Scotland for Christmas. Cathryn Parry
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was plainly looking at her case lying shut on the coverlet.
She sighed. She was forever making mistakes—it was the small things that tripped her up most, betraying what she tried to keep hidden. She just couldn’t let people know who she was, not really.
Then again, Jacob had a pretty good idea already, just by virtue of the job he was assigned. She wouldn’t have to be on guard quite so much with him. It was a relief, actually.
She picked up the case. “Sorry, I meant to say suitcase.” She put it down on the floor, extending the handle. “Are you ready for our weekend adventure, Mr. Ross?”
He looked at her as if he wasn’t quite sure.
SHE HAD SURPRISED HIM.
Isabel Sage wasn’t anything like Jacob had expected. Oh, on the surface she looked just like the photo Lee had sent him. Poised and put together. With her long blond hair, her list of accomplishments and that smiling expression, she appeared the consummate Golden Girl. Until he’d actually met her, he would have thought her a spokesmodel. Or a newscaster. Maybe a television personality.
Even a fresh-faced, though privileged, girl next door.
But beneath the surface, she was something else. An heiress to an industrialist’s fortune? Nope, he never would have guessed that. He interacted with people from that background every day, and Ms. Sage was unique because she didn’t display an entitled attitude.
Instead, she was accommodating. Pleasing. Appealing.
He couldn’t let her too close to him—though he understood why she was asking him to treat her the way she was. He was starting to respect that she had a legitimate strategy, flying under the radar as she was. Maybe he could handle her sitting up front with him, at least until they left Manhattan.
“We’ll switch out the seating arrangement once we’re out of the city,” he said to her, taking the handle of her suitcase. “When no one can see us, you can go back to sitting behind the partition.”
Ms. Sage said nothing. Her expression was set in that accommodating smile again, that really said very little.
He just couldn’t stop staring at her. He knew he should move faster, but he was stuck, one hand resting on the doorknob, the other gripping her suitcase.
And then a call came in to her cell phone.
She looked blankly at him.
He shook his head slightly. Don’t. Don’t pick up, he willed her. We need to get going.
But she was already glancing at the screen. Not much passed her face in terms of emotion. This woman would make a great poker player.
“Excuse me.” She turned her back to Jacob. Spoke in low tones into the cell phone. No longer the American accent she probably used to blend in but a sweet lilt to her words that he clearly recognized as Scottish.
Her voice struck a chord in him, deep inside. Made him feel centered in a way he hadn’t expected to feel in her presence.
Mentally shaking himself, he focused on what she was saying. Obviously, she knew the caller. Her voice had risen in surprise.
“Where are you?” she asked the caller. “Don’t worry, I know it’s confusing. Please stay put, I’ll come to you instead.”
Oh, no. Walkabout, he automatically thought. His Secret Service team’s expression for dignitaries who suddenly went off script, necessitating a massive operational response to accommodate the protectee’s whims.
As Jacob went rigid, his hand automatically moving to a radio at his belt that wasn’t there because this was an unofficial operation, she was fumbling at her desk for a pen, holding the cheap plastic cap between her teeth as she scribbled.
“No, it’s not a problem about being lost,” she said. “Yes, I can find you.” Laughter seemed to flutter from her lips. “Actually, I’m just thankful that you’re here. You have no idea. God, how I’ve missed you.”
What the hell?
She turned to look at Jacob, but he just gripped her suitcase handle tighter.
“Change of plans,” she said lightly to him as she pocketed her cell phone. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Jacob, but...er, we won’t be needing your services after all.”
We? Who’d been on the phone? A boyfriend?
“Ma’am,” Jacob said by rote, and then stopped, remembering. This wasn’t a regular assignment. All his training was out the window as far as Ms. Sage was concerned.
He sighed, swiping his hand over his forehead. She was going through the clothes in her closet, shuffling through hangers.
“Ah, Isabel, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so that I can help, too.”
“That was my boyfriend.” Her cheeks were flushed and rosy. “I’m sorry, Jacob. I know this is unexpected and I’m as surprised as you are, but we really don’t need you to drive us to Vermont.”
“What? What are you talking about? What’s changed?”
“Alex dislikes security. He...especially dislikes guns....” She glanced at Jacob’s midriff, letting the sentence fade away.
Instinctively he covered his service weapon. There was no way he could lose this assignment. “Where is this Alex?” he barked. Jacob disliked the guy already.
At the tone of his voice, Ms. Sage froze, kneeling, a dress in her hand, in the midst of unzipping the upright suitcase he still held so she could stuff it inside.
“I’m sorry,” he said, unhanding her suitcase and stepping back. Watch the intensity. He couldn’t just order this woman around. He had no authority over her. She could fire him at any time, and it appeared she just had.
And oh, cripes, he needed this assignment. The simple truth was he needed her more than she needed him. She had little use for him, in fact.
He eyed the clothing she was adding to her luggage. “Are you still going to Vermont?” he asked in a calmer voice.
“Yes,” she said, zipping the suitcase again. “I realized I forgot an outfit. In any event, Alex and I will handle the logistics of getting there, thank you.”
“At least let me drive you to him,” he said. Wherever this Alex was, they could all discuss it there. Jacob would prevail. He had to.
One advantage was that Alex apparently didn’t know enough to get himself a cab. And it appeared he was calling Isabel on a borrowed cell phone.
He looked at Isabel, but she was shaking her head. “No, really, I’ll call a taxi and—”
A knock sounded on her door. Inwardly, Jacob groaned again—nothing about this day was going right—but he did his job and opened the door before she could.
The short young man—mid to late twenties—with horn-rimmed glasses and spiked hair stood in her doorway. The one with the Che Guevara T-shirt.
Really? Really? Jacob thought.
“I didn’t get to say hello to your boyfriend,” Che Guevara said to Isabel. He peered at Jacob and stuck out his hand.
“And you are?” Jacob said, squeezing Che’s hand hard, playing this for all it was worth. If he got Ms. Sage tangled up in her own lies, then she couldn’t dismiss him so easily.
“I’m Charles. I’m Isabel’s economics partner.” He winced and shook out his hand.
Isabel hastened to intervene. This time she just looked confused about her backfired plans. “Charles, thanks for stopping by. I, ah, sent the document to your email already.”