Page 5 of Protecting You

His blond hair was as trim as it’d been last time she saw him. He’d grown a matching beard—trimmed very short—that had unexpected hints of red. A few wrinkles fanned out from his pale blue eyes, which surprised her, considering he couldn’t be much older than her thirty years. Those wrinkles didn’t detract from his good looks.

That was the last thing she needed to notice right now. Especially when his eyes narrowed in frustration. “You don’t mean Michael.”

“How do you know my cousin?”

“It’s a small community.” He brushed off her question as if it were irrelevant. “You’re sure that’s what he said? That he knows Michael?”

“Not in so many words, but he described him. He said he got my name from him.”

That had Callan’s lips pressing closed for a second. Then, he seemed to remember they were pretending to be on a date or something, and he grinned. “Ask Michael about Dariush Ghazi. I bet he’s heard of him.”

Dariush Ghazi.

Not Charles Sanders.

She would ask Michael, but he was on his honeymoon, and he and Leila were taking the whole “moon” part of it seriously, planning to be gone for a month.

This was ridiculous. Alyssa needed out of this restaurant. She’d have stood if not for Callan’s too-solid body blocking her exit. There was no room for her to push her chair back or swing her feet to the side. “Would you go away?”

“No.” He laughed, though she wasn’t joking. “Eat your dinner.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Humor me.”

The server came by, delivered Callan a fresh glass of water, and asked if he wanted anything, all the while regarding him as ifhewere on the menu.

“Just the check,” he said.

“The other gentleman paid for it and whatever else you two might need.”

“Perfect!” His false enthusiasm was giving Alyssa a headache. “For now, we’ll finish these.”

The woman cleared Charles’s dishes and left a fresh plate for Callan.

After she walked away, he turned his gaze to Alyssa again, his back to the rest of the room. “Eat. I’m serious. We have to sell it or he’ll know you lied to him.”

Alyssa didn’t like being dictated to, certainly not by this guy.

But a few of the words he’d said resonated still.Terrorist. Murderer.

She forced a bite of tomato salad into her churning stomach. She’d gotten herself into something. Maybe Callan was trying to help her get out.

But he was a CIA agent whose plans were much grander than one cyber-investigator.

So maybe not.

CHAPTERTWO

Fine.

Maybe the kiss hadn’t been completely necessary.

Callan Templeton could’ve found an equally effective—and much less distracting—way to keep Alyssa quiet. Besides, didn’t a guy need some kind of signed permission slip to kiss a woman these days? He could probably be sued or imprisoned for that move.

No way would Alyssa ever give him permission to kiss her.

His college roommate had once called her the ice queen. She wore a veneer of toughness, but Callan had always suspected that warmth and passion hovered beneath her brittle surface.

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