The Specialist

by Rhonda Nelson

  Five minutes later, she turned off Emmitsburg Road—which went through the center of historic Pickett’s Charge—onto a long, winding driveway which led to The Dove’s Nest Bed and Breakfast. Situated less than five miles from Gettysburg proper, the old B&B was a perfect place for history-loving tourists…or greedy Civil War buffs searching for the next coup to augment their collection, Payne silently added as he pulled the Bug right up next to her in the designated parking area.

  With a galling amount of effort, he got out of the car, leaned an arm against the door, and peered at her from across the roof.

  Looking distinctly uneasy, she climbed out of the Hummer and shot him what could only be described as a sick glance.

  “Imagine that,” he said, smiling wolfishly at her. “We’re staying at the same place.”

  She managed a weak smile. “What were the odds?”

  Exactly, Payne thought.

  EMMA HAD BEEN a trifle nervous when she’d watched Brian Payne walk briskly to his rental car—he’d been in too much of a hurry for her comfort. With each step that she’d taken toward the Hummer, the more she’d realized that she’d made a serious tactical error.

  Yes, seeing him crammed into that little car was gratifyingly hilarious, but in the end, the petty act had only served to put that legendary brain of his into suspicious-mode. Even from a safe distance in the Hummer she’d felt it.

  Then, as she’d lessened the distance between herself and The Dove’s Nest—the lovely B&B she’d gone online and chosen as her home base for the next several days—and he’d kept tailing her, a horrible thought had struck and had only been confirmed when she was less than five miles from her ultimate destination. On a whim, Emma had called ahead to The Dove’s Nest and had asked to be connected with Brian Payne’s room. She’d been told that he hadn’t checked in yet and asked would she like to leave a message for him upon his arrival.

  Er…that was a big fat negative.

  At that point, the prudent thing to have done would have undoubtedly been to find a different place to stay. Unfortunately, “prudent” had never been one of her strong points and she’d become quite enamored with the thought of staying at the old B&B. She’d even selected her room from the beautiful photographs on the Web site. It was a rare indulgence—one made doubly wonderful by the fact that Hastings was picking up the tab—and she hadn’t wanted to change her plans merely to accommodate Brian Payne.

  Furthermore, it smacked of cowardice and therefore went completely against her nature.

  Clearly her one advantage was going to come to a swift premature end, but that only meant that she’d have to step up her game. She could do it, Emma knew. Payne might be legendary but she needed it more. Or at least that’s what she planned to tell herself because she had every intention of beating him to the pocketwatch, collecting the final ten grand from Colonel Hastings and getting on with the rest of her life.

  Since leaving the army, Emma had been so focused on helping her mother that she hadn’t had the time to properly think about what it was she’d ultimately like to do with her life. She’d been too busy making ends meet to come up with a career plan, to nurse a dream. But Hastings’s timely arrival had awakened an old ambition last night, one she hadn’t thought about in years. Now, though, it had been dusted off and polished and it suddenly shone like the hope of a brand-new toy.

  Vet school.

  That’s what she wanted to do. She’d always had a strong affinity for animals, generally related to animals of the four-legged variety better than to those who walked on two. Though her father had never had any special training, he’d always had a special bond with animals as well. She supposed she inherited the knack from him. She and her mother had lost him in a farming accident when she’d been eleven, a loss that still haunted her today.

  Despite being an attractive woman with brains and wit, Lena had never remarried. John Edward Langston had been the love of her life and when she lost him that had simply been it for her. Though Emma knew her mother had to get lonely from time to time, and had even gently suggested that her mother date, Lena had always given her a sad little smile and said, “My heart’s just not in it, honey.”

  Because it was buried on Beacon Hill with her daddy, Emma thought now. Did she think that her father would want her mother to be lonely? No. But wow to be loved so thoroughly that the need to look for a replacement was simply out of the question. She remembered her parents, remembered how happy they’d been together, and a wistful tug pulled at her heart. When the time came, that’s what she wanted. She wanted to be thoroughly loved.

  Emma’s lips twisted. Of course, so far all she’d managed to be was partially loved. Other than one relatively serious relationship when she’d first joined the military, she had little experience with love. Unfortunately finding a guy who wasn’t intimidated by her drive had been a lot tougher than she’d have imagined. It wasn’t something she thought she’d encounter in the army, but in the end she supposed boys were going to be boys no matter what the situation.

  The first time she’d outperformed David, that had been the end of their relationship. Though they’d been together more than a year and he’d been her first, he hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a face-to-face breakup—the little weasel had sent her a text message.

  An army of one, my ass, Emma thought now. The coward.

  Her gaze inexplicably slid to Payne, who was grabbing his gear from the back seat of the Bug. He wouldn’t be a coward, she thought, feeling another rush of sexual attraction skip up her spine. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. Of course, by all accounts he was the most emotionally unavailable man on the planet, so he didn’t have to be a coward, did he? He didn’t invest anything and made it clear that he wasn’t going to. Though it seemed a little cold to Emma, at least he was forthright. That was admirable, at any rate.

  Furthermore, given the way her nipples tingled and her thighs melted every time he shot one of those cool blue looks at her, she could honestly imagine lust trumping common sense in favor of a night spent in his bed.

  And coming from her that was saying something.

  While she enjoyed good sex just as much as the next person, she’d always been too busy and too selective to have what one would call an active sex life. In fact, for the past year and some odd months, she hadn’t had a sex life at all. David, quite honestly, had left a bad taste in her mouth and, other than the requisite ricochet lay with a guy who’d been a good friend—compliments of several self-pity cocktails of Jose Quervo—she’d been celibate.

  In short, Emma was exceedingly picky about who she shared her body with and, while she had no romantic illusions about being passionately in love first, she had too much self-respect to simply open up shop for any old customer. Unlike a lot of her modern counterparts, she wasn’t a convenience store, but preferred to think of herself an upscale boutique that only catered to worthy patrons. The idea drew a small smile.

  “Do you need some help?” Payne asked her, stopping in front of the Hummer.

  Still a gentleman, even after she’d made him rent that little car. That was sexy, too. Emma shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve only got one bag.”

  “Only one? How long are you staying?”

  It was an off-hand natural question and yet she knew he was fishing. “That depends,” she said evasively. She grabbed her own bag, her purse and her laptop, then closed the door and locked up the Hummer.

  “Depends on what?”

  “How long it takes me to see everything I want to see,” she said, not altogether lying. She wanted to see a pocketwatch before she left.

  He inclined his head and waited on her to join him at the front of the vehicle, presumably so they could walk in together. She had an eerie feeling this was a portent of things to come. Hell, he’d practically dogged her every step since the airport. Shaking him wasn’t going to be an easy task, particularly when her body was staging a rebellion against her—it was more inclined to shake…on top of him.


  “What about you?” Emma decided to ask, hoping to derail her current line of thought. “How long are you in town?”

  They rounded the side of the house, making their way to the front gate, which he obligingly held open for her. “A week, tops,” he said.

  Oh, goody, Emma thought. A week of torture. Sweet Lord, she had to find that damned pocketwatch first. “Is this your first trip to Gettysburg?”

  He nodded. “What about you? First trip, also?”

  “It is.”

  He smiled and shot her a humorous look which made the hair on her upper arms stand on end. “Amazing how much we have in common, isn’t it?”

  You have no idea, Emma thought, but managed a simple smile rather than retort. Then again, he probably did. That’s why he’d latched onto her and had no intention of letting go until he found out all of her secrets. Then who knows what would happen?

  One of two scenarios, she imagined. He’d either pack up his toys and move to another sandbox in order to keep her in the dark about his own progress in finding the pocketwatch. Or he’d adhere to the old keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer adage and insist on playing with her so that he could keep tabs on her.

  Perversely—because she was a horny moron, she supposed—she sincerely hoped it was the latter.

  Emma huddled further into her jacket as they climbed the front steps to the old stone farmhouse. A historical plaque next to the door said Circa 1808 and the bright afternoon sun illuminated the various copper pots of pansies and other blooming winter flowers situated around the roomy porch.

  Before Payne could grab the doorknob, a short, plump older woman wearing a quilted multicolored brocade pantsuit, a wild hat sporting peacock feathers and lots of gaudy jewelry barreled out, preceded by an enormous potbellied pig, who’d been dressed in a matching outfit, right down to the hat and pearls.

  A startled laugh escaped Emma before she could check it.

  “Mind your manners, Matilda, you ornery old hog,” the woman chided. “Don’t run over them.” She looked at Emma and Payne. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Tilda thinks she owns whatever path she’s on. I’m Judith, by the way. My sister and her husband own The Dove’s Nest, so Tilda and I are frequent visitors. I also conduct the ghost stories on Friday evenings. Hope to see you there,” she said, then stumbled forward and grunted as her pig lunged once more for the steps. “Bye,” she called hurriedly over her shoulder.

  Emma and Payne stared dumbly at each other for a full five seconds before they both burst into laughter.

  “Ghost stories?” Payne finally said, casting a glance at the house.

  Emma nodded. “There are reportedly two resident ghosts residing at The Dove’s Nest. It’s all on their Web site. What?” she asked at his skeptical glance. “Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

  “I’ve never met one.”

  Emma grinned. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

  She knew the instant the words left her mouth that it’d been the wrong thing to say, that her definition of “lucky” and his held two completely different meanings.

  Wry humor sparked like a hot blue flame in those wintry eyes and the smallest hint of a sexy smile caught the corner of his supremely carnal lips, making her belly alternately knot and whirl. “Maybe I will.”

  And with that enigmatic, loaded comment he opened the door for her, ushering her inside.

  The question was…to what? Her doom or desire?

  With her luck, probably both.

  5

  BEGINNING TO FEEL more like a spider and less like a fly in this recent farce, Payne followed Hummer Girl—her name until he learned her proper one—into the foyer of The Dove’s Nest B&B. For whatever reason, he’d imagined that Garrett had booked him into a Victorian-era bed and breakfast with chairs with spindly legs and lots of floral wallpaper. He’d imagined feeling like the proverbial bull in the china shop and staying hungry from lack of anything to eat beside little, bite-size sandwiches and hot tea.

  The Dove’s Nest was an old farmhouse with tall ceilings, hardwood floors—which had been blanketed with colorful rugs—and huge fireplaces which had done more than warm the backside of their genteel inhabitants. It was big and cozy and, while lushly appointed with substantial antiques, Payne didn’t feel like there was a chair that wouldn’t hold his weight. There were patrons in the dining room to the left and he caught the tantalizing whiff of prime rib and roasted potatoes.

  He instantly revised his opinion of B&Bs and dubbed The Dove’s Nest to his liking.

  “Good afternoon,” a petite older blonde greeted them as they neared the reception desk. “I’m Norah Gray. My husband Harry and I own The Dove’s Nest.” She jerked a finger toward the back of the house. “He’s tooling around in the barn at the moment, but I’m sure he’ll want to meet you two as soon as he comes back in.” She smiled. “Do you have a reservation?”

  “Yes,” he and Hummer Girl said in unison.

  Norah moved to the computer. “And whose name would it be under?”

  Beside him, Hummer Girl blushed. “We’re not together,” she blurted out.

  Norah blinked, then laughed softly at her gaffe. “I’m sorry. You came in together. I just assumed…Well,” she said briskly. “Who would like to go first, then?”

  “Ladies first,” Payne said quickly and gave his reluctant companion a gentle nudge forward.

  She turned and glared at him. And he knew why. She’d had her ID at the ready when they’d been standing in front of the car rental counter, but she hadn’t had time to pull that trick here. No, now she was going to have to give up a little information—which he’d have figured out soon enough anyway, but…This way was better, Payne decided. Let her stew and steam and worry. Let her be bloody uncomfortable for a while. Like he’d been in that damned car.

  “Okay, then,” Norah said, turning her expectant gaze upon Hummer Girl.

  “Emma Langsford,” she said, evidently trying to ignore him out of existence.

  Emma, Payne thought. It was an old-fashioned name, but it still seemed to fit.

  “Ah,” Norah said, smiling. “Here you are. I see you used our online reservation system and chose the Robert E. Lee room.”

  Payne felt a smile slide across his lips. He’d known her presence had something to do with Garrett, so while her room choice hadn’t confirmed the connection in his mind…he did find it particularly interesting.

  “Aw,” he sighed, feigning disappointment. “I’d wanted that room.”

  Norah brightened. “How about I put you in the one next door? It’s very similar.”

  “I didn’t think you’d looked at the Web site,” Emma said through a brittle smile.

  “Oh, I haven’t.”

  “Then how could you want what you haven’t seen?”

  “I’m a big fan of Robert E. Lee,” he said, shrugging lightly. “Naturally, I’d want the room which bore his name.”

  She looked as though she’d like nothing better than to argue with him, but of course if she did that, she’d be tipping her hand. He didn’t know precisely what sort of hand she held at the moment, but he enjoyed watching her guard the hell out of it all the same.

  “Oh, I see you’re from Mississippi,” Norah enthused. “I’ve got family down in the Delta. Where is Marble Springs exactly?” she asked conversationally. Garrett’s comment about B&B owners being a better source of information was proving to be quite true at the moment.

  A name and a hometown, Payne thought, secretly enjoying Emma’s increasing discomfort. Come on, Norah, he thought. If you’d just cough up an address I could save Guy a lot of time.

  Emma’s elfin face had turned a distinctly lovely shade of pink. “It’s near Jackson,” she said.

  “Oh,” Norah said. “Well, I’m sure it’s a beautiful town. With a name like Marble Springs, it’d have to be, wouldn’t it?” She handed Emma her key, along with a packet of information and free tickets to several of the local area attractions. “Let m
e know if you need anything at all, dear. We pride ourselves on our helpful service here at The Dove’s Nest.”

  As well they should, Payne thought. She’d been pretty damned helpful to him already and he hadn’t even gotten into his room yet.

  She turned to Payne. “Now, let’s see about getting you checked in, as well. Your name please?”

  “Brian Payne.”

  Norah frowned. “Payne, Payne,” she repeated thoughtfully, as though trying to remember something. “Oh! You had a call a few minutes ago.”

  From the corner of his eye he watched Emma scurry toward the staircase.

  “A call?”

  “Yes,” Norah told him. “She didn’t leave her name, just said she’d call back.”

  She? There wasn’t a “she” who knew his whereabouts, Payne thought as he watched Emma Langsford’s feet disappear up the stairs. He wasn’t entangled with any female who’d need possession of that information.

  Furthermore, Ranger Security didn’t have any women on payroll—even their secretary was a man, a multitasking, sticky-noting, filing guru of unknown sexual orientation. Not that it mattered. So long as Juan-Carlos did the job and didn’t hit on him, Payne didn’t care whose team he batted for.

  The only person who might have called him—and this was a huge stretch—was Jamie’s wife, Audrey. But that seemed unlikely as well because she had his cell number. Anyone who needed to get in touch with him immediately knew to catch him on the cell. He kept it on and with him at all times, even at home in his loft.

  “Would you like the room next to Ms. Langsford, then?” Norah asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Like I said, it’s very similar to the Robert E. Lee room.”

  Payne’s gaze darted to the ceiling where he could imagine he saw Emma hurrying down the hall and he sighed and shook his head at his own thickness.