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Her case trundled to a stop and her face fell as she glanced at her companions. ‘Are you ready to go?’
Donovan could sense her discomfort. It was just after eleven at night and she was dressed as if she were going to a power meeting in the office. He and the rest of the guys were dressed in jeans and baseball hats. He could curse. He should have given her a heads up about what dress code was expected on field assignments. He only hoped her heavy-duty case—that looked as if it held three weeks’ worth of clothes—wasn’t filled with suits and stiletto heels. They wouldn’t be any use where they were going.
He was normally so good at this sort of thing. When he’d recruited anyone to his team in the past he’d always had a meeting with them, giving them a printed list of essential equipment for field assignments and some basic instructions about wherever they were travelling.
What was wrong with him? Why hadn’t he done the same for Grace?
The little voice in his head wasted no time in telling him. None of the other recruits were naked in the shower with you.
He took a deep breath and swung his rucksack over his shoulder. ‘We like to travel light, Grace, so there’s no waiting around at the other side.’ He gestured towards her case. ‘Sorry, I should have given you a heads up. We’ll spend most of our time in scrubs and they’ve been sent on with the rest of the equipment.’
She looked down at the huge case. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise.’ She glanced at the rest of team’s rucksacks. ‘It’s okay, guys. When we land you go on ahead. I’ll wait for my case and meet you there.’
Dave shook his head. ‘Oh, no, we don’t mind waiting for you, Grace.’ His voice was almost a drawl. Donovan shot him a look as the check-in girl gave him a nod.
‘Hand over your passports. We’ll get our seats allocated and head to the departure gate.’ He signed a few forms about their other equipment, as Grace rustled through her leather bag for her passport.
Her scent was drifting up around his nostrils. Something new. Not like the perfume she’d been wearing as they’d hit the shower. This smelt like vanilla. The kind of cupcakes his mother had baked when he was a boy. She smelt good enough to eat.
She finally found her passport and pulled it from her bag. ‘Sorry, Donovan.’ She looked down at her clothes. ‘I just assumed that because we were on business for the DPA it would still be office wear.’ She tilted her head to the side, giving him a view of her smooth skin and a rueful smile. ‘No matter what time of the day or night. But, hey, I guess we learn something new every day.’
She heaved her case up onto the check-in conveyer belt. There was no way this could be mistaken for carryon luggage.
He handed over the passports to the beautiful blonde desk clerk, who didn’t look too impressed that she was being ignored. ‘I guess we do,’ he replied.
She had no idea how true those words were. He was trying to work out why he hadn’t got a handle on Grace Barclay seven months ago. He’d noticed her, and had meant to find out more. But Donovan was a work first kind of guy. He didn’t like things to interfere.
Still, seeing the reactions of Dave and John had sent the hackles up at the back of his neck. He’d wanted to rip their eyes from their sockets—not exactly rational behaviour, particularly around a woman he barely knew.
Grace Barclay was an adult and a professional. She was perfectly capable of looking after herself. She didn’t need him to protect her, so why was that the way he felt around her?
He was trying not to stare at her curves. He’d already seen her naked—what more was there? But Grace wasn’t just wearing this red dress, she va-va-voomed it. It covered every inch that it should. But its coverage was just great. It clung to the full curve of her breasts, the swing of her hips and the smooth swell of her backside. As for the tanned legs and black stiletto heels...
‘Donovan, is something wrong? Did I forget something?’
She was staring at him, twiddling one strand of her shorter hair between her finger and thumb. Another ‘tell’ when she was nervous. It was cute. It was sexy.
He shook his head, trying to get his mind back on the job. ‘Nice hairdo.’ The words were out before he thought about them and her cheeks flushed in an instant.
‘Thanks.’ Her fingers were working overtime on that strand of hair. Any more and she would pull it clean from her head. ‘My friends thought it would be more practical for a first field assignment.’
He raised his eyebrows and couldn’t help but smile. ‘Did they think the dress would be more practical too?’
He knew it. He knew there had been a makeover team involved. Grace looked fabulous, but he kind of preferred her the way she’d appeared twenty-four hours ago. When he’d been the only one who had noticed her.
Her shoulders sagged. ‘Like I said, I wanted to look professional.’
The blonde behind the desk cleared her throat and handed over the boarding cards, her eyes drifting up and down the length of Grace’s body with disapproval. Her gaze was so blatant he cringed.
But Grace didn’t. She laughed. Out loud. And reached over and took the boarding cards from her hand. ‘Thanks honey,’ she quipped. ‘I’ll take care of these guys now.’
With a confidence Donovan hadn’t seen before she swung her bag over her shoulder and started to walk towards Security. ‘Come on, guys, let’s go.’ All eyes followed the swing of her hips and the rest of the team grabbed their bags and hurried after her.
By the time they reached Security Grace had emptied the contents of her bag, removed her gold necklace and put her shoes in the tray. She beeped as she walked through the scanner and stood patiently while the female security team scanned her with the wand. The scanner paused around her shoulder blade and she said a few quiet words to the staff member.
The woman reached up and pulled the stretchy red material out where indicated by Grace. It wasn’t enough. A few seconds later she was asked to stand in the full-body scanner. What on earth was going on?
It took less than thirty seconds. The female guard viewed the scan and had a quick discussion with her counterpart. He nodded and she indicated to Grace to come out and handed her her shoes, talking away as if they were old friends. Grace was shrugging her shoulders and smiling. Donovan was concentrating so hard on what wa
s happening between them he felt a sharp nudge at his back. ‘Hurry up, buddy. The guard has signalled you through twice now.’
Donovan had already removed his belt, shoes, money and watch. There was no reason for him to beep. He hurried through and caught the last few words of the conversation. ‘No problem, it happens every time...’
It had to be her scar. Questions were firing in his brain. There were lots of reasons people could beep at the airport. Metal plates in their bodies, other kinds of implants or devices. But the only scar he’d seen on her entire smooth skin had been the angry–looking one on her shoulder.
It just made him all the more curious. Grace didn’t seem like the kind of girl to have had a knife wound. Maybe he was wrong? Maybe it was from a car wreck? A sports accident? A skiing mishap?
But it didn’t matter how many ‘what ifs’ he planted in his brain. Donovan knew a knife wound when he saw one. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to ask the question.
She was sliding her painted red toes into her black stiletto. ‘What next? Can we all go for a coffee somewhere and make some plans?’
Her voice jolted him. It was embarrassing. She wasn’t having any problems focusing on the job. It was only him. Why hadn’t he noticed the painted toes earlier?
‘Sure. Let’s go to the coffee shop. I’ll recheck my emails and see if we’ve got any new information.’
She moved away and started chatting with John. He noticed the glances from passers-by as they walked through the terminal. Grace seemed to chat easily with people. She had a nice friendly nature, a killer smile and she appeared to be a good listener, all things that would make her an asset to the team. It would make her good with patients and give her the ability to integrate well with staff they might meet wherever they travelled.
They joined the queue and Grace frowned at the coffee selection.
‘What’s wrong? No skinny, caramel lattes?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Oh, yeah, they’ve got them. They just don’t have any sugar-free caramel.’
