his fingers, but could do nothing about the sound of gunfire echoing through his memory.
"You don't have any more surprises in store for me, do you?" Elizabeth turned off the bathroom light and breezed into the main room. "We are headed to Richmond tomorrow, right?"
Hawk stretched out on the bed and linked his hands behind his head. When he'd left her a few minutes before, her eyes had been big and dark, memory glowing like a candle that refused to burn out. But classic Elizabeth Carrington, she'd washed all that messy emotion away and now looked at him through a gaze as refined as the pearls he'd been fingering moments before.
"I don't know," he said, unable to resist. He lifted the remote and cruised away from CNN. "I was thinking we could take a scenic tour of Lake Louise first…"
Elizabeth swung around. "Wesley," she said with just the right blue-blood clip. "I'm serious."
Hawk felt his lips twitch, clenched his teeth hard. Laughing at her wouldn't help matters, but she had no idea how she looked, standing there with her mother's glare in her eyes and his ratty flannel shirt hanging from her shoulders.
"So am I," he drawled, then stopped channel surfing on a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game. "I was reading about a horseback ride up to a glacier, where there's this quaint little tearoom." Laughter almost broke through the words. "You like tea, don't you, Ellie?" he asked with all the innocence of the young elk pictured on the cover of the travel magazine beneath his Glock.
"Why the hurry to get back to Richmond when you're in such a beautiful country?" he added, knowing the answer. "Does being around me make you that uncomfortable?"
For a minute, there, he actually thought she was going to stalk across the room and smack him.
Instead she lifted her chin. "Saturday is the charity auction. Nicholas and I—"
"Nicholas." Hawk felt his whole body go tense. "I thought you two called it quits."
She turned from him and stared a long moment at the ice bucket and room-service menu strewn on the floor. Frowning, she picked them up and returned them to the dresser. "We did."
The momentary enjoyment he'd found in teasing Elizabeth hardened into something dark and entirely too familiar. He worked hard to shove the emotion down, but the reality of what that man represented overrode years of rigorous training.
"What happened?" He resisted the urge to close the distance between them and take her shoulders in his hands, force her to look him in the eye, deny what they both knew. "You couldn't marry him after we—"
"No." The denial came out hard and fast, determined.
But Hawk had to wonder. He knew she'd dreamed of marrying Ferreday since she'd been a young girl, long before Hawk entered her life. And he knew to Elizabeth , plans were sacrosanct. But part of him wanted to think their night together had forced her to reconsider her plans, to realize what a pompous idiot Ferreday really was.
The thought of Elizabeth going from Hawk's bed, to Ferreday's, still had the power to grind him up inside.
Keeping his voice level was hard. "Then why?"
Her back stiffened. "I'm not discussing this with you."
"Sure you are," he drawled, fascinated by the way she fiddled with the room-service menu. Elizabeth Carrington was one of those rare women who never seemed at a loss, who always maintained her poise and composure, even beneath the suffocating glare of the hot
Virginia
sun. "Otherwise you'll let my imagination take over, and we both know you don't want to do that."
She pivoted toward him, flashed a tight smile. "Nothing happened, Wesley. The timing was just wrong."
"And now?"
Damp hair scraggled against her cheekbones, emphasizing the flicker of hesitation. "Things are … better."
That's not what Miranda had told him. Only a few months before, when he'd escorted Elizabeth 's sister to Portugal , Miranda had looked him in the eye and told him Elizabeth and Nicholas weren't together anymore, that Elizabeth had never been the
"You don't have any more surprises in store for me, do you?" Elizabeth turned off the bathroom light and breezed into the main room. "We are headed to Richmond tomorrow, right?"
Hawk stretched out on the bed and linked his hands behind his head. When he'd left her a few minutes before, her eyes had been big and dark, memory glowing like a candle that refused to burn out. But classic Elizabeth Carrington, she'd washed all that messy emotion away and now looked at him through a gaze as refined as the pearls he'd been fingering moments before.
"I don't know," he said, unable to resist. He lifted the remote and cruised away from CNN. "I was thinking we could take a scenic tour of Lake Louise first…"
Elizabeth swung around. "Wesley," she said with just the right blue-blood clip. "I'm serious."
Hawk felt his lips twitch, clenched his teeth hard. Laughing at her wouldn't help matters, but she had no idea how she looked, standing there with her mother's glare in her eyes and his ratty flannel shirt hanging from her shoulders.
"So am I," he drawled, then stopped channel surfing on a Toronto Blue Jays baseball game. "I was reading about a horseback ride up to a glacier, where there's this quaint little tearoom." Laughter almost broke through the words. "You like tea, don't you, Ellie?" he asked with all the innocence of the young elk pictured on the cover of the travel magazine beneath his Glock.
"Why the hurry to get back to Richmond when you're in such a beautiful country?" he added, knowing the answer. "Does being around me make you that uncomfortable?"
For a minute, there, he actually thought she was going to stalk across the room and smack him.
Instead she lifted her chin. "Saturday is the charity auction. Nicholas and I—"
"Nicholas." Hawk felt his whole body go tense. "I thought you two called it quits."
She turned from him and stared a long moment at the ice bucket and room-service menu strewn on the floor. Frowning, she picked them up and returned them to the dresser. "We did."
The momentary enjoyment he'd found in teasing Elizabeth hardened into something dark and entirely too familiar. He worked hard to shove the emotion down, but the reality of what that man represented overrode years of rigorous training.
"What happened?" He resisted the urge to close the distance between them and take her shoulders in his hands, force her to look him in the eye, deny what they both knew. "You couldn't marry him after we—"
"No." The denial came out hard and fast, determined.
But Hawk had to wonder. He knew she'd dreamed of marrying Ferreday since she'd been a young girl, long before Hawk entered her life. And he knew to Elizabeth , plans were sacrosanct. But part of him wanted to think their night together had forced her to reconsider her plans, to realize what a pompous idiot Ferreday really was.
The thought of Elizabeth going from Hawk's bed, to Ferreday's, still had the power to grind him up inside.
Keeping his voice level was hard. "Then why?"
Her back stiffened. "I'm not discussing this with you."
"Sure you are," he drawled, fascinated by the way she fiddled with the room-service menu. Elizabeth Carrington was one of those rare women who never seemed at a loss, who always maintained her poise and composure, even beneath the suffocating glare of the hot
Virginia
sun. "Otherwise you'll let my imagination take over, and we both know you don't want to do that."
She pivoted toward him, flashed a tight smile. "Nothing happened, Wesley. The timing was just wrong."
"And now?"
Damp hair scraggled against her cheekbones, emphasizing the flicker of hesitation. "Things are … better."
That's not what Miranda had told him. Only a few months before, when he'd escorted Elizabeth 's sister to Portugal , Miranda had looked him in the eye and told him Elizabeth and Nicholas weren't together anymore, that Elizabeth had never been the
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