gold, red and orange.
Absently, Jack shoved at his own hair, surprised to find he was sweating. Blinking, he shook himself from the trance she’d put him in.
She was good. He’d give her that. But with those fabulous eyes no longer locked with his, the unsteady rolling in his gut slowed. She may have knocked his brains around—which was probably intentional—but Jack was back in control of his wits.
Before tonight he had always believed the Bible’s David a fool to let a woman turn him into a murderer and adulterer. But Jack hadn’t fully understood the power of a beautiful woman.
Or the danger. Until now.
Chapter Two
In spite of the dim lighting backstage, Katia easily picked out her contact by the single bloodred rose he wore on his lapel. He stood on the fringe of the post-production party, his face hidden by the shadows. She couldn’t decide if the lack of light made him appear mysterious. Or sinister.
He lifted two fingers in silent salute then settled his broad shoulder against the wall behind him once more.
Katia didn’t particularly like the way he watched her with those long, speculative looks. The quiet intensity in him made her heart beat in hard jerks. How much did he know about her? Did he know her secret?
A sense of unease skittered up her spine, but she boldly kept her eyes on his. She drew a careful breath. The man made her nervous. The tingling weakness in her limbs distressed her further, until she realized he was deliberately trying to intimidate her.
Another man who underestimated her.
Annoyance replaced her anxiety. Katia hiked her chin up a notch. Many before him had seen her as a liability. And, like them, this one would ultimately come to view her as his greatest asset.
Or he would fail.
As he continued to study her with those smart, patient eyes, she felt a quick churn of hope in her stomach. But that made no sense. She refused to allow his assessment to go unmatched. With equal intensity she ran her gaze across him.
On the surface he looked like a young, wealthy German out for an entertaining evening at the theater. Dressed in an expensive tuxedo, black tie and crisp white shirt, he could pass as a financier. Maybe a bored aristocrat. Even one of Hitler’s secret agents or a henchman for Heinrich Himmler.
Her breath came short and fast at that last thought. Did the Nazis know she was a mole for the British? Had they sent this man to trap her?
If it wasn’t for the red rose, she’d give in to her fears. The operative’s behavior certainly wasn’t helping matters. His stance was anything but friendly. The intense control he held over his body spoke of hard physical training. Probably military. An officer, no doubt. A man used to giving orders, and having them obeyed.
She wanted to distrust him immediately.
She found herself intrigued instead.
He turned his head into the light, a gesture that allowed her to see his face for the first time without dark shadows hindering her inspection.
His sharp eyes and tall, lean body reminded her of a big cat. Unwavering, patient. And very, very dangerous.
Code name, Cougar.
It fit him to perfection. With his dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes and strong, obstinate jaw he could hail from any number of northern European countries. Austria, Norway, Great Britain.
Germany.
She turned from that disturbing thought and focused her full attention on her understudy, pretending grave interest in the other woman’s enthusiastic compliments.
Unable to stop herself, she slid another glance at her contact from beneath lowered lashes. The watchful look in his eyes suddenly vanished and, just as quickly, a pleasant smile rode across his lips.
The effortless charm put her on instant alert.
He shoved away from the wall and began pacing toward her. Slowly, deliberately.
The hunter stalking his prey.
A little stab of panic penetrated her attempts at calm. No. She would not show weakness.
He stopped in front of her, an inch closer than was polite, then offered a formal nod. Her understudy melted away, muttering something about needing a plate of food.
The scent of musk, expensive tobacco and dominant male was far too unsettling, the handsome face far too attractive.
In a purely self-defensive move, Katia gave her head an arrogant little toss. Lifting a single eyebrow, she concentrated on the planned greeting she was supposed to use with him tonight. “Did you enjoy the play?”
He nodded and stuck to the script, as well. “It was enlightening.”
The words rolled off his tongue in perfect German, with just a hint of Austria clinging to the edges.
Relief had her fear smoothly vanishing. He was her British contact, after all.
She kept to the words MI6 had given them for this first meeting. “I’m glad.”
“Perhaps we could discuss the finer points of your performance in a more private place?”
She swallowed but held his stare. He was following the script, so why did she get the sense he was toying with her? “Yes, I would like that.”
His smile deepened in response, revealing a row of straight, white teeth. Her heart gave one powerful kick against her ribs. The charm was there, urging her into complacency, and yet his eyes were so stark and empty.
For a moment she glimpsed something that looked like despair behind his flawless performance, giving her the impression that this man needed someone to reach him, perhaps even to save him.
For a second she felt herself softening toward him, but only for a second. This was no romantic interlude. This was a serious game of war. Loss of control, even for a moment, meant death. And then who would protect her mother?
Katia quickly adjusted her thoughts by focusing on her mother and all they had to lose if Katia became reckless.
She started to take a step back but her contact captured her hand, turned it over and studied her palm.
Her pulse raced at his light touch.
Not wanting to draw attention to them, she tried to ease her hand free, but he released her first.
“Perhaps we should go to…” He allowed his words to trail off, as planned, giving her the choice of the location for their real meeting.
Happy to take the lead, she cocked her head toward a room off to her right. “My dressing room is just over there.” Her territory.
His smile turned into a roguish grin. “Perfect.”
The boyish tilt of his lips made her want to believe everything he said from this point on, even when she knew—knew for a fact—he made his life telling lies and using intrigue to accomplish his mission.
She opened her mouth to speak, reconsidered and then snapped it shut. Let him take command for a while, as expected.
“You were remarkable,” he drawled, his words no longer following their scripted first meeting. His expression dared her to remark on his audacity.
She couldn’t. She was too busy trying to shove aside the pleasure that swelled inside her at his impulsive remark. If there was anything she didn’t trust it was a spontaneous, sincere compliment. It hit at a vulnerable spot deep within, the place no one had touched since her father’s murder. The place that had once believed in a loving God.
She lifted a shoulder, pretending his deliberate shift in the conversation didn’t bother her in the least. “Dying onstage has its own unique drama. Poetic and sizzling.” She smiled, opened her heart just a little. “Wonderful, really.”