Assignment: Bodyguard. Lenora Worth
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becoming a nuisance, Sir Warwick,” she said as she walked up to him, a soft smile belying the dare in her pretty green eyes.
“Oh, really?” Shane took her hand and held it to his lips for the briefest of kisses. “And how’s that, Mrs. Atkins, since you have yet to even acknowledge me. I was beginning to think I’d lost my touch.”
She put a hand to her throat, diamonds twinkling on her finger. “Where are my manners?” Her smile didn’t change, but the expression in her cat-like eyes certainly did. “I thought it wasn’t proper for a woman to acknowledge the man her father hired to watch out for her, or was I wrong in that assumption?”
Shane adjusted his black tie. “Your father warned me about your attitude. And that you’d spot me the minute I entered the room.”
“Did he now?”
“He did indeed. Warned me about a lot of things. And told me not to let you out of my sight.” He leaned close and gave her a smile that had reportedly melted feminine hearts all across the globe. “And I must say, I don’t mind keeping my eyes on you at all. Your pictures don’t do you justice. You are quite beautiful.”
She inclined her head, pretending to enjoy being with him, even laughing for the benefit of those standing all around them. “Hmm. Let me see if I can get this straight. A dashing British secret agent in a precision-cut tux and a seemingly interested American woman in an overpriced evening gown. Their eyes meet across the crowded room, they walk toward each other, smiling and cordial…and the rest is written in the stars. Except I know how this ends. I’ve seen the movie. Your charms won’t work on me, Sir Warwick.”
Shane laughed out loud then looked into her eyes. She was actually very refreshing. Scary, but refreshing. “Ah, but you forgot the beautiful part.”
She touched the pearls at her throat. “Excuse me?”
“The beautiful interested woman,” he replied, smiling at his own cleverness. “And you are beautiful.”
She smiled, too. That was a good sign, at least. Then she stopped smiling. “And you forgot the seemingly part, you know, as in the seemingly interested woman. Only this woman is not interested—so cut the charm, Warwick. I’m on to you and I don’t like it one bit that you’d use charisma to try and win me over to allow you to hover around me. Get off my back, and give me some room here. I’ve got a full evening ahead of me and you’re in the way.”
Shane Warwick had to heave a surprised breath. There was a bit of fire underneath all that coolness, after all. “Your father also warned me that you’d try to lose me. But that, dear lady, isn’t going to happen.” There was only one way to handle such a bundle of bemusing contradictions and do his job at the same time, so he took her hand and whirled her out onto the dance floor. “I suggest we make the best of it…and dance.”
He was rewarded with a gasp of surprise followed by a tight smile that told him only the most practiced rules of decorum were keeping her from slapping him across the face.
And because of that, Shane grinned down at her and reveled in the way she flowed right into his arms. This waltz might prove either to win her over, or do him in. He’d lay odds on the last scenario. He needed to do some serious praying for patience and control, and that God would allow him to do his duty and protect this woman.
So things would turn out differently this time.
Putting those dark thoughts out of his mind, Shane held her tight, and after taking some time to look into her brightly mad green eyes, he moved his gaze from her pretty face to the other faces in the crowd.
And he wondered the whole time if someone in this VIP crowd had been sent here to murder her.
TWO
Kit breathed in the fresh soapy smell of Shane’s rich chocolate-colored hair. This wasn’t fair, the way he held her in his arms with an aloof possession. This wasn’t fair, the way her heart hurt from missing Jacob so much, the way her heart fluttered to life each time Shane bent his head and held her gaze with icy blue eyes, while he tried to search for all her secrets.
She wished her father hadn’t hired this particular man, wished her husband was still alive to dance with her, and wished she could just run away to some quiet island and grieve, really grieve, for all she’d lost the day her husband had died. But a Barton had to be strong; a Barton showed no grief. And so she was expected to carry on. Duty called. And only manners kept her from doing exactly that—up and running out of this room. And away from this man.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, his British accent precise and crisp in her ear.
“What do you think?” she shot back, looking up at him. “People are staring.” Even her parents had stopped chatting to watch them move around the dance floor.
He dipped his head, his breath tickling against her earlobe. “We could go somewhere more private so we can discuss my concerns for your safety.”
“Nice try,” she said, lifting away. “But I need to stay here with the people who paid a hefty sum to get in this room tonight, sorry.”
He slid a glance around the room. “That’s perfectly all right by me, Mrs. Atkins. Less danger in a crowd. But sooner or later, we will need to talk about your father’s instructions.”
Kit could agree with that, but not right now. “Sooner or later, we’ll do that, maybe over a nice cup of tea,” she said. “Just not tonight.”
Apparently, he didn’t like her response. “You are aware that you might be in danger, right?”
“Very aware.” But the only danger she could see right now was the man dancing with her. No doubt, it was unwise to be alone with Shane Warwick. So she played her part and carried on until she could figure out what to do next.
“Call me Kit,” she said, wondering why she’d decided to give him that liberty. “And I hate crowds, but I can’t leave.”
He smiled at that. “So you force yourself to do this, anyway? Because you believe in what you do even though events like this are sometimes tedious but necessary.”
Surprised that he got her, she nodded. “Yes. I’m a rather shy, private person but I learned a long time ago I can’t live that way. And I won’t hide away like a coward, no matter what you and my father think. And no matter how big the crowd, and no matter the situation.”
He studied her as they glided around the room. “I’m aware of the crowd, and very much aware of the situation. Heads are turning, whispers are surfacing, but that’s not my concern right now.”
“Well, it is mine,” she replied. “People will talk.”
“And you don’t want them to, right? So what? The cool, elegant, tragic widow is dancing with a mysterious stranger. And right here in Austin, at that. Scandalous, but maybe exactly what you need right now. People need to think you have a new suitor.”
Anger flashed through Kit. Did she seem that sad and pathetic? “I’m not that tragic, thank you. And I have to walk a thin line, to protect the organization I’ve worked so hard to build through the years, so you can’t possibly know what I need.”
The intimate look he gave her made her think he might know something about need himself, but right now, he didn’t dare voice that—not out loud and to her face. His job was to convince her that she needed him for protection against something she couldn’t even see in front of her. Something she didn’t want to see. She only wanted to continue her work. And continuing this dance without guilt or worry of scandal might be nice, too, for a change.
He dropped the charm, almost startling her with the lightning fast way he’d changed. “Right now, I know that you need to take this situation very seriously. You’re in danger and I’m here to keep you out of harm’s way.”
Kit’s heart did a long shudder, fear tickling through her like a