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  “I didn’t know they used bouncers at elite Washington parties,” Tracker said as they moved down a wide hall that bisected the two wings of the house.

  “Don’t worry. Callahan has been with Millie’s family forever. He’s really a sweetheart. Sir Winston is her third husband, and I think part of Callahan’s job is to bounce the husbands once they turn out to be cads.”

  “Is Sir Winston likely to turn out to be a cad?”

  Sophie shook her head with a smile. “Not that I can tell. He was very attentive to her at the shop, and Millie claims this is her first love match.”

  The solarium was a huge room that boasted a glass ceiling, a variety of potted plants and trees, and French doors that opened onto a flagstone patio and the gardens. The air was filled with the scents of food and flowers. Tables laden with delicacies lined one wall, and a string quartet was situated at the other side of the room. Mozart blended with the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking as the bigwigs of the nation’s capital sipped drinks and made deals. Sophie straightened her shoulders and scanned the crowd eagerly.

  “You really enjoy this kind of thing, don’t you?” Tracker asked.

  “Each one of those people is a potential customer. I look at them and I hear my cash register going cha-ching, cha-ching.”

  “You remind me of your brother.”

  Surprised, she looked at him then. “I’m not like Lucas at all. He’s the dutiful son who took over the company and saved it. During the two years I worked there, I could never please him. He always wanted to be so conservative, and I wanted to try new things. I started my own business because I had to get away from that.”

  “You needed the freedom of being your own boss. But you have the same determination Lucas has to make the business a success, and your shop means as much to you as Wainwright means to Lucas.”

  She frowned as she turned back to scan the crowd again. “Okay. You’re right about my wanting freedom. And I can see some similarity in terms of our dedication to our work, but in other ways Lucas and I are as different as…well, you and I—” She grabbed his hand. “Millie and Chris Chandler are on their way toward us.” She took a step forward, then glanced back at him. “You’re going to be incredibly bored, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll manage. You go ahead and do your thing.”

  Drawing in a deep breath, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a card. She’d brought it with her, and she was going to use it. “I want you to be thinking about this.”

  As he took it and read it, Sophie held her breath while her heart jittered. She’d slipped the “quickie on demand” card from the deck while she’d been dressing, but she hadn’t intended to give it to Tracker until they were leaving. “In terms of anticipation, I thought it might relieve the boredom of the party for you.”

  He still didn’t say anything, but when his eyes finally met hers, she felt the heat streak right down to her toes. “I’m going to do more than think about this, Princess.”

  The paralyzing look was back in his eyes, and Sophie thought of her red convertible and how easy it would be to grab Tracker’s hand and make a run for it. The hills of Monte Carlo were beckoning.

  “Sophie, my dear, you’re never late. I was worried.” Millie Langford-Hughes took her hands and kissed the air on both sides of Sophie’s face.

  Then Sophie found her hands grasped in Sir Winston’s large ones. “I’m so glad you could come, my dear. It means a great deal to Millie and, therefore, to me.”

  For a second, as she glanced into his twinkling gray eyes, Sophie felt a tug of familiarity, just as she had in her shop. There was such warmth, such sincerity in his eyes. She couldn’t figure out if he reminded her of Santa Claus or Ernest Hemingway. Either way, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind that this time Millie had indeed found her love match.

  “Nice to see you again, Mr. McBride,” Millie said, taking his hand. “I’m so happy you could come, and I have someone who is just dying to meet you.”

  Tracker gave Sophie one last look before Millie pulled him away in the direction of the patio. Sir Winston gave them a wave and then followed in his wife’s wake.

  “Oh, my,” Chris said in a voice meant only for Sophie’s ears. “I saw the way McBride was looking at you.” He paused to fan himself. “If we could bottle that, we wouldn’t have to worry about energy conservation. I’d say he’s a bit more to you than your brother’s friend.”

  Sophie turned to him and prayed that she wasn’t blushing. “He’s my friend, too.”

  “Sure he is,” Chris said, taking her arm and tucking it through his. “And I won’t breathe a word of it to a soul. He’s much more your type than the buttoned-down egocentric banker type you almost married last year.”

  Sophie choked on a laugh. Chris’s description fit her ex-fiancé to a T.

  “As for that Landry fellow, he might as well be a clone of your ex. You’re much better suited to Mr. McBride.”

  “Better suited?” Sophie turned to study him, no mean feat while Chris was dragging her through the crowd. “Why would you say that? Tracker and I don’t have anything in common.”

  Chris waved a hand and shot her a sly wink. “You have passion. It virtually crackles in the air around you, and that’s not a bad place to start. But enough talk about your love life. Before I introduce you to this prospective client I have all lined up for you, I want to know when your next shipment is coming in. I have another client who is interested in picking up some of the ceramic work by the same artist who made that lovely blue-green bowl you tagged for Millie. He’s looking for something with an equestrian theme.” Chris leaned close again. “I think he has some kind of fetish for horses.”

  Sophie crossed her fingers behind her back. “I’ll certainly keep an eye out for that.”

  MILLIE CUT A WIDE SWATH though the crowd, shooting like an arrow toward a couple on the far side of the room.

  “I want you to meet my niece, Meryl Beacham,” Millie said to Tracker. “She runs the art gallery next to Sophie’s shop.” She pulled up short in front of a striking woman with black hair in a straight, angular cut. Chance was standing next to her.

  “Meryl, I want you to meet Tracker McBride, a friend of Lucas and Sophie Wainwright. And this is Carter Mitchell, Meryl’s gallery manager.”

  “Carter.” Tracker took the hand that Chance offered, then turned his attention to Meryl. “It’s a pleasure.”

  “A mutual one,” Meryl said in a throaty voice.

  “I knew you two would hit it off. Enjoy,” Millie said with a wave of her hand as she took Sir Winston’s arm and swept him away.

  Meryl shifted her gaze to the archway of the solarium. “My aunt is a huge busybody, and she introduces every male to me that she can find. However, I think we’re safe now. A four-star general has just appeared on her radar screen. Aunt Millie has bigger fish to fry, for a while anyway.” Then she turned her attention back to Tracker. “Why haven’t I seen you around Sophie’s shop before?”

  “I’m on vacation here.” The brunette had an easy, open manner, but the fact that Chance hadn’t mentioned that he and Tracker had “met” earlier in Sophie’s shop warned him to be careful. “I’ve been visiting out at Lucas’s estate in Virginia.” That much was true. Any number of people who had attended the party could attest to the fact that he’d been there.

  “So Sophie discovered you first and you’re taken?”

  Tracker smiled then, finding her frankness disarming. “You might say that.”

  “Just my luck.” She glanced at Chance. “I’m standing here with the two best-looking men in the room. One of them’s gay and the other is already spoken for. C’mon, Carter, if I can’t play with Mr. McBride here, I’d better put you to work marketing my gallery to all these potential customers.”

  Tracker turned to study the room, his gaze going immediately to Sophie. She was talking to a tall man with a waxed mustache—Charles Lipscomb, England’s newly appointed ambassador to the United States.
She’d spoken the truth when she’d said that she was here to work. When Tracker considered the day she’d already put in, his admiration for her went up another notch. He’d always thought of her as a pampered, rebellious princess. But he’d never in his wildest dreams imagined that she felt herself to be a misfit in her own family. He could empathize with the feeling. In the string of foster homes he’d been shuffled to, he’d never once fit in.

  Shifting his gaze, he glanced toward the archway that all new arrivals had to pass through, and spotted John Landry. Well, except for Noah Danforth, that completed the list of suspects that Chance had originally given him. And Tracker still didn’t have a clue as to who was putting Sophie’s life in danger.

  “Sometimes this job sucks,” Chance said at his elbow. “My lovely companion and boss allows me a five-minute break to smoke. Me and this Scotch are heading out to the patio. See you there in a minute?”

  Tracker waited until Chance had made his exit before he pushed himself away from the wall and wandered through the French doors. He spotted Chance on the other side of some potted trees and joined him. “Your boss is an interesting woman.”

  Chance grinned at him. “If it weren’t for my cover, that lady and I could be having a very good time.” He took a drag of his cigarette.

  “You know what they say,” Tracker said. “It’s best not to mix business with pleasure.”

  Chance’s brows shot up as he blew out smoke. “And here I always thought you were a man who walked what you talked.”

  Tracker frowned as he glanced back at the French doors. “This is different. Sophie’s different. And it’s complicated.” He spotted Landry making his way to the side of the room Sophie was on. “Right now I don’t know of any other way to stay close enough to protect her.”

  “It sounds like great work if you can get it.” Chance lifted his glass to Tracker.

  Tracker pinned the other man with a cool look. “I didn’t plan it this way, but I’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her. It’s tricky, because she’s every bit as smart as her brother.”

  Chance gave a low whistle.

  Tracker met his eyes. “Yeah. That smart. We’ve got to nail this guy fast. Sophie is going to figure out what I’m up to, and once she does, I can’t predict what she’ll do except order me out of her life. I want to know everything that you know.”

  “I’ve told you—”

  “Cut the shit. Tell me why you can’t let your boss know that you were in Sophie’s shop helping to unload that shipment. She wasn’t on the list of suspects you gave me.”

  With an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes, Chance tossed his cigarette to the flagstones and ground it beneath his foot. “Relax. I don’t want Meryl to know how friendly I’ve become with Sophie. It’s partly to protect my cover. She’s a bit jealous of Sophie’s success. Both of them come from the same background. However, Meryl just dabbles in commerce, while Sophie has a real talent for it.” Chance offered his drink to Tracker. “Peace offering. I figure I have five minutes before Meryl crooks her little finger at me and I have to go back to work.”

  Tracker took a swallow of Scotch and passed the glass back. “Talk fast.”

  “What I told you at Lucas’s party is correct as far as it goes. We don’t know who’s behind the smuggling. What we do know is the Puppet Master has connections that go very high up on both sides of the Atlantic.” Chance took a long swallow of his Scotch. “It’s no accident that I’m working in Meryl’s shop. She and her aunt Millie are very well connected. Either of them could easily be the middleman, or they could be pawns, just as Sophie is a pawn. We just don’t know.”

  “You got any good news?”

  Chance met his eyes steadily. “No. We’re dealing with a very dangerous individual. The best thing that you can do is to stick to Sophie like glue and give the impression of business as usual.”

  Tracker nodded. “Okay, let’s try another angle. Do you have any idea which piece today held the coin?”

  “No. I couldn’t locate it. But I’m working on it. I should have an answer before I leave the party tonight.”

  “Carter, I need you.”

  The two men turned to see Meryl Beacham standing at the French doors.

  Chance moved toward her. “Coming, darling.”

  Biting back his impatience, Tracker followed them back into the solarium. He had no choice but to watch and wait.

  EACH TIME SHE HAD a chance, Sophie found her gaze seeking out Tracker. Currently, he was surrounded by women. No surprise there. She recognized the tall, leggy blonde as being the president’s press secretary. Another one was clerking for the chief justice of the Supreme Court. What surprised her was the way Tracker fit in as if he’d been navigating his way through the Washington social scene all his life.

  For a man who didn’t enjoy parties, he certainly didn’t look like this one was bothering him any. For the first time since she’d met him, Sophie wondered what he did when he wasn’t being Lucas’s head of security.

  “You’re looking lovely in that dress.”

  Sophie turned to find John Landry at her side, offering her a glass of white wine. She took it gratefully. “Thanks. You’re looking very well yourself.” And he was. He was the kind of man she’d always thought she’d fall in love with. The kind of man she’d done her best to fall in love with three times.

  Sophie frowned as she took a swallow of her wine. Now, where had that thought come from? And why hadn’t she ever realized before that Bradley, Sunny and John were all the same type—solid, good-looking businessmen and just the kind of person a Wainwright should marry?

  She shifted her gaze to Tracker. All of the men she’d pictured getting serious about were the complete opposite of Tracker McBride. Tracker was the kind of man you kidnapped in your red convertible and thought of racing away into the mountains with. Or had hot sex in your shower with. And she’d always wanted someone she could depend on, someone who would be there and never walk away.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” John said.

  “They’re not worth even that.” She was not getting serious about Tracker McBride. That was not part of the deal. They were simply having a no-strings, no-holds-barred affair between equal partners. Those were the rules they’d both agreed to, and Sophie believed in honoring her agreements. At the end of it, they would both walk away. Ignoring the little band of pain that settled around her heart, she managed a smile as she turned to John Landry.

  “I’m just zoning out a little. It’s been a long day. You have my permission to pinch me if I do it again.”

  “You should get more help in that shop.”

  Sophie studied him for a moment. There was something different about him tonight—a hint of nerves or excitement beneath his usual smooth exterior. “Something’s bothering you.”

  “You’re very perceptive. Something has been bothering me all evening but it’s finally clicked.”

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing important. I met someone tonight—a stranger, but he seemed familiar. And I just remembered where I saw him before. However, what I really came over here to tell you was that I talked with Matt Draper today.”

  Sophie smiled. “I wish he was here tonight. He’d be the man of the hour. You have no idea how many people are suddenly interested in the ceramic pieces I’ve been ordering through his shop. I’m going to have to call him.”

  Landry took a sip of his wine. “He mentioned the shipment you received today when he was talking to me. He wondered how you liked the ceramic horse he sent.”

  Sophie smiled. “You can tell him that I liked the horse so much that I took it right upstairs to unpack. No, on second thought, I’ll tell him myself. I’m calling him tomorrow to tell him I need more where that came from.”

  “I’ll mention it to him when I see him.” Landry glanced at his watch. “I’ll be flying back to England tomorrow and I have some loose ends to tie up.”

  Sophie stared at him. “I thought you plann
ed to stay for another few weeks.”

  Landry glanced to where Tracker was standing, then met her eyes. “I’d hoped to, but my plans have changed, and so, it seems, have yours. I’m sorry for that, Sophie. I’d hoped…” Leaning over, he brushed her lips with his. “I’ll give you a call next time I’m in D.C. to see if anything has changed.”

  TRACKER HAD NEVER FELT his blood move to the boil quite so quickly. Only years of working to restrain his temper allowed him to stay right where he was, talking to a tall woman who was boring him senseless, while he watched every move that Landry made. The kiss was the final straw. It reminded him of what was reality. Sophie and he came from different worlds. She belonged with the people in this room. He didn’t.

  And as Landry walked away, she looked as if she’d lost something. That was what had brought his blood to the boil. Jealousy, anger, frustration. Hell, they were bad enough when they weren’t mixed with the fear that he wasn’t going to be able to keep her safe. And there was something else, too. He wanted to take that sad look off of her face.

  “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “What did you say?”

  With an effort, he turned his attention to the tall blonde who was the president’s press secretary, and smiled. “I beg your pardon. I just remembered a phone call I forgot to make.”

  EVEN THOUGH HER BACK WAS toward him, Sophie knew the minute Tracker started toward her from the far side of the room. It occurred to her that the special awareness that she always felt when he was around had only grown since they’d made love. Even Chris Chandler had seemed to be aware of it. She felt more alive, as if her life had gone from black and white to color, and she couldn’t recall ever feeling quite so free. She wanted it to last.

  As he drew closer, she turned and her gaze dropped to his mouth. It took only that to trigger a memory of what his lips felt like on hers. And she wanted to feel them again, on her breasts and on that most intimate part of her. The center of her body heated and then pooled into liquid.