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danger lay in drawing unwanted attention to himself or in allowing himself to become too fascinated by her.
    “Come.” He held out his hand to her. “Let’s sit in front of the television for a few minutes.”
    Clutching the gun in one hand, she warily placed her other in his. “Fine.”
    Clearly, she didn’t trust him, but at least she wasn’t running screaming from the room, and her hand felt damn good in his. They entered the den together and he turned up the television’s volume. Then he removed his watch, which concealed a special transmitter and receiver. The moment he began to transmit, data flashed on his screen.
    Fallon leaned over, her scent wafting to his nostrils and teasing him. “What language is that?”
    “It’s code.” Data streamed in about Fallon. “You’re CIA?”
    He had to give her credit. She didn’t change expression. “I run the Hanover Institute.”
    She might be willing to sink millions into charity to search for a cure for cancer, but she also was no pushover. And at his mention of his knowledge about her, she’d instantly become defensive.
    “And you don’t simply run the Hanover Institute, you also control a vast personal wealth, don’t you?”
    As he mentioned her wealth, her eyes darkened, as if mentioning her assets caused her to draw into herself.
    “Is that what you want, money?” Her tone sounded resigned, cool and, perhaps, disappointed.
    “Your money might prove useful to me, but that’s not what I really want.” He let his gaze rake over her, and she thought she might tell him to go to hell, but she flicked her tongue over her bottom lip as if considering the full implications of his statement.
    While he’d spoken with her, through his transmitter he’d asked his superiors for permission to tell herthe truth. As a government agent, surely she could be trusted with secrets. But much to his disappointment, the reply came back: a resounding No. He was not allowed to reveal the truth and he was beginning to wonder if he could lie well enough to fool Fallon Hanover, especially after she’d seen the technology he carried.
    However, he would try. As his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he needed sustenance, he rose to his feet and brought her to the kitchen, his mind racing.
    “So you use the television to transmit and receive messages?” she guessed.
    “Sit down. We need to talk.”
    She cast him a puzzled look and seated herself at the table while he explored the cupboards, pulling out crackers, olives and a jar of caviar. They would both need their strength for what lay ahead. He grabbed a bottle of Chablis, provolone cheese and seedless red grapes from the refrigerator, then returned for two wineglasses and set them on the table.
    After filling her glass, he raised his in a toast. “To life.”
    “I won’t be toyed with. If you intend to kill me, just get it over with,” she snapped.
    “Look, I owe you an apology.”
    “I’d say you owe me much more than an apology.” Her breasts heaved beneath the swell of her silk shirt and when she caught his glance, she frowned—but her nipples hardened. Lovely. Ms. Fallon Hanoverwas definitely more interested than she pretended and he’d have to double his efforts not to become entwined in her allure.
    But he wasn’t adverse to pleasing her—as long as she didn’t slow him down, and as long as she didn’t mind that his emotions would never be involved. The idea of her totally submitting her will to him excited him. But first he had to assuage her suspicions.
    He softened his voice and pointedly raked his gaze over her. “What kind of apology did you have in mind?”
    Just as he’d planned, his seductive teasing sent her temper soaring. Her shoulders stiffened. At the same time, she lowered her lids but not before he’d glimpsed her response. An angry opponent was not a smart opponent. Right now he needed her off balance.
    Would she lash out? Try to slap his face? He should have known she’d have much