Hero Under Cover. Suzanne Brockmann

memorizing every little detail, searching for his flaws and weaknesses.

      Her hair was down around her shoulders, parted on the side and swept back off her face. It gleamed in the light. She wore a too-large pair of men’s pajamas, with the legs cuffed and the sleeves rolled up. There was no makeup on her face, and instead of giving her that naked, vulnerable look most women have without cosmetics, she looked clean, scrubbed and fresh.

      Her eyes were a brilliant blue, and she met his gaze steadily, as if she were trying to get inside his head.

      “Yeah,” he finally said.

      “I figured it was either horses or a bike,” she said. “Don’t you feel odd, carrying around a gun?”

      “No.”

      “What do you know about death masks?” she asked.

      “Not much.” She was firing off questions as if this were some kind of interview. He decided to play it her way. It might make her start to trust him. It certainly couldn’t hurt—he wasn’t going to tell her anything he didn’t want her to know.

      “How about art authentication?”

      “Ditto.”

      “A Navaho leader from the nineteenth century named Stands Against the Storm?”

      “Only the information that Marshall faxed me this morning,” he said.

      “Have you read it?”

      “Of course.”

      She watched him thoughtfully. “Where did you go to school?”

      He shifted his weight. While most people would have been loath to admit their ignorance, it hadn’t bothered him one little bit to tell her he knew next to nothing about death masks and art authentication. But this question about himself, about his background, made him uncomfortable, Annie thought. Now, why was that?

      “NYU,” he said. The bio the agency had created for Peter Taylor had him attending New York University from 1973 to 1977. Truth was, he hadn’t even set foot in New York until 1980. But he’d been Pete Taylor so many times, on so many different assignments, he almost had memories of the imaginary classes….

      “Are you aware that I’m currently under investigation by the FBI and the CIA?” she asked, her blue eyes still watching him.

      He was caught off guard by the directness of her question and had to look away, momentarily thrown.

      “They think I’m involved in some kind of international art-theft conspiracy,” she said.

      He glanced up at her and saw that her lips were curved in a small smile. “Are you?” he asked.

      He made a good recovery, Annie thought. He had known about the investigation. She was willing to bet he had done a full background sweep on her before coming up from New York City. It didn’t surprise her one bit. Marshall wouldn’t have hired anyone who was less than outstanding.

      “Are you hungry?” she said, standing and stretching, arms pulled up over her head, ignoring his question. “I haven’t eaten all day, and if I don’t have something soon, I’m gonna die.”

      Pete found his eyes drawn to the gap that appeared between her pajama top and the loose bottoms that rode low on her slender hips. “I ate already, thanks,” he said. “Besides, I have an expense account that Mr. Marshall is covering. It’s not fair that I should cost you money. After all, you don’t even want me here.”

      “It’s nothing personal,” Annie said, climbing up the stairs, heading for the kitchen.

      “I know,” he said, following her.

      She turned on the light in the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. She pulled an apple from the crisper drawer and took it to the sink, where she washed it quickly, then dried it with a towel.

      The kitchen was a small room, just barely large enough to hold a table in one corner and a counter with a sink, stove, refrigerator and dishwasher in the other. It was decorated in black and white, with a tile floor that reminded Pete of a chessboard.

      “I’d like to do a complete walk-through of the building,” Pete said, watching her take a healthy bite of the apple. “I checked out the first floor and the basement while you were asleep. Your safe location is good. It would take a significant explosive charge to blow it open. But your general security is—” He broke off, shaking his head.

      “Bush-league?” Annie supplied, leaning back against the counter, ankles and arms crossed, watching him as she ate her apple.

      It didn’t rate a smile, but there was a flicker of amusement in his dark eyes. “Definitely. A professional could get into this house without triggering the alarm system—no problem. Don’t you read Consumer Reports? The system you have is known for malfunctions. It’s unreliable. It’s easily bypassed, and it goes off spontaneously.”

      Annie shaved the last bit of fruit from the core of the apple with her teeth, licking her lips as she looked up at him. “I’ve noticed.” She opened the cabinet door beneath the sink and tossed the apple core into a compost container, then rinsed her hands.

      His expression changed slightly. Most people might not have picked it up—it was just a very small contraction of his dark eyebrows. But Annie was trained to pay attention to details, and on a face as expressionless as he kept his, the movement stood out. “What?” she asked.

      He blinked. “Excuse me?”

      “Something’s bugging you. What is it?”

      She was standing only a few feet away from him, and he breathed in her natural fragrance. She smelled sweet and warm, with a little bit of baby shampoo, some rich-smelling skin lotion and tart apple thrown in for good measure. Although her pajamas were boxy and made of thick flannel, he was well aware of the soft, feminine body underneath. He felt his desire for her sparking, and he tightened his stomach muscles. Man, his entire office believed that she was a thief….

      “I was wondering if that’s all you’re going to eat,” he said levelly. Through sheer force of will he stopped his desire for her from growing. He forced it back, down, deep inside of him, willing it to stay hidden. For now, anyway. “It doesn’t seem like very much, considering that you were so hungry. You should eat something more filling.”

      Annie laughed, her white teeth flashing. “This is great,” she said. “A bodyguard who gives nutritional advice. How appropriate.”

      He smiled. It was actually little more than the sides of his mouth twitching upward, but Annie decided it counted as a smile. Shoot, with a full grin, he’d be as handsome as the devil. More handsome…

      “Sorry,” he said. “But you asked.”

      “You’re right,” she said, leading the way onto the landing, “I did. Look, I’ve got to get some work done.”

      She flipped her long hair back out of her face in a well-practiced motion, and hiked up her pajama bottoms. Pete wished almost desperately that she would put on some other clothes. It wasn’t like him to be so easily distracted, but every time she moved, he had to work hard to keep from wanting her.

      For a long time now, he’d gone without sex. Not because it wasn’t available, but because he simply hadn’t wanted it. Didn’t it figure that his libido should suddenly come to life again out here, in the middle of nowhere, while he was alone in this big house with this beautiful woman? Man, as soon as he got back to the New York office, he’d have to look up Carolyn what’s-her-name, the administrative assistant with the long legs….

      “It would help if I could take a look at the top floors of the house,” Pete said.

      Annie shook her head. “Taylor, I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, “but I’m already two days behind in my work schedule. Frankly, there’s no point in my showing you around, because after I talk to Marshall tomorrow, you’re going to be catching the next train back into the city.”