Dangerous Allies. Renee Ryan

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      Clearly, the British had a hidden agenda. But were they using this mission to ferret out individual loyalties, or was there a darker motive? Had the spymasters grown to distrust Jack and set a trap for him? Or was Kerensky their target? Given Jack’s direct relationship with Churchill, the latter was far more likely.

      Jack now admitted, if only to himself, that he hadn’t prepared enough for his first glimpse of the famous actress. His sudden inability to catch an easy breath was like having a destroyer deposited on his chest. Later, when he was alone, he would sort through his messy emotions and decide what to do with them. For now, he had to disconnect. Focus.

      Analyze the potential dangers.

      She turned in his direction, tilted her head slightly and fixed him with a bold stare. Their gazes locked and held. A jolt of discomfort shot to the soles of his feet. He fought to keep his breathing slow and steady. But this woman made him feel.

      The emotion wasn’t real. It couldn’t possibly be real.

      And yet…

      The sudden flash of vulnerability in her eyes before she buried the emotion behind a bored expression gave her an air of innocence that Jack didn’t dare consider too closely. It was simply a well-honed weapon in her female arsenal. He had to remember she was an actress and a spy. Nothing but lies would come from her mouth.

      With a mental shake, he pushed aside his initial reaction to the woman and focused only on measuring her as a potential ally. Or enemy.

      He quickly took in the hair, the face, the perfect fit of her costume. Her skin was smooth and flawless. Her features delicate. Her eyes were large and slightly slanted, the color of the sea in a bitter storm. Her hair was a deep auburn, almost chocolate except when the light hit it and revealed an array of gold, red and orange.

      Absently, Jack shoved at his own hair, surprised to find he was sweating. Blinking, he shook himself from the trance she’d put him in.

      She was good. He’d give her that. But with those fabulous eyes no longer locked with his, the unsteady rolling in his gut slowed. She may have knocked his brains around—which was probably intentional—but Jack was back in control of his wits.

      Before tonight he had always believed the Bible’s David a fool to let a woman turn him into a murderer and adulterer. But Jack hadn’t fully understood the power of a beautiful woman.

      Or the danger. Until now.

      Chapter Two

      In spite of the dim lighting backstage, Katia easily picked out her contact by the single bloodred rose he wore on his lapel. He stood on the fringe of the post-production party, his face hidden by the shadows. She couldn’t decide if the lack of light made him appear mysterious. Or sinister.

      He lifted two fingers in silent salute then settled his broad shoulder against the wall behind him once more.

      Katia didn’t particularly like the way he watched her with those long, speculative looks. The quiet intensity in him made her heart beat in hard jerks. How much did he know about her? Did he know her secret?

      A sense of unease skittered up her spine, but she boldly kept her eyes on his. She drew a careful breath. The man made her nervous. The tingling weakness in her limbs distressed her further, until she realized he was deliberately trying to intimidate her.

      Another man who underestimated her.

      Annoyance replaced her anxiety. Katia hiked her chin up a notch. Many before him had seen her as a liability. And, like them, this one would ultimately come to view her as his greatest asset.

      Or he would fail.

      As he continued to study her with those smart, patient eyes, she felt a quick churn of hope in her stomach. But that made no sense. She refused to allow his assessment to go unmatched. With equal intensity she ran her gaze across him.

      On the surface he looked like a young, wealthy German out for an entertaining evening at the theater. Dressed in an expensive tuxedo, black tie and crisp white shirt, he could pass as a financier. Maybe a bored aristocrat. Even one of Hitler’s secret agents or a henchman for Heinrich Himmler.

      Her breath came short and fast at that last thought. Did the Nazis know she was a mole for the British? Had they sent this man to trap her?

      If it wasn’t for the red rose, she’d give in to her fears. The operative’s behavior certainly wasn’t helping matters. His stance was anything but friendly. The intense control he held over his body spoke of hard physical training. Probably military. An officer, no doubt. A man used to giving orders, and having them obeyed.

      She wanted to distrust him immediately.

      She found herself intrigued instead.

      He turned his head into the light, a gesture that allowed her to see his face for the first time without dark shadows hindering her inspection.

      His sharp eyes and tall, lean body reminded her of a big cat. Unwavering, patient. And very, very dangerous.

      Code name, Cougar.

      It fit him to perfection. With his dark blond hair, piercing blue eyes and strong, obstinate jaw he could hail from any number of northern European countries. Austria, Norway, Great Britain.

      Germany.

      She turned from that disturbing thought and focused her full attention on her understudy, pretending grave interest in the other woman’s enthusiastic compliments.

      Unable to stop herself, she slid another glance at her contact from beneath lowered lashes. The watchful look in his eyes suddenly vanished and, just as quickly, a pleasant smile rode across his lips.

      The effortless charm put her on instant alert.

      He shoved away from the wall and began pacing toward her. Slowly, deliberately.

      The hunter stalking his prey.

      A little stab of panic penetrated her attempts at calm. No. She would not show weakness.

      He stopped in front of her, an inch closer than was polite, then offered a formal nod. Her understudy melted away, muttering something about needing a plate of food.

      The scent of musk, expensive tobacco and dominant male was far too unsettling, the handsome face far too attractive.

      In a purely self-defensive move, Katia gave her head an arrogant little toss. Lifting a single eyebrow, she concentrated on the planned greeting she was supposed to use with him tonight. “Did you enjoy the play?”

      He nodded and stuck to the script, as well. “It was enlightening.”

      The words rolled off his tongue in perfect German, with just a hint of Austria clinging to the edges.

      Relief had her fear smoothly vanishing. He was her British contact, after all.

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