Mission: Out of Control by Susan May Warren

Msg received. Finding help.
    The next two arrived only five minutes ago. Maybe that was what triggered her dream.
    Cmptr Hlp found. Prague.
    And:
    Next concert date?
    She replied, then deleted the communication.
    By the time she got out of the shower, a final message appeared. Meet after concert, at Tyn Church. Old Towne Square.
    Old Towne Square, home of the famous Gothic church with the two black-roofed towers that reminded her of some Disney movie. She’d been there before—her concert venue happened to be only a few blocks away. Yes.
    See? This didn’t have to be a disaster.
    She went to the window, watching traffic negotiate Friedrich Strasse. Yesterday’s rain had turned the city sparkly and fresh. The oaks and maples were a crisp green, the geraniums deep red in their planters.
    And the smell of eggs sizzling in butter nearly turned her inside out. She didn’t bother with makeup—just pulled on her jeans and a T-shirt, took a breath, and forayed into the suite.
    Indeed, Brody stood in the tiny makeshift kitchen cooking. He had little ramekins of onion, green pepper, mushrooms, cheese and bacon bits lined up on the counter, like some sort of short-order cook.
    â€œWhat’s this?”
    Brody looked like he might smile, but he bit it back.
    â€œThere will be no more fancy eating in the main dining room, although I know how you love the kringle buffet. However you’ll just have to settle for room service…or just ordinary me. Care for an omelet? I make a pretty mean one, even if it is only the basics.”
    Of course he did. What didn’t he do well? “The works, please.”
    He raised an eyebrow but nodded. “As you wish.”Then he poured the egg batter in the hot pan. The omelet sizzled as it cooked.
    â€œI didn’t know omelets came with your services. It’s not in the brochure.”
    He didn’t look at her as he poured her a glass of juice, setting it before her. “There’s a lot not listed in the brochure.” He then let half the smile free. “Including a listening ear. But I’m pretty good at that if you want to air out your thoughts.”
    Oh, don’t do this. Don’t be nice. She considered his tousled dark hair and the fact that, yes, he appeared to have slept by her door, the big bulldog.
    She’d have to keep her wits about her if she hoped to sneak away again. She picked up the paper, pretending to read the front page. She couldn’t be friendly—he’d only see through that, even if she meant it. And if she were belligerent, he’d only get more suspicious.
    She’d have to get creative. Somehow.
    â€œSorry about the picture on page eight.”
    She turned to it, and found her backside smack in the center of the page. Another shot featured her hand connecting with Brody’s cheek. “I’ve seen the second one before.”
    â€œIt seems to be our trademark.”
    She couldn’t ignore the strange feeling that slipped through her at those words.
    â€œSorry about the other one, though,” he said, slipping her omelet onto a plate. “I guess there’s no hiding out now.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI’d hoped to keep you—and me—out of the tabloids.” He handed her the plate, along with a napkin roll, a fork and knife tucked inside.
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause then whoever might hurt you knows what I look like. They know I’m looking out for you. Generally, bodyguards like to stay under the radar.”
    â€œOh. Sorry.”
    He turned back to the kitchen. “Vonya’s not a real under-the-radar gal. I shouldn’t have set my sights so high.”
    She wasn’t sure why, but his words felt delivered up with sharp objects embedded in them. “I’ll…I’ll try to stay out of trouble.”
    He picked up an orange and tossed it in his hand. “Yep.” Then he began to peel it.
    She wasn’t sure