by Cara Summers
“Good thinking, Doc. We’ll make that our first stop.”
When she glanced up at him, there was a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “We could go there right now.”
Ryder shook his head. “Not yet. First we’re going to finish our lunch. Then we’re going to do a little shopping.”
Her eyes widened. “Shopping?”
“If we’re right and Mark stashed his notes in a locker, then someone wants them just as much as we do. Chances are good that they’ll be watching the spots he visited that last day. I don’t want anyone recognizing you when we pay these places a visit. So we’re going to change your appearance. I’ve packed some things for myself in my duffel bag, but you’re going to need a complete wardrobe change. You up for that, Doc?”
She took a deep breath before she spoke. “Yes. Yes, I think I am.” Pausing, she lifted a French fry halfway to her mouth, and then set it down. “I was just thinking that investigative work was a lot like the kind of research I do. But I’ve never had to wear a disguise before.”
He took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You’ll do fine.” Ryder’s intuition was telling him that he might be the one who might not do so well. He couldn’t help thinking of the complications Henry Higgins had run into when he’d transformed Eliza Doolittle. To ease her nerves and perhaps his own, he searched for a change of topic.
He shoved his box of French fries toward her and waited until she’d taken one.
“You fascinate me, Doc.”
“Why?” She glanced up at him.
The surprise in her eyes and the almost instant coloring of her cheeks told him that she wasn’t used to getting compliments from men. He’d have to fix that. “Why do you fascinate me? ‘Let me count the ways.’ For starters, most women I know don’t eat fast food—at least not in public.”
Sierra glanced down at the wrappers on the table as she shrugged. “It’s quicker than getting something delivered—and very convenient. Sometimes when I get involved in a project, I forget to eat.”
“Same here. What’s your favorite fast food?”
“French fries. For delivery, it’s pizza. But for takeout, I like chili. The Blue Pepper has a fabulous recipe.”
Ryder nodded again. “It’s excellent, but I know someone who makes it even better. You’ll have to try it. Another thing that I’m curious about is those note cards. Why blue?”
Her smile was wry. “A remnant from my childhood, I suppose. My father was color-blind, and blue was about the only color he could see. He always said it was his favorite, so I used to surround myself with blue things. I suppose in the hope that he would notice me.”
“I don’t know how he could have missed you.” He glanced at the straw-colored linen jacket and slacks she was wearing. “I notice that you don’t wear a lot of color these days.”
She shrugged. “My strategy didn’t work. He left us all when my sisters and I were ten.”
“And you compensated by burying yourself in schoolwork?”
Her chin lifted. “I discovered I was good at it. I wasn’t adventurous like Natalie and I was never brave enough to dash into life head-on the way Rory did. The academic life seemed to suit me.”
And you don’t wear blue or strong colors of any kind anymore, he thought.
“What about you? How did you end up in the security business?”
He smiled. “I discovered I was good at it.”
Her lips curved. “Touché.” She set down her pen and took off her glasses. “How did you discover you were so good at security work?”
How indeed? It had been a long time since Ryder had allowed himself to think about his early life on the streets of Baltimore. Maybe she had a right to know the truth about him before things went any further between them.
Meeting her eyes, he said, “I misspent most of my youth breaking the law, outwitting cops and security guards, and I was good at that. My experience gave me first-hand knowledge of how the criminal mind works.”
For a moment, she didn’t say anything. He searched those clear blue eyes, but he didn’t see any trace of shock or fear or disgust. He should have seen all three.
“Why?”
It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “Doesn’t my checkered past worry you at all?”
“Why should it? My father was an international jewel thief who wouldn’t give up his career to share a life with his family.” She paused and then said, “And you’re avoiding my question. Why did you decide on a life of crime?”
He regarded her steadily. “Partly for the sheer fun of it.”
She nodded. “You remind me of my father. That’s the part of his profession he couldn’t give up. The risk factor. My sister Natalie says she can understand that craving for adventure, but I never could. I was always too afraid.”
He reached for one of her hands and brought it to his lips. “Perhaps I can change that.”
“I think you already have,” she said in a dry tone that he was coming to enjoy. He scraped his teeth on her knuckle and watched her eyes darken this time to the deep-blue color of the ocean on a cloudy day.
“You’re still avoiding my question. You decided on a life of crime partly for the fun of it and partly for what else?”
He might have tried a lie. He was certainly skilled at telling them. But there was something about those eyes that compelled the truth. “My mother left town when I was twelve, and my aunt became my legal guardian. A couple of years later, she became ill and needed surgery. Then her sick leave ran out, and her boss terminated her because the cost of insurance for his employees was going to skyrocket.”
“Isn’t that illegal?” she asked tightening her grip on his hand.
“Sure. A lot of things are illegal. That doesn’t mean that people can’t get away with doing them.”
“So you decided to even the score by doing some illegal things yourself—and getting away with them.”
It wasn’t criticism he saw in her eyes, but understanding. It had a warmth spreading through him that he hadn’t felt in a very long time. “My aunt got her operation.”
“And you never got caught?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I couldn’t afford to. She wouldn’t have approved of my strategy. If she’d learned about it, it would have killed her. As it was, she died anyway from complications after surgery.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sierra turned her hand and linked her fingers with his.
Ryder said nothing. He was too shocked. He’d never told anyone about how his aunt had died, but the words had slipped out so easily.
Then Sierra said, “Nat said that you might have done some black ops work for the government.”
Ryder’s mouth very nearly dropped open at her matter-of-fact tone. Maybe she could understand why he’d ventured into a life of crime when his aunt had taken ill. After all, she was a psychologist, and she had a kind heart. But if she knew about the work he’d done for the government, he couldn’t for the life of him figure why she was sitting across from him right now.
He leaned forward. “Do you have any idea what black ops are?” he asked.
“Just what I’ve picked up from movies and books.”
“That’s fantasy stuff. I’ve killed people, Doc.”
Her eyes remained steady on his. There’d been a trace of fear when he’d told her that he was going to change her appearance, but he couldn’t see even a flicker of it now. What kind of a woman was he dealing with?
“You shouldn’t be here with me, Doc. Your father’s career aside, we come from very different worlds.”
“I know.” Her eyes never wavered from his. “But from the first time we met, I felt this connection. It doesn’t seem to matter that we’re different. I feel that I know you. Can you understand that?”
He nodded. He shouldn’t be able to understand it, but wasn’t he feeling the same way?
She continued, “I could never have asked you the two quid pro quo favors, or done what we’ve done together if I hadn’t felt t
his connection with you,” she said.
He turned her hand over and pressed his lips against her palm. Even as he watched her eyes darken again, he lectured himself. He should never have agreed to do those favors. Hell, he never should have asked her for any favors in the first place. But he didn’t withdraw his hand from hers. “We could be skating on pretty thin ice here, Doc. You have any second thoughts, you let me know.”
“I don’t have any second thoughts. Do you?”
He smiled at her. “No room for them. I’m too busy thinking of what position we could try next.”
When the blush stained her cheeks, he lifted his milkshake and tapped it lightly against hers. “Let’s drink to that feeling of connection. For as long as it lasts.”
AS SOON AS Ryder said the words, Sierra felt a sliver of pain pierce her heart. Nevertheless, she was grateful that he’d said what she already knew to be true. Whatever was between them was temporary. She’d better remember that. They did come from different worlds, and on top of that, he was too much like her father to want to spend an extended amount of time with someone as ordinary as she was. She could accept that, the same way she’d come to accept what Harry had done. If there was one lesson she’d learned from life it was that, with the exception of her sisters, she was better off not depending on anyone, because you always faced disappointment if you did.
But that didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy the time she had with Ryder. Especially when what he was offering her was so much more than she’d ever hoped for. Lifting her milkshake, she took a sip, and then said, “Are you done with your fries?”
“I’m willing to share.”
While she dunked one in ketchup, he turned the blue note card around. “You’ve got a real knack for making lists.”
“It helps me to think.”
“I’ve always admired people who can plan and organize.”
“I’ve always admired people who don’t have to.”
“Different worlds again, Doc. Dodging cops on the streets of Baltimore taught me to rely on instinct and intuition. Plans are okay to a point, but in my experience, even the most well-laid ones have to be changed. Take my plan for handling you. It vanished the moment you asked for two favors.”
Glancing back down at the note card, he read it out loud. “Number one, book on the unsung heroes of Vietnam—section that mentions Vice President John Gracie. Number two, Vice President Gracie’s upcoming trip to Korea. Number three, book on the vice presidency.”
“There’s an obvious, recurring theme here,” Sierra said. “Repetitions and patterns are very significant in the research I do.”
“You think the vice president is involved in this?” Ryder asked.
“I think we have to consider it. Mark’s words to you were hot and political. You’re convinced that whoever is behind Mark’s attempted murder is someone with a lot of power.”
“The vice president has that all right. He also has a huge following, and there’s never been a breath of scandal around him. His personal life could be a poster for the all-American family. When his wife died five years ago, they’d been happily married for over thirty years. Shortly after that, his son, Jack, became both his chief of staff and his campaign manager. There’s even a rumor that there’s another political family dynasty in the making.”
“I think we should pay him a visit,” Sierra said.
Ryder grinned at her. “Me, too, but getting an appointment with the vice president is tricky business. Your sister and Ramsey might have to be the ones to do that—unless we can find Mark’s notes. There might be something there that we can use as leverage.”
“I also looked at Mark’s schedule for the previous day, the day he cancelled his appointment with you. He wanted your perspective on something, this story he was working on, but he cancelled. I was wondering why.”
“The connection was bad, but I caught the word delayed. Maybe he met with someone else. Are you finished with that cheeseburger?”
She pushed it toward him, then used the stylus on the Palm Pilot. A moment later, she frowned. “His schedule for the previous two days is blank. If he had to clear his schedule for two days, maybe he went on a trip.”
Rising, he gripped her by the shoulders and drew her up for a quick kiss. “Good work, Doc. Come to think of it, maybe delayed had to do with a plane or a train.” He reached for his phone and punched in numbers. “I’ll have one of my men check into it.”
Sierra sat back down in her chair. Her lips were vibrating again. Was she ever going to get used to his kisses? While Ryder gave orders to someone on his cell phone, she tried to gather her thoughts. By the time he finished his call, she was focused again.
“Let’s get started,” she said.
He began to pile the wrappers from their food on a tray. “Step one is your makeover.”
SIERRA STARED at the image in the mirror and tried not to gape. Makeover was much too weak a word for what had been done to her. She didn’t recognize herself. This must have been what Eliza Doolittle had felt like when Henry Higgins had finished with her. But at least for Eliza the change had occurred gradually. For one panicked moment, she looked around for her canvas bag, and then she remembered that they’d left it in the car.
“You all right?” Ryder asked from somewhere behind her.
She nodded and was surprised to see the woman in the mirror nod too. Together they drew in a deep breath and let it out.
Sierra could see Ryder’s image in the mirror, and Julius, the hairdresser, was there too. His anxious face was hovering to her left. Melinda, the personal shopper that Ryder had hired to assemble some outfits for her, was to her right. But Sierra couldn’t take her eyes off the stranger staring back at her.
She felt Ryder’s hand on her shoulder. He pitched his voice low this time so that only she could hear. “You’re sure you’re all right?”
“I feel like I’ve been swept up in a reality TV nightmare,” she said dryly. “That’s not me in the mirror.”
Ryder kept his voice low. “It’s just a part of you.”
Sierra wasn’t so sure. She’d certainly never envisioned herself looking quite like this. The long hair was gone. That had been the first shock. The woman staring back at her had fringed bangs and layers of blond hair framing her face and curving in below her chin. Lifting her hands, she pulled the hair back and took in a relieved breath when she discovered that she could still fasten it into a ponytail if she wanted to. Now the face in the mirror seemed a bit more familiar, and she took comfort in that.
“Let’s get her out from under that robe so we can see the total effect.”
It was the personal shopper talking. Melinda was a petite brunette who weighed less than one hundred pounds and looked as though she’d just stepped out of the pages of a fashion magazine. Seconds later, Sierra found herself standing in front of a three-way full-length mirror. Oh, no. This definitely wasn’t her at all. A lacey little shell stopped well short of her waist. So did the faded, hip-hugging jeans. Instead of a belt, Melinda had threaded a gauzy white scarf through the belt loops, assuring her that doing so was the current trend in Hollywood.
Sierra raised a hand to her chest. Once again, the woman in the mirror imitated the movement. Her hand sported a French manicure, and so did her toes. She glanced down to see them peeking out of high-heeled red sandals.
Oh yes, she’d definitely been swept up in a reality TV nightmare. Sierra reminded herself to breathe as a kaleidoscope of MTV-like video images streamed rapidly through her mind. The entire makeover had taken less than two hours—thanks to the fact that Ryder had either bullied or bribed people into making it happen.
The personal shopper had made her model at least ten outfits for Ryder until he’d settled on three. The “jean ensemble” she was wearing, a pale-blue silk business suit that made her feel like an Alfred Hitchcock heroine, and a red slip dress that left more of her bare than it covered. In addition to that, Ryder had picked up a baseball cap, sunglasses, a je
an jacket, a purse and heaven knew what else. The duffel he’d stuffed everything into seemed bottomless.
Two hours. That wasn’t much time to engineer a total transformation unless, of course, you were some kind of a fairy godmother. And yet Ryder had accomplished it. No wonder he’d led the Baltimore cops on a merry chase. She shifted her gaze to his image in the mirror for a moment. He was standing only a few feet away, and he looked worried. About her.
What she saw in his eyes stiffened her spine immediately. All her life people had worried about her. First her parents, then her sisters. Wasn’t that part of what she wanted to change?
She glanced back at the stranger in the mirror. Hadn’t Ryder just told her that the woman in the mirror was a part of her? Whoever she was, she looked like someone who wouldn’t be tempted to hide away in an office doing research. This woman looked like someone who lived life to the fullest. She also looked like someone who wouldn’t be satisfied just doing research on sex. Sierra knew for a fact that she was never going to be satisfied with that again either. So they did have something in common.
The woman looking back at her wasn’t Wonder Woman. But she wasn’t Jane Eyre either. In fact, she looked a lot like the woman Sierra Gibbs would like to be. The question was—did she have the courage to really walk in this woman’s shoes?
Yes. Yes. Yes. She drew in one last deep breath and let it out. Then, straightening her shoulders, she turned to face Ryder. “You’re right. She is a part of me.”
“You like, then?” Julius asked, clasping his hands together in delight.
“Yes, I like. I like very much.”
Ryder took her hand. “I like very much also.”
Then she spoke in an undertone only he could hear. “Can we please leave now?”
He threw back his head and laughed as he placed sunglasses on her nose and drew her out of the room. “My thought exactly.”
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