into doing anything she didn’t want. He placed his hand on her, simply because he liked touching her.
True to her word, she had taken exactly twenty minutes to get ready for this black-tie evening. Any other woman likely would have protested the short notice, but not Sarah. She had risen to the challenge and the result was drawing the attention of every male they encountered.
Her dress was ice blue and glittered as she moved, giving a liquid sheen to her breasts and hips. Her arms and shoulders were covered, but she’d gathered her hair on top of her head, baring her neck and emphasizing the graceful curve of her throat. Her skirt was a wrap style, overlapping at her right hip. The panels parted with each step, displaying a teasing flash of her bare calf.
But Hawk didn’t think she had dressed to entice anyone. The gown was a practical choice since the long sleeves would conceal her bruises. The slinky knit fabric would resist creasing, so it would travel well. It also would allow her ease of movement, as would the wrap skirt. The beaded evening bag that hung by a glittering chain from her good shoulder left her hands free. It wouldn’t hold much more than her cell phone, but he didn’t believe for a moment that she was unarmed. His gaze lingered on her leg. She probably had strapped her gun to her thigh.
He spread his fingers, enjoying the warmth that seeped through the dress from her skin. “Although you did mention that your appearance is irrelevant, I have to say you look lovely, Sarah.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I take it that uniform you’re wearing isn’t typical Army issue.”
“As a matter of fact, I acquired it for a previous mission. I was part of an advance reconnaissance team attending a reception at a dictator’s palace.”
“You were spying.”
She walked a few steps in silence before she spoke again. “We were gathering intelligence so that the dictator’s guards didn’t slaughter the American students they were holding hostage there as well as the assault team sent to rescue them. You might call it spying, I call it saving lives.”
“Was the mission successful?”
“Yes, Dr. Lemay.”
“Please, call me Hawk.”
“I’d prefer not to.”
“If you plan to spend the next three days with me, what would it hurt?”
“Our relationship is strictly professional, Dr. Lemay. It would be best if we remain focused—” She paused, her back tensing beneath his palm. “There is a middle-aged bald man ten yards to our left who is observing you. Five-ten, around two hundred pounds, stands with his head pushed forward, favors his right knee. Do you know him?”
Hawk sipped his champagne as he glanced to his left, although Sarah’s description had been accurate enough for him to guess who it was without looking. “Fedor Yegdenovich. He’s a physicist.”
“A colleague of yours?”
“Unfortunately, no. He considers fusion research to be a race, and he’s determined Mother Russia will win.”
“And the short, intense-looking man with him?”
“Earl Drucker,” Hawk said. “Of the Texas Druckers. His oil is running out and he wants to diversify into other energy sources. The deal he proposed to me last month was far richer than the government’s. He offered me a fortune in exchange for my research.”
“You’re a popular man, Dr. Lemay. Why didn’t you take his offer?”
“I’m not motivated by money.” He returned his gaze to Sarah. “But since you work in intelligence, you would already know that.”
She dipped her chin in agreement. “Yes, I’m aware of your financial status. The income from the patents you hold on your early discoveries amounts to several million annually and has allowed you to fund your research yourself.”
“Most women would be impressed by that.”
“If I were interested in money, I would have requested an assignment at the mint.”
“Somehow I don’t think that would have suited your temperament.”
“I’m also aware of the fact that you donate the majority of your income to various charities, including veterans’ organizations.”
“Damn, you really are good at your job, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” She met his gaze briefly before she resumed her survey of the room. “Judging by your record of giving to charities, you appear to have a social conscience and a sense of patriotism. Which makes it difficult for me to understand why you refused to accept the offer of our government.”
“Ah. So you checked my story.”
“Of course. No offense meant.”
“No offense taken.” He smiled. “After all, I checked your story, too. As much as I was able to, anyway.”
Her gaze darted to his. “What do you mean?”
“What did you think I was doing while you were going through your tai chi routine? I went on-line with my laptop to do some background research of my own.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And?”
“Your military record is impressive, Captain Fox. I take it your father influenced your career choice.”
If he hadn’t been watching so carefully, he wouldn’t have seen the chink open up in her controlled expression. He glimpsed a tangle of emotions. Pride, longing, pain. He blinked and it was gone.
“Yes, I admired the general,” she said. “It was natural to follow his example.”
The general. Not Dad. Not Pops. A revealing choice of words, Hawk thought. “General Bartholomew Fox, hero of both the Korean and the Gulf Wars, would be a hard act to follow for anyone. Especially a daughter.”
Another momentary chink. She looked away. “I have never shied away from a challenge, Dr. Lemay.”
“Neither have I, Sarah.” He stepped closer, running his palm up the back of her arm. “But I’m surprised you didn’t try to talk me out of attending this reception. If I really am in danger, if the threat to my life is genuine, wouldn’t it have been safer if we remained secluded in the suite?”
A light shudder followed his touch. “Would you have agreed if I’d asked?”
Hawk vividly remembered the way she had looked when he’d first walked out of the bedroom, with her hair loose and her feet bare as she’d curled into the corner of the sofa. She had been even more appealing than she was now, because she hadn’t quite managed to hide the spark of interest that had warmed her gaze as she’d watched him.
But would she have asked him to stay for the sake of her mission or for her? He dropped his hand. “Probably not,” he replied.
“That’s a courageous choice,” she said. “As long as the risk is manageable, it’s better not to give in to threats. The moment we let fear win, we’ve lost.”
“What do you fear, Sarah?”
“Failure, Dr. Lemay.”
It was an honest answer, Hawk decided. Both from the soldier and from the woman.
She pressed her index finger over the receiver in her left ear and stepped away to place herself slightly behind him. A hum of interest spread through the crowd.
Hawk glanced over his shoulder in time to see at least a dozen men in flowing djellabahs stride through the ballroom’s main entrance. They moved as a group, maintaining a ring around the tall, bearded man who walked at their center.
Even though it had been fourteen years since they had last met, Hawk recognized Prince Jibril Ben Nour, the next in line for the throne of the oil-rich Persian Gulf nation of Moukim.