“Nellis is right outside Las Vegas. It’s all desert and sagebrush. What’s a test pilot doing there?” she demanded. She felt frustration nestling in her throat. This conversation was reminding her of talks with Brad. Only Brad had always smoothly handed her a story, treating her like a child. Matt Talbot was at least telling her he wasn’t lying to her, even if it meant withholding information. Which was better? she thought angrily. “Wait a minute, I saw an article in the Washington Post just last week about…” Her voice trailed off, then she straightened. “RAVEN. They say the RAVEN prototype is at Nellis for testing because the airspace there is off-limits to all civilians.”
Talbot’s face revealed nothing, but his azure eyes calmly met hers.
Layne grimaced. “All right. Don’t say anything. By saying nothing you’re practically admitting to me you’re one of the men testing the RAVEN bomber!”
“I’d rather talk about why we need your help, Layne,” Talbot returned quietly.
She slid her fingers around her wineglass. “I’m listening. Not that it’s going to do you any good. I can say no to you just as easily as I did to Chuck Lowell.”
The waiter arrived, bringing each of them a crisp salad topped with a special vinaigrette-and-baby-shrimp house dressing. Perhaps he wasn’t lying. Why did part of her want so much to believe he was telling the truth? Because, her suspicious mind said, he held you last night when you were hurting so badly. He could even have taken you to bed and made love to you…. Layne gasped softly, stunned by her realization. Bed? Matt Talbot running his lean, powerful fingers over her hungry body?
“Chuck was right, we do need your services as an interpreter of Chinese,” Matt said, breaking into her tumultuous thoughts. A self-deprecating smile tugged at his mouth. “I don’t speak one word of Chinese, and we need someone who can.”
Unwittingly, Layne found herself lulled into the conversation. “You’re going to China?”
“I’m going, yes. But not to China. To Hong Kong.”
She blotted her mouth with the napkin, intrigued. “I know Hong Kong like the back of my hand. My father made many friends over there while I was growing up.”
Matt put the half-eaten salad aside, resting his elbows on the table, concentrating on her. “That’s another reason why your name came up, Layne. One of your old friends contacted us while trying to reach you.”
She frowned. “Who?”
“The last time you and your husband took a vacation, you went to Hong Kong and ended up writing a series of articles. Do you remember?”
The old hurt came up again. That had been the last vacation she had shared with Brad shortly before his death. “Y-yes, of course I remember it.” And she also remembered Brad’s cold, biting anger because she had insisted upon doing the articles. He had wanted to relax around the Princeton Hotel, taking it easy, while she’d been as excited as a child at Christmas at an offered chance to meet Kang Ying, lao-pan, or leader, of the notorious pirates of the South China Sea. During the interview she and the lao-pan had developed a warm friendship that had endured, although they had not seen each other again. Brad had been furious with her for abandoning him.
Matt saw her face contort, her topaz eyes darkening with momentary pain. Out of instinct he reached across the table, briefly capturing her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Are you all right?”
The husky tenor of his voice was like a balm to her aching heart. For once she didn’t pull away from his touch. His fingers were warm, caressing the coolness of her own. The moment he moved his hand away she felt a stab of loss. Layne raised her head, trying to understand his actions. Either he was a consummate actor and knew when to touch her to gain her trust, or—she took a sharp breath—or he was a sensitive, caring man. Chewing on her lower lip, Layne fought to corral her emotions, not trusting her voice just yet to answer.
“I’m okay,” she said finally.
Matt could see that Layne was upset and wondered why she’d suddenly withdrawn. “I didn’t mean to stir up any muddy waters,” he apologized. “Kang Ying sent a message through one of our agents on Kowloon that he desperately needed your help.”
“The lao-pan himself?” Layne couldn’t hide the concern and anxiety in her voice. “Why would Kang want my help? This doesn’t make sense.”
Matt watched the waiter approach with the main course. “Here’s our meal, Layne. Let’s talk later.”
She couldn’t resist a smile. Matt Talbot had shifted from an engaging luncheon companion to all business in those split seconds. He wouldn’t want a shred of what they were discussing overheard by anyone—including a waiter. Oddly, though, his presence gave her a sense of security. As the waiter approached, setting Layne’s plate before her with a flourish, she offered Matt Talbot her first genuine smile. And she saw a brief look of surprise flare in his eyes. Let him wonder why she’d smiled at him. Let him stew in his own juices for a while. She laughed to herself, suddenly feeling lighter and happier than she had in years.
Chapter 3
Matt watched Layne covertly as she picked at her meal. After awarding him that heart-stopping smile, Layne had visibly relaxed. Was she excited about the reference to Kang? Her love of the Chinese and the Far East was well documented throughout her personnel file. Or was she beginning to like him? He shut off those hopes ruthlessly, as quickly as they arose. There was no room in his life for any kind of emotional entanglement. His brother was either dead or had been captured, and his need to get to Hong Kong and find him was paramount. This elegant, attractive woman sitting across from him could lead him to Kang and, he hoped, to Jim and his copilot, also lost in the crash.
Layne waited until the waiter had cleared the table before resuming their serious topic of conversation. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that Kang knows your people. The Company has its tentacles into everything and everyone.”
“Kang’s a criminal, we know that. But he also has access to the tongs and triads over there, as well as to agents looking for information.” Matt rested his chin against his folded hands. “Time’s at a premium, Layne.”
Despite herself, she responded when he used her name. It felt like a caress. Trying to ignore her reaction to him, she frowned. “It’s not a normal ploy to drag a civilian into your cloak-and-dagger stuff, Major.”
He shrugged. “I agree with you. But we’re not running this show, Kang is. The incident that occurred has made him a necessary middleman through whom we have to deal. And he said he wouldn’t consider working with us unless you act as intermediary.” Matt’s frown matched hers. “Apparently he puts great trust in you, Layne.”
She touched the tendrils at her left cheek. “I remember your telling Lowell that you felt I couldn’t do it. Do what?”
Matt gave her a quick look. “You heard that comment?”
“I miss very little. Even when I’m in the throes of sobbing my heart out,” she warned him. “Please answer my question. What don’t you think I’m capable of doing?”
Matt took a breath and dove in. “We’re dealing with cutthroats, Layne. I question Kang’s reliance on you. A Chinese man never places his reliance on a woman. Why you? It would be beneath him. And you’re an outsider, as well.”
“Yet you’re trying to coerce me into joining you on a jaunt to Hong Kong to meet with Kang?”
“Lowell thinks you’re up to it.”
“And you don’t?”
“No.”
She gave him a close look. “Either you’re the cleverest liar I’ve ever met, or you’re working against your own people, Major.”
He remained silent, meeting her