Woman Of Innocence

Her heart began skipping beats as she continued to rapidly scan the information. She was being assigned to interview all volunteer candidates at the Black Jaguar Base who would want to work undercover for Perseus on an upcoming mission along the Mexican-American border. She was to lead this mission! Her! She was to interview all the pilots and then select the three she considered best qualified for the tasks. It was a level one mission, which meant there was no risk or danger to it.

Morgan traded a warm look with Laura. He turned his attention back to Jenny, whose head was still bent over the file as she read voraciously. She nervously chewed on her full lower lip, and her thin, arched brows worked up and down as she read. She had a very open, readable face, and Morgan enjoyed watching her response.

“Jenny, we felt that you’ve worked here long enough to undertake a safe, but very necessary mission for Perseus,” he told her in an authoritative voice. Jenny lifted her chin, her full attention on him. Morgan saw tears in her eyes. He felt Laura gently squeeze his shoulder. “We know you’ve dreamed of going on a mission rather than just sitting here behind your desk processing orders and reports. I felt that if you undertook a mission, that would help you understand your job here better. And Laura felt this was a worthy birthday gift to you. Is it?”

Choking on tears, Jenny fought them back. Her gaze swung from Morgan’s gentle look to Laura’s proud and smiling features. She knew in her heart that Laura had engineered this. “I—I don’t know what to say….”

“Yes will suffice.” Morgan chuckled indulgently.

“But…how do you know I’m up for it? I mean, I’m not a trained merc. I have no experience in the military. I’ve never picked up a pistol to fire it….” She suddenly stood up, gripping the file to her chest, and her voice went off-key with anxiety. “Oh, I know I’ve told you a million times I wished for a chance to go on a mission…but I know better. I really do. I know I’m a big ’fraidy-cat, not a hero or heroine like the wonderful people you employ, Morgan. I’m a mouse. A plain, dull little mouse with absolutely no military background like your mercenaries.”

Laura smiled gently. “Not all missions require military might, Jenny. You have a degree in psychology. We felt that you were the best qualified person for this mission. You’ve been here a year with us and you know the routine. And you’ve also met most of our employees and know the type of people we’re looking for.” Laura pointed to the folder Jenny held in a death grip against her chest. “Major Maya Stevenson has agreed to let you and your partner come down to her base and interview any interested Boeing Apache helicopter pilots who may want to take part in these upcoming missions.”

Stymied, her heart beating hard in her chest because she’d never in a million years believed she’d be given a merc mission, Jenny said in a wobbly voice, “But, Laura, I don’t know anything about the military except what I’ve learned here. I wouldn’t know how to assess the volunteers….” She gave Laura a panicked look.

Morgan cleared his throat. “That’s why Matt Davis has been assigned. He’s ex-Navy SEAL. He knows the military and he also knows what we’re looking for on this mission. He can help you with the type of questions you might want to pose to the volunteers, as well as guide you in your selection. Of course, you are the team leader and he’s your assistant. In the end, your judgment, your choices, are the ones we’ll go with.”

“Oh dear…” Jenny quickly sat down before she fell down from the shock of it all. What a birthday gift! Going on a merc mission. It was one of those silly, idealistic dreams she held secret within her heart, one she never believed would come true. Shaking her head, she muttered more to herself than to them, “All my life, I’ve dreamed of doing something heroic…something that would help others….”

“We felt you deserved this opportunity,” Morgan said genially. He grinned as Jenny looked over at him. Her large blue eyes were huge with shock and wonder. “Will you accept your birthday gift so we can get on with cutting the cake?”

Laughing breathlessly, Jenny leaped from the chair. “Of course. Wow! I’m in shock. I mean, I really am! I never dreamed of this…oh, I mean I did, but I never thought my dream would come true.” And she smiled bashfully at them. Putting the file aside, she picked up the serving knife and pulled a white china plate with gold trim from the stack at her elbow.

Chuckling, Morgan said, “You’ve earned the chance, Jenny. And you can cut me an extra large piece, please.”

“Morgan,” Laura warned lightly, “you’re trying to watch your waistline, darling. Remember?”

Giving the white frosted cake a fond look, he said, “Just a little larger than usual? Chocolate cake is my favorite.”

With a short laugh, Jenny sliced him a large piece. Dropping it onto the plate, she said, “Listen, you deserve a big piece for giving me this chance. I promise you I won’t let you down—I really won’t.”

And yet, as she cut Laura a much thinner slice of the cake at her request, Jenny was already feeling deep angst. Could she do this? How? She’d never done anything like it before. Yet there wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t yearn, heart and soul, to take off on a mission with a merc.

Oh, she had such fantasies! Most of the male mercs were young, in their twenties, and they were such good-looking men! Jenny, being single, had a tough time not staring boldly at them like a dog slavering over a nice, big, juicy T-bone steak at times. It took everything she had to keep her eyes on her work, remain professional and not stare like a love-struck teenager at some of the handsome hunks who came through the office.

Her respect and admiration for the women mercs, all of whom had come from the military, was equally high. They were all so poised, and confidence radiated from them like strong rays from the sun. How many times had Jenny ached to have an ounce of their self-assurance and poise? In comparison, she saw herself as little more than a scared mouse underfoot. They were all intelligent, too. She knew because she often, in her spare moments, pored over their résumés. The names of the colleges, universities and military academies, were a stunning tribute. Most had graduated from the top ten schools in the United States—a fact that made Jenny that much more respectful and admiring of them. And unlike her, these women were not afraid of anything. They were simply amazing, and Jenny wished many times she had just a little of their courage, their heroism, the guts and brains they had that made their missions successful.

As she cut several more pieces of the cake, she felt her foundation shifting beneath her like quicksand. And yet she had to look strong and appear as if she could pull off this mission. Above all, she couldn’t disappoint Morgan. Or Laura, who often patted her on the shoulder and told her how much she was like the women mercs who came through their office. Jenny couldn’t see any comparison. What did Laura see in her that she didn’t see in herself?

Biting her lower lip, she looked up. Morgan was already digging gingerly into his piece of cake. Laura had sat down next to him and was spreading a linen napkin across her lap.

“Would you like me to distribute the cake to the rest of the office?” Jenny asked.

Morgan shook his head. “No, you just sit down and enjoy your cake with us. I’m going to ask Roy to come in and do that. Today is your day, Jenny. Besides, you’re no longer my assistant. You’re a merc on a mission now.”

With a smile she didn’t feel, Jenny tried to sit there and concentrate on eating the cake. She tasted none of it, because her stomach was filled with fluttering butterflies and her heart beat erratically. Her emotions skidded from euphoria to sheer terror. Oh, what if she failed at this? She couldn’t stand disappointing Morgan or Laura.

Roy came in, somber and respectful, and wished Jenny a happy birthday. She responded with a smile and thanks as she watched the tall, silver-haired man troop back and forth with plates in hand for the rest of the hard-working office staff outside the doors of the war room. Jenny saw a man, very tall, deeply suntanned, come to a standstill in the doorway after Roy had left with a final piece of cake for himself. It was Matt Davis, she realized, recognizing him as he scanned the room with storm-colored gray eyes. The very merc she’d tripped all over the other day in Morgan’s office!

“Matt, come in,” Morgan called, and waved him in. “You’re just in time.” He pointed to the last plate with a slice of cake on it. “Come and have a piece of Jenny’s birthday cake. It’s time you were properly introduced to your new partner.”

Nodding, Matt moved silently into the room. He closed the door quietly behind him. His eyes smarted and burned. Right now, he didn’t want to be here. All he wanted was twenty-four hours of uninterrupted sleep. “Yes, sir,” he murmured, and turned toward the long, oval table.

Jenny held her breath. Matt Davis. The famous Matt Davis. He was one of Morgan’s very best mercs—a level four. She’d known his résumé by heart even before he’d come to meet with Morgan. Now, as she studied his eyes, they glittered with a hard intelligence, making her nerves skitter and her pulse race. With his wide, oval face and jutting jaw, that strong nose and full mouth, he was one of the handsomest men she’d ever seen. And he was being assigned to work with her!

Jenny did everything possible to hide her feelings and not stare at him like a lovelorn teenybopper. But how could she help herself? He looked more handsome today than ever, dressed in a pair of comfortable dark brown chinos, a charcoal gray polo shirt beneath a buckskin suede sport coat and black leather cowboy boots. His hair, a raw umber color, was closely cropped in typical military tradition, and the conservative cut emphasized his rugged features. He moved like a prowling cougar across the room toward them, with a sense of tightly coiled energy surrounding him. His assessing eyes never left hers. How did he feel about working with her? Judging from the harsh slant of his mouth, he didn’t like it one bit. Jenny cowered within herself, clutching the plate in her lap as if it were a liferaft on a storm-tossed sea.

“Matt, meet Jenny, your boss and teammate for this upcoming mission,” Morgan said with a genial smile.

Matt halted in front of blond-haired Jenny. She could barely meet his gaze, she seemed so shy. What a tiny thing she was. He remembered her from the other day in Morgan’s office when he’d come to Perseus to receive his next assignment. Hell, she wasn’t a merc. Even now she was cowering before him and struggling to look confident. Her chin trembled, tearing at his heavily guarded heart.

“Good to meet you again,” Matt rumbled, and he stuck out his hand. Jenny blushed at his reference to their earlier meeting.

Morgan had warned him not to make waves or let Jenny know he really didn’t want this assignment with her. She was not a professional merc. She wasn’t even in the military.

Jenny gathered her rapidly dissolving courage, lifted her chin and forced herself to stare up into those large, glittering gray eyes of Matt Davis. After all, he wouldn’t want a coward for a partner. His hand was so large! she thought as he enfolded it around her petite one. Nevertheless, she accepted his firm, yet careful grip. Cringing inwardly, she knew her own hands were cool and damp with nervousness. His flesh was hard and warm and dry. He wasn’t nervous at all.

For a brief, flitting moment, Jenny saw an unknown emotion glint in his assessing eyes. What was it? Disdain? Did he want to curl his lip because she wasn’t really a merc? Not a military trained person, but a secretary fulfilling a romantic dream?

Anxiously, she searched his face for some sign of his true feelings toward her and this mission. She saw nothing except that one flicker of emotion in his gray eyes, which were focused on her. As she shook his hand, the plate containing her cake slid off her lap.

“Oh!” she cried. Leaping up, she instantly released his hand. In leaping, she misjudged the space and bumped into the table with her hip, tottering off balance. Strong, warm hands caught her by the shoulders, lifted her off her feet and set her down again.

Gulping, Jenny couldn’t look up at Matt. He must be laughing at her. She was such a klutz! “Thank you,” she whispered, completely humiliated once more in his presence. As Matt released her, Jenny crouched down to begin the process of sweeping the cake and frosting off the tightly woven, wheat-colored carpet and putting it back on the plate. Her flesh tingled wildly where his roughened fingers had touched her. Heat swam through her, and she felt a bit dizzy after unexpected contact with him. Matt had lifted her up as if she were a feather.

Laura came around the table and helped her pick up the rest of the errant crumbs. “Accidents happen, Jenny,” she whispered gently. “It’s okay. Let me help you.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jenny breathed apologetically. “I’m so clumsy….”

Chuckling, Laura said, “Don’t worry about it.”

Matt walked around the two women and went over to the sideboard, where a pot of coffee was kept warm. He picked up one of the white mugs in preference to the flowery china cups. Giving Morgan a sideways glance, he saw his boss smile slightly. Matt knew that look and that smile. It was a nonverbal order for him to say nothing—and to be kind—and patient with Jenny.

After pouring the coffee, Matt turned and stood with cup in hand and watched the two women clean up the mess on the carpet. Jenny was petite, like a fine-boned bird. He saw her hands tremble slightly as she got to her feet. Touching her flaming red cheek, she unwittingly deposited a splotch of white frosting on her face. Jenny reminded him of a rabbit—a creature without defenses, completely vulnerable. But then, Matt warned himself, no woman was defenseless. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

Jenny rushed out of the room and down the hall to the rest room, where she dampened some paper towels. Matt Davis was so tall, so strong and silent. She could feel him watching her every move. Oh, why had she wished for a mission? This was just awful. She’d embarrassed herself in front of everyone, when she desperately wanted them to think she was in command of her life and confident. Now she looked like the bumbling klutz she’d been all her life. Matt wouldn’t respect her for that. Not at all.

Reentering the room, she saw that Laura had sat back down next to Morgan. She was smiling maternally toward her, and it made Jenny feel a tad better. But not much. Morgan gave her a look that said: relax. Matt was looking at her as if she was an alien that had stepped off another planet. She felt like a bug beneath his dark gray microscope gaze. What must he think of her? He had to be silently laughing at her.

Getting down on her hands and knees, she scrubbed the frosting off the carpet. To her surprise, she saw a pair of thick, chino-clad thighs sink down very close to her—Matt, crouching beside her.

“Here, you missed a spot.”

His deep voice vibrated through her as Jenny rocked back on her heels to meet his gaze. Wet paper towels clutched in her hands, she looked up…up into warm gray eyes that made her feel suddenly weak and wonderful. When he used his callused thumb to brush away a smudge of frosting from her left cheek, she inhaled sharply, not expecting this kind of intimacy or care from him. A tender smile lurked at the corners of his mouth as he held up the offending frosting on his thumb.

“Oh…dear…it’s all over me, too…” Great! She couldn’t even say anything intelligent, much less coherent. She sounded like a breathless, starstruck teenager who’d been touched by her Hollywood idol. Well, hadn’t she been? Hadn’t she had a crush for Matt Davis for the whole year she’d been here? Yes…but the three times he’d come to her desk for assignment details, he’d treated her coolly, without smiling. Certainly, he hadn’t recognized her as a flesh and blood person sitting behind that desk. And the other day she’d practically landed in his lap!

Now, he seemed different. She saw the amusement, the warmth lingering in his eyes as he held his thumb up with the offending white frosting on it. Heat soared up her neck into her face.