Woman Of Innocence. Lindsay McKenna

never done anything like it before. Yet there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t yearn, heart and soul, to take off on a mission with a merc.

      Oh, she had such fantasies! Most of the male mercs were young, in their twenties, and they were such good-looking men! Jenny, being single, had a tough time not staring boldly at them like a dog slavering over a nice, big, juicy T-bone steak at times. It took everything she had to keep her eyes on her work, remain professional and not stare like a love-struck teenager at some of the handsome hunks who came through the office.

      Her respect and admiration for the women mercs, all of whom had come from the military, was equally high. They were all so poised, and confidence radiated from them like strong rays from the sun. How many times had Jenny ached to have an ounce of their self-assurance and poise? In comparison, she saw herself as little more than a scared mouse underfoot. They were all intelligent, too. She knew because she often, in her spare moments, pored over their résumés. The names of the colleges, universities and military academies, were a stunning tribute. Most had graduated from the top ten schools in the United States—a fact that made Jenny that much more respectful and admiring of them. And unlike her, these women were not afraid of anything. They were simply amazing, and Jenny wished many times she had just a little of their courage, their heroism, the guts and brains they had that made their missions successful.

      As she cut several more pieces of the cake, she felt her foundation shifting beneath her like quicksand. And yet she had to look strong and appear as if she could pull off this mission. Above all, she couldn’t disappoint Morgan. Or Laura, who often patted her on the shoulder and told her how much she was like the women mercs who came through their office. Jenny couldn’t see any comparison. What did Laura see in her that she didn’t see in herself?

      Biting her lower lip, she looked up. Morgan was already digging gingerly into his piece of cake. Laura had sat down next to him and was spreading a linen napkin across her lap.

      “Would you like me to distribute the cake to the rest of the office?” Jenny asked.

      Morgan shook his head. “No, you just sit down and enjoy your cake with us. I’m going to ask Roy to come in and do that. Today is your day, Jenny. Besides, you’re no longer my assistant. You’re a merc on a mission now.”

      With a smile she didn’t feel, Jenny tried to sit there and concentrate on eating the cake. She tasted none of it, because her stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies and her heart beat erratically. Her emotions skidded from euphoria to sheer terror. Oh, what if she failed at this? She couldn’t stand disappointing Morgan or Laura.

      Roy came in, somber and respectful, and wished Jenny a happy birthday. She responded with a smile and thanks as she watched the tall, silver-haired man troop back and forth with plates in hand for the rest of the hard-working office staff outside the doors of the war room. Jenny saw a man, very tall, deeply suntanned, come to a standstill in the doorway after Roy had left with a final piece of cake for himself. It was Matt Davis, she realized, recognizing him as he scanned the room with storm-colored gray eyes. The very merc she’d tripped all over the other day in Morgan’s office!

      “Matt, come in,” Morgan called, and waved him in. “You’re just in time.” He pointed to the last plate with a slice of cake on it. “Come and have a piece of Jenny’s birthday cake. It’s time you were properly introduced to your new partner.”

      Nodding, Matt moved silently into the room. He closed the door quietly behind him. His eyes smarted and burned. Right now, he didn’t want to be here. All he wanted was twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, and turned toward the long, oval table.

      Jenny held her breath. Matt Davis. The famous Matt Davis. He was one of Morgan’s very best mercs—a level four. She’d known his résumé by heart even before he’d come to meet with Morgan. Now, as she studied his eyes, they glittered with a hard intelligence, making her nerves skitter and her pulse race. With his wide, oval face and jutting jaw, that strong nose and full mouth, he was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. And he was being assigned to work with her!

      Jenny did everything possible to hide her feelings and not stare at him like a lovelorn teenybopper. But how could she help herself? He looked more handsome today than ever, dressed in a pair of comfortable dark brown chinos, a charcoal gray polo shirt beneath a buckskin suede sport coat and black leather cowboy boots. His hair, a raw umber color, was closely cropped in typical military tradition, and the conservative cut emphasized his rugged features. He moved like a prowling cougar across the room toward them, with a sense of tightly coiled energy surrounding him. His assessing eyes never left hers. How did he feel about working with her? Judging from the harsh slant of his mouth, he didn’t like it one bit. Jenny cowered within herself, clutching the plate in her lap as if it were a liferaft on a storm-tossed sea.

      “Matt, meet Jenny, your boss and teammate for this upcoming mission,” Morgan said with a genial smile.

      Matt halted in front of blond-haired Jenny. She could barely meet his gaze, she seemed so shy. What a tiny thing she was. He remembered her from the other day in Morgan’s office when he’d come to Perseus to receive his next assignment. Hell, she wasn’t a merc. Even now she was cowering before him and struggling to look confident. Her chin trembled, tearing at his heavily guarded heart.

      “Good to meet you again,” Matt rumbled, and he stuck out his hand. Jenny blushed at his reference to their earlier meeting.

      Morgan had warned him not to make waves or let Jenny know he really didn’t want this assignment with her. She was not a professional merc. She wasn’t even in the military.

      Jenny gathered her rapidly dissolving courage, lifted her chin and forced herself to stare up into those large, glittering gray eyes of Matt Davis. After all, he wouldn’t want a coward for a partner. His hand was so large! she thought as he enfolded it around her petite one. Nevertheless, she accepted his firm, yet careful grip. Cringing inwardly, she knew her own hands were cool and damp with nervousness. His flesh was hard and warm and dry. He wasn’t nervous at all.

      For a brief, flitting moment, Jenny saw an unknown emotion glint in his assessing eyes. What was it? Disdain? Did he want to curl his lip because she wasn’t really a merc? Not a military trained person, but a secretary fulfilling a romantic dream?

      Anxiously, she searched his face for some sign of his true feelings toward her and this mission. She saw nothing except that one flicker of emotion in his gray eyes, which were focused on her. As she shook his hand, the plate containing her cake slid off her lap.

      “Oh!” she cried. Leaping up, she instantly released his hand. In leaping, she misjudged the space and bumped into the table with her hip, tottering off balance. Strong, warm hands caught her by the shoulders, lifted her off her feet and set her down again.

      Gulping, Jenny couldn’t look up at Matt. He must be laughing at her. She was such a klutz! “Thank you,” she whispered, completely humiliated once more in his presence. As Matt released her, Jenny crouched down to begin the process of sweeping the cake and frosting off the tightly woven, wheat-colored carpet and putting it back on the plate. Her flesh tingled wildly where his roughened fingers had touched her. Heat swam through her, and she felt a bit dizzy after unexpected contact with him. Matt had lifted her up as if she were a feather.

      Laura came around the table and helped her pick up the rest of the errant crumbs. “Accidents happen, Jenny,” she whispered gently. “It’s okay. Let me help you.”

      “I’m so sorry,” Jenny breathed apologetically. “I’m so clumsy….”

      Chuckling, Laura said, “Don’t worry about it.”

      Matt walked around the two women and went over to the sideboard, where a pot of coffee was kept warm. He picked up one of the white mugs in preference to the flowery china cups. Giving Morgan a sideways glance, he saw his boss smile slightly. Matt knew that look and that smile. It was a nonverbal order for him to say nothing—and to be kind—and patient with Jenny.

      After pouring the coffee, Matt turned and stood with cup in hand and watched the two women clean up the