her hot, tearstained face.
“Here…let me do that,” she whispered, forcing her eyes to open and taking the cloth from his hand.
Matt rested easily on the back of his heels, watching her in the comfortable silence. “Your mascara ran.”
Layne grimaced, pressing the cold, damp cloth against her aching eyes. “I probably look a sight.”
“No,” he answered softly. “Just the opposite.”
Her black hair tumbled across her shoulders and lay against her breasts as she leaned forward, burying her face in the washcloth. She tried to wipe away the mascara that had run from her unexpected tears, then she straightened, looking uncertainly at Matt.
“You didn’t have to stay.”
A wry smile pulled at one corner of his mouth. “I know.”
“Why did you?”
He shrugged. “I’m a sucker for women with tears in their eyes who refuse to cry.”
Layne knew he was referring to the meeting with Lowell. “I see….”
“I’m sorry we upset you.”
She searched his lean face with penetrating thoroughness, seeking the truth behind his words. Brad had been a consummate liar.
“That would be a first—an operative sorry for his actions.” She leaned back, pushing several rebellious strands of hair out of her face. And then Layne realized how harsh her sentence sounded after he’d been so kind to her. “I didn’t mean to sound callous. I’m a casualty of the Company’s attitude toward spouses. Wives are the last to know, if at all.”
Matt rose slowly to his feet, unwinding from his coiled position. “There’s some truth in that, I suppose.”
Layne sat up, her eyes wide. “I’m sure I appear temperamental, but you don’t understand why.”
His eyes grew hooded as he looked down at her. “Just because I held you doesn’t mean you owe me an explanation.”
She felt chilled by his sudden withdrawal. “You might have had something to gain by your display of humanity,” she pointed out.
Matt smiled calmly, watching the golden fire of anger igniting within her luminous eyes. “Is that your experience? Did your husband premeditate everything he did, including intimacy with you?”
Layne gasped, crumpling the washcloth in her right hand. “You have no right to information about my personal life!”
Matt suddenly looked weary, exhaustion shadowing his azure eyes. “That’s the name of the game, isn’t it? You think we all manipulate others in subtle ways, bending people’s wills to overcome their resistance. Look, we’re both tired. You’ve had a rough couple of days, and I think a hot bath and some sleep are in order.” He ran his fingers through his short, neatly cut hair. What he really wanted to do was reach out, move into her arms and simply be held by her. He was so tired of the loneliness aching inside him.
Layne slowly got to her feet, standing mere inches from him, and tilted her chin upward to meet his shadowed eyes. “I lived with an agent for five years,” she began tensely. “He was a master of the very thing you’re talking about. I’d like to believe that what you did was out of human need and compassion, but I’m afraid all my conditioning tells me differently.”
Matt’s mouth pulled into a grimmer line. Carson must have wounded her deeply to make her this distrustful of his own intentions. He wondered how much of her sensitivity had been left intact over the years.
Matt reached out, taking a damp wisp of black hair curling along her cheek and placing it behind her delicate ear. Her skin was soft as a ripe peach. A rose hue stained her cheeks as she met his intense gaze. “I stayed because you needed someone, Layne. Good night.”
Layne swallowed hard. There was a lump in her throat and her heart was pounding heavily. How could this man walk into her life and literally turn her world upside down in fifteen minutes’ time?
“Wait!”
Matt rested his hand on the doorknob and turned his head slightly toward Layne. She looked almost ethereal, that glorious cloud of black hair surrounding her pale face, her lips parted breathlessly.
Layne slowed to a halt. “You haven’t yet earned my trust, Mr. Talbot, but you don’t deserve my anger.”
“Prove it. Have lunch with me tomorrow.”
Her heart gave a sudden thud. “Why bother?” she challenged him. “I already gave Chuck Lowell my answer.”
“He didn’t know how to handle you.”
“And you do?”
“Why not wait until you hear what he wants before you turn him down?”
Her lips tightened. “You’re very good at your job, Mr. Talbot. Keep victims off balance so they can’t ferret out your real motive.”
He offered her a hint of a smile, his azure eyes darkening with an unknown emotion. “It’s Major Talbot, Mrs. Hamilton. And I’ll pick you up at the university at noon.”
Afterward, Layne stood in the foyer in stunned silence. Was he manipulating her, or was her paranoia from the past haunting her? Her mind spun with questions. But what difference did it make? She had sworn never again to get involved in any way with a man who worked for a government agency. So let Major Matt Talbot play his game of intrigue. It wouldn’t get him anywhere.
* * *
Nervously, Layne gathered her sheaf of papers and put them into her desk drawer. Other teachers milled around, discussing the humidity and high temperatures. The desultory chatter set her on edge even more. She looked at her watch again—for the hundredth time, it seemed. Miserably she sat staring out the window overlooking the university campus. Maybe Matt wouldn’t show up. Twice, Layne had almost picked up the phone to tell Chuck Lowell to have his man back off. She touched the collar of her plum-colored silk dress she’d accented with a hot pink sash. She had chosen the colors to strengthen her emotional state.
“Hey, Layne?” Dr. Fred Gerus called. “You have a visitor.”
Layne forced herself to remain calm. She had purposely woven her raven mane into a chignon, softening it with wispy tendrils at the temples. Smoothing out the folds of the dress, Layne moved slowly toward the door of the teachers’ lounge. Nothing, however, could have prepared her for what awaited her as she rounded the corner.
Matt Talbot was impossibly handsome in uniform, his lean, whipcord body attesting to his peak physical condition. He stood tall and relaxed, hands clasped before him. His azure eyes darkened with pleasure as Layne walked toward him. His blue Air Force uniform boasted a gold major’s oak leaf on each broad shoulder. Layne’s eyes widened as her gaze traveled downward. On the left side of his uniform were silver pilot’s wings and rows of military ribbons attesting to his abilities. He was every inch a warrior, her mind told her. But her heart lurched anyway. He gave her a devastating smile of welcome, barely inclining his head forward.
“Mrs. Hamilton.”
She
