Aim for the Heart

by Ingrid Weaver

  Yes, she'd admired him. Who wouldn't?

  She hadn't guessed that within a few hours of meeting him she would want to do him bodily harm herself.

  How dare he question her integrity? If she hadn't been on duty, if he hadn't been the subject of her mission, if she hadn't had the concept of personal honor drummed into her from the time she'd learned to talk, she would have…

  What? Hauled back and slugged him?

  That would have been dangerous. Not because he might strike back. He wouldn't. She had recognized the way he'd been looking at her, and it hadn't been violence that had been on his mind. Or hers, either, if she wanted to be truthful with herself. A large source of the tension that had sparked between them had been from something else entirely.

  It had been sex.

  Sarah wasn't naive, nor was she a prude. During the course of her missions with Major Redinger's team from Eagle Squadron, she regularly worked side by side with virile males in outstanding physical condition. She was accustomed to the effects of ambient testosterone. Most of the time she regarded the men as brothers, but a certain amount of low-key sexual awareness was inevitable. She'd never had a problem controlling it before. After all, it was only sex, not love. It was a normal, healthy physical response, nothing to be ashamed of and no big deal. She wasn't going to let it interfere with her purpose now.

  Call me Hawk.

  She gritted her teeth. She had to think of him as Dr. Hawkins Lemay, Nobel laureate, renowned physicist and the subject of her mission. Even if she were interested, that final fact made him off-limits.

  No matter how good he smelled.

  She pursed her lips and exhaled slowly, trying again to relax. Stretch to the side, bring the forearm vertical, circle with the palm. She settled into the familiar sequence. For the next ten minutes she moved around the antique chairs and the spindly-legged sofa in the center of the small sitting room, her body relaxing as it flowed through the routine with practiced ease.

  A low trill sounded from the table that was in the midst of the furniture grouping. Sarah hopped over the back of the sofa and snatched up her cell phone before the second ring. "Fox here."

  "I got your message, Captain. What's the situation?"

  It was Mitchell Redinger's voice. Sarah shot a glance at the door of Hawk's bedroom to verify it was still closed, then curled one leg beneath her and sank into a corner of the sofa. "My flight was delayed, Major, so Lemay had arrived at the hotel before me. There has already been one attempt on his life."

  "Report."

  She gave her C.O. a summary of the afternoon's events, including the names of the embassy official she'd contacted when she'd arrived and the police officer who had been first on the scene. She finished by relating the security measures she'd coordinated within the hotel.

  "Nice work, Captain." There was a crackle of static. "Is Lemay cooperating?"

  "Grudgingly, sir."

  "I have confidence that you can handle the situation."

  Sarah heard the note of dismissal in Redinger's tone and spoke quickly. "Was Lemay offered a government position two days ago?"

  There was another burst of static. "Say again?"

  "Dr. Lemay claims to have been approached by a defense department representative who was interested in his research."

  "Yes, that is correct."

  "Is it true Lemay refused?"

  "Yes. Why do you ask?"

  Sarah felt a momentary unease but she dismissed it. She probably hadn't been able to uncover this information while she had researched Hawk's background because the event had been too recent to be on record. The Major might not have thought to tell her about it because he hadn't considered it pertinent. "Just verifying my facts, sir," she replied.

  After the call ended, Sarah frowned. Had she been infected by Hawk's paranoia, or had Major Redinger sounded more distant than usual?

  She returned her phone to the table, propped her elbows on her knees and dropped her head into her hands. She wasn't going to let doubts infect her mind. Hawk didn't seem to trust anyone, but Sarah had always been able to trust the army. It was her family, the one constant in her life.

  Do your duty like a good little soldier.

  Her father's voice played in her memory. Even now, she felt her spine straighten in response. She pushed to her feet and did a circuit of the room, then opened her suitcase, took out a copy of the conference schedule, a floor plan of the hotel and a high-scale map of Stockholm. She carried them back to the sofa and sat down to study them.

  The bedroom door clicked open. "The bathroom's all yours if you want it, Sarah."

  "Thank you, Dr. Lemay," she said without turning around. "I'll order dinner from room service. Is there anything in particular you'd like?"

  "That won't be necessary. How's your shoulder?"

  She rotated it briefly, realizing the increased blood flow from her exercises had dimmed the ache. "It's much better. Thank you for your concern."

  "Is that the conference schedule?" he asked, his voice growing closer.

  She picked up the paper and twisted to hold it out to him. "Yes. Now that you're here, I'd like to go over tomorrow's and Saturday's events with…" Her words trailed off. She tried not to stare.

  He was no longer wearing the wrinkled denim shirt and casual pants he'd arrived in. He was wearing a tuxedo. And judging by the superb fit, the suit wasn't any rental. Then again, he didn't need help from a tailor to make his shoulders look that wide or his chest that broad. The narrow satin stripe down the side of his trousers gleamed as he walked, emphasizing his long legs and the runner's muscles of his thighs.

  "Are you sure you want to do that now?" he asked. He flipped up the collar of his shirt so he could loop his tie around his neck. The ends of the black tie dangled against his shirtfront as he reached over the back of the sofa to take the schedule from her hand. "The opening reception starts in half an hour."

  She caught a whiff of soap. His jaw gleamed from a fresh shave. His hair was damp and combed straight back from his face, but he hadn't been able to tame it completely. Wayward curls brushed the back of his collar.

  "Sarah? Is there a problem?"

  She stood. "I'm not anticipating one, sir. The conference events that take place within the hotel are low risk. I've been in contact with the hotel security staff. They have experience overseeing international conferences like this one and are accustomed to working in cooperation with personal bodyguards. They will be monitoring the perimeter at all times and won't allow anyone into the venue without the proper ID."

  He looked at her, his expression unreadable. "You appear to be very competent at your job."

  "I do my best, sir."

  "Have you changed your mind about being my shadow? If you'd prefer to remain here because of your shoulder—"

  "No, I came prepared to accompany you to every event." She brushed the wrinkles from her pants, suddenly conscious of her appearance. She had removed her shoes and loosened her belt. Her sweater was rumpled and her hair was in tangles around her face. "I simply wasn't aware that you wanted to attend the reception."

  He held her gaze for a long minute, then returned the schedule to her and walked to the mirror that hung on the wall beside the desk. He appeared to focus his attention on fastening his tie. "My mistake, Sarah. From now on I'll try to make you more aware of my wants."

  It wasn't what he said so much as the way he said it that got to her. Or maybe anything he said when he was looking so damn sexy would make any normal, healthy woman imagine he was talking about more than business.

  Hawkins Lemay in a tuxedo. The impact of that sure hadn't been in his file, either. Sarah allowed herself no more than a moment to absorb the view before she grabbed her shoes, picked up her suitcase and headed toward the bedroom. "I'll need twenty minutes to change into something more appropriate. Please don't open the door of the suite or go near any of the windows until I return."

  * * *

  The hotel ballroom had mirrored walls,
making it appear larger than it was, multiplying the sparkle of the three enormous crystal chandeliers that hung suspended from the two-story ceiling and turning the crowd that milled on the marble floor into a series of endlessly repeating fragments of motion. White-gloved waiters wove among the guests to offer platters of hors d'oeuvres and flutes of champagne. A string quartet played on a dais in one corner, providing a refined background to conversations that hummed in several languages.

  The reception was an elegant affair, an international gathering of the rich and powerful. Money, brains, political clout—everyone here was a player in the high-stakes world of energy production. Some supplied it, some came to bargain for it and some were willing to wage war for it. Some, like Hawk, were here to speak of alternatives to the status quo.

  The Stockholm Energy Conference was supposed to be a forum for discussion, although Hawk knew the most significant discussions wouldn't be taking place at any of the public functions.

  "Champagne, Sarah?" Hawk asked as he scooped a flute from a passing waiter.

  "No, thank you, Dr. Lemay." She didn't look at him as she answered. She kept her gaze moving in the same slow, methodical sweep she'd been using since they had arrived. A miniature radio receiver was nestled in her left ear, her link to the frequency that was being used by hotel security.

  He put his free hand on the small of her back as they strolled along the edge of the room, but she didn't need to be guided. Although she seldom looked at him, she seemed aware of his every move and anticipated each shift of direction he made. He suspected he wouldn't be able to guide her, anyway. She didn't strike him as the kind of woman who could be pushed into doing anything she didn't want. He placed his hand on her, simply because he liked touching her.

  True to her word, she had taken exactly twenty minutes to get ready for this black-tie evening. Any other woman likely would have protested the short notice, but not Sarah. She had risen to the challenge and the result was drawing the attention of every male they encountered.

  Her dress was ice blue and glittered as she moved, giving a liquid sheen to her breasts and hips. Her arms and shoulders were covered, but she'd gathered her hair on top of her head, baring her neck and emphasizing the graceful curve of her throat. Her skirt was a wrap style, overlapping at her right hip. The panels parted with each step, displaying a teasing flash of her bare calf.

  But Hawk didn't think she had dressed to entice anyone. The gown was a practical choice since the long sleeves would conceal her bruises. The slinky knit fabric would resist creasing, so it would travel well. It also would allow her ease of movement, as would the wrap skirt. The beaded evening bag that hung by a glittering chain from her good shoulder left her hands free. It wouldn't hold much more than her cell phone, but he didn't believe for a moment that she was unarmed. His gaze lingered on her leg. She probably had strapped her gun to her thigh.

  He spread his fingers, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the dress from her skin. "Although you did mention that your appearance is irrelevant, I have to say you look lovely, Sarah."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "I take it that uniform you're wearing isn't typical Army issue."

  "As a matter of fact, I acquired it for a previous mission. I was part of an advance reconnaissance team attending a reception at a dictator's palace."

  "You were spying."

  She walked a few steps in silence before she spoke again. "We were gathering intelligence so that the dictator's guards didn't slaughter the American students they were holding hostage there as well as the assault team sent to rescue them. You might call it spying, I call it saving lives."

  "Was the mission successful?"

  "Yes, Dr. Lemay."

  "Please, call me Hawk."

  "I'd prefer not to."

  "If you plan to spend the next three days with me, what would it hurt?"

  "Our relationship is strictly professional, Dr. Lemay. It would be best if we remain focused—" She paused, her back tensing beneath his palm. "There is a middle-aged bald man ten yards to our left who is observing you. Five-ten, around two hundred pounds, stands with his head pushed forward, favors his right knee. Do you know him?"

  Hawk sipped his champagne as he glanced to his left, although Sarah's description had been accurate enough for him to guess who it was without looking. "Fedor Yegdenovich. He's a physicist."

  "A colleague of yours?"

  "Unfortunately, no. He considers fusion research to be a race, and he's determined Mother Russia will win."

  "And the short, intense-looking man with him?"

  "Earl Drucker," Hawk said. "Of the Texas Druckers. His oil is running out and he wants to diversify into other energy sources. The deal he proposed to me last month was far richer than the government's. He offered me a fortune in exchange for my research."

  "You're a popular man, Dr. Lemay. Why didn't you take his offer?"

  "I'm not motivated by money." He returned his gaze to Sarah. "But since you work in intelligence, you would already know that."

  She dipped her chin in agreement. "Yes, I'm aware of your financial status. The income from the patents you hold on your early discoveries amounts to several million annually and has allowed you to fund your research yourself."

  "Most women would be impressed by that."

  "If I were interested in money, I would have requested an assignment at the mint."

  "Somehow I don't think that would have suited your temperament."

  "I'm also aware of the fact that you donate the majority of your income to various charities, including veterans' organizations."

  "Damn, you really are good at your job, aren't you?"

  "Yes." She met his gaze briefly before she resumed her survey of the room. "Judging by your record of giving to charities, you appear to have a social conscience and a sense of patriotism. Which makes it difficult for me to understand why you refused to accept the offer of our government."

  "Ah. So you checked my story."

  "Of course. No offense meant."

  "No offense taken." He smiled. "After all, I checked your story, too. As much as I was able to, anyway."

  Her gaze darted to his. "What do you mean?"

  "What did you think I was doing while you were going through your tai chi routine? I went on-line with my laptop to do some background research of my own."

  She raised her eyebrows. "And?"

  "Your military record is impressive, Captain Fox. I take it your father influenced your career choice."

  If he hadn't been watching so carefully, he wouldn't have seen the chink open up in her controlled expression. He glimpsed a tangle of emotions. Pride, longing, pain. He blinked and it was gone.

  "Yes, I admired the general," she said. "It was natural to follow his example."

  The general. Not Dad. Not Pops. A revealing choice of words, Hawk thought. "General Bartholomew Fox, hero of both the Korean and the Gulf Wars, would be a hard act to follow for anyone. Especially a daughter."

  Another momentary chink. She looked away. "I have never shied away from a challenge, Dr. Lemay."

  "Neither have I, Sarah." He stepped closer, running his palm up the back of her arm. "But I'm surprised you didn't try to talk me out of attending this reception. If I really am in danger, if the threat to my life is genuine, wouldn't it have been safer if we remained secluded in the suite?"

  A light shudder followed his touch. "Would you have agreed if I'd asked?"

  Hawk vividly remembered the way she had looked when he'd first walked out of the bedroom, with her hair loose and her feet bare as she'd curled into the corner of the sofa. She had been even more appealing than she was now, because she hadn't quite managed to hide the spark of interest that had warmed her gaze as she'd watched him.

  But would she have asked him to stay for the sake of her mission or for her? He dropped his hand. "Probably not," he replied.

  "That's a courageous choice," she said. "As long as the risk is manageable, it's better not to give i
n to threats. The moment we let fear win, we've lost."

  "What do you fear, Sarah?"

  "Failure, Dr. Lemay."

  It was an honest answer, Hawk decided. Both from the soldier and from the woman.

  She pressed her index finger over the receiver in her left ear and stepped away to place herself slightly behind him. A hum of interest spread through the crowd.

  Hawk glanced over his shoulder in time to see at least a dozen men in flowing djellabahs stride through the ballroom's main entrance. They moved as a group, maintaining a ring around the tall, bearded man who walked at their center.

  Even though it had been fourteen years since they had last met, Hawk recognized Prince Jibril Ben Nour, the next in line for the throne of the oil-rich Persian Gulf nation of Moukim. The beard was new, but the long nose and the piercing black gaze hadn't changed. Nor had Jibril's aura of privilege—he moved with the sure-footed glide of a man who was unaccustomed to encountering obstacles in his path.

  The prince and his entourage swept through the crowd without pausing to speak to anyone. They appeared to be heading straight for Hawk. This was what he'd anticipated. Hawk placed his champagne glass on a nearby table and stepped forward to meet them.

  Sarah quickly angled herself between Hawk and the approaching men. She pressed her back to his chest and nudged him backward, positioning him closer to one of the emergency exits that led out of the ballroom.

  Hawk frowned. Under other circumstances, he would have welcomed the sensation of Sarah's body rubbing against his, but he knew what she was doing. She was trying to shield him, and he wouldn't allow it now any more than he'd allowed it this afternoon. He slipped his arm around her waist and drew her against his side.

  "I don't like the look of this, Dr. Lemay." She curled her fingers around his wrist. "There are too many of them, and they're moving too fast. Their floor-length robes could conceal anything."

  He moved his hand to her hip and held her in place. "Relax, Sarah. Nothing's going to happen."

  She let go of his wrist and lowered her hand to her thigh. Her fingertips brushed the opening in her skirt. She didn't relax. Hawk could feel a change in the way she held herself, as if she were readying for action. Her breathing became deep and deliberate. Her weight shifted forward to the balls of her feet. The spicy-sweet scent of her perfume strengthened.