Scotland for Christmas. Cathryn Parry

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СКАЧАТЬ I didn’t know you had a boyfriend,” a familiar voice said loudly behind her.

      Isabel gritted her teeth, but smiled broadly at Charles, unfortunately the team lead on her group economics project. Charles was wearing his favorite Che Guevara T-shirt and a beard styled like his icon.

      Jake glared at Charles and his shirt. If two people were ever polar opposites, it had to be these two.

      “Let’s go, Jake.” Isabel tugged on his arm as she escorted him down the corridor and through the doors to her suite. Touching him so familiarly seemed strange, much too intimate and close. But her heart was beating so quickly, she didn’t pause to think. She just wanted him out of the way, out of the line of scrutiny.

      This time, she managed to get him into her bedroom and safely behind a closed door.

      Alone with him, she stepped back, catching her breath. Yes, Jake had probably been a real Secret Service agent at one point—that was all her uncle tended to hire—but there was something else about him, something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

      “What are you doing?” he asked in a low voice.

      She swallowed, trying to calm her racing pulse. His expression was stone-faced. The dark sunglasses still covered his eyes, not giving her any hint as to his thoughts, but she had the impression of anger.

      This just made her determined to change his mind. “I should ask the same of you,” she said lightly. “What I’m doing is behaving in a low-key manner. It’s what people in my family are required to do. Didn’t my uncle explain this?”

      “Your uncle is John Sage?” he asked in a gruff voice. It was a wholly appealing voice. Strong. That was the first word she thought of. His arms were crossed over his chest. His lips were set. Kind of full, actually. He had a crease in his chin and lines on his forehead. His hair was cut so short as to be practically shaved off. It gave him a sexy, naked look. And she, with all her long hair—well, he was such a contrast to her.

      “Yes, I’m Isabel Sage.” She snapped out of her distraction and gave him her winsome smile. People usually responded favorably to it.

      He, however, did not. He just scowled harder at her. “We need to get going. Friday traffic is brutal.”

      Brutal? Were people going to jump out at them with knives and swords drawn?

      She laughed at the image, and then exhaled, letting her smile relax into a normal expression. It felt good, for a change.

      “May I check your credentials, please, Mr. Ross?” she asked calmly. “If I’m to get in a car with you, then I need to be sure I’m safe.”

      His expression stilled. Well, she didn’t move, either, because her request was perfectly valid. He reached into a front coat pocket and pulled out a badge for her.

      It appeared he really did currently work for the U.S. Secret Service. She stared at the star on his badge, amazed.

      “May I see your driver’s license as well, please?” she asked.

      He seemed to stare her down. She felt a catch in her throat, but no, she had a stony business face she could give him, as well. She was a master at pretending—the more so since her stay in America.

      “I always check credentials,” she murmured.

      With a slight exhale, he reached for his wallet, removing a card, which he handed to her.

      She took it. The plastic was still warm from being in his back pocket, close to his, well... She willed herself not to blush. He was a good-looking man, beneath all his gruffness. And anger, too—there was definitely an undercurrent of anger in there.

      She glanced up at him from beneath her eyelashes, but he was looking away from her. Checking in all directions, like a working bodyguard.

      She studied his identification card, which was a New York State driver’s license. Jacob Ross. New York City. A West Side address. A November birthday. He was two years older than her—early thirties—and he was five feet eleven inches tall.

      “Everything copacetic?” he said in a somewhat testy voice.

      “Lovely, Jacob.” She smiled tersely and passed him back his identification card. She was used to “testy” men—the trait seemed to run in her family. He didn’t scare her one bit. “Please don’t take it personally. I’m trained to be careful.”

      “Any other questions?” he asked. It was...interesting how everything he was feeling showed in his face, his voice, his posture. He hid nothing from her. He had a smoldering intensity that was completely unnerving, like she had never seen before.

      And right now, it was very clear that he didn’t approve of her. She felt a twinge just realizing it.

      Ah, well, she would work to change his opinion. But first, the most important thing was to help him understand that she needed him to accompany her to the street discreetly, as if he was a friend here to visit her, rather than a paid bodyguard.

      “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer that when we go out there again, you take care not to appear to be my driver,” she said as pleasantly as she could. “And I’d prefer to sit up front in your car, in case anyone is watching us out the window.”

      “That isn’t protocol,” he snapped.

      “It’s my protocol.” She smiled at him. “I’m sure you won’t mind.”

      “I do mind, actually.”

      She didn’t know what to say. His response was just rude.

      They were silent for a moment, sizing each other up. He had the advantage with his dark sunglasses. But she was no lightweight either—she could handle anything.

      “Look,” he said finally, “it’s not personal. I’m trained not to talk to or be familiar with my protectees. But I’ve got to say something.”

      She folded her arms over her chest. “Yes, I’m listening.”

      He glanced around her room. “Why are they letting you live here? This place is a security nightmare. I would never let my protectees stay here. See that window?” He pointed. “It’s sniper bait. And this building only has one way in and one way out. With your money and your profile, you should be living in the Ritz-Carlton. Has anyone ever told you that?”

      “That would go over well in my study groups, Mr. Ross,” she said calmly. “I’m surprised you don’t see the danger in your suggestion.”

      Jacob’s mouth opened and then closed.

      She stood patiently. Waiting. From this position, she could see the corners of his eyes behind those dark glasses. He was gazing at her warily. His expressive eyes were a clear blue, as intense as he was. As if he had a hidden banked fire, burning within.

      He expelled a breath. “Like I said, it’s my training.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and gingerly moved her away from the open window. “It’s what I do.”

      Then he walked over and lowered the blinds. “I get people door to door safely. That’s what you can expect СКАЧАТЬ