a clever communications device in her ear and an I’m-all-about-the-job look on her face.
His body flashed hot then blazed to nuclear temperatures as he took a second look and realized that, yeah, it was her, all right, a heart-stopping face and mind-blowing body straight out of his past.
Isabella Gray.
HER DAY HAD STARTED well before dawn and didn’t look as though it was going to be over anytime soon.
Special Agent Isabella Gray unobtrusively shifted on her aching feet, one level of her consciousness wishing for a shower and a couple of aspirin while another, deeper level scanned the crowd and monitored the low-level chatter on the airwaves. As the single Secret Service agent overseeing the Secretary of Defense’s vacation, she’d liaised with the Montana locals for backup and security when Cooper had announced he was holding an impromptu press conference at the resort.
So far, everything seemed under control.
It had better be, she thought with a frown. She’d been up at 3:00 a.m. overseeing the last of the details. It was her event, her security, and her reputation on the line.
They didn’t call her a cojone-busting nitpicker for nothing. She didn’t tolerate screwups, either above or below her position.
And certainly not from herself.
“And so,” Prince Nikolai said into the microphone from his position between two of his personal bodyguard/advisers, “It is with both sadness and joy that I proclaim my support of the UN resolution to send troops into Lunkinburg and remove my father, King Aleksandr, from his dissolute throne.” Nikolai glanced at Secretary Cooper. “It is my fondest hope that these actions will bring to my country the great peace and prosperity enjoyed by the people of the U.S., such as Secretary Cooper and his lovely family.”
At that, the two men shared a handshake while reporters shouted easily ignored questions.
Secretary Cooper shook his head. “I’m sorry, folks. No questions today. The prince has a prior commitment and I promised to have an early dinner with Hope and the girls.”
At the mention of his family, Cooper’s normally fierce expression softened so slightly that Isabella might have missed it if she hadn’t known to look. But in the past couple of weeks, ever since Cooper had received graphic death threats from King Aleksandr’s supporters and been assigned Secret Service protection, she had gotten to know her protectee and his family. For all that he was a political barracuda, Louis Cooper was soft as mush when it came to his young wife, Hope, and his twin, eighteen-month-old daughters, Becky and Tiffany.
Isabella motioned for the locals to flank her, guarding the secretary and Prince Nikolai while they walked from the front of the Golf Resort to the rear, where Cooper’s secure chalet was set back against the edge of the dense forest. While she scanned the crowd and the manicured lawns beyond, a small, not-so-easily ignored part of her felt a wistful tug at Cooper’s devotion to Hope and the girls.
Isabella had once dreamed of having a loving, stable family of her own, but it hadn’t happened. Now, at thirty-five, she protected other people’s families and considered it a patriotic trade-off. Even the low-grade maternal urges had mostly faded over the years. She told herself she was only feeling them now because she’d been spending so much time around Becky and Tiff. She told herself it had nothing to do with being in Montana, with knowing that the Big Sky Bounty Hunters were quartered nearby.
But she was lying to herself, and knew it. Damn Jacob Powell. Thirteen years later she still couldn’t stop herself from keeping track of him. She’d even located the Big Sky headquarters on a map and checked how long it would take her to reach the cabin.
Not that she’d drop in for a visit. No way, no how. Their relationship had burned comet-bright, and when it had crashed, she’d been left cratered. Nearly destroyed.
She had grown up and grown out of the breakup damn quick, but that didn’t mean she’d feel comfortable seeing him again. Besides, what was the point? They were different people now, with different agendas.
He probably barely even remembered her.
And heck, it wasn’t as though she thought of him on a weekly basis now, or even yearly. It was being in Montana that had brought him to mind. Montana and the little girls and the foolish dreams she’d once had.
Secretary Cooper and Prince Nikolai stopped on the wide pathway outside the Coopers’ chalet, bumping Isabella out of her unproductive, unprofessional thoughts.
“I will leave you here, my friend,” Prince Nikolai announced.
The men shook hands and parted, the prince returning up the walkway and passing near Isabella. She caught a faint whiff of his cologne, felt a whisper of his sheer animal magnetism and held herself professionally distant when he stopped a breath away and looked down at her with dark, almost ebony eyes.
“Keep him safe, Agent Gray,” the prince said in his trademark low, sexy voice. “I need him. My people need him.” He glanced back. “And he is a good man.”
“He’s my protectee,” Isabella said simply, refusing to credit the fine buzz running along her skin, which served only to remind her how long she’d focused on being a Secret Service agent rather than a woman.
The prince held her eyes for a moment more before nodding. “I leave him in your care, then.”
She watched him go. Part of her appreciated the aesthetics of his rear view while another wondered why the sexy prince brought nothing more than a pleasant buzz when Jacob—there he was again, darn him—had brought roaring heat that had charred her from the inside out and left her hollow and filled at the same time.
Irritated with her lack of focus, she followed Secretary Cooper into the chalet, scoped out the three-thousand-square-foot vacation palace and checked the perimeter motion detectors to make sure nothing had changed in the hour they’d been gone. As she did her job, she shoved the distractions to the back of her mind.
Nothing seemed out of place. When she returned to the stone-accented great room, King Aleksandr scowled out of the flat screen TV that dominated the opposite wall.
Secretary Cooper cranked up the volume.
“…a traitor to my blood and to my family,” the king shouted, red-faced. “The American people should be warned!”
A frisson worked its way through Isabella’s gut at the near-threat. The ornate stonework and tapestries visible in the background indicated that Aleksandr was still holed up in his palace in Lunkinburg, but too many incidents in recent years had shown that evil men could cause trouble from afar.
Aleksandr leaned close to the microphone, bringing his flinty gray eyes and heavily lined face into sharp focus. “If Louis Cooper brings war to my country, then his family and the American public will suffer the consequences.”
The shiver worked itself into full-blown battle readiness. Isabella locked eyes with Cooper, who warned, “That bastard better not touch Hope and the girls.”
“Agreed.” She reflexively checked the semiautomatic pistol she carried in a holster at the small of her back. “I’m going to call the Great Falls field office. To hell with them being short staffed, I need backup.” She frowned. “I think we should return to Washington. The Service can protect you and your family better there.”
God knows her hands were tied out here, with most of the active protection agents either overseeing the President’s fund-raising efforts or keeping tabs on the last of the UN diplomats as they left the country.
“Of course.” Cooper nodded shortly. “I hate to interrupt our vacation, but my family’s safety comes first.” He spun on his heel and left the room.
“Yeah,” Isabella said into the empty space. “I know.”
And she shouldn’t envy that. She had chosen her path, and though it might not have been the happily-ever-after she’d envisioned in college, the lifestyle fit her like a second skin now, one