Mr. Ryder.”
Matt barely tipped his head in recognition of her order and let the amusement show in his eyes. So, she did have claws. Backed into a corner, she came out hissing and spitting. Maybe Layne Hamilton wasn’t going to be a rabbit after all.
Layne controlled her rage as she watched Jim Ryder soundlessly rise to his feet and leave five minutes before the end of class. Had he known she was going to openly confront him afterward? He must have. She watched him disappear like a ghost who had come out of her past to haunt her once again.
Back in her Georgetown apartment at the end of the day, Layne tried to keep busy. She had lesson plans that needed to be filled out, but she found herself unable to concentrate. As she sat at the oak desk in one corner of her living room, her head resting wearily on the palm of her hand, the doorbell rang. She roused herself, frowning. Looking at her watch, she saw that it was nearly ten o’clock. Who could it be? Her mother had been over earlier to share dinner. Getting to her feet, she smoothed out the folds of her soft peach skirt. She crossed to the door and opened it.
“May I come in?”
Layne stood frozen, a succession of emotions racing through her. Chuck Lowell, dressed in his usual impeccably tailored dark pinstripe suit with matching silk tie, offered her an apologetic smile. He looks just the same, she observed numbly. Layne would never forget the day Lowell had come to tell her about Brad’s death, Brad’s giving his life for their country…. She should have felt remorse. Perhaps grief. Instead, she’d dealt with an avalanche of guilt.
“Layne?”
She winced. “Come in,” she offered woodenly.
Lowell inclined his graying head toward someone standing slightly behind him. “I’ve brought someone with me, Layne.”
She gasped as the man who called himself Jim Ryder materialized at Lowell’s left shoulder. “You!”
“May we come in?” Chuck demanded tersely.
Layne’s throat tightened, and she glared at Lowell’s companion. “Do I have a choice?”
Chuck Lowell gave her an odd look but said nothing. They entered the apartment silently, Lowell walking easily, taking a chair in the tastefully arranged living room. Pale blue walls accented the delicate Oriental furniture. Lowell studied Layne gravely as she moved stiffly into the room after him.
“Sit down, Layne. We’ve got some very important items to discuss with you.”
She swung her gaze angrily to meet his. “There’s nothing you have to discuss with me, Chuck. I told you I never wanted to see anyone from the Company again.” She shifted her look to Ryder. “And you—”
“The name is Matt Talbot.”
She was momentarily taken aback by the warmth in his low, mellow voice. What breed of Company man was this? Suddenly exhaustion overcame her, and she swayed. He was there instantly, his hand on her arm. She jerked out of his grasp, her flesh tingling where his fingers had rested with a firm but gentle touch.
“I’m all right,” she said sharply.
His blue eyes appraised her coolly. “You’re pale. Sit down, and I’ll fix you something to drink.”
Layne stared up at him, at the hard, unyielding planes of his face. Yet his tone was caring, and she capitulated, no longer wanting to fight. Sitting down, she buried her face in her hands, fighting the tears welling up beneath her eyelids.
Lowell’s voice broke in. “I’m sorry, Layne. I know this comes as a shock. But we haven’t much time and we need your help.”
Her head snapped up. “My help?”
Talbot walked over, handing her a glass. She eyed the contents warily, then looked up at him.
“It’s your own Scotch, on the rocks. You looked like you could use a stiff one.”
“I was just wondering if it was poisoned,” she said coldly.
A slight grin pulled at Talbot’s sensual mouth. “We’re on your side.”
She frowned. “I’m not so sure about that,” she countered tersely, but she took a fortifying gulp of the drink, gripping the glass with both hands.
Talbot moved with easy grace to sit facing her on the opposite couch. Almost reluctantly, Layne shifted her attention back to Lowell. “Why are you here?”
“We’ve just had an international incident, Layne.”
She took another gulp. “So? I’m just an ordinary American citizen. Do you usually go around asking lowly civilians for help on the international intrigue front?” God, she sounded childish. But she couldn’t help it. The beaded coolness of the glass felt good against her fingertips, and Layne concentrated on that instead of on Chuck’s narrow face.
“Look, I know you’re still grieving for Brad. And we have no business coming to you, Layne. But the incident I refer to needs someone of your qualifications.”
She gave him a round-eyed look. “Specifically what in my background qualifies me for this cloak-and-dagger game?”
“You know Chinese. You were born in Japan and raised in the Far East while your father served at the Air Force bases over there.”
“So? I know you have intelligence people expert in Chinese. Let’s see, if I remember the ‘spouse training’ that the Company so generously supplied me with, you have both division offices and stations or bases for your clandestine affairs. Surely your penetration agents or specialists can get you out of whatever quandary you’re in without my help?”
Chuck held up both hands. “You’re also highly knowledgeable about the South China Sea area.”
“So are your operatives.”
Matt leaned back, assessing Layne’s role in the tense exchange. Her honey-brown eyes had darkened in anger. He mentally reviewed what he remembered of her personnel file and life history. In brief, she was a woman whose sensitivity was balanced by keen intelligence. Chuck Lowell would have to be a magician to get her to agree to his plan, Matt realized. In fact, right now he’d put money on the Hamilton woman to win. His eyes narrowed slightly. Why was she so angry with the Company? And with Lowell? He watched his boss struggle to maintain an air of neutrality beneath her scathing attack. No, she certainly wasn’t the rabbit he’d thought her to be. A slight smile tipped one corner of his mouth.
“Believe me, Layne,” Chuck was saying with fervor, “if we had any choice at all in this matter, we’d go with an operative. It’s not our policy to recruit people off the street to help us get out of a jam.”
Layne shot him a dubious look. “Then what was this man doing in my class? That was an ugly calling card, Chuck. The worst.”
Lowell remained low-key despite the strain in her voice. “I sent Matt over because he wanted to see if you were up to the rigors of this forthcoming mission.”
Layne took another hefty gulp of the drink, then directed her gaze at Talbot. Her lips parted as she saw the tenderness burning in his blue eyes as he met her glare. Why? she wondered, finding her resistance melting. Her eyes filled
