Page 27 of France Face-Off
He tipped his head toward the stairs. “I’ll follow you down, but I won’t step out with you.”
She gave him a brief smile. “Thanks.” Her eyes narrowed. “Why are you being nice to me?”
Striker chuckled. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.” Lucie had told him to keep an eye on her, but he didn’t have to go to all the effort of letting her stay with him and share his bed. Something about her made him do things he’d never done before. “Maybe it’s just that I like you.”
Her frown deepened. “Why?”
He gripped her arms in a gentle hold. “You intrigue me, and I admire a woman who can look out for herself.”
Alex cocked an eyebrow. “Then why are you following me around to make sure I get to the meetings all right?”
Striker grinned. “It’s in my nature to protect.” He bent and brushed his lips across hers. Light, gentle and undemanding. He leaned back and tipped his head toward the door. “Go, or you’ll be late.”
She blinked up at him, her eyes wide.
For a moment, he thought she might slap him. He was shocked when she rose up on her toes, wrapped her hand behind his neck and pulled him down, her lips colliding with his. The kiss was brief. Too brief. Then she turned, pushed through the door and bolted. It was almost as if she were running from him.
The door closed between them before Striker could say anything.
He’d kissed her.
What had he been thinking?
That was just it…he hadn’t been thinking. Kissing her had felt as natural as breathing. When she’d pulled him in for a second kiss, he’d been too stunned to move. He could kick himself for not wrapping his arms around her and deepening the connection. His groin tightened.
The woman was quickly getting beneath his skin. He wasn’t sure it was a good thing. Most likely it wasn’t. But, like standing on a track staring at the light of an oncoming train, he couldn’t force himself out of the path of the train wreck sure to come.
He waited until she was almost all the way across the grand lobby before he exited the stairwell.
The Energy Summit attendees were moving toward the conference room, some hurrying, others talking with their peers as they moved in the same general direction.
“What does a male escort do with his time when he’s not escorting?” a familiar voice said behind him.
He turned to find Natalya, dressed in a calf-length red dress and black high heels. Her makeup was flawless. She’d pulled her thick auburn hair up in a messy bun on the crown of her head. For a woman her age, she was stunning, confident and seemed to know just about everyone at the event.
“I find that people-watching entertains me,” he said.
Natalya fell in step with him, slipping her hand through the crook of his elbow. “Observing people is a good way to learn things about them that they don’t necessarily want you to know.”
Striker glanced down at the woman. “Like?”
“People are creatures of habit. You might find that they always have coffee at exactly seven o’clock in the morning. Some might run the same route every morning if they’re into exercise. Others like to use events like this to leave their wives behind and spend time with their girlfriends.”
“Interesting,” Striker commented. “And you’ve been to enough of these kinds of conferences to observe all that?”
She nodded. “Knowing the players in any event gives you an advantage.”
“How does that help you as an interpreter?” he asked, his gaze meeting hers and holding.
Her lips curled upward on one corner. “Let’s just say…knowledge is power.” She gave him a broad smile, released his arm and took a step away. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job to do.”
He dipped his head and watched as she walked away with a firm, determined gait.
The woman was an enigma. Most interpreters faded into the background.
Not Natalya. She stood out like a cape in a bullfighter’s arena. It was almost like she owned the bull, or bulls, in this case.
Striker wondered what other activities she participated in besides interpreting. If she was as observant as she seemed, she could be blackmailing diplomats and leaders from a variety of different countries.
