Heart Of The Tiger. Lindsay McKenna
grinned, then moved toward her and took her hand. Layne relaxed visibly, then gave him a tremulous smile.
“I’m so nervous, Matt. I feel like I’m ready to explode inside. I worry about my mom. What will she think? She knows how I feel about anyone connected with the Company, and then I suddenly go off…” But Matt was on the move, checking over her apartment.
All windows locked, all lights off, Matt thought as he automatically completed his mental checklist. “Chuck will be driving over to see your mother at eight o’clock this morning to explain what’s going on,” he said, returning to Layne’s side.
Layne gave him a doubtful look. “All of it?”
Matt picked up the suitcases. “Some of it,” he amended. “Come on, kitten, let’s saddle up. We’ve got a quick flight out of D.C. to Kennedy. We’ll go through customs in New York, then board a Northwest Orient flight for Hong Kong.”
Layne said little on the way to the airport. Once there, Matt had a porter check all their baggage except for one huge camera case that he carried easily on his shoulder. Her heart leaped unexpectedly as he slid his hand into hers, leading her into the airport facility. He glanced down at her, a casual smile on his face. They were married, he had said. Remember—act like newlyweds. Layne squeezed his hand, remaining close to him, but when she looked up at him he seemed a million miles away, as if in deep thought. Then she realized he was scanning the endless crowd around them, tabulating, categorizing, weighing each individual who passed near them. A sense of tightly controlled power vibrated around Matt like charged electricity, and Layne felt somewhat awed by him. Occasionally his grip would tighten gently around her fingers, letting her know that everything was all right, that she had nothing to worry about.
But within her, Layne admitted to herself, nothing was right. Just the maleness of his hand capturing her damp, sweating fingers made her heart pound with a new, aching awareness. And in that moment she realized that Matt Talbot was far more dangerous to her newly awakening emotions than any outside danger. Layne tried to turn off the sudden thought that they would be sharing the same room. The same bed? She bit her lower lip nervously. It would certainly seem suspicious if they requested separate beds. And if she remembered correctly, there was a settee in each suite, but it wasn’t long enough to sleep on. What plans did Matt Talbot have for their first night abroad? she wondered.
Chapter 4
Customs at John F. Kennedy airport in New York City jangled Layne’s nerves. She tried to match Matt’s cool demeanor as they inched forward toward the customs inspector, but she fumbled nervously with the passport between her damp hands. What if they guessed she wasn’t Layne Talbot? What if they knew she was a fake? What if—
“Relax,” Matt murmured huskily, and he leaned down, placing a light kiss on her hair. His arm went around Layne’s shoulders, squeezing her reassuringly.
Layne glanced up and cast him a murderous look. “Do you realize what they’ll do to us if they find out that we’re not—”
Matt’s eyes grew tender as he surveyed her flushed features. “My flighty little bird. It’s all right. They won’t suspect a thing unless you tell them.”
“I’m just a case of nerves,” Layne admitted softly. Was this what agents felt like whenever they went undercover? She felt Matt draw her tightly against him, and she released a held breath. Right now, at this very moment, all Layne wanted to do was sink into the protection of his embrace.
“I know. It’ll all be over in a few minutes,” Matt whispered, resting his jaw against the silken threads of her hair. His voice lowered to an intimate growl. “You smell wonderful, lady, like a meadow filled with springtime flowers.”
Layne rested her head against his shoulder, responding to the caress of his voice. A faint smile edged her lips. “You’re a poet, Matt Talbot.”
She felt more than heard his soft laugh. “A poet and a soldier. Do the two fit?”
She raised her chin, melting beneath the warmth lingering in Matt’s eyes. “They must,” Layne murmured, confusion in her tone. “But I don’t understand it. How can you be—”
“Next.”
Matt picked up their luggage and gave Layne a quick smile. He ushered them to the waiting customs official. Before Layne could recover and grow tense again, they had been cleared.
“See,” Matt confided, satisfaction in his voice, “it was over before you knew it.”
“I’m glad,” Layne said, suddenly shaky.
“Layne, talk to me. What’s wrong? You’re trembling like a leaf.” One look into her wounded brown eyes made Matt want to sweep Layne into his arms and hold her close. He gave her a slight shake. “Layne?”
“I—It’s nothing. Nothing, Matt. I’m just not used to all of this…charade.” Layne forced herself not to lean against him. She managed a wan smile of reassurance. “Well, you yourself said I wasn’t cut out for the spy business.”
Troubled by her reaction, Matt pursed his lips. “Come on, I’ll get us checked in on the flight and then get you a drink. That will help you relax.”
The drink did more than settle her down. Layne had barely finished off the Scotch when the boarding for first class was called. By the time they had climbed the spiral staircase up into the “hump” of the jumbo jet, Layne was exhausted. Maybe Matt was right: this constant suspense and secrecy was far more stressful than she had expected. As she pushed her large, comfortable seat into a sleeping position, Layne knew it was more than the mission that was shaking her so.
Her violent reaction was partly the result of her realization that Matt touched her on levels that had never been brought to life within her before. Layne closed her eyes, allowing the anesthetizing power of the liquor to lull her toward sleep. Sleep would be a welcome escape from the unexpected turn her life had suddenly taken. Layne was only vaguely aware that Matt had retrieved a blanket and tucked her in as she snuggled deeper into the padded seat.
* * *
Layne awoke beneath the caress of Matt’s fingers as he lightly stroked tendrils of hair from her brow. Drowsily she forced her heavy lids to open only to find herself drowning in Matt’s azure eyes. Defenses down, Layne nuzzled against his palm now resting against the hollow of her cheek. This stranger invited familiarity.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty,” Matt murmured huskily. “Come on….”
Was this how it would be if they slept together? Layne turned her cheek against his hand, resisting his request. In response, his mouth began to trail small, arousing kisses from her temple to her cheek. His breath was moist against her flesh, and Layne inhaled deeply of his masculine scent.
“Mmm,” she whispered, “you smell so good….”
Against his better judgment, Matt leaned down once more, his mouth finding her full, sleep-softened lips. Touching his lips to hers, Matt gently cajoled her into awakening. He probed each corner of her mouth, tasting her, reveling in her trust. A moan slid from Layne’s throat as he molded his mouth more firmly, parting her lips, stealing the breath from her body and replacing it with the fire of his longing. A small gasp of pleasure from those lips he now plundered fueled his desire, heating the icy core of doubt within him and making him believe in a future for them both. “Sweet,” Matt groaned against her lips, “like honey and flower nectar….”
Layne’s heart pounded wildly, fire racing through her as she drank from his strong, firm mouth. Her world tilted crazily, and she was aware of a fiercely tender man whose voice was thick with passion for her alone.
A marvelous blanket of languor filled her, and a tremulous smile touched her parted, glistening lips. “I’ve never been awakened with a kiss before….”
Matt shared an intimate look with her. “I think I’m going to make a habit of waking you like that,” he told her,