Match Play
Merline Lovelace
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
Merline Lovelace served at bases all over the world, including tours in Taiwan, Vietnam and at the Pentagon. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to combine her love of adventure with her flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her experiences in the service.
Since then she’s produced more than seventy action-packed sizzlers. Check Merline’s website, www.merlinelovelace.com, for news, contests and publication dates.
To my sweetie, with whom I’ve shared so many
wonderful adventures and jaunts around the world.
Here’s to all the fun trips yet to come!
“That’s all we have?”
Undercover operative Dayna Duncan lifted a sunbleached brow. Her green eyes, so vivid against her tanned skin, locked on her boss.
“Wu Kim Li is playing in the Women’s International Pro-Am Charity Tournament and whispered an urgent message to another golfer that her father is flying to Scotland to watch her compete?”
“That’s all we have,” Nick Jensen confirmed.
Nick, code name Lightning, had run the ultrasecret organization known only as OMEGA for more years than he wanted to count now. It was headquartered in a brick town house just off Massachusetts Avenue, in the heart of Washington, D.C.’s embassy district. A discreet bronze plaque beside the front door identified the building as home to the offices of the President’s Special Envoy—one of those meaningless titles given to well-heeled contributors to campaign war chests. Not more than a handful of insiders knew the Special Envoy also served as director of an organization so small and so secret that its agents were activated only at the request of the President himself.
One of those agents was preparing to go into the field now. Dayna Duncan, code name Rogue, had arrived at the town house via a secret underground access and been whisked up to OMEGA’s hightech Control Center mere moments ago. This wasn’t Dayna’s first op, by any means, but from the little she’d heard so far, it sounded as though it might be right up her alley.
Lightning’s next question confirmed her guess. “What kind of handicap are you carrying these days?”
“A two,” she replied, scrunching her nose in disgust. Golf was more of a hobby now than the passion it had once been, but Dayna still played to win.
“You do know,” her boss drawled, “most of us weekend duffers would kill for a two handicap?”
“I’ll be back to scratch by the Pro-Am Charity Tournament,” she predicted confidently. “You are sending me to
