The Makeover Mission. Mary Buckham

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СКАЧАТЬ dignitary, which had her stomach in knots for weeks.

      Now this total stranger, of wary glances and few words, wanted her to impersonate someone who, judging by her taste in clothes alone, was more sophisticated than Jane could ever hope to be.

      As if he read her thoughts, or the panic she felt welling from her very toes, the major glanced her way.

      “Breathe,” he ordered, as if that alone would make a difference. “The temperature in Dubruchek should be around eighty degrees.”

      She didn’t need a tour guide. She needed a miracle. But his gaze on her remained calm, his voice low and level.

      “The country is land-locked by mountains, keeping it cool in the summer months. Many think it resembles Switzerland.”

      Great, she was going to die in paradise. Was she supposed to take consolation in that?

      “Because of the mountains, and except for Dubruchek and the smaller city of Dracula, most of the locals live in small farming villages.”

      “Dracula?”

      He shrugged as if he didn’t hear the terror in her single word. “It was a poor choice I agree, but the town’s founders were told it was a well-known name in English literature.”

      “I guess it could have been worse. Something like Frankenstein definitely would have kept away tourist dollars.”

      “Most likely.” He offered her a crooked smile that softened the harshness of his face. Making it charming, almost, though she didn’t think he’d be flattered by the observation. But it was a smile.

      A first, she realized, surprised to find that something as small as that was helping. The panic was still there, but so was something else. Not camaraderie, exactly. Major McConneghy didn’t look like the type to indulge in camaraderie. A knowledge that she wasn’t going alone into the unknown. Unwilling, maybe, but not alone.

      “We’re here.”

      She felt the thud of wheels hit the tarmac, heard the whine of engines reversing themselves.

      “I don’t know if I can do this.”

      He paused in the act of unbuckling, his movements economical, unhurried. Nothing like what she was feeling, fear freezing everything.

      “Of course you can do it.” He stood, moving toward where she still sat, petrified in her seat. He knelt beside her, unbuckling her seat belt as if she were a small child, extending his open palm to help her to her feet.

      She placed her hand in his. An automatic response, she told herself, until she felt the heat of his fingers close around hers, comforting and commanding at the same time.

      “When the door opens you’ll step forward—”

      Her breath hitched but he continued, pulling her to her feet.

      “I’ll be right beside you. If there are reporters nearby you’ll wave and act as if everything is fine.”

      “I think I’m going to be sick.”

      He gave her a look that reminded her of her maiden aunt Gertrude. The one who didn’t like sticky-fingered, skinned-kneed little kids.

      “We’ll walk down the stairs and directly to the waiting limo.”

      He propelled her forward, giving her no choice but to move, his hand no longer holding hers but tight around her bare arm. She swore it would leave a brand there, but wasn’t sure she could blame it all on him, not when she was dragging her feet as much as he was tugging her forward.

      “What if there are reporters and they want to talk?”

      “They’ve been informed you’re still a little shaken.”

      “I won’t have to act that part.”

      “—and that there’ll be a formal news conference.”

      When her knees started to buckle at that piece of information he only held on tighter and added, “Later.”

      “But what if—”

      “You’ll be fine. Just smile and wave.”

      “But—”

      The man obviously didn’t take terror as a reason not to keep plunging forward. Already the sounds of a ramp being adjusted into place sounded from the other side.

      “I can’t—”

      “You can.” Major Gray-eyes all but breathed against her ear, his words meant for her alone. “You’ve made your choice.”

      As if she’d been slapped with cold water she felt her panic recede. Anger replaced it. She’d had no choice. Not really, and the look she gave her abductor told him as much. Right before she shrugged off his hold, straightened her shoulders and told herself that nothing, no one, especially not a gray-eyed dictator standing almost on top of her, was going to know the cost of the next few minutes.

      When the door slid open, and a rush of fresh mountain air washed against her, she stepped forward. The sunlight blinded her, the air chilled her skin, creating a ridge of goose bumps along her arms. She wanted to choke. Or cry. And made herself do neither.

      Just as he’d said, there was a crowd of people beyond a barricade of orange cones and yellow flapping tape. She raised a hand to her eyes to cut the glare and scan the rest of the tarmac.

      A stretch limo waited at the far end of a blue-carpeted runway that began at the base of the stairs where she stood.

      Once, long, long ago, when she had watched a television special about a Hollywood star, she’d wondered what it would be like to ride in a car the length of a city block. Now she was about to find out—if an assassin’s bullet didn’t stop her first.

      “Don’t think about it.” The major spoke behind her. Either a remarkably astute man or a compassionate one. But that would make him human and she didn’t want to think of him that way. Not when he was the reason she was in this mess in the first place. “Smile and wave.”

      She did. Ignoring that her arm felt like a lead weight and her jaw muscles ached after only a few seconds.

      The major took her arm; from a distance it probably looked as if he was assisting, not forcing her to take the first step down the metal stairs. First one, then another.

      “I can walk by myself,” she muttered between stiff lips locked in a smile. “You don’t have to worry I’ll run away.”

      “There’s nowhere to run.”

      Oh, the man was just a font of cheerful news.

      “Pause before we enter the limo and give the reporters one last photo op.”

      She did as he asked, no, demanded, and was never as thankful as when she slid into the cool leather interior of the vehicle and heard the door slam shut behind her.

      So far, so good, Lucius thought, watching the СКАЧАТЬ