He considered her across the two feet that separated them. “What do you think I should do?”
“Well—” she punched her pillow, placed her cheek back down, and a lock of hair fell across her eye “—do you even know how to install that type of equipment?”
His fingers itched to push the hair back from her face. “Assume the cameras come with installation directions. Do you think I should honor their requests?”
“If you don’t do the work, they’ll find someone else who will.” She spoke slowly, as if trying to figure out the ramifications before she committed herself. “And if you do the work, at least we’ll know the camera locations.”
Ever so slowly, slowly enough for her to read his intent and to withdraw if she wanted, he reached out and smoothed the hair from her eyes. He could have sworn she held her breath, but she didn’t tell him to back off. She held perfectly still, doing nothing to avoid his touch.
“I assume you know where to purchase such equipment?” he asked, more interested in her tone than her answer. Was she still tense? Had his casual touch upset her? While he knew better than to hope she would enjoy the closeness between them, he hoped that eventually she would relax when she saw he meant her no harm.
“Yes.”
Her one-word answer told him she remained uncomfortable but was undoubtedly working hard to conceal that emotion from him. At least she had the good sense to realize that her reactions weren’t normal. Clearly, she was making a huge effort to overcome her past.
While he would have enjoyed coaxing her just a little further out from behind the fortified walls she had built, he wouldn’t risk damaging the solid progress he’d made. Although he wanted to wrap himself around her and to sleep with her in his arms to prove he could hold her without pushing for lovemaking, she wasn’t ready.
The conversation over, he slowly relaxed into a deep sleep.
When he awakened the next morning he found himself alone in the bed at the ungodly hour of five-thirty. Groggily, he calculated that they’d had less than four hours of sleep. Although Taylor had left the bedroom, she hadn’t gone far. He could hear her light footsteps downstairs and smell fresh-brewed coffee.
Alex would have preferred to roll over and sleep until noon. However, even he knew that construction people arrived at work at the crack of dawn. He considered making a late entrance on his first day of work. He certainly could have used the fire last night as an excuse to grab a few more hours of sleep, but he didn’t wish to call attention to himself.
With a groan, he flung back the covers. Ten minutes later he’d lost the boxers and was dressed in another set of ill-fitting overalls, a navy shirt with red lettering that read I Left My Cape At The Cleaners, and clean socks. Unfortunately, his only pair of sneakers still reeked of smoke from last night’s fire. He had no choice but to wear them again.
If the morning hadn’t come so early, if he’d been a little more awake, he’d probably have found some humor in his solitary pair of shoes. Back home, he had an entire closet filled just with footwear—custom, hand-sewn loafers made of the finest Cordovan leather, everything from wing-tip slip-ons to straight-tip Oxfords in a variety of colors and styles. One wall of his extensive closet was for sporting shoes, casual all-weather walkers and tassel suede moccasins, his English riding boots, designer sneakers, hiking boots, and slippers. And now he’d been reduced to one pair of smelly off-the-rack tennis shoes. Even his sister Tashya wouldn’t believe he could manage with such meager belongings.
But manage he would.
When he entered the kitchen Taylor handed him a cup of black coffee, and he burned his tongue in his eagerness for a caffeine jolt. How she could look so wide awake and perky this early, he had no idea. She’d tied her hair back in a ponytail, and she wore jeans and a faded blue T-shirt that flattered her curves. A straw hat dangled from a cord around her neck and settled partway down her back.
He gulped more coffee. “Did you sleep?”
“A little.”
Over the rim of his mug, he raised a questioning brow.
“Your snoring kept me awake,” she teased.
He didn’t snore. Too many women had assured him that he slept without uttering any noises, but he saw no reason to mention that. However, he did tend to toss and turn. And he loved to snuggle. He adored the differences between women’s bodies and his own. He enjoyed their special scent, their soft skin and their heat that, mingled with his, created a cozy nest beneath the covers. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d spent a night in bed with a woman and awakened to find himself alone. Instead, he usually found her pressed up against him, their legs intertwined. Had he, still asleep, reached out for Taylor during the night? He knew better than to ask.
“How do people do this every day?” he asked instead.
“Do what?”
“Get up while it’s still dark.”
“You’re never up this early?”
“Not since the army, unless I didn’t go to sleep that night,” he answered.
She blushed. And he realized what he’d said. Damn. He hadn’t meant to throw his experience at her. But he didn’t think well before noon. However, he could cover up a mistake as well as any politician. “In the army, we often stayed up for forty-eight hours straight on forced marches.”
“And then your valet tucked you in with a hot toddy and clean sheets?” She teased him again.
He groaned and held out his empty mug for more coffee. She pointed to the pot, and he poured himself another cup. “You want more?” he asked.
“No thanks. One cup is my limit.”
“You do that a lot.”
“What?”
“Set limits.”
“And I suppose you never adhere to any, do you?” She spun around, leaned forward on the balls of her feet like a prize-fighter about to throw a punch. He took her aggression as a positive sign that she was beginning to feel comfortable around him. At least he hoped so.
“Easy.” He held up one hand. “It’s too early in the morning for sparring practice.”
She grinned. “Oh, really. You don’t want me to use you for a punching bag?”
He groaned. “Let me guess. You’re a black belt—”
“Brown belt.”
“—in karate?”
“Judo. It’s the martial art of self-defense.”
When he really woke up, probably after finishing his second cup, he’d have to remind himself she could probably throw him across the room. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Judo was developed to use one’s opponent’s aggression against him.”
“Is that another way of saying that the bigger the foe, the harder he falls?”
She shrugged daintily, amusement in her eyes. “Something like that.”
Chapter Eight
Taylor enjoyed teasing Alex. She liked the way she felt about herself when she was with him. While she might not be at ease with the glimmer of his smile or the gleam in his eyes, she no longer felt so uncomfortable. And he didn’t seem to have a temper.
On the walk from the cottage to the embassy, she realized that she wouldn’t have minded if he had taken her hand. While it occurred to her that she could reach out and take his, she didn’t feel that comfortable. And she wasn’t going to push her luck. However, she did look forward to spending another day with him and had begun to think they could make a good team.
Early morning’s first rays of pink slashed against the purplish sky, and she took stock of the activity around the embassy. Men in suits and ties, ladies in blouses and skirts and smart-looking shoes entered the building through the double front doors. Even from here, Taylor could hear the street traffic starting to jam up. Through the open gate she saw pedestrians walking their dogs and heard several impatient drivers honking their horns.
The Vashmiran embassy grounds encompassed the northern third of the block. Surrounded by high walls with thick hedges, the only way in and out appeared to be through the main gates where two on-dut
y guards stood on alert, checking identifications and waving people and vehicles through.
While Taylor was supposed to be the gardener, the grass, flowers and hedges would have to wait. She had no intention of leaving Alex alone. “If anyone asks, I’m staying with you today to help out with the carpentry. After the fire, the construction schedule must be further behind, so I don’t think anyone will question my presence as your helper.”
Several members of the cleaning crew came out a side exit for a cigarette break, and Alex slipped back into his undercover mode with the ease of a chameleon. He sipped his coffee, his tone light. “You don’t want to let me out of your sight, do you, sweetheart? After all the years we’ve been married, I thought you might be getting tired of me.”
Sweetheart? The endearment rolled off his lips with such practiced ease that she wondered how often he’d used it. “We’ve only been married two years, three months and five days.”
“In my family that’s a record.” Alex hooked his arm through hers. At the same time he bent his head and whispered, “There’s someone in the shadows by those trash cans.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Am I mistaken, or is that the general?”
“That’s Vladimir, all right.” Alex tilted his hat lower over his forehead and slipped on his sunglasses. “What’s he doing?”
“Taking out his trash?”
“General Levsky Vladimir, hero of the revolution and supreme commander of Vashmiran forces, doesn’t take out the trash.” Alex strolled over to the Dumpster. “Morning, sir. We’re going to start repairs on the damaged offices today. Any requests?”
The general frowned at Alex and Taylor. In the dawn light, reading his expression wasn’t easy. He appeared more annoyed than upset by their interruption. “Those fools who put out the fire shot foam all over the embassy.”
“We’ll clean up the mess,” Taylor told him cheerfully.
The general threw his hands into the air. “I’m surrounded by fools.”
“Excuse me, sir?” Alex questioned the man.
The general just shook his head, muttered, “Fools,” and headed back toward the embassy.
Taylor scratched her head. “Strange man. Is he always like that?”
“Like what?”
“Disgruntled?”
Alex shrugged. “I’m surprised he spoke to us at all. It was too much to hope he’d explain himself, but didn’t it appear to you that he was looking for something in the container?”
“You saw him before I did. What made you think that?”
Alex waited until the general entered the embassy, then he quickly turned and headed back to the trash. “I didn’t see him throw anything in there, and he was leaning forward and peering down.”
“What are you doing?” Taylor asked.
“I want to see what he was looking at.”
Taylor looked back over her shoulder. “This isn’t a good idea. Suppose he comes back out? Suppose he’s watching us through a window?”
Alex plucked two soda cans out of the trash. “I’ll tell him that we recycle.”
Taylor sighed. While she didn’t want Alex to do anything suspicious, if they always took the safe course, they would never learn anything. While he peered at the trash, she kept careful watch.
No one seemed to pay them any attention. The cleaning crews had ended their break and headed inside. Overhead in the large oaks, a few squirrels made impossibly long leaps from branch to branch. The guards at the front gate remained busy with their duties.
Everything appeared normal. But Taylor’s neck prickled. She didn’t like Alex putting himself at risk. “See anything interesting?”
He reached into the container. “Here’s a half-burned legal pad. And several computer disks. The rest of the papers are shredded.”
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m with you.” Alex stuffed the disks into his pocket and tucked the legal pad under his arm so that only the unburned part stuck out. “We’re supposed to report to the administrator’s office. It’s on the ground floor in the rear of the building.”
They walked into chaos. Phones rang faster than the secretaries could answer them. A messenger boy literally ran right past them. Mail to and from Vashmira stood in sacks, waiting for delivery.
Alex glanced at an empty cubicle with a computer.
“Don’t even think of trying to look at those disks now,” Taylor snapped at him.
Alex nudged her closer to the empty booth where a clipboard hung from the wall. “That’s the list of whoever called in sick today.”
“So?”
“If you started the fire, would you show up for work?”
“Damn right I would—to avoid suspicion.”
“But suppose you got paid off? Would you work then?”
Alex took out a pen and wrote down the names of three people who’d called in sick. Taylor just knew they were going to get caught. The room was busy, but not so busy they wouldn’t be noticed. Alex was just replacing the clipboard when a harried-looking gray-haired man hurried over. His name tag proclaimed him the administrative officer, Peter Kleg. “Just what in hell are you doing?”
“Searching for my work schedule,” Alex replied, calmly straightening the tilted clipboard and making no effort to hide his interest in what had been written there.
Kleg frowned at Alex. “That’s the list of people out sick.”
“I see that. Now. Perhaps you could direct me to the—”
The officious man raised his voice and held out his hand, palm up. “Let me see your embassy identification.”
“Sure.” Alex handed over the ID. “I guess after the fire last night, everyone’s a little edgy.”
Kleg didn’t answer, and Taylor hoped he wouldn’t demand that Alex remove his sunglasses to match his face to the picture—a picture that deliberately showed Alex with red-eye from the camera’s flash. When Kleg simply handed back Alex’s identification and peered just as suspiciously at Taylor’s, she forced her shoulders to relax. With a tight nod, Kleg appeared satisfied. “Come with me.”
They followed him through a corridor, past offices where the embassy replaced stolen and lost Vashmiran passports and issued emergency funds to their citizens and past another office where they kept track of the births and deaths of Vashmiran citizens in the United States. Then, Kleg led them by the visa office and into a controlled access area where a guard checked their identification once again.
Taylor had expected the chief administrator to be busy, especially after last night’s fire, but Kleg’s office was a zoo. Stacked boxes of documents, file folders and policy manuals covered every available table and desk surface, then overflowed onto the floor. Faxes spit out documents and phones rang. Kleg ignored the commotion and headed straight for one of his three secretaries.
When the woman didn’t look up fast enough from her typing, he rudely snapped his fingers. “Mol, I need the work order for the new handyman.”
“It’s not ready.”
“What do you mean, it’s not ready?”
“You authorized the work order before the fire. You can’t expect a man to paint walls that no longer exist,” the secretary pointed out.
Kleg rubbed his forehead and spoke over his shoulder to Alex. “Look, maybe you should come back next week.”
Taylor exchanged a glance with Alex, who shook his head slightly, indicating he didn’t want to leave the premises. She didn’t blame him. They had to conduct their investigation inside the embassy.
Help came from an unexpected source. The secretary sighed but kept her tone polite as she spoke to Kleg. “You’re going to send the handyman away when you need all the help you can find to get this embassy ready for King Nicholas’s arrival next week?” Behind Kleg’s back, his secretary rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “I’m sure they can see for themselves what needs doing and make themselves useful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Alex nodded. “Where do I request purchase orders for supplies?”
&
nbsp; The able secretary went over operating procedures, and Kleg left. Taylor wondered if the secretary ran the office. She seemed much more capable than her boss.
On their way up to the offices where the fire had done the most damage, Alex seemed especially quiet. Pensive.
“Anything wrong?” Taylor asked.
“I’m sure getting a different perspective on this embassy and how it’s run.”
“When you’re at the top, everyone sucks up to you, huh?”
“Mmm.”
Alex couldn’t answer as they walked by a group of carpet cleaners. Taylor and Alex took the stairs to the next floor, and, immediately, the stench from the fire hit them. But after a few minutes Taylor’s nose seemed to burn out and she actually got used to the smell. However, she found the sawing and hammering of the carpenters not only nerve-racking but slightly alarming, as it drowned out the sounds that would warn her of the approach of strangers. So she kept watch with special vigilance, turning casually so she could look in all directions.
What remained of the carpet and padding had already been torn out. The carpenters had finished tearing down several burned walls and were already hammering in new studs. An electrician stood on a ladder, his head inside an opening that would eventually encase lighting.
Alex took Taylor’s hand and tugged her down the corridor and into one of the undamaged, empty offices. The room could use a fresh coat of paint to cover the smoke damage, but the desk and computer system appeared to be newly replaced and in working order.
Alex flipped on the computer. While they waited for the operating system to boot, he reached into his pocket and retrieved the computer disks he’d filched from the trash. He popped one into the computer’s floppy drive.
Using the mouse, he clicked File, searched for the A drive and then brought up the disk’s contents. “It’s empty.”
“Try another one,” Taylor suggested as she kept a lookout in the doorway. No one seemed to notice them. The crews were too busy with their assigned tasks. Additional men carried in supplies of window frames and doors, hinges and knobs, cabinets and mirrors, and even a water cooler awaited installation by a plumber.
Royal Pursuit Page 10