She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
He knew what he was about to say would hurt her, so he gentled his voice. “The first question they’ll ask is why you decided to marry so soon after your father’s death.”
She flinched at his words, and tears glistened in her eyes, but she pulled herself up straight and lifted her chin, as if in defiance. “I’ll tell them I couldn’t stand the loneliness. Everyone at the Institute knows how close Daddy and I were. They’ll understand.”
Kyle could see all too clearly the truth in her statement. Once again, he fought the urge to draw her into his arms and comfort her. She was obviously struggling so hard to be brave that he doubted she’d appreciate his concern.
“The next question they’ll ask,” he said in a sympathetic tone, “is who is Kyle Foster? No one will have heard of or seen me before.”
Her smile banished the tears from her eyes. “I’ve already thought of the answer to that one. I can say I’d met you several times over the years at various conventions and seminars. That we’ve exchanged letters, talked on the phone, and were planning to marry in the spring. Since Daddy’s gone—” her voice broke slightly, and this time he couldn’t resist reaching for her hands “—we moved up our wedding date so I wouldn’t be alone and you could help me run the Institute.”
“You think they’ll believe you?” Even through her suede gloves, he could feel the heat from her hands, a warmth that only fueled his urge to hold her close.
“C.J. can help spread the news. Since she and I have been friends, everyone will assume I confided in her earlier and now she’s free to share that information.”
“That takes care of your problems,” he said. “But what about mine?”
“Molly?”
He nodded. He had already figured out the answer, but her tactics had impressed him so far, and he wanted to hear the solution Laura would come up with.
“With you overseeing security, you can make special provisions for Molly’s safety, both at the house and the day-care center.”
“That makes sense.”
“And—” Laura broke off with a blush.
“And what?”
“Since she’ll be living with us, there’ll be two of us to watch out for her.”
The longing look in her periwinkle eyes Kyle had noted that morning when Laura met Molly had reappeared. “You like kids, don’t you?”
“Guilty as charged.” Laura lifted her lips in a genuine smile that momentarily chased the grief from her eyes. “Molly’s a sweetheart.”
Paternal pride filled him. “She has that effect on everybody.”
“With Molly living with us, your cover’s even more secure. Who would expect a spy to bring his daughter on assignment with him?”
Kyle stood and slapped his thigh with his hat. “Exactly. Can’t you see how crazy this whole scheme sounds?”
With a sigh of resignation, she rose to her feet and walked toward Sugar. Halfway there, she turned. “I confess I know nothing about the kind of work you do, and I’m possibly way off base with my suggestion. But I think it can work. Will you at least think about it?”
He jammed on his Stetson and strode toward his horse. “I don’t have time for leisurely contemplation. Every minute advances the Black Order closer to using that D-5.”
She didn’t move. Snowflakes tumbled from the sky and caught like shimmering white jewels in the black tangle of her hair. “Is that a yes?”
“No.”
Her face fell. “Then there’s nothing more to discuss.”
“Oh yes there is. We’re going to talk your whole crazy scheme over with Daniel as soon as we get back to the main house.”
She hurried to the bay, leaped into the saddle and urged the horse close to him. “Then it’s a definite maybe?”
Indecision tore his insides six ways to Sunday. He wanted to catch the Black Order, he wanted Molly with him. And, God help him, the thought of being Laura’s husband, even if only pretending, was more enticing than he dared admit. He needed Daniel’s cool head and clear wisdom to keep him from making a terrible mistake. If Daniel thought the scheme would fly, then Kyle would accept the risks.
He turned his horse toward the main house. “Let’s talk to Daniel first.”
LAURA BENT HER HEAD BACK to look up at the skyscraper that was the Orange County courthouse, its glass windows glistening in the afternoon light. Two days ago, riding Sugar back to the main house at the Lonesome Pony, she’d been blinded by snow. Today she squinted in the brightness of the hot California sun. Because Kyle’s cover was that he worked as a scientist in L.A., they’d decided to be married there.
“Smile for the camera,” Frank called from below them on the courthouse steps.
“Righto.” With that cheery British encouragement, C.J. stood grinning at her husband’s elbow as he adjusted the focus on his Nikon. “Happy the bride the sun shines on.”
“If she doesn’t melt,” Laura muttered under her breath as perspiration slid between her shoulder blades.
Beside her, Kyle laughed, draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her close. “Just a few quick shots for the folks back home. Then we’ll get out of this heat.”
With her bouquet of orange blossoms and stephanotis wilting in her hands, she flashed what she hoped was an ecstatic matrimonial grin for the camera.
It hadn’t been what she’d call a fairy-tale wedding. Frank and C.J. had stood as their witnesses. The judge’s chambers were small and cluttered and reeked of cigar smoke, in spite of L.A.’s anti-smoking laws. The judge himself, a small, squat, balding man with a physique like the proverbial fire hydrant beneath his wrinkled robes, had mumbled the minimum necessary to bind them legally. She doubted the disheveled old magistrate had a sentimental or romantic bone in his body.
And when he’d pronounced them man and wife, Kyle’s kiss had been as reserved and impersonal as a stranger’s.
She suppressed a hysterical giggle. Kyle was a stranger. She should have her head examined, marrying a man she barely knew.
But, God help her, in spite of that fact, when his lips had brushed hers at the end of the ceremony, she’d wanted more. She’d wanted his strong arms around her, lifting her off her feet, driving away the heartache and loneliness with the heat of his kisses.
Kyle squeezed her shoulder, and she turned to find him staring at her, concern in his jade eyes. “You okay?”
He’d caught her daydreaming, and her face, already red from the heat, flushed even more. “Just too hot.”
Recalling her lustful thoughts, the double meaning of her comment hit her. She could only hope Kyle wasn’t a mind reader.
“Let’s get out of this sun.” Grasping her elbow, and apparently unaware of his effect on her, he led her down the stairs into the shade of a ligustrum tree where Frank and C.J. waited.
“Ready to fly back?” Kyle asked.
Early that morning, the four had left Gallatin Field near Bozeman in a small jet Frank had chartered from Sunbird Aviation for the trip to L.A. With the wedding over, they had time to fly back to Montana before nightfall.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Frank’s broad grin qualified as a leer.
“We have the marriage license—” Kyle patted the breast pocket of his navy blue suit, then nodded toward Frank’s camera “—and the wedding photos, so we’re all set.”
“Nope.” Frank shook his head. “Not yet.”
C.J.’s smile was as leering as her husband’s. “Whoever heard of a wedding without a honeymoon?”
Laura’s knees threatened to give way, and she sank onto a concrete bench. “A honeymoon wasn’t part of the deal. We only brought our luggage in case there was a delay getting the license.”
Kyle ran a finger beneath the stiff white collar of his dress shirt. “Laura’s right. We should head back now. The sooner I’m in at the Institute, the sooner we find our man.”
“The heat’s addling your brains, bud.” Frank grinned again, and Laura resisted the urg
e to swat the smirk off his handsome face. “If anyone decides to check out the authenticity of this marriage, you want it to look real, don’t you?”
Kyle grimaced. “Sure, but—”
“No buts,” Frank said. “I’ve reserved a suite for you at the LAX Hilton. Had your luggage sent there from the plane. You and Laura should go there now. We’ll fly out at eight tomorrow morning.”
Laura was glad she was sitting down. The prospect of spending the night in a hotel room, in such proximity to the man who was now legally her husband, made her head spin.
“What about you two?” Kyle asked Frank.
Frank held up the camera. “We’ll get this film developed. C.J. will do a little shopping. I have some errands to run for Daniel. Then we have a suite of our own reserved.”
“Why don’t you join us for dinner?” Laura asked, hoping to minimize her time alone with Kyle. She knew they’d be living together at the Institute, but the director’s house was huge, with lots of bedrooms. Enough for her and Kyle to have plenty of personal space. Unlike the intimacy of a hotel suite.
C.J. shook her head. “You two should order something elegant and romantic from room service. If you were true newlyweds, you wouldn’t poke your noses outside that suite from now until we leave tomorrow.”
Frank handed Kyle a set of keys. “Take the rental car. We’ll call a taxi.”
Before Laura could think of a suitable protest, the couple turned and headed toward the street.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other.” Kyle’s expression was rueful.
“Now that’s a promising premise on which to start a marriage,” Laura joked, hoping humor would stop the butterflies from diving like kamikazes in her stomach.
His answering grin was warm and friendly. “Daniel said this marriage was a good idea. He didn’t say it would be easy.”
She relaxed. Kyle Foster was a good and decent man. He’d treat her like a lady, so what was she worried about?
That he’d treat her like a lady when she wanted to be treated like a lover.
That rebellious thought propelled her to her feet. Squelching the desire that gripped her as she gazed at her new husband, as deliciously attractive in a suit and tie as in jeans, she motioned toward the parking lot where they’d left the rental car. “Let’s get this honeymoon on the road.”
Lifting his left eyebrow, the one with the tiny crescent-shaped scar, he reached for her hand. They raced down the sidewalk and laughed together when Laura tossed her bouquet to a group of female office workers apparently returning to the courthouse from lunch. Like sharks in a feeding frenzy, the women scrambled for the prize, but Laura and Kyle didn’t wait to see the victor.
Driving back to the airport, they both were silent. They listened to the radio while Kyle wove in and out of six-lane traffic with the experienced ease of an L.A. commuter. Watching the maniacal antics of California drivers should have occupied Laura’s thoughts, but visions of Kyle with her, alone in a honeymoon suite, drove everything else from her mind.
Kyle pulled up in front of the Hilton and handed the car keys to the valet. The attack of nerves that hit her when she stepped out of the car couldn’t have been worse if she’d been a virgin bride.
Kyle took her hand, leaned forward as if to kiss her and whispered in her ear, “Smile. You’re on your honeymoon, not death row.”
Playing the part, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him on the lips. The resulting heat that rocketed through her made the California sun feel like a cold snap. She pulled back, flustered.
Kyle’s eyes glowed with approval, but whether of her impromptu performance or her kissing, she couldn’t tell.
“That’s more like it.” Kyle tucked her arm through his and gave her hand an approving pat.
Together they crossed the lobby to the desk, claimed their key and entered the elevator. She was grateful for the crowd, even in the elevator, because she didn’t know what to say. She’d have to get used to their charade, used to pretend kisses and fake terms of endearment if they were to convince the Institute staff they were truly married.
But she mustn’t become so accustomed to being Kyle’s wife that she’d be sorry when the masquerade ended. She’d been terribly hurt when her marriage with Curt had failed. She’d have to guard herself from Kyle’s seductive charm so she could walk away with no regrets.
The doors of the elevator opened on their floor, and they stepped into the hallway. A man who had been standing in front of the door of their suite approached them.
He looked harmless enough, but she felt the muscles of Kyle’s arm tense beneath her hand. The stranger, a pleasant-looking young man with short blond hair and fashionable glasses, extended his hand.
“I’m David Hall, the resident manager,” he said. “Welcome to the Hilton, Mr. and Mrs. Foster.”
Kyle relaxed and shook the manager’s hand. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Foster, she thought. That would take some getting used to.
Hall turned, led the way to the suite and threw open the door. “I hope we have everything you requested. If not, please let me know, and I’ll take care of it personally.”
“Thanks,” Kyle said.
“Enjoy your stay.” The manager sauntered toward the elevator.
Laura hurried into the suite. Kyle followed and closed the door.
He gave a low whistle of approval. “Not too shabby.”
Laura surveyed the comfortable sitting room, decorated with several arrangements of fresh flowers. A basket of fruit, crackers and exotic cheeses graced the coffee table, and a magnum of champagne cooled beside it in a silver bucket filled with ice. Huge picture windows overlooked planes taking off and landing from the nearby airport, but the thick walls of the hotel muffled their noise.
Kyle peeled off his suit jacket, removed his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”
Suddenly overcome with self-consciousness, she removed the jacket of her dusky-rose silk dress, kicked off her matching shoes and curled into the corner of one of the deep sofas. If they’d been truly newlyweds, what to do next wouldn’t have been a problem, but now the long hours of the afternoon and evening stretched endlessly ahead of her.
With an expert twist, Kyle opened the champagne and poured her a glass.
“It’s a good thing we have this time together.” He handed her the filled flute.
“Why’s that?” She took a wary sip of the cold bubbly. In her ambivalent state of mind, she’d have to be careful how much alcohol she consumed. She didn’t want to succumb to her attraction to Kyle and make their circumstances any more tense than they already were.
He settled into the opposite corner of the sofa and propped his feet on the coffee table. “We need time to get our stories straight.”
“About the wedding?”
“About everything.”
The gravity in his voice and the grim set of his strong jaw reminded her of the seriousness of their sham wedding. They had married not for love, but to set a trap for the terrorists’ contact in her father’s lab.
“We have a lot to learn about each other,” he said, “if we’re going to convince folks we’ve been close for the past few years.”
She tucked her stocking feet beneath her and took another fortifying gulp of her drink. He looked so solid, so enticingly masculine that the prospect of spending the afternoon sharing her most intimate secrets made her tingle—and not from the champagne. She was finding her new husband entirely too appealing. Keeping the conversation on an impersonal level would make her life a heck of a lot easier right now.
“I have a list of conferences and seminars in my luggage, places we could have met when other members of the Institute weren’t around.” She started to rise.
“Stay put. We’ll hit the small stuff first.”
“Small stuff?”
He threw his arm across the back of the sofa and shifted to face her. “Yeah, like the fact that I d
espise artichokes.”
He seemed so comfortable and at ease she couldn’t help relaxing herself. “Then we have something in common.”
During the next hour, she learned that he liked his potatoes baked, his favorite dessert was butter-pecan ice cream and his favorite beer Red Dog. His preferred vacation spot was Jackson Hole, Wyoming. He recounted stories of growing up on the citrus groves with his mother and father, who still managed the family land nearby with the help of immigrant workers, from whom Kyle had learned to speak passable Spanish as a child. He’d gone on to study chemistry and biology in college.
Losing her self-consciousness, she confessed her love of pasta and her favorite dessert, tiramisu. New York City, she admitted, with its theaters, museums and shops, was her favorite getaway. She shared with him the loneliness of her childhood in Eastern boarding schools and the isolation of her high-school years spent in a Swiss finishing school where she learned fluent French, German and Italian.
Remembering her unhappiness as a child who spent so much time away from her father made her think of Kyle’s little girl.
“What did you tell Molly about us?” she asked.
Kyle split the last of the champagne between their glasses and resumed his corner of the sofa. “This morning I told her I was going away for a day or two with Frank. Our work often requires that, so she didn’t think anything was out of the ordinary.”
“And when we go back?”
“I figured I’d take a couple days to settle in at the Institute before I bring Molly to live there.”
“But you are going to tell her?”
“That we’re married?” He stared into the distance, avoiding her eyes. “That’s going to be a problem.”
Laura felt a dull pain beneath her breastbone. “You think she won’t like me?”
He shook his head. “I think she’ll like you too much.”
Pleasure cascaded through her at his claim. “And that’s bad?”
“It will be when we’ve caught the mole in the lab, and Molly and I return to the Lonesome Pony. Although she’s too young to remember much, Molly was deserted by her mother. I don’t want her to feel deserted by you, too.”
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