She turned away abruptly, heading back to the buffet table in search of Nick and safety. She had to laugh at the thought of that. Nick would be highly offended to find out she considered him safe.
But he was deep in conversation with three wealthy-looking women, no doubt trying to charm them into making a sizable donation to the Nick York fund.
Annie frowned down at the table that held the food, wishing that she had stayed home, thinking sourly about the way her colleagues had to scrape and grovel for money to support their scientific research. Ever since government funding had virtually disappeared, brilliant scientists were forced to spend nearly all their free time begging and scratching for money to keep their projects alive. And not just their free time, Annie realized, but also much of the valuable time they should have been spending doing research.
Still frowning, she stabbed a black olive with a toothpick, popped it into her mouth and turned away from the table.
“Don’t tell me that’s all you’re going to eat.”
Startled, Annie looked up, directly into Pete’s obsidian eyes. He was standing much too close, only inches from her.
She backed away. “You’re not being very inconspicuous,” she accused him.
He moved closer. “Do you want me to get you a plate?” he asked. “There are some tables free, if you want to sit down.”
Annie was staring up at him, an odd mixture of disbelief and longing on her face. Still, he moved toward her, stopping when there was only a hint of space between them. If she took a deep breath, he realized, her breasts would brush his chest.
“Pete, why are you doing this?” she asked softly.
It was a good question. Why was he doing this? He knew damn well that if he made love to her tonight, the way he wanted to, he would be risking everything. For one brief moment, he thought crazily, fleetingly, of taking Annie and running away. They could leave the country, leave behind the art conspiracy charges, leave behind Captain Kendall Peterson. He could spend the rest of his life as Pete Taylor. Annie would never have to know; he would never have to tell her who he really was, tell her that he’d lied to her.
“What do you want from me?” she whispered.
“Dance with me, Annie,” he said, his voice husky.
Annie felt her throat tighten, and she steeled herself, ordering herself not to cry. “Don’t do this,” she said, her voice shaking slightly despite her attempts to keep it steady. “Don’t play with my feelings, Taylor. You know full well that I…” She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. “…want you. There. I admitted it. You win. Now leave me alone.”
She turned, nearly diving for the other side of the room. She could feel the sting of unshed tears on the backs of her eyelids, but she forced herself to smile brightly at the faces she recognized in the crowd. How she wanted to go home. But home was off-limits, unsafe until a new, more elaborate security system could be installed.
She caught sight of the bar, stretching across one entire end of the gaudily decorated lobby, and headed for it. She’d get a tall, cool glass of seltzer, then hunt for Cara. They could hang out in the ladies’ room together, away from Pete Taylor….
“Dr. Morrow! What a pleasant surprise!”
Annie turned to find a small man with brown wavy hair standing before her. He wore a thick gold chain around his wrist and a white carnation in the lapel of his tux. It was Alistair Golden, her chief competitor.
“Dr. Golden,” she said, taking the hand he had extended.
“How’s work?” he asked, his startling green eyes probing.
Talking to this man was a lot like being interrogated, Annie thought. It wasn’t his words, but rather the penetrating way he had of staring. He reminded her of a frog eyeing a fly it was going to eat for dinner. And she was the fly.
“Fine,” she lied. “And how are things with you?”
“Fine,” he said, and she wondered if he was lying, too. “I heard you’re having some security problems lately. Something about…evil spirits?”
“News does travel,” Annie murmured, looking longingly at the bar.
The man’s gaze focused over Annie’s right shoulder, and she turned to find Pete standing there.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Dr. Golden said.
“Dr. Alistair Golden, Pete Taylor,” Annie said briefly. The two men shook hands.
“Taylor works for me,” she said, intentionally labeling him as mere hired help. “He’s a security guard.” She didn’t call him a bodyguard, not wanting to make their relationship even that personal. “Excuse me,” she added, taking the opportunity to escape both from Golden’s inquisitive eyes and Pete’s presence.
She was still twenty feet from the bar when a hand caught her arm. She froze, knowing without turning around that it was Pete.
“Annie, we have to talk,” he said, his soft drawl somehow cutting through the noise of a thousand people talking and laughing, through the sound of a twenty-piece orchestra playing an old romantic song.
She turned, then. “No, we don’t,” she said. “Give me a break, Taylor. Please? I don’t feel like talking.”
“Then dance with me.”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Read my lips, pal. No. Get it? No—”
She turned away, but he caught her wrist and pulled her back. “Then listen to me,” he said. “You don’t have to talk, you don’t have to say anything.”
“I don’t want to listen—”
“Annie, have mercy on me—”
“Sweet Annie!” Nick York bounded up, startling them both. “They’re playing our song!”
Nick pulled her out onto the dance floor and wrapped his arms around her. Annie looked over his shoulder. She could see Pete shake his head slightly with frustration. When he looked up and met her eyes, Annie caught her breath, recognizing that same look, the one that had been confusing her for weeks now.
Why now, out of the blue like this, did Pete suddenly want to dance with her? It didn’t make sense. None of this made any sense at all.
A wave of fatigue washed over her and she stumbled. Only Nick’s arms around her kept her from falling.
“Nick, I’m exhausted,” she said, looking up into her friend’s eyes. “I’d like to leave.”
“Shall I call you a cab?” he asked, then, realizing how callous he sounded, added, “I can’t leave now, Annie.” His eyes were serious and he actually had the decency to look ashamed. “I’m sorry, darling, but I’ve got a few leads on some backers and—”
“It’s all right,” she said. And it was. She hadn’t really expected Nick to leave this party three hours early. She’d hoped, but not expected. “I’ll get a cab my—”
“Oh, Lord, there’s Mr. and Mrs. Hampton-Hayes,” Nick said. “And they’re heading for the door. Annie, they’re richer than God and I’ve got to talk to them. Call me, darling.”
He was gone, leaving her standing alone in the midst of all the dancers. Good old Nick. If there was one thing you could count on, it was that you couldn’t count on him.
“I was going to ask if I could cut in, but it looks like your partner already cut out.”
Pete.
Annie turned to find him standing behind her, and before she could say anything, before she could move, he’d taken her into his arms.
It was heaven.
He held her so close, she could feel his heart beating. His arms were strong, yet he held her gently, one hand at her waist, the other holding her hand.
Annie closed her eyes, leaning against him. This had to be a dream. Certainly she’d dreamed about Pete holding her like this often enough. In a heartbeat, all her resistance had vanished. She pulled her hand free and slipped it up around his neck, pulling him even closer, running her fingers through the softness of his hair.
His arms tightened around her waist, and she looked up to see desire growing in his eyes. He slid one hand up to the deep-V back of her dress, letting his fingers trail lightly across her bare skin, up to her smooth shoul
ders, and back down again.
Pete felt, more than heard, the small sound she made as he touched her, and it was almost too much for him to take.
“Annie,” he breathed. “Annie…”
He’d lost his mind—there was no doubt about it. He’d told her that they had to talk, but really, what was he going to say to her? He couldn’t tell her he was CIA; he couldn’t do that.
He could tell her that he loved her.
He could pray that she loved him, too—enough to forgive him for all the lies, all the half-truths, all the deception.
His thighs pressed against her as they rocked back and forth, pretending to dance, and Annie looked up at him again, losing herself in the bottomless depths of his eyes.
Why didn’t he kiss her?
She couldn’t stand it another second. Standing on her toes, she pulled his head toward her and brushed his lips with hers. “Kiss me, Taylor,” she said, her lips parted invitingly.
He gave a sound that was half like a laugh, half like a groan. “I can’t.”
She pulled back, as far as she could with his arms still around her. “Why not?”
Pete could see frustration in her eyes, frustration and questions and a shadow of hurt. She didn’t understand. She thought he didn’t want to kiss her. Man, if she only knew…
He reached up and touched the side of her face, gently tracing her lips with his thumb. “Annie, I want to,” he said softly. “But I’m supposed to be protecting you. How can I watch for trouble if I’m kissing you?”
He could feel her trembling in his arms. “Kiss me with your eyes open.”
“Not a chance.” Pete shook his head. “When I kiss you, I’m going to do it right.”
Their eyes locked and for several long seconds, Annie couldn’t breathe. Why now? The question kept popping into her head. He’d run away from her the night she’d offered herself to him. He could have had her, but he’d turned her down. So why did he want her now?
Don’t think, she ordered herself. Don’t wonder, don’t ask questions, don’t ruin this. And maybe whatever “this” is could last forever….
She nervously wet her lips. “If you won’t kiss me with your eyes open, then we should go someplace you feel is safe enough to close your eyes.”
His fingers were at the nape of her neck, gently stroking her soft skin. “That sounds like a great idea to me,” he said.
He took Annie’s hand and led her off the dance floor, knowing full well that leaving the lights and the crowd was a mistake. Tonight they would share a hotel room, and unless he got a sudden burst of self-control, he’d share her bed.
Pete looked at the woman following him, looked at her soft, smooth skin, her beautiful face, her blue eyes, so wide and trusting—He swore, silently, harshly, knowing his self-control was long gone, and praying she’d forgive him when she found out the truth.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE CITY STREETS WERE CROWDED EVEN though the night air was cold.
Pete had his backpack and Annie’s overnight bag slung over his right shoulder. His other arm was wrapped tightly around her shoulders. She looked up at him and tried to smile. Pete realized she was as nervous as he was.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“I know a place over on the west side,” he said, looking casually over his shoulder. But his eyes were sharp, his swift gaze missing no detail of the people and cars around them.
“Are we going to walk? Usually I don’t mind walking. It’s just these shoes aren’t exactly cut out for—Hey!”
In a flash, Pete scooped her up in his arms.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a cab,” she said, looping her arms around his neck. “But this is nice.” She closed her eyes, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Yeah, I could get real used to this.”
“We’re going to get a cab,” Pete said, carrying her across the street. “I didn’t want to find one too close to the museum. We’ll be harder to trace this way.”
He gently set Annie down on the sidewalk, but she kept her arms around his neck. “I feel very safe,” she said. “Are you sure you can’t kiss me yet?”
“Definitely not yet.” He glanced down at her, a smile softening the lines of his face. “I feel like we’re targets at a shooting range. If I kiss you now, it would have to be over quick,” he said, looking boldly into her sweet blue eyes. “And, Annie, when I finally do kiss you, it’s going to last a long, long time.”
Annie smiled. “I like the sound of that, Taylor.”
Taylor. Right. Pete had to look away. Would she still smile at him that way after he told her who he really was, and why he’d been sent to play the part of her bodyguard? Please, he prayed to his vast collection of deities. Please let her forgive me….
When he glanced back, she was still smiling at him. “Think maybe it’ll be safe enough in the cab for you to kiss me?” she asked softly.
Pete’s arms went around her, and he pulled her in tightly. “It better be,” he murmured into her soft hair.
He reluctantly detached Annie’s hands from his neck and stepped toward the curb. Down the block, the light turned green, and a wall of headlights approached. They were too far away for Pete to distinguish the cabs from the regular vehicles, but there was one car traveling faster than the others. It moved to the right lane, as if the driver had spotted them. Pete lifted his hand, signaling that they needed a cab.
He saw that there was no taxi roof light at the same instant that he realized the car was speeding up, not slowing down. Something was wrong. Something was really wrong….
He turned, and fear hit him like a solid punch to the gut. Annie wasn’t next to him! God, where was she?
Searching wildly, he spotted her several yards away, leaning against an open-air telephone booth. She stood on one foot, serenely unaware of any danger. Her shoe was in her hand as she gracefully bent her leg to examine a rubbed spot on her heel.
Pete dropped her overnight bag, and went for Annie at a dead run, catching her around the waist as the speeding car jumped the curb and came onto the sidewalk. Around him, everything switched into slow motion. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the startled look on Annie’s face, and her shoe pinwheeling from her hand. There was a storefront ahead of him, with a door set back from the sidewalk. If he could make it there, they’d be safe. But the distance he’d have to cross, the actual sidewalk itself, seemed to stretch, to lengthen into an impossibly unattainable goal.
As the car came closer, he could see the face of the driver. The man’s teeth were bared in a grimace of concentrated rage; his eyes were wild. Pete’s training kicked in, and he glanced down at the car’s license plate, instantly committing the three numbers and three letters to memory. Memory, yeah, right. As if he’d even have a memory after this was over….
Pete had been faced with his own probable death before, but it had never angered him the way this did. No way was he going to let Annie die. And no way was he going to end up dead, either. Not now. Now when he’d finally found the best reason he’d ever had for staying alive.
With herculean effort he pushed his straining muscles harder, and threw both Annie and himself into the storefront. The car missed them by mere inches, but hit the phone booth, knocking it down and dragging it several hundred feet before driving away, tires squealing.
Pete turned instinctively into the fall, to cradle and protect Annie. With a tearing sound, the left sleeve was torn off of his tuxedo jacket as he skidded on the rough concrete. His shoulder was badly scraped, but he felt nothing but relief as he pulled Annie onto his lap.
He ran his hands quickly down her arms and legs to reassure himself that she was still in one piece. Her right knee was scraped, the stocking destroyed, but other than that she was all right.
“Pete, you’re bleeding,” she said, her voice remarkably clear.
As he looked up, he realized she was checking him over as carefully as he had checked her. His elbow was a mess, along with his l
eft knee, and blood stained the fine fabric of his tux. He couldn’t see his shoulder—didn’t want to see it.
“Still feel safe?” he asked her hoarsely.
To his surprise, she smiled. It was shaky, but it was definitely a smile. “If you’re with me,” she said, “then I’m safe.”
Man, she was giving him an awful lot to live up to. Painfully, he stood up, pulling Annie to her feet. There was a crowd gathering, and he wanted to get away from all the curious eyes.
“We’ve got to get out of here before he comes back,” he said. His pack was still on his back, but he’d dropped Annie’s bag on the sidewalk. Miraculously, it hadn’t been stolen; it still lay where it had fallen. Wincing, he bent to pick it up. There was a distinct tire track on the soft leather.
Someone in the crowd handed Annie her missing shoe.
She thanked them politely, calmly, as if this sort of thing happened every day.
Several cars had stopped at the accident scene, one of them a cab. Its off-duty light was lit, but Pete pulled several twenty-dollar bills from his wallet, and the driver was happy to get back to work.
“Where you heading?” the cabbie asked as they got in.
“Madison Square Garden,” Pete said. “And I’ll give you another fifty bucks if you keep the off-duty light on.”
“But that’s illegal—”
“A hundred.”
“You’re the boss.”
As the cab pulled away from the curb, Pete pulled Annie down with him so that they were both lying on the seat, hidden from view. Her face was illuminated in spurts by the streetlights they passed under, and she stared up at him, her eyes wide.
“You okay?” he asked.
She nodded, looking into his eyes as if he were a lifeline. “That was no accident,” she said. “Someone tried to kill us, didn’t they?”
“Yeah.”
Annie nodded again, still looking into his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked him.
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