Straight Through the Heart Page 4

  The woman in the picture told Dawn even more than Eric had. He was obviously from old money and from a family well established in society. She recognized his grandmother from articles in national news magazines and knew why Eric’s features had seemed a bit familiar to her.

  “Of the Boston Pricevilles,” Dawn murmured under her breath, not realizing she had spoken out loud until he replied.

  “Mother’s people,” he said. “The Vinlands are the outlaws.”

  Dawn laughed at his wry expression, loving the way his brow wrinkled in one spot, right between his golden, perfectly arched eyebrows. “Now that sounds interesting. A mésalliance?”

  “A disaster, but that’s a story for another day.” He pushed up from the sofa, tapped his temple with one finger and headed out of the room. “Pizza’s coming up the walk.”

  How did he know that? There was no window facing the front of the house and she hadn’t heard a car outside. Still, the doorbell chimed before he reached the hall.

  That was downright spooky, she thought, until the clock on the mantel beneath the portrait chimed, too. Twenty minutes since he had ordered. Of course. He was probably a regular customer. For a minute there, she’d wondered if he was psychic. Not that she believed in such things.

  Chapter 3

  For the rest of the afternoon and evening, they tacitly agreed to place thoughts of the job on hold and try to relax. The mission would be exhausting emotionally, perhaps even physically, and they both knew it. It paid to go into something like this with a cool head and senses firing on all cylinders.

  They talked of their preferences and opinions regarding current events, books and movies, things a couple generally did when getting acquainted. Dawn wasn’t certain why that thought came to mind. She certainly didn’t want to be half of a couple.

  That certainty slid right out of her mind when they called it a night, however. He took her hand to help her up from the sofa where they had been sitting a circumspect three feet apart for nearly two hours. His fingers inter-locked with hers, he raised their hands and planted a kiss on the back of hers as their eyes met and held. Her heart stuttered and she leaned toward him, drawn by an unseen force.

  Uh-huh, lust, she reckoned when he stepped back and released her hand.

  “Good night,” he said, gesturing for her to precede him out the door. “Breakfast is at six. Expect a long and busy day.”

  Dawn felt so rattled, she couldn’t say a word. She quickly turned to go up the stairs and didn’t dare glance back at him. If she did, she knew she would have a look of invitation plastered all over her face. He might take her up on it, and that would be bad. Then again, he might refuse, and that would be even worse.

  She hardly slept at all and when she did, she dreamed of him. As dreams went, these were definitely rated X, fantasies originating in a Georgian town house, sweeping across desert sands and landing in a silken tent with a Valentino-garbed Vinland doing what old silent-movie sheikhs are prone to do. Prone being the big word for her, too.

  The next morning, Dawn consigned everything that had happened the night before to a file in her mind labeled Forbidden. No way would she take it out and study it in depth, not after what she’d dreamed.

  Vinland had only been managing her, she told herself. Mentor to novice, agent in charge to junior agent. If it had been a test, then she had passed, kept her hands and thoughts to herself.

  Breakfast proved to be simple. Coffee, cereal chock-full of vitamins, milk and a banana were all ready and waiting for her when she came downstairs. They ate in silence, he as lost in his thoughts as she was in hers, neither mentioning that brief moment when the current of longing had zapped them. She knew he had felt it, and he surely knew that she had.

  “Go on upstairs,” he said when she had finished. “I’ll be up in a few minutes. We need to get started.”

  She rose and escaped, or that was what it felt like. Maybe a few minutes alone would give her time to shore up her defenses. The man was majorly messing with her hormones, and she resented it.

  He arrived ten minutes later, coming through the bathroom that joined their bedrooms.

  “First thing we need to do is change your appearance.” He held up a kit he had retrieved from his bedroom and plucked out a box. “You want to dye first or shall I?”

  Dawn quirked one auburn eyebrow at him and her lips softened into a natural smile. The way he made her feel was not his fault. Vinland couldn’t help being as handsome as he was and owning the drawbacks that went with it. She could be kind without losing her head over him. Look at all the practice she’d had.

  “I’ll go first,” she offered.

  “Leave your hair wet when you finish coloring it. I’ll need to style it.”

  Somehow she could not imagine him as a hairdresser. “Multitalented, are you?”

  “We’ll see how you feel about that when I’m done.” He grinned and tossed her the box of hair dye.

  “Why are you disguising me? The guy didn’t see me, I’m sure of that. He’d have killed me if he had. And if someone else at NSA was working with Bergen, they could identify me, disguised or not.”

  “No one will recognize you when I get through,” he assured her. “Besides, no one at your agency will be in on this, except you. They’re totally out of the loop until everyone who had contact with Bergen is cleared. Safe to say, you won’t be running into any of your fellow agents where we’re going.”

  “Where will that be?” she asked, wondering if he was sharing all he knew.

  “Waiting to find that out, but I can almost guarantee it won’t be this side of the pond.”

  Vinland grinned his wicked grin and pointed at the hair dye she held. “It’s a good trick when going undercover, a self-perception thing. Changing your looks will alter your whole personality. See yourself differently and I guarantee you won’t act the same.” He spread his hands wide. “You’ll be a blank slate when we’re done, and become who I need you to be.”

  Oh great. “And just who is that?” she asked, fascinated by the concept, if not wild about participating in it.

  “Wait and see,” he said cryptically. Then he added, “And try to be open-minded, will you?”

  Dawn almost laughed, and bitterly at that. He really didn’t need to know all the things that crossed her mind when he was around.

  An hour later, Dawn realized that her own father wouldn’t recognize her. And Vinland wasn’t finished with her yet.

  Her hair was very dark brown now and straight as a stick. Vinland had expertly trimmed it in a blunt cut, several inches shorter than her former length, and used a flat iron to smooth out every vestige of curl. She’d been trying to do that for years. Amazing man.

  She blinked at her reflection, getting used to the style he had created with such dexterity. Their breath had mingled as he’d drawn the scissor-like heated panels of the straightening iron through the sections of hair that framed her face.

  He had lingered as he worked, touching her forehead, lifting her chin, caressing an ear. Those marvelous fingers worked their magic, both on her hair and her libido.

  He had been so close then, her nostrils flared at the lime scent of his aftershave. And the damn pheromones he threw off along with it. Her cheeks were heated, and so were other parts she didn’t want to think about. Five-alarm fire sirens were screaming like crazy in her head.

  His hands could be so gentle, she had trouble visualizing them performing anything like defense. But those calluses along his outer palms had not evolved through pampering. Martial arts, probably karate, studied over a considerable period of time would have formed them. Hers were similar, only not nearly as prominent as his.

  “You will need to undress,” he announced abruptly, all business.

  “In your dreams,” she replied evenly. “You had your show yesterday.”

  He held up a spray can, shaking it. “Got to tan you. Don’t want to miss any spots.”

  “Hey, I’m not all that fair. Won’t I do?”


  “Well, I can’t get you any lighter than you are, but the hair change isn’t enough. Let’s go a bit darker.”

  Oh well, she could stand that. Obediently, she stripped down to her bra and panties again, praying her nipples wouldn’t peak. It was anything but chilly in the room, so there was no excuse. Well, there was one, but she didn’t want to reveal that to him.

  “Straps down, please,” he snapped impatiently.

  Carefully, Dawn slipped her arms out of the bra straps and hoped the cups would cling to her breasts and not fall down around her waist. Not much chance of that, since she was almost too well-endowed, a fact he was now noticing without trying to be obvious about it. Oddly enough, she didn’t mind.

  Just for good measure, literally, she inhaled deeply. No reason why she should be the only one suffering around here.

  He quickly focused elsewhere. “Okay, hold out your arms,” he ordered, his voice gruff as he continued coating her with the spray. Dawn figured he was fighting a little battle of his own now, but she refused to look down his body to check whether he was. Didn’t matter.

  Did…not…matter.

  He crouched and stroked her legs with the spray, clearing his throat as he nudged her knee so he could get to her inner thighs.

  Oh…my…goodness.

  Dawn felt laughter well up in her throat. She coughed to cover it. This was so ridiculous. Which one of them was more awkward with this? Well, it was Vinland’s idea to do it himself. Let him deal with it.

  He stood quickly and turned away from her, depositing the can back into his kit that sat open on the bed. “There. All done. In a few minutes, you’ll be brown as a berry, a deep Riviera tan with no streaks. Leave your clothes off until it dries.”

  “Leave my clothes off,” she repeated dryly.

  “Hey, you can trust me,” he replied. “Scout’s honor.” Grinning, he held up three fingers in the official salute.

  “You were a Boy Scout,” she deadpanned.

  “Oh, absolutely. Got a merit badge for ignoring naked women.” He sighed, a woeful sound. “Of course, I was about ten at the time. A couple of years after that, I had to give it back.”

  “I’ll just bet you did.” She frowned into the mirror of the dresser and flicked back one side of the dark waves that fell to her shoulders. “I look strange. But not exactly Middle Eastern, if that’s what you’re going for.”

  “No, it’s not, but you do look very different. The idea is to change your looks. You’ll be surprised at how that will automatically alter your behavior, mannerisms, everything. Works wonders,” he told her.

  “Oh, so now I’ll be flighty, disorganized and dumb?” she grumbled. “Tell me, how is this good for the mission?”

  He grunted a laugh. “Cute. Now for the makeup.” With a deep and audible breath of what sounded like frustration, he withdrew a smaller case out of the large one.

  Dawn barely squelched a groan. More touching. Time to call a halt to this torture, or one of them was bound to cave and do something really, really stupid.

  She hadn’t been this revved up sexually since high-school graduation night when Harry Forsythe seduced her in the back of his parents’ van. Her skin tingled like crazy and her pulse must have doubled by now. The sweet memory of old first love Harry vanished completely in light of the hot fantasies this guy stirred up. Thomas or Scott didn’t even come to mind long enough to warrant a dismissal.

  Then there was the debacle of her trusting Bergen too much. Not that she had ever had any personal attachment to the man, but his overwhelming betrayal had undermined whatever vestige of confidence she had in her dealings with men.

  No use making these comparisons. She was not, definitely not and no way, about to allow any slap and tickle with beach boy agent, no matter how thoroughly he stirred up her hormones.

  There was too much at stake. Her career, to begin with. Her reputation. Her credibility. Engaging in anything like that with him, considering her circumstances, would be disastrous. And there were the other reasons, she reminded herself. Better and more personal reasons than screwing up on the job. She couldn’t do the sex thing casually. It just wasn’t in her, and she knew it.

  It irritated her that she couldn’t, because she didn’t need or want a commitment at this point in her life, even if the guy was willing to commit. Which Vinland never would be, she firmly reminded herself.

  “I can handle the makeup,” she declared, snatching the zippered makeup bag out of his hand. “Go do…whatever you need to do to yourself.”

  She meant for him start on his own disguise, of course, but her guilty glance at his body’s reaction to her and his fierce frown told her he had briefly thought she meant something else entirely.

  She couldn’t help grinning at him.

  To her surprise, he didn’t shoot back some smart reply. Instead, he took the rest of the kit and stalked into the bathroom, leaving her alone.

  Eric had to lean on the sink for a minute to get his equilibrium back. What was the matter with him?

  This was one of his specialties. How many female agents had he assisted with disguises during his years with Intel and with Sextant? More than he could count. But this one, even with all her clothes on, did something powerful and unique.

  She screwed up his concentration. She overturned his priorities. She aroused him without even being interested.

  Generally speaking, he required at least a modicum of interest from the other party. Otherwise what was the point in letting himself get excited?

  He had kissed her hand last night, an impulse he had regretted immediately. She’d hurried away the instant he’d let go of her. Maybe she feared sexual harassment on his part, since he was technically running the op and she was the secondary. Still, he didn’t have the power to affect her career at NSA since he worked for a different outfit entirely. Surely she knew that.

  No, fear wasn’t a factor. Dawn wasn’t above a little teasing, but he could tell she wasn’t up for a tension-relieving tumble. Neither was he, not with a fellow agent. He had rules about that and suspected she did, too.

  He looked in the mirror and blinked at his image. Why wasn’t she interested? Ordinary-looking guy, he thought. Nothing special, but something about him usually drew women to him, he knew that. They probably sensed his innate love and appreciation of them. He rarely met a woman who didn’t have something great to recommend her.

  Bev, his friend and sometime lover, once told him that his main attraction was that he truly listened when she talked, that the intensity of his look, the fact that he met her eyes and held them, communicated real regard. Little did she know that he was probing her mind for what she really meant instead of paying attention to the words that came out of her mouth.

  He sighed and looked away. If women only knew what a fraud he was, how he played to their own fantasies. That had begun when he was a spindly tenth-grade swimmer instead of the beefy quarterback he had longed to be.

  Even though he had never used his mind-reading talent to score with girls, he had used it to insure that they liked and trusted him as a person. Consequently, he felt he had never had a real relationship untainted by his advantage.

  Dawn would be the perfect woman to begin one with if he could leave the mind thing alone, abandon all attempts to read her and play it straight. It really bothered him, how much he wanted to do that.

  Unfortunately, their present situation made that impossible. He had to keep trying, to somehow get inside her mind and see whether she harbored some little something that might help with this mission.

  Not that he believed for a minute that she was holding out details on purpose. It was just that people often knew things they didn’t realize they knew. Ferreting those out was what he did best. Usually.

  In spite of the necessity and as selfish as it was, Eric almost hoped Dawn would keep blocking him. How much he wanted a chance of something lasting with her surprised and daunted him. The thought, the very idea of that, was premature to say
the least. He hardly knew her. And yet he felt he knew Dawn better than other people whose minds were wide open to him. Why was that?

  He clearly had the hots for her, but his feelings seemed to go well beyond that even now. His protective instincts had kicked in the second he saw her, even though he knew she had to have been trained to take care of herself.

  Something quirky about Dawn had hooked him like a clueless trout and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what it was. Maybe the fact that he couldn’t read her mind contributed, but there had been others like that whom he’d shrugged off without a pause. Not her. No shrugging.

  No shagging, either, he reminded himself firmly. At least, not while they were working this job.

  He turned on the cold water and splashed his face several times, then scrubbed it fiercely with a towel.

  “Grow up and quit bellyaching,” he muttered to his reflection. “Keep your focus on the game.”

  Eric reached for the kit on the countertop and set about becoming someone else.

  Maybe when he switched identities and cultures, he could temporarily change his attitude toward her while he was at it. If he couldn’t, he knew he was in the worst kind of trouble.

  Chapter 4

  Dawn nearly jumped out of her skin when Eric walked into the den. Until he grinned, she thought a stranger had broken in. Nothing could disguise that grin with its almost-dimples and flash of perfect white teeth, but everything else about him had changed radically.

  He had dyed his skin darker than hers and his eyes were so black she couldn’t distinguish pupil from iris. Even his eyelashes were inky, their fascinating golden tips a thing of the past. The makeup job was fantastic.

  He wore a stark white silk shirt and loose trousers that had to be tailored and looked very expensive. On his head was a linen cloth with a crown of black cord to hold it in place.

  His bearing had altered, too. As he walked over to her, she noted how his elbows rested nearer his body, his shoulders were not quite as straight as before and his gait seemed more measured. He gave the impression of being much more self-contained and reserved. If it weren’t for that grin.