Heart Of The Tiger. Lindsay McKenna
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momentarily unable to go on. But one squeeze of Matt’s fingers against her arm gave her the assurance to continue. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this—you’re a stranger…someone I met only days ago….”
“I care, Layne, and you know that. Regardless of what your past conditioning is screaming at you, your instincts are running true. You know I’m interested in your personal safety and welfare on this assignment. And the more I know, the better I can protect you.”
Layne blinked back sudden tears, refusing to meet Matt’s gaze. She pulled her arm from his grasp, burying her face in her hands. “The woman therapist I went to must have listened to twenty hours of my tears, guilt and reaction.”
“And what was her opinion?” Matt asked gently, wanting to reach out and comfort Layne. But right now, he knew she would misinterpret his action.
“That Brad was schizophrenic, living different lives and not being responsible to me or—”
“Or?”
Layne dragged in a deep, anguished breath and then released it. “Or the family I wanted.”
“Children?”
She nodded and wiped the tears from the corners of her eyes. “I love kids. Always wanted at least two of them.” Layne met his warming gaze, melting beneath it.
A gentle smile pulled at his mouth, and Matt reached over, lightly caressing her unruly cloud of black hair. “You’d make a wonderful mother.”
“Thank you,” Layne whispered, blotting her eyes. Then a sudden, disturbing thought struck her. “What does your wife think about your double life as pilot and agent?”
“Jenny never knew I was working for the Company.”
Layne’s chin tilted. She heard carefully shielded pain in his voice. “You sound as if…I mean, are you divorced or something?” He had stated it as if she were a part of his past.
Matt tore his gaze from her concerned expression. His mouth tightened. “Jenny died three years ago from leukemia, Layne.” Three years. Some days it felt like three months ago; others, three lifetimes.
Automatically, Layne reached out, her hand resting on his forearm. “I’m sorry…I had no right to pry.”
Matt lifted his chin, giving her a slight smile meant to reassure her. “With you, I don’t mind talking about it. Jenny and I shared six wonderful years together. We had a good marriage. She was a good woman.”
And you’re a good man, Layne added silently. Her heart wrenched in her breast as she saw the pensiveness in Matt’s features. Her fingers closed comfortingly on his arm.
“At least you had six years of happiness, Matt,” she whispered. “Most of the people in this world would give anything to have what you shared with Jenny.” Layne removed her hand and gave him a rueful shake of her head. “I’d have given a lot to have one day of that kind of happiness in my five years of marriage.”
Matt roused himself. “Hey, we’re getting maudlin, kitten. Come on, let’s get something to eat. There’s something I want to discuss with you before we call it a night.”
Chapter 5
Layne said little during their light lunch. She bypassed the heavier meat and starchy foods in favor of a salad and fruit.
“Want some dessert?” Matt asked, offering her the tempting chocolate cake.
“No, thank you.”
His blue eyes crinkled as he placed the porcelain plate bearing the cake slice on her tray. “Go on, you look like a gal who loves chocolate. Besides, you need to put on some more weight.”
The dessert did look delicious. Layne hesitated. “How could you know I like chocolate? Is that in my file, too?”
“No. Just a lucky guess.”
Layne gave him a look that said she didn’t believe him. “Somehow, Matt, I doubt if you leave anything to chance or luck.”
He placed his tray on an empty recliner and leaned back, stretching like a satiated lion after a satisfying meal. “Meeting you was pure luck, lady. Good luck.”
She picked up the fork, taking a tentative bite of the cake. It literally melted in her mouth. “Since when do test pilots rely on luck for anything?”
“I’m the first to admit that I don’t have full control over the universe. There’s an unseen element of luck or fate at work in everything.” He laughed pleasantly, relaxing by placing his hands behind his head. His blue eyes sparkled with warmth. “Fate outdid herself this time, though. I couldn’t have had a better partner on this assignment.”
Layne’s eyes flashed. “And just a few days ago you were saying I was little more than excess baggage on this trip. Get your story straight.”
Matt smiled good-naturedly. The petulant set of Layne’s lips did nothing but remind him of their earlier kiss. Matt groaned inwardly, remembering her softness, her responsiveness. Tucking those passionate memories away, he focused on her rebellious attitude toward him. “I never referred to you as excess baggage. I felt and still feel that you aren’t capable of defending yourself if it becomes necessary. What I meant was that I enjoy your company.”
Layne stabbed at the cake. “Well, I don’t like the idea of having you as a babysitter. But we each lack something that the other compensates for.”
He saw the stain of crimson coming to her cheeks and felt the urge to reach out and reassure her. But in her present feisty mood, Matt knew she wouldn’t stand for it, so he resigned himself to some more teasing. “This is one time I’m glad I don’t know a language.”
“You know, the Chinese are right—we are foreign devils.”
Matt laughed. “Foreign devils?”
Layne finished the cake, satisfied that she now had him off balance, and she was in control of the situation, for once. Placing the tray on another recliner, she stood up. Smoothing out the wrinkles gathering on her jeans, Layne paced around the large, enclosed area. “What did they tell you about the Chinese, Matt? Anything?”
He lost some of his humor and sobered. “Let’s put it this way: The lao-pan isn’t a very nice guy. If the pirates don’t like you, they get rid of you. They don’t have many morals.”
“Oh, they have morals; it’s just that you wouldn’t agree with them—or with how they see the rest of us.”
“I get the feeling the Chinese don’t like Americans.”
Layne did a few minor stretching exercises to loosen her muscles. “It extends beyond Americans, Matt, so don’t feel alone. The Chinese feel no one but their own kind can understand them. And anyone invading their country is considered a ‘foreign devil.’”
“Is that stigma ever erased?”
Layne shook her head. “No. As much as the lao-pan respects me, I’m sure he still distrusts and dislikes me because I’m not Chinese.”
“And yet, he made you part of their clan.”
“It’s an honor, to be sure.”
“The alternative isn’t particularly inviting.”
“Yes, they’d lop off my head.” She rubbed her arm, feeling goose pimples forming. “Kang is very clear about his rights as leader of his clan. They don’t regard killing someone with the same horror or outrage that an American would.”
“I suppose that’s all tied up with their Far Eastern philosophy of reincarnation?”
“Partly.”
Matt sat up and folded his hands between his thighs, a serious look on his face. “Are you sure they won’t hurt you, Layne?”