Payne ordinarily didn’t make rash decisions. He was practical, methodical, focused--he relied on an economy of logic to lead him to his actions and decisions. This was his modus operandi, his preferred method of operation and yet one provoking slightly self-satisfied look and a cat-in-the-cream-pot smile from a hot little cracker-jack of a female had totally thrown him off his game.

Why else would he have decided to rent the Bug--when he could have just as easily gone to another car rental counter and gotten something more suitable--then hurried after her?

It was the height of illogical stupidity and yet he couldn’t seem to help himself. There’d been something vaguely familiar about her when she’d plowed into him on the concourse. Certainly he’d never been introduced to her--there’s no way he would have forgotten those eyes.

They were unforgettable.

Deep blue, the shade of sugared violets and fringed with long, curly lashes. He’d righted her, had kept her from falling, but only by sheer dent of will had he kept his own feet beneath him when she’d looked up and her startled gaze had connected with his.

Payne wasn’t accustomed to being shocked. Little if anything ever produced more than a ripple over the calm pond of his composure. He prided himself on his generally unerring ability to keep his emotions in check, on never losing control. It was his source of strength, irrefutable proof that he wouldn’t be like his weak-willed father or his impetuous, unpredictable mother.

To his immense discomfort and surprise, however, one look into the eyes of his mystery Hummer woman had done more than merely shake him up--she’d rocked his very foundation. Only an idiot would go after her, Payne thought as he scanned the line of rental vehicles, his gaze instantly alighting on her shapely rear as she climbed into the driver’s seat.

He muttered a curse under his breath. She damn near needed a step ladder to get in the bloody SUV. At six and a half feet, Payne was used to being taller than most everybody, but he wasn’t just taller than her--he towered over her. She couldn’t be more than five one or two--he could easily pick her up with one hand--but what she lacked in height she more than made up for with attitude. An unwelcome flash of heat engulfed his loins, forcing him to clench his jaw.

And sex appeal.

He’d never had what one could call a preference when it came to what attracted him to the opposite sex, but this woman--whoever she was--had it in spades. She had short, black tousled-looking curls, those amazing eyes which had sucked the wind right out of his lungs, small elfin-like features--high cheek-bones, a rather sharp nose and lips that put a man in mind of a ripe strawberry and a strength of character, determination and the smallest hint of vulnerability which he instinctively knew she’d resent. She was small, but curvy and fit and, despite her petite size, she’d felt curiously right in his arms a few moments ago.

In a word, she was fascinating.

He’d spent a combined total of five minutes in her company and was so thoroughly intrigued that he’d allowed himself to be rented into a VW Bug--a lime green one, no less, dammit, Payne realized as his gaze zeroed in on the little car. Ironically, it was parked directly in front of the Hummer and looked like its Beetle namesake hunkered in front of the big SUV, waiting to get squashed. His lips quirked.

Furthermore, given the way the mystery woman precisely angled the mirrors, she looked strangely capable of doing the job herself, he thought, reluctantly impressed. She didn’t look the least bit apprehensive or worried about handling the monster-sized vehicle.

Payne’s grim gaze slid to the Bug once more. He wasn’t worried about handling it, per se, but was more concerned about fitting into the damned thing.

Ultimately, that’s what had gotten him, had put her so firmly on his radar.

Payne was pretty good at reading people, prided himself on his ability to size a person up. It had been a handy tool as a Ranger and, curiously, even handier in the private sector. He could easily discern a lie from the truth, knew when a perspective client was seeking his services for an honorable or legitimate cause. That keen ability had kept Ranger Security out of less desirable jobs and off the payroll of more than one undesirable character.

When the car rental clerk had announced that he only had a couple of cars left, naturally Payne had gone on alert. He’d had a vested interest, after all, and it behooved him to pay close attention. As such, he’d watched her closely to see which car she would choose. She’d wanted the Bug--he’d known from the quick flash of wistfulness he’d seen in those remarkable eyes--and yet she’d, ultimately chosen the Hummer.

A wicked, gleeful glint had sparked to life in her gaze--detectable even from his profiled vantage point and he’d realized with a start of his recently dulled insight that she’d chosen it simply to keep him from having it.

Shocked again. Twice within the space of a few minutes.

He was a stranger, ostensibly someone whom she would have no desire to thwart or inconvenience...but she had. And she’d enjoyed it too much to be mere coincidence. An interesting truth evolved from that line of thinking, one that piqued his interest and put him instantly on guard--granted he might find her only vaguely familiar, but she knew him.

Which begged a million questions, the most pressing of which was, from where?

Considering he’d only been in Atlanta six months and had spent the majority of his time prior to that devoted to Uncle Sam, Payne imagined that there was most likely a military connection. As part of an elite Ranger team--Project Chameleon--he, Danny, Guy and Jamie had enjoyed a certain...status amid their peers. It was quite possible that she recognized him and thought it would be a perverse ego deflator to stick him with the Bug.

Had he been anywhere but on his way to Gettysburg, he might have leaned toward that explanation. But considering the location and that niggling sense that Garrett hadn’t leveled with him, Payne thought otherwise. Somehow the two so-called coincidences were related and fortunately, with a simple phone call, he felt like he could determine how.

Payne quickly checked in with the curb-side rental help, then made his way to the Bug. Evidently having spotted him, the mystery woman immediately started the Hummer and competently angled into traffic. Payne lost precious seconds trying to adjust the seat--he felt like a damned shark stuffed into a sardine can--but finally managed to jam it as far back as the tract allowed and, shooting a look over his shoulder, smoothly fell in a few cars behind her. Fortunately the olive green Hummer was as conspicuous as his little car was. “Bet you hadn’t counted on that, had you, you crafty she-devil?” Payne muttered. Of course, she probably hadn’t counted on him following her either, but...

He consulted his directions and breathed a silent sigh of relief when she chose the same interstate exit that he would have had to have taken anyway to carry him toward the Bed and Breakfast Garrett had booked for him. Using the heavy traffic to his advantage, he zoomed up long enough to make out the tag number of her vehicle, then fell back a few paces, allowing himself to get momentarily hemmed in by a couple of eighteen wheelers.

Probably not the brightest move, Payne thought in retrospect as he fought to keep the little car from getting blown off the road, but he wasn’t accustomed to driving something so damned...insubstantial. He thought longingly of his own SUV sitting in the Atlanta parking garage and determinedly snagged his cell phone from the clip at his waist. Time to put a name with the author of his recent misery, Payne decided.

Guy answered his direct line on the second ring. “McCann.”

“It’s me,” Payne told him. “I need you to run a plate for me.”

“Sure. What’s up?”

Payne gave him the abbreviated version, glossing over the galling him-driving-a-Bug bit, hoping that Guy wouldn’t notice. If he did, he’d roast him unmercifully. “She’s in a rental. Run a complete background check. I want to know what’s going on here.” Probably his biggest understatement to date, he thought, annoyed at how thoroughly tied up a petty prank had gotten him.

“You think she’s the ‘something’ Garrett was hiding from you?” Guy asked, predictably following his line of thinking.

Payne carefully negotiated traffic, noted once again that she’d taken the same route he would have followed to the B&B. Another niggling suspicion began to form. He frowned. “I think there are one too many coincidences happening here,” he said grimly.

“I’ll take care of it and get back with you ASAP.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it.”

Guy laughed. “You ought to appreciate me not ragging you about your rental car. Hell, I’d give up a nut for a picture of that.”

Payne fought a smile. “You’d have to sacrifice both nuts and your drill bit, partner. Trust me, it’s not worth it.”

Still laughing under his breath, Guy disconnected.

Traffic thinned along route fifteen, leaving Payne with no other choice but to fall in behind her. She could hardly fail to notice him there and he had to wonder if she was beginning to get a little spooked. Though he couldn’t tell for certain--he was too low and she was too tall--he thought he saw her check her rearview mirror.

Five minutes later, she turned off of Emmitsburg Road--which went through the center of historic Pickett’s Charge--onto a long, winding driveway which led to The Dove’s Nest Bed and Breakfast. Situated less than five miles from Gettysburg proper, the old B&B was a perfect place for history-loving tourists...or greedy Civil War buffs in search of the next coup of their collection, Payne silently added as he pulled the Bug right up next to her in the designated parking area.

With a galling amount of effort, he got out of the car, leaned an arm against the door, and peered at her from across the roof.

Looking distinctly uneasy, she climbed out of the Hummer and shot him what could only be described as a sick glance.

“Imagine that,” he said, smiling wolfishly at her. “We’re staying at the same place.”

She managed a weak smile and even weaker shrug. “What were the odds?”

Exactly, Payne thought.

 

*   *   *

 

Emma had been a trifle nervous when she’d watched Brian Payne walk briskly to his rental car--he’d been in too much of a hurry for her comfort. With each step that she’d taken away from the airport and toward the Hummer, the more she’d realized that she’d made a serious tactical error.

Yes, seeing him crammed into that little car was gratifyingly hilarious, but in the end, the petty act had only served to put that legendary brain of his into suspicion-mode. Even from a safe distance in the Hummer she’d felt it.

Then, as she’d lessened the distance between herself and the Dove’s Nest--the lovely B&B she’d gone online and chosen as her home base for the next several days--and he’d kept tailing her, a horrible thought had struck and had only been confirmed when she was less than five miles from her ultimate destination. On a whim, Emma had called ahead to the Dove’s Nest and had asked to be connected with Brian Payne’s room. She’d been told that he hadn’t checked in yet and asked would she like to leave a message for him upon his arrival.

Er...that was a big fat negative.

At that point the prudent thing to have done would have undoubtedly been to find a different place to stay. Unfortunately, “prudent” had never been one of her strong points and she’d become quite enamored of staying at the old B&B. She’d even selected her room from the beautiful photographs on the Web site. It was a rare indulgence--one made doubly wonderful by the fact that Hastings was picking up the tab--and she hadn’t wanted to change her plans merely to accommodate Brian Payne.

Furthermore, it smacked of cowardice--of running--and therefore was completely against her nature.

Clearly her one advantage was going to come to a swift premature end, but that only meant that she’d have to step up her game. She could do it, Emma knew. Payne might be legendary--might be good--but she needed it more. Or at least that’s what she planned to tell herself because she had every intention of beating him to the pocket watch, collecting the final ten grand from Colonel Hastings and getting on with the rest of her life.

Since leaving the Army, Emma had been so focused on helping her mother that she hadn’t had the time to properly think about what it was she’d ultimately like to do with her life. She’d been too busy making ends meet to come up with a career plan, to nurse a dream. But Hastings timely arrival had awakened an old ambition last night, one she hadn’t thought about in years, but had been dusted off and polished and it suddenly shined like the hope of a brand new toy.

Vet school.

That’s what she wanted to do. She’d always had a strong affinity for animals, generally related to animals of the four-legged variety better than to those who walked on two. Though her father had never had any special training, he’d always had a special bond with animals as well. She supposed she inherited the knack from him. She and her mother had lost him in a farming accident when she’d been eleven, a loss that still haunted her today.

Despite being an attractive woman with brains and wit, Lena had never remarried. John Edward Langston had been the love of her life and when she lost him that had simply been it for her. Though she knew her mother had to get lonely from time to time, had even gently suggested that her mother date, Lena had always given her a sad little smile and said, “My heart’s just not in it, honey.”

Because it was buried on Beacon Hill with her daddy, Emma thought now. Did she think of that her father would want her mother to be lonely? No. But wow to be loved so thoroughly that the need to look for a replacement was simply out of the question. She remembered her parents, remembered how happy they’d been together and a wistful tug pulled at her heart. When the time came, that’s what she wanted. She wanted to be thoroughly loved.

Emma’s lips twisted. Of course, so far all she’d managed to be was partially loved. Other than one relatively serious relationship when she’d first joined the military, she had little experience in love. Unfortunately finding a guy who wasn’t intimidated by her drive had been a lot tougher than she would have imagined. Not something she thought she’d encounter in the Army, but in the end she supposed boys were going to be boys no matter what the situation.

The first time she’d out-performed David that had been the end of their relationship. Though they’d been together more than a year and he’d been her first, he hadn’t even given her the courtesy of a face-to-face break-up--the little weasel had sent her a text message.

An army of one, my ass, Emma thought now. The coward.

Her gaze inexplicably slid to Payne, who was grabbing his gear from the back seat of the Bug. He wouldn’t be a coward, she thought, feeling another rush of sexual attraction skip up her spine. Her lips twisted in a wry smile. Of course, by all accounts he was the most emotionally unavailable man on the planet, so he didn’t have to be a coward, did he? He didn’t invest anything and made it clear that he wasn’t going to. Though it seemed a little cold to Emma, at least he was forthright. That was admirable, at any rate.

Furthermore, given the way her nipples tingled and her thighs melted every time he shot one of those cool blue looks at her, she could honestly imagine lust trumping common sense in favor of a night spent in his bed.

And coming from her that was saying something.

While she enjoyed good sex just as much as the next person, she’d always been too busy and too selective to have what one would call an active sex life. In fact, for the past year and some odd months, she hadn’t had a sex life at all. David, quite honestly, had left a bad taste in her mouth and, other than the requisite ricochet lay with a guy who’d been a good friend--compliments of a several self-pity cocktails of Jose Quervo--she’d been celibate.

In short, Emma was exceedingly picky about who she shared her body with and, while she had no romantic illusions about being passionately in love first, she had too much self-respect to simply open up shop for any old customer. Unlike a lot of her modern counterparts, she wasn’t a convenience store, but preferred to think of herself an upscale boutique whom only catered to worthy patrons. The idea drew a small smile.

“Do you need some help?” Payne asked her, stopping in front of the Hummer.

Still a gentleman, even after she’d made him rent that little car. That was sexy, too. Emma shook her head. “No thanks. I’ve only got the one bag.”

“Only one? How long are you staying?”

It was an off-hand natural question and yet she knew he was fishing. “That depends,” she said evasively. She grabbed her own bag, her purse and her laptop, then closed the door and locked up the Hummer.

“Depends on what?”

“How long it takes me to see everything I want to see,” she said, not altogether lying. She wanted to see a pocket-watch before she left.

He inclined his head, waited on her to join him at the front of the vehicle, presumably so they could walk in together. She had an eerie feeling this was a portent of things to come. Hell, he’d practically dogged her every step since the airport. Shaking him wasn’t going to be an easy task, particularly when her body was staging a rebellion against her--it was more inclined to shake...on top of him.

“What about you?” Emma decided to ask, hoping to derail her current line of thought. “How long are you in town?”

They rounded the side of the house, made their way around to the front gate, which he obligingly held open for her. “A week, tops,” he said.

Oh, goody, Emma thought. A week of torture. Sweet Lord, she had to find that damned pocket-watch first. “Is this your first trip to Gettysburg?”

He nodded. “What about you? First trip, also?”

“It is.”

He smiled and shot her a humorous look which made the hair on her upper arms stand on end. “Amazing how much we have in common, isn’t it?”

You have no idea, Emma thought, but managed a simple smile rather than retort. Then again, he probably did. That’s why he’d latched onto her and had no intention of letting go until he found out all of her secrets. Then who knows what would happen?

One of two scenarios, she imagined--he’d either pack up his toys and move to another sand box in order to keep her in the dark about his own progress on finding the pocket watch. Or he’d adhere to the old keep-your-friends-close-and-your-enemies-closer adage and insist on playing with her so that he could keep tabs on her.

Perversely--because she was a horny moron, she supposed--she sincerely hoped it was the latter.

Emma huddled further into her jacket as they climbed the front steps to the old stone farmhouse. A historical plaque next to the door said “Circa 1808” and the bright afternoon sun illuminated the various copper pots of pansies and other blooming winter flowers situated around the roomy porch.

Before Payne could grab the door-knob a short, plump older woman wearing a quilted multi-colored brocade pantsuit, a wild hat sporting peacock feathers and lots of gaudy jewelry barreled out, preceded by an enormous pot-bellied pig, who’d been dressed in a matching outfit, right down to the hat and pearls.

A startled laugh escaped before Emma could check it.

“Mind your manners, Matilda, you ornery old hog,” the woman chided. “Don’t run over them.” She looked at Emma and Payne. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Tilda thinks she owns whatever path she’s on. I’m Judith, by the way. My sister and her husband own the Dove’s Nest, so Tilda and I are frequent visitors. I also conduct the ghost stories on Friday evenings. Hope to see you there,” she said, then stumbled forward and grunted as her pig lunged once more for the steps. “Bye,” she called hurriedly over her shoulder.

Emma and Payne stared dumbly at each other for a full five seconds before they both burst into laughter.

“Ghost stories?” Payne finally said, casting a glance at the house.

Emma nodded. “There are reportedly two resident ghosts residing at the Dove’s Nest. It’s all on their Web site. What?” she asked at his skeptical glance. “Don’t you believe in ghosts?”

“I’ve never met one.”

Emma poked her tongue in her cheek. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

She knew the instant the words left her mouth that it’d been the wrong thing to say, that her definition of “lucky” and his held two completely different meanings.

Wry humor sparked like a hot blue flame in those wintry eyes and the smallest hint of a sexy smile caught the corner of his supremely carnal lips, making her belly alternately knot and whirl. “Maybe I will.”

And with that enigmatic, loaded comment he opened the door for her, ushering her inside.

The question was...to what? Her doom or desire?

With her luck, probably both.