King’s Men Tavern was near the palace, but few of the good king’s men had ever been there. The place had a reputation for trouble, and far too often the police were called in to break up fights or arrest unruly drunks. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it one bit.
But he could tell by looking at her that there was no point in trying to talk her out of it. Her features were taut, her chin raised in stubborn defiance. She intended to run with this…hook, line and sinker.
“And what is your back-up plan? One of the first things I ever taught you was that you never go into a dangerous situation without a back-up plan.”
“You’re my back-up plan,” she said.
He eyed her in surprise.
She took a step closer to him, and again he could smell her perfume, that heady scent that made him think of hot summer nights and slick, silky skin.
He fought the impulse to back away from her, refusing to allow her to see any weakness on his part. “And what role am I going to play in this scheme of yours?” he asked.
“I’m going undercover as Bella Wilcox, Shane Moore’s cousin.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew something, then grabbed Adam’s hand.
“And you will be Adam Wilcox.” She slid a plain gold band onto his ring finger. “My lawfully wedded husband.”
Isabel sank into her chair and released a sigh as Adam left her office. She immediately buzzed her secretary. “Laura, please hold my calls and clear my schedule for the rest of the afternoon and the next two weeks.”
She heard her secretary’s surprise, but the woman was too professional to ask any questions. Too wired to sit still, Isabel stood and began to pace the small confines of her office.
If given a choice, she might have chosen somebody else to act as her “husband” in the undercover scheme. She and Adam had often butted heads over military policies and procedures, but that wasn’t what bothered her about him.
What bothered her were his gunmetal gray eyes with their sinfully long dark lashes. What bothered her were his impossibly broad shoulders, his taut, flat stomach and slender hips.
What bothered her was that when his gaze swept over her, she forgot the trappings of her title and the expertise of her training, and became simply a woman with a woman’s wants and needs.
There were times when Adam looked at her that she felt her knees weaken and her stomach knot and intense heat suffused her entire body. She knew it would be wise to choose somebody else for this undercover operation.
But for this particular assignment she needed the best, and Adam was the best. Well-trained, with an impressive record, Adam Sinclair was the only man on earth she would trust with this important mission.
Adam Sinclair was also the only man on earth who had ever seen her cry. She frowned and tried to forget that there had been a time when she’d believed herself hopelessly in love with him. And that there had been a single moment in time when she’d practically thrown herself into his arms and he’d remained disappointingly professional.
She couldn’t think about that now. That was in the past…in her youth. She had to focus on the task at hand. She knew her plan was dangerous, knew the people responsible for her father’s kidnapping were dangerous. But she would do whatever it took to find her father and put an end to the chaos that reigned in the country she so loved.
Tonight she would put out the word that she was going into seclusion, that the stress of the past three months had finally caught up with her. And tomorrow night she would begin her charade as Bella Wilcox, cousin to Shane Moore and wife of Adam.
She shivered, unsure what had her more anxious, rubbing elbows with dangerous men and women or living a pretend marriage with Adam Sinclair.
Chapter Two
T he interior of the King’s Men Tavern was far worse than Adam had imagined. The moment he stepped inside, acrid cigarette smoke assaulted him, scratching the back of his throat and stinging his eyes.
The tension in the air was thick, hinting that an explosion of tempers and passions could be imminent.
From the back of the establishment, the dull whack of billiard balls could be heard, mixing with the clink of glasses and bottles and the raucous shouts of the players.
Adam spied an empty stool at the bar and made his way to it, conscious of the speculative gazes that followed his progress.
Although he didn’t actively try to make eye contact with the tough guys in the place, he also didn’t avoid it. He knew in a place like this any sign of weakness was an open invitation to confrontation. While he certainly wasn’t afraid of anyone in the establishment, he also wasn’t looking for trouble.
It was important for him and Isabel to maintain a low profile. He didn’t want anyone looking too closely at him or her. Recognition could place them both in immediate danger.
He slid onto the stool, dropped his duffel bag to the floor and motioned to the bartender. The burly man approached wearing the world-weary expression of a man who would rather be anywhere than where he was.
Adam ordered a drink, then swiped a hand across his chin, unaccustomed to the scratchy whiskers along his jaw. In preparing for his role, he hadn’t shaved since the day before. Instead of his usual pristine uniform, he was clad in a pair of tight jeans and a black T-shirt.
The bartender slammed his drink down and Adam picked it up and spun around on the stool so he could view the entire room.
Isabel should be arriving within the next fifteen minutes or so. Adam had arrived early so he could get a feel for the place. He’d never been in here before, although he’d heard many stories of the place.
He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. The whole place stank of simmering violence and pathetic lies. He’d bet half the men in the room were felons, and the women didn’t look much better. His attention was captured by one particular woman across the room.
She was a burst of flash and color in a room of blacks and grays. Her teased hair was the color of a shiny new penny and her gold sparkly midriff blouse clung to pert, rounded breasts and exposed a flat, well-toned abdomen.
Her short black skirt barely covered her other assets, and cupped her well-shaped bottom. If she bent over too far, there would be no mysteries left, Adam thought. But, he couldn’t help but admire the sexy length of legs that disappeared into a pair of red spike high heels.
Obviously a working girl, he thought as he watched her chatting up a man who looked half drunk but managed to leer at her through bleary eyes.
Adam couldn’t fault the man for leering. Although Adam couldn’t discern the woman’s facial features in the dimness of the room, if her face matched her shape, she was definitely one hot-looking ticket.
Watching the woman, Adam felt a surge of blood sweep through him and realized it had been some time since he’d been with a woman. Since his father’s disappearance a little over a year before, Adam’s life had been consumed with trying to clear his father’s name…his own name. There had been no time and, truthfully, no inclination for romance.
Adam looked at his watch, then toward the front door. Just a few minutes after ten. Where in the hell was Isabel? They’d agreed to meet here at 10:00 p.m.
As soon as she walked in the door, he was going to grab her by the arm and steer her out of here. This was certainly no place for a princess. There had to be some other way to get the information Isabel sought.
He looked back at the woman across the room. Like a magnet, she drew him. As if she felt his gaze on her, she looked over to him. She grabbed the hand of the drunk standing next to her and began pulling him toward Adam.
Adam frowned, wondering if he’d committed some sort of faux pas merely by looking at the woman. Maybe the drunk was her pimp and they’d mistaken him for