Heart of a Hero (44 page)

Again she groaned and turned around, pulling her door shut. He grabbed it and swept it open again. “Didn’t you sleep at all? You look like hell.”

She glared at him from beneath her lashes and growled, “Yeah, and you’re so beautiful.”

Okay, he
was,
all lean, corded muscles and beach-boy good looks. But male beauty didn’t interest her at the moment. “Where’s the coffee before I disintegrate?”

“Hallway, go left, downstairs and follow the scent.” His sandy eyebrows lowered. “You’re not sick, are you?”

That question didn’t rate an answer. Of course she was sick. Sick at heart. Bergen’s plan had probably ruined her career. This cloud of suspicion could follow her until she was forced to resign or was fired. Or worse yet, arrested and imprisoned.

She plodded to the door across the room and followed his directions to the kitchen. She was nearly naked, but why bother with more clothes? He had already seen her in her underwear and didn’t seem greatly affected by it. Small wonder about that if she looked like she felt, and she
must.
He’d even said she looked like hell.

Dawn knew she had no choice but to work with these people, this man in particular. Sure, Vinland struck her as a little too cocky, but the National Security Agency had no
place for an agent with a question of treason on her record. She needed to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that Bergen had intended to set her up. They needed her to identify one of the players. That was the only reason she was getting this chance and she knew it.

Even so, she did not plan to assume an attitude of gratitude with these Sextant agents or simply play tagalong while they solved this. She had a job to do, and they might as well realize that from the get-go.

She wanted to do this for a number of reasons. There was the guilt she felt for not having a clue what Bergen had been up to, even though he had given her no reason to suspect him of anything. No matter how many times she replayed last night’s mission in her mind, she could think of nothing that might have alerted her to his intent. Still, she felt a grave personal, and professional, responsibility to ensure that his attempt to sell state secrets did not succeed.

Though she had only known him for a few weeks, Dawn had viewed him as the quintessential agent in charge. All business, no banter, distinguished in both dress and manner, Bergen had neither lorded his seniority over her nor tried to be her friend. He’d simply given her orders and she had obeyed them without question, trusting in what she had been trained to do. Trusting him, simply because he had possessed the experience and the authority to run the operation.

Would she ever be able to obey like that again, without reserve? Not likely. This whole experience could wreck her career in more ways than one.

If the information that Bergen had stolen, ostensibly to sell, remained in terrorist hands long enough to be implemented, it could well be devastating. She had no clue precisely what it was and wasn’t sure she wanted to know, but it had to be critically important to rate this much attention from Sextant.

The delicious beckoning of freshly ground coffee beans perking led her by the nose to his kitchen. She inhaled the scent that might make her human again, poured herself a cup and loaded it with sugar. She loved sugar.

Footsteps behind her indicated Vinland was risking contact again. She downed the remainder of her coffee and refilled the mug, pouring one for him, too.

He reached for the cup, and his fingers brushed hers as he took it from her. Dawn made a fist and struggled to ignore the tingling sensation that spread through her from that lightest of touches. The man was lethally handsome. He even smelled terrific. Could be tough or gentle and knew when to be which, a quality that appealed to all women. Small wonder she reacted the way she did. It was perfectly natural, and she could handle it.

She watched as he opened the cabinet and retrieved a box of doughnuts. Uh-oh, the way to her heart. Dawn squelched a smile. Trust him to intuit her weakness.

They took seats at the table where he proceeded to open the sweets. He didn’t hurry. It was as if he taunted her a little. He lifted a doughnut from the box and held it out as if anticipating that first bite. “Jack called earlier,” he said. “They ran the plates and the car was rented with a bogus ID. He will have ditched it. Soon as it’s found, we’ll have a lead to follow.” Then he took a bite out of a chocolate-covered confection and pointed at her with what was left. “We’ll get him.”

Unable to resist a minute longer, Dawn reached over and snagged what looked like a lemon-filled doughnut. “Right. I’m sure he left a forwarding address in the glove compartment. Or maybe we can call in the psychics.”

Vinland’s brow furrowed as he swallowed and thunked down the remains of his doughnut. “Look, we need to get something straight before we get started.”

“Oh, spare me the drill. I get it. I
know
you’re in charge and I’m not in the habit of trampling male egos. You lead, boy wonder, and I won’t even protest. I’ll do whatever you say.”

He looked a little taken aback, probably because she wasn’t bowing at his feet for this opportunity.

“All right, then,” he said finally. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do to you?”

That opened her eyes.
“Do
to me?”

His boyish grin didn’t sit well with her. “Work with you so you don’t sound and look so American. But first I need to talk to you a little more. Get better acquainted.”

That might have sounded appealing, except for the way he’d said it. “I thought we did that on the way here.” She waved a hand. “So talk.”

“Look at me,” he instructed, taking the seat across the small table from her. “Take my hand.”

“Ha, right. Spare me the lame come-ons, will you?” Dawn scoffed. She didn’t want to touch him and feel that tingle again. Or maybe she wanted it too much. Like a third doughnut she knew she’d better say no to. “Just get on with it and ask what you want to ask.”

He took her hand anyway. Dawn started to retract it, but decided that so far the gesture seemed harmless enough. Maybe he was only trying to put her at ease. If that was what he had in mind, it sure wasn’t working. She tingled in spite of herself. Her skin grew warm, and she was afraid she was blushing all over.

His hand was smooth, the nails clipped straight across and very clean. Calluses ridged the outer edges of his palm and his knuckles were slightly enlarged. All in all, nice hands. Large and warm. Hers felt hot and were probably a little damp.

He gripped her fingers tighter. What was with the hand-holding?
If he meant to get any chummier than that, he had another think coming. But when she attempted to pull away, he held her fast, threading his fingers through hers. She glanced up from their joined hands.

His intense look surprised her. The bluest eyes in the world bored into hers as if seeking the secret of the universe. She couldn’t look away. Hypnosis? No, she didn’t feel the least bit woozy. As a matter of fact, the sugared coffee and doughnut were kicking in and the energy from them had perked her up. Or maybe he did that. The old hormones were alive and kicking, no doubt about that.

Yep, Vinland was a great-looking guy. Exactly the kind she wouldn’t trust. She had learned that lesson all too well and twice over. She made herself remember what she’d love to forget.

Her first affair had been with a research assistant in her second year of college. Thomas had had a similar wicked grin, same golden-boy looks as Vinland, same know-it-all attitude, too. She’d found out too late it was a
know-them-
all attitude and ol’ Tom was keeping score, a dumping offense if she’d ever encountered one.

Her second lapse of sanity involved a fellow student at the academy. Nice guy, Scott. She had begun to have wonderful visions of something permanent when she found out he had sugared up to her for tutorial reasons. So much for being loved for one’s mind. As soon as he passed, she was history.

Given how Bergen had so recently dashed her ability to judge the character of a man, Dawn could no longer trust her professional assessment, much less her personal instincts, when it came to men.

She wasn’t falling again, no way.

Vinland equaled danger if she didn’t gear down and treat him like artwork. And he was a piece of work for sure.
Finely textured skin, slightly tanned. Those shoulders definitely saw the inside of a gym on a regular basis. His hair gleamed a sort of pale brown with blond highlights. Bottled lights? She wondered. His eyes mesmerized, an almost iridescent blue with long, sexy lashes any woman would covet.

The mouth looked a little too firm at the moment, but she remembered how sensuous it had appeared before when he was more relaxed. Didn’t hurt to admire, though doing so did jack up her tension to an uncomfortable level.

Her
feeling that way, she understood, but why was
he
so uptight right now?

“Can’t you think of anything to say?” she asked. “You’re the one who wanted to talk.”

He shook his head a little sharply and glanced away from her. “Something’s not…Excuse me,” he said, releasing her hand and getting up. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

She shrugged when he left. Maybe he didn’t quite know what to make of her. Despite her better judgment, she grabbed another doughnut, a yummy glazed one, swearing to herself that she would work it off later.

He returned in a few minutes clutching her black shirt. Though she was covered better than she would have been in a bathing suit, she
was
sitting there in her undies. Modesty wasn’t a big thing with her. Maybe it was with him.

Dawn licked her sticky fingers and reached for the shirt to put it on, but he didn’t let it go. Those blue eyes followed her every move.

“Sorry about that,” she said with an embarrassed chuckle. Again, she tugged at the shirt. “I’ll get dressed now.”

“No.”

“Yes!” she insisted, snatching the garment from his grasp. “What is it with you?”

Whatever it was, it didn’t seem limited to lust. Vinland seemed worried, distracted.

“Would you mind sitting down again?” he asked politely.

“I really need to get some clothes on.” She held up the shirt he had brought her. “I shouldn’t have come down here in my skivvies. Guess I’ve lived alone too long.”

He nodded relutantly and turned away. “Later, then.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked over her shoulder.

He shook his head, but it didn’t seem like it was in answer to her question. Instead, he was frowning and looked seriously puzzled about something, and she knew it had to do with her.

Dawn went back to the bedroom where she’d slept and put on the rest of her clothes. Vinland was one strange dude. If he couldn’t even get it together to brief her on what they were planning to do, how could she depend on him to run this investigation?

Maybe she should have a word with Jack Mercier about it. Trouble was, she had no idea how to get in touch with his boss without asking Vinland for the number and telling him why she wanted it.

Oh hell, maybe Vinland also just needed a lot of coffee before he could function. She could understand that.

Eric had hoped that Dawn’s blocking his attempts at establishing a telepathic connection was a temporary thing, caused by Bergen’s blow to her trust. Shields definitely went up at times like that.

That’s all it was, he decided. Once she got past that shock and her defenses went down, he’d read her like a novel in oversized print. This morning’s repeated efforts didn’t signal failure, only delay.

Touching her hadn’t helped at all. In fact, it only
confused things more. He hadn’t gotten anything from handling her clothing, either.

All Eric had to do today was get their ducks in a row. The first order of business was to get Dawn disguised, brief her about the details of the mission and get her adjusted to him and their new looks. Also, to get himself comfortable with
her,
Eric admitted.

The truth was, he felt a little out of control around Dawn Moon, on both a professional and a personal level. He felt different, less and yet more. Deprived of something, but somehow more complete. It made no sense to feel that way.

He rummaged around in the side pocket of his carry-on bag for the case containing his glasses. Maybe that was the key. He hadn’t had his glasses on, either last night or this morning. On the flight into D.C. from Seattle, he had slipped them off to take a short nap and put them away. In his hurry to deplane and report for duty, he had forgotten about them since he didn’t need them to see.

Over the years, they had become almost like a light switch that regulated his ability. Though they were nothing but very lightly tinted glass, they had always seemed to block, or at least filter, the thoughts of others that used to bombard him unexpectedly.

He thought back to his arrival at the interrogation. He had immediately picked up on Jack’s belief that Dawn was not guilty. He had read Holly’s sympathy for Dawn before okaying her visit to the ladies’ room. But the inner thoughts of Dawn Moon had remained a mystery.

Since seeing her for the first time, he hadn’t read anyone, he realized. There had been a crazy moment of sheer, unadulterated peace. Always, for as long as he could remember, he had endured background noise in his mind, something like constant static. Thoughts of others bom-barding
him from every direction, held at bay only by doing some blocking of his own. At the moment his eyes had met Dawn’s, that had ceased like magic.

He had grabbed it like a blessed reprieve he couldn’t bear to give up. It lingered even now. Even when he needed it to go away.

The specs were merely a psychosomatic screen—he knew that—but whatever worked, he had learned to use. He’d put his glasses on now, then take them off after he got Dawn used to being around him. Surely then he would have no problem knowing her every thought.

Eric knew the reasoning was somehow faulty. He also was trying too hard. And maybe loving that clarity of mind and near silence in his head a little too much.

“Hey, Moon, you dressed?” Dawn jumped when Vinland called out to her through the bathroom door. He knocked a couple of times, then opened the door to the guest room.