Kat Attalla Special Edition (13 page)

They expected her to put her personal ethics aside, take the money they paid her and do what they asked. However, she didn’t get into physics to devise new and better ways to build a weapon of mass destruction. She saw physics as a way to make the world a better place.

She’d lost her idealism while working for the research center. Everybody had an agenda. She would do well to remember that fact and shield herself from further hurt.

“What do you take in your coffee?” she asked.

“Black is fine.” Daniels took the cup from her. “Listen, Dr. Jansen—”

“Call me Victoria.”

“
Victoria
. You’re mad at him? Fine. It’s probably better for both of you that way. But listen to what he tells you. Unfortunately, this isn’t a joke.”

“I realize that.” Daniels had every right to chastise her. Erik deceived her, but he was not the one threatening her life.

“We want you alive so you can happily kick us the hell out of your house when this is over.”

She would live for that moment.

* * * *

Erik staggered down the hall, stretching to relieve the tightness from his limbs. A host of delicious aromas mingled together. His stomach rumbled. He checked his watch. Six o’clock, and he hadn’t eaten today. As he entered the living room, Daniels rose from the chair.

“About time you came back from the dead.” He grabbed his coat and headed toward the door. “I gotta take a shower and change at the hotel and get back before you leave for the reception.”

Erik followed. “Any problems?”

“From the professor?” Daniels said with a chuckle. “Any quieter, and I’d swear I was alone. Doesn’t talk much, but damn, she sure can cook.”

Erik waited until his partner left before making his way towards the kitchen. Although he knew
Victoria
saw him, she remained with her back to him, ignoring his presence. Two pies, apple and pumpkin, sat on the counter. He inhaled deeply and reached for an edge of the crust.

“Don’t you dare.”

He noticed her watching him in the reflection of the kitchen glass. She chopped vegetables, hitting the cutting board with strong, angry strokes. He cringed when he saw how close she came to her fingers with the sharp blade, but surprisingly, she finished without mishap.

“Tori?”

She stopped working but didn’t turn towards him.

“Would you accept an apology from me?”

“No.”

“How about my first born?”

“No.”

He grunted. “What do you want? Blood?”

“It’s a start.” She punched a button on the microwave oven and gave her attention to the contents inside.

“Would that make you happy?”

She exhaled slowly and pivoted around. “Look, you were doing your job. You did it well. Forgive me if I don’t applaud your stellar performance.”

“Not all of it was my job and not all of it was an act.”

Her eyes widened. “You expect me to believe you?”

“Is that so inconceivable?”

“You wouldn’t be the first man on the NSB payroll assigned the hazardous task of amusing me.” Raw pain echoed in her words. Obviously her past with the agency was very personal.

“What happened?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t seen the file.”

He took a step toward her. She cast him a warning glare. Since she held a skewer in her hand, he thought better of ignoring her. “I didn’t see the file. It’s sealed.”

“I’m sure Steven filled you in.”

He shook his head. “No, he didn’t. All he said was that you left the research lab and two years of NSB protection followed.”

“More like house arrest. And I’ve fought too hard for my freedom to lose it again.”

“Unlike before, this is short-term and, unlike before, the danger is real, not only a possibility.”

She shrugged as if she didn’t see a distinction. The bell on the oven rang. She took out the contents and removed the protective cover. An aromatic steam rose from the plate of lemon chicken, roasted potatoes and broccoli she placed in front of him.

“For the record, kissing you wasn’t part of the job. In fact, it’s against policy. At least in the branch of the NSB I work for.”

Skepticism caused her eyes to narrow slightly. “Then why did you?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re the genius, Tori. Figure it out.” He sat on a stool. “And while you’re at it, ask yourself why you made me dinner tonight.”

She raised her chin in haughty defiance. “I didn’t make it for you.”

He gave her his most seductive grin. “No, but you saved it for me, didn’t you?”

“Of all the conceited, testosterone-based carbon units I have met, and there have been quite a few over the years, you take the cake.”

“You flatter me.”

She let out a yelp of frustration. Erik preferred her anger to her stony silence. He had a healthy respect for anger, especially when directed at him. Introspection made him wary, and Tori was far too introspective in the best of circumstances. A brilliant mind and a wicked temper. He shuddered to think what schemes her scientific mind would devise to get even with him.

“A testosterone-based carbon unit?” he repeated with a laugh. She did have a way with words. “That’s a new one.”

She glowered at him. “I’m sure you’ve been called something similar.”

A touch of pink highlighted her cheekbones. A white smudge of flour tipped her nose. She was magnificent in her fury. And those beautiful, expressive eyes. They haunted his dreams and even his waking hours. Would she ever again look at him the way she had that night on the porch? Did he want her to? He refused to further contemplate his feelings on that subject.

Chapter Eight

Erik waited in the living room for
Victoria
to finish dressing. When she walked into the room, his body jerked to attention. Every last part of him. She’d told him to dress casually. Apparently, her idea of casual and his were polar opposites. Black lace up boots and a hip hugging, black skirt topped by a snow-white sweater. Pure cashmere, so plush he itched to run his hands over the soft wool, so supple in the way it draped her body, it made the rest of him twitch.

On this cold November night, his neck wouldn’t be the only part of him getting stiff. He was in for a long evening playing the devoted fiancé of the resident genius.

With Becker roaming free, Erik should keep her away from public events, but to maintain their cover, he could not avoid her business functions. Of course, he would prefer to have her snuggled safely in her bed with him at her side. He grinned. That plan had certain merits. If he wanted to blow his career.

But what a way to go out, he thought.

Shit. She was the worst kind of trouble. A woman who could make him feel. “Are you ready?” he asked. Hopefully the cold air outside would combat the heat wave inside.

“We don’t have to go.”

“Are you embarrassed to be seen with your blue collar fiancé?”

She raised her chin. “Now I’m an elitist snob. Well, I guess it’s better than a spy. Although not much.”

“You have no sense of humor.”

“I do when something’s funny. I only meant the party would probably be boring for you. We could skip it.”

“I got the impression that attendance was mandatory. And poor Roger would be devastated if you backed out.”

She shook her head. “Oh, right. I’m sure it would ruin his night.”

“Babe, your absence would ruin any man’s night.”

With a roll of her eyes, she dismissed his compliment. “I didn’t realize that shoveling fresh manure was in your job description.”

“My job is to keep you safe and happy.”

“Then I’ll be sure not to read any more into your flattery than professional dedication to the bureau this time.”

Her second reference to her past with the NSB roused his curiosity again. Judging by the way her eyes clouded over, it remained an open wound. Did she believe his attention was purely professional?

She slipped her purse strap onto her shoulder. “We should be going, then.”

“Coat?” he asked.

“No.”

“It’s cold.”

“We’ll be inside for the most part.”

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No. I will.”

Apparently, she planned to argue with every suggestion he made. If crossing swords with him gave her a sense of satisfaction, he’d let her win the small skirmishes. He knew when to pick his battles.

* * * *

Victoria
gazed at the ivy-covered building. Classical music, courtesy of a string quartet, drifted on the breeze. The icy wind cut through her, but after refusing to wear a coat, she said nothing. She shot a sideways glance towards Erik.

Black jeans, a cable knit sweater, and his leather jacket all accentuated his muscular frame. Her heart couldn’t be too broken if it could still beat so quickly. How could she retain her anger when the mere sight of him gave her hot flashes?

Across the street from the college at a local park, a small group of rowdy kids gathered round a pile of wooden logs. A crowd formed for the annual bonfire, warmed by body heat and peppermint Schnapps, if tradition still held. Laughter drowned out the music. A few hundred feet separated this party from the reception, but they were a world apart. She thought about the differences. The group outside experienced far more excitement than the ones who watched from the ivory towers. When had she become a spectator in her life?

About the same time she gave up research in favor of teaching. She missed the creative process and watching those formulas on paper come alive. Wakeburn had become a sanctuary, but she didn’t need to be cloistered any longer.

“Are you ready?” she asked. The sooner she made an entrance, the sooner she could leave.

Erik grinned. “I was born ready.”

“Not for this, you weren’t.”

He draped his arm over her shoulder and walked with her into the reception hall. Although she tried to deny it, she found a comfort in his touch. She headed towards the stone fireplace to warm her toes and fingers. Erik’s closeness warmed the rest of her body. He smirked, but to any onlooker, he probably appeared to be a devoted lover. Word spread quickly in the small college campus. Since Roger wasn’t known for his discretion, she guessed that half the staff already knew about her engagement.

Erik slid his hand down to the small of her back. “Are you warm enough yet?”

The pressure of his fingers drumming playfully against her hip shot a current of heat though her. “I suppose we’ll have to socialize.”

“We could stay here by the fire and snuggle all evening.”

She passed on the offer. “I’ve given them enough to talk about already.”

“You mean I have,” he corrected. “Why didn’t you tell me to break out a gray flannel suit?”

She didn’t tell him because he looked so damned sexy. Even now, dressed casual in a room full of suits, he didn’t lose a beat. Consequently, he gained the admiration of most of the women and half of the men. Confidence was a hypnotic drug. “The Science Department is conservative. If it makes you feel any better, you would fit right in with the Liberal Arts Department.”

“Maybe we should crash their party.”

She considered the suggestion, wishing she had the nerve. “Do you want a drink?”

“I’ll get it. What are you having?”

“Club soda.”

“No eggnog? I thought you were big on tradition.”

She’d already experienced the infamous
Whitehall
eggnog at past parties. It contained enough brandy to kill any bacteria, along with her brain cells. With her stomach already in knots, her system couldn’t take the shock. “I’ll pass, but I recommend you try it.”

“Now I know I shouldn’t,” he grumbled before he crossed the room to the bar. She wasn’t the only woman watching him navigate through the crowd with graceful ease. With a sigh, she leaned against the wall. What a magnificent example of manhood.

“So, Victoria.” Roger drew up in front of her from seemingly nowhere and blocked her view. “Where’s the plumber … ah, I mean fiancé?”

She didn’t miss the snobbery in Roger’s voice, nor the hint of envy. “Something wrong with a man who works with his hands?”

“He’s not exactly your type.”

“What is my type?”

“Don’t get defensive. I never pictured you with the punk-biker type. What’s the attraction?”

She exhaled a longing sigh. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

Roger glanced towards the bar then back to her. “I suppose he has an animal magnetism that would appeal to some women. I thought you were drawn to intelligence.”

“There is something to be said for stamina over wisdom,” she said wistfully.