his warning, yes, but even more by his attitude. She was a Sebastiani. She did not need this hard, unshaved stranger to remind her of the world she’d left behind. She did not want him invading her sanctuary.
She met his gaze and almost shuddered at the raw energy that burned in those bitter blue eyes. She should not have to deal with this. She was woefully unequipped to deal with him.
And she could never let him know.
Years of training supported her head and stiffened her spine. “Mr. Dalton, I have made a life and a career quite separate from my family. It is highly unlikely that terrorists are traveling across nine thousand miles and ten time zones to kidnap an inconsequential member of the royal house of Montebello.”
His jaw set. Even through her agitation and the shadow of darkening beard, she noticed it was a very nicely squared jaw.
“And what if you’re wrong?” he demanded. “You’re not inconsequential to your father. What if Kamal decides to use you for leverage in this land dispute?”
“I am not without friends—or defenses. This is Montana. Strangers are noticed here.”
“Nobody noticed me. Or stopped me.”
No one would dare, she thought. He looked dangerous. Alien. His tough, lean physique was more than a match for most university types, even the outdoorsy breed attracted to field sciences in Montana.
And she had no excuse for inspecting his physique. Her cheeks grew warm.
She turned off the gas burners before the combination of their heat and her inattention set fire to the lab. “Perhaps they noticed and decided not to say anything. The other benefit to living in Montana is that people here tend to mind their own business. And if you would go back to yours, I could continue with mine.”
It was a nice line. She was proud of it. Unfortunately, he was less impressed.
He stuck his thumbs through the belt loops of his jeans, the pose emphasizing his blatant masculinity. “What if I decide to make you my business? What are you going to do about it?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted frankly. “You’re too big to ignore. If you are also too rude to leave, I suppose I would call my father and tell him to have you dismissed.”
“Do all the men in your life do what you tell them to, princess?”
There were no other men in her life.
A royal princess—even an “inconsequential” one from a tiny island kingdom like Montebello—had to be careful if she wanted to keep her name and picture out of the tabloids. Christina had long ago accepted that meant no dance club dates or midnight walks or tender dawn partings that could be captured by a telephoto lens. Since coming to America, she had tentatively tried to take part in the safer aspects of university life. But her rank excluded her from the grad students’ beer-and-pizza parties, and her age made her an oddity at the faculty’s wine-and-cheese mixers.
And so she was careful, and safe, and alone.
None of which was any of his business.
She lifted her brows and said, in her mother’s most regal tone, “If they’re smart, they do.”
He nearly smiled, and the heat in her cheeks climbed several degrees. “I must not be very smart then,” he drawled. “Because I just may stick around.”
Dumb, Dalton. Very dumb.
He did not want to work for the major. Princess Cupcake had made it more than clear that she did not want him working for her.
But even as he acknowledged his mistake, Jack punched a number into the motel phone. He listened to the ring, stretching his legs over the ratty print spread on the room’s one double bed. So it was a dive. To a guy who’d stayed in huts in Colombia and tents in Kuwait, these were luxury accommodations.
A woman answered the phone. In the background, Jack could hear a baby fretting. “Hello?”
He settled back against the squeaky headboard, trying to ease his injured shoulder. “Hey, Janey,” he said.
“Jack?” Warmth suffused his sister’s voice. “Jack, how are you? Where are you? Daddy’s been trying to get in touch with you.”
“I’m in Montana. I’m looking into doing a job for him.”
“Oh, Jack.” Real worry vibrated down the line. The major’s “jobs” had hung over their childhood like storm clouds on the Texas horizon. Jack had shrugged and shouldered the job of man of the house, first accepting and later welcoming their father’s frequent absences from home. But Janey was different, he thought with affection. Janey believed in home and family, had married young and borne her adoring husband two kids already. “Is it dangerous?”
“Hell, no. He just wants me to baby-sit.” Jack wouldn’t give her details that could endanger her, and she wouldn’t ask. They had both grown up with that, too.
“Well, you’re a good baby-sitter,” his little sister said. She added, “He said to tell you he had a package for you. If you wanted it.”
And by leaving word with Janey, the old man had neatly deprived Jack of the chance to turn him down. Smart, Jack acknowledged. “Fine. Tell him to send it. I got a post office box today.” He gave her the number.
“Jack…” Janey’s voice was soft and hesitant. “Are you sure you want to take orders from the major?”
He didn’t resent her asking. She’d witnessed enough battles growing up to know the likelihood of combat. “It beats a desk-puke job, Janey. It beats doing nothing. And the lady I’m assigned to has a body worth guarding.”
“Oh, well, then…” He could almost hear her smile. She was cheered, as he knew she would be, by the thought of her big, bad brother falling for some home-and-hearth skirt. He didn’t disillusion her. “As long as you know what you’re getting into.”
“That’s me,” he said, working hard to keep the bleakness out of his voice. “Always prepared. Now that I’ve washed out of the SEALs, maybe I can become an Eagle Scout.”
The department secretary ripped a sheet off her pink message pad and slapped it onto a stack.
“Dr. Sebastiani isn’t in the lab today,” she said.
Jack knew that. The lab had been empty. He’d come to the biology office to find her.
“Does she have a class?” he asked.
“No.”
“Office hours?”
The secretary, a young woman whose short dark hair and long silver earrings emphasized her Native American features, regarded him impassively. “Not on Tuesdays.”
Okay. Jack was beginning to appreciate Christina’s reliance on her Montana neighbors. As a first line of defense, the biology secretary was remarkably hard to shift. But she was no match for a terrorist with an AK-47. Or a SEAL with a mission.
Abruptly he switched tactics,
