Hide-And-Sheikh. Gail Dayton

the country into a miniature Afghanistan. This woman could not possibly be a terrorist. Just look at her.

      Rudi followed his own suggestion as she waited without a hint of impatience for him to make up his mind. She was a blond goddess, a Valkyrie escaped from Wagner’s opera. Her straight dark gold hair spilled over her shoulders like yesterday’s sunlight, streaked with the brighter shine of tomorrow’s dawn. Long thick lashes shaded eyes whose color he couldn’t decipher in the uncertain light. A high forehead, straight narrow nose, prominent cheekbones and full mouth completed her classically beautiful face.

      But it was not the beauty of her face or her sleek athlete’s body beneath the simple black dress that drew him. Perhaps it was the hint of mischief in her eyes, or the mystery in her smile, the feeling that she played some secret game and he did not know the rules. She challenged him, dared him to play. Rudi had never been able to pass up a dare.

      He stepped off the curb and got in the cab. Satisfaction flickered across Ellen’s face a brief second before she hid it behind that smile. Rudi did not object. She had won only one hand. He intended to win the game.

      “So, Rudi.” Ellen leaned back in the corner of the cab opposite him. “What do you do?”

      “I dig holes.” At least, he wanted to. His family did their level best to keep him in a nice, clean office where he couldn’t play in the dirt.

      Ellen’s eyebrow arched. “Really.”

      Would she back off now, thinking him no more than a ditchdigger?

      “Holes, as in the Lincoln Tunnel?” she asked. “Or holes as in—” She waved at a construction site vanishing behind them, where bulldozers would have clawed deep into the earth to set the foundation before the steel frame started up.

      “Holes as in wells. For water, oil—whatever is hiding down there.”

      Ellen’s expression changed, as if she were impressed in spite of herself. At least, Rudi hoped that was what it meant.

      “You dig oil wells?” She stretched a long, elegant arm along the back of the seat.

      Rudi started to agree, then changed his mind. Tell her the truth, see how that impressed her. If it did. “Actually, I prefer drilling for water. A person cannot drink oil.”

      “You can’t run a car on water.”

      “Not now.” Rudi grinned. “Give the scientists some time. If they ever finish their fusion reactor research, we could be pulling up to the garden hose to fill our cars with fuel.”

      She watched him with that enigmatic smile on her face, saying nothing. Rudi did not know if that meant she wanted to know more or was bored to tears. But he did not handle silence well.

      “Of course, you can make more money drilling oil wells, but…” Rudi shrugged. “The people who need water generally need it more.”

      Ellen’s smile changed, became warmer and yet sad at the same time. This smile still hid secrets, but it seemed more genuine. “You’re a nice man, Rudi,” she said. “I like you.”

      Stunned, Rudi didn’t realize the cab had stopped until Ellen got out. Scrambling to follow her beckoning gesture, he found himself on the sidewalk in front of an upscale hotel. Ellen linked her arm through his and strolled past the doorman into the gilt-and-marble lobby.

      She led him past the desk, past the plush brocade chairs, past the opening to the dimly lit bar, to the elevators between the potted palms where she pushed the up button. Rudi’s second thoughts kicked in.

      Not that he objected to the idea of going up to Ellen’s room and “getting to know her better.” But he did not know her. She probably was no terrorist. Then again, she might be. Or she might be a thief, with a partner upstairs waiting to cosh him over the head and steal everything he had in his pockets, which by now was not much, since he had been away from the family coffers for more than a week.

      Or she might be the best thing he had ever happened across in his life.

      He was used to women throwing themselves at him, wanting to be seen with him for his name, or his money, or because they liked the way he looked. Their motivations had always been transparent to him, and he’d usually been willing to give them what they wanted—a little pleasure for the moment, a little thrill, a little pampering. They were easy. So easy that lately he hadn’t bothered.

      But this woman was different. She intrigued him. She challenged him by holding her secrets so close. She was all mystery and potential and wide-open possibility.

      In which case, he did not want to ruin it by rushing into sex with her. He wanted to know more, know everything about her, how she thought, what made her laugh and cry. That took time. If he went upstairs with her now, Rudi very much feared he wouldn’t get that time.

      “Ellen, why do we not go into the bar? Have a drink. Talk.” He tipped his head toward the dark, cavelike entrance.

      Something that might have been surprise flashed in her eyes before it vanished behind that sexy, enigmatic smile. Rudi began to hate that smile.

      “Why?” She slid her hand up his arm to his shoulder and trailed her fingers down his chest.

      “I wish to talk to you.” He caught the hand resting on his chest and kissed her fingertips. Then he touched the corner of her mouth.

      Her smile slipped, just a little.

      “I want to find the woman behind that smile,” he said. “If we go upstairs, I do not think that we will do very much talking.”

      “Probably not,” Ellen conceded with a tip of her head. “But what if there’s nothing to find?”

      “I cannot believe that. Not with the devil peeking from deep within your eyes.”

      An expression that was almost alarm flickered in those hazel-green eyes. Then her smile went hot and sultry, and Rudi’s entire body stood at attention.

      “Talking isn’t the way to meet that devil.” Ellen took both his hands in hers and backed onto the elevator, drawing him with her. “We can talk later.”

      “Promise?”

      The elevator door slid shut. Ellen brushed against Rudi as she reached past him to press a floor button, and he shuddered at the light touch. His hand settled at her waist.

      “I promise,” she said.

      Rudi had to think a minute to recall what she was promising.

      “If you still want to talk, we can talk all you want. Later.”

      The floor lurched slightly as the elevator stopped and the door rumbled open. Holding his hand, Ellen led him into the hallway. About halfway down, she paused in front of a room.

      She looked up at him, the sweet sadness back in her smile. Her hand settled soft on his chest again, and she stretched the mere inch necessary to touch her lips to his cheek in a warm, tender kiss that melted all Rudi’s internal organs together.

      She glanced away to slide the keycard in the lock. It flashed green and she turned the handle, then looked back up at him.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured, “but it’s for your own good.”

      Alarm flashed through him. Was she a terrorist after all?

      Then the door was open and Omar, his valet-cum-bodyguard, was hauling him into the room. Frank, the rent-a-bodyguard from the service his family used in New York, stood behind Omar, with a third burly guard beyond.

      “Thanks, Miss Sheffield,” Frank was saying. “I knew if anybody could find him, you could.”

      Ellen’s smile was gone, replaced by a businesslike scowl. “I wouldn’t have had to, if you bozos hadn’t lost him in the first place.”

      “You are a bodyguard?” Rudi goggled at her.

      “I’m a security consultant.