finally. “He did have a more regal bearing than you’d expect in a political flunky. He’s out of danger, then?”

  “Yes. The overthrow attempt didn’t go down. The agency thought he was safer here until it was dealt with. Ahmed’s government is friendly to ours and we’re fortunate to have access to his strategic location when there are problems in the Middle East. The government is anxious to accommodate him. That’s why they supported the company when we decided to sell him our newest jet fighter. It’s also why he got top priority protection here when his life was in danger.”

  “I still can’t quite believe it.”

  “You have to keep his identity to yourself, however,” he told her warningly. “Because he’ll be back to have another look at his purchase when we’ve got it closer to completion. His life may depend on secrecy. Even in this country, there are nationals from his kingdom with grudges.”

  “Poor Ahmed.” She frowned. “He must not enjoy being guarded all the time.” Another thought came to her. “He’s a king, which means that he has to marry a princess or something, doesn’t it? He can’t just marry for love, can he?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. His silver eyes searched hers. “I’m glad that I got to choose my own wife,” he added huskily. “Now that I’ve waited four years for her, I don’t intend waiting any longer.”

  “You sound very impulsive.”

  “I’ll show you impulsive.” He pulled her to her feet and bundled her out the door. Several hours later, the blood tests were complete, the paperwork was underway and the wedding was scheduled for the end of the week.

  “You aren’t slipping through my fingers again,” he chuckled when they walked arm in arm into his own house. “My mother will be delighted. We’ll have to phone her tonight. By the way,” he added, “I’ve found three possibilities for your studio. I thought you might like to go and look them over tomorrow.”

  “I’d love to!” She reached up and hugged him warmly, feeling as if she’d just come home. She closed her eyes with a sigh as they stood together in the deserted house. Steve’s housekeeper had long since left a note about cold cuts and gone home. “Am I staying for supper?” Meg murmured.

  He turned her to him. “You’re staying for good,” he said quietly. “Tonight and every night for the rest of your life.”

  She hesitated. “But, David will expect me…”

  He bent and began to kiss her, softly at first, and then with building intensity so that, after a few minutes, she didn’t remember her brother’s name. But they agreed that one lapse before marriage was enough. And while Meg slept in his arms that night, sleeping was all they did together. They had the rest of their lives for intimacy, he reminded her.

  Early the next morning, Steve took Meg around to the studio prospects he’d found for her. She settled on one in a good location with ample parking, not too many blocks from his office.

  “Now,” she said, smiling as she looked around, “all I have to do is convince the bank that I’m a good credit risk.”

  He glowered at her. “I’ve already told you that I’ll stake you.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it,” she said, reaching up to kiss him as they stood in the spacious emptiness of the former warehouse. “But this is something I need to do on my own.” She hesitated. “Do you understand?”

  “Oh, yes,” he said with a slow smile. “You sound just like me at your age.”

  She laughed. “Do I, really?”

  He stuck his hands into his pockets and looked around. “You’ll need a lot of paint.”

  “That, and a little equipment, and some employees who’ll be willing to work for nothing until I establish a clientele,” she added. “Not to mention an advertising budget.” She clenched her teeth. Was she biting off more than she could chew?”

  “Start with just yourself,” he advised. “Less overhead. See if you can time-share with someone who needs a studio at night. Perhaps a karate master. Put up some posters around town in key business windows, such as day-care centers.” He grinned at her astonishment. “Didn’t I ever tell you that I’m more an idea man than an executive? Who do you think calls the shots on our advertising campaign and trims off fat from work stations?”

  “You’re amazing!” she exclaimed.

  “I’m cheap,” he corrected. “I know how to do a lot for a little.”

  “How about printing?”

  “We use a large concern a block away from here. Since they deal in big jobs, they don’t cost as much as a small printer would.”

  She was grinning from ear to ear. She could see it all taking shape. “The only thing is, how will I teach when I can barely walk?” she asked, hesitating.

  “Listen, honey, by the time you get your financing, your carpentry done and your advertising out, that ankle will be up to a lot more than you think.”

  “Truly?”

  He smiled at her worried expression. “Really and truly. Now let’s get to it. We’ve got a wedding to go to.”

  She wondered if she could hold any more happiness. It seemed impossible.

  They were married at a small justice of the peace’s office, with David and Daphne and Wayne for witnesses. Brianna waited outside with a camera to take pictures.

  “I forgot to hire a photographer!” Steve groaned when they exited the office. He was wearing a blue business suit, and a beaming Meg was in a street-length white suit with a hat and veil, carrying a bouquet of lily of the valley.

  “That’s all right,” Brianna told him. “I used to help our dad in the darkroom. He said I was a natural.” She said it a little sadly, because she missed her parents, but not in any self-pitying way. “Stand together and smile, now.”

  They started to, just as a huge black limousine roared up and a tall, dark man leaped from the back seat.

  “Am I in time?” Lang asked hurriedly, righting his tie and smoothing back his unruly hair. “I just flew in from Langley, Virginia, for the occasion!”

  “Lang!” Meg exclaimed, breaking into a smile.

  “The very same, partner,” he chuckled. “How about a big kiss?”

  Steve stepped closer to his new wife, with a protective arm around her. “Try it,” he said.

  Lang lifted both eyebrows. “You want me to kiss you, too? Yeeech!”

  “I do not!” Steve roared.

  “That’s a fine way to treat a man who flew hundreds of miles to be at your wedding. My gosh, I even brought a present!”

  Steve cocked his head and stared at Lang. “A present? What kind of a present?”

  “Something you’ll both treasure.”

  He reached in
to his coat pocket and took out a packet of photographs.

  Steve took the photographs and held them as gingerly as if they’d been live snakes. He opened the envelope and peeked in. But the risqué photos he expected weren’t there. Instead, they were photos of Meg, from all sorts of camera angles; Meg smiling, Meg laughing, Meg looking reflective.

  “Well, what are they?” Meg asked. “Let me see!”

  Steve closed up the package and glanced at Lang with a wry smile. “Thanks.”

  Lang shrugged. “It was the least I could do.” He hesitated. “Uh, there’s this, too.”

  He handed Steve a videotape and followed it with a wicked grin. “From the hall camera…?”

  Steve eyed him with growing suspicion. “Just how many copies of this did you make?”

  “Only one,” Lang swore, hand on his heart. “That one. And there are no negatives.”

  “Lang, you’re a good man,” Meg told him with conviction.

  “Of course I am.” He turned to Brianna, still grinning. “Well, hello, hello. How about lunch? I’ll take you to this great little seafood joint down the street and buy you a shrimp!”

  “A shrimp?” Brianna asked, hesitating.

  Lang pulled out the change in his pocket and counted it. “Two shrimps!” he announced.

  Brianna smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “I’d love to,” she said. “I really would. But there’s someone I have to go and see. Perhaps some other time.”

  Lang managed to look fatally wounded. “I see. It’s because I can only afford two shrimps, isn’t it? Suppose,” he added, leaning down toward her with a twinkle in his eyes, “I offered to wash plates after and bought you a whole platter of shrimp?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

  She laughed. “It wouldn’t do any good. But I do appreciate the sentiment.” He was very nice, she thought, a little sad under that clownish exterior, too. But she had so many problems, and her stubborn mind would keep winging back to a tall man with a mustache…. It wouldn’t be fair to lead Lang on when she had nothing to offer him.