Raven on the Wing by Kay Hooper Page A

taken no more than half a dozen steps across the deep white carpet, when he came silently out of her bedroom.
    “You took a chance,” she said. “Leon might have come in with me.”
    “That’s why I was in the bedroom.” He glanced toward the player, then lifted a questioning brow.
    “There’s a bug in those flowers,” she explained, trying to keep her voice steady. “The player jams it.”
    “Any more bugs in here?” He was moving toward her, unable to keep his eyes off the stunning picture she made in a lime green silk sheath that glimmered in the faint lamplight and made her eyes a mysterious shade that was nearly green.
    He had almost forgotten his role hours earlier because of how lovely she looked.
    “No.” She cleared her throat, discovering that it didn’t help the huskiness of her voice. “I check every day.”
    “I was careful,” he told her, halting an arm’s length away to gaze down at her. “I know more than I want to about covert operations and the like; I didn’t make a sound until you came in. But I couldn’t stay away.” He took her hand, looking down at the slim, ringless fingers, then led her to the couch and pulled her gently down beside him. “Did Travers buy it?”
    “Yes, I’m almost sure he did.”
    “Almost,” Josh noted bleakly. “You can never be sure of anything in your work, can you?”
    “I’m sure of myself.” Her voice was steady, though still husky. “I have to be. I spend somuch time building an image of myself for other people to believe that I’d get lost if I weren’t sure of who I really am.”
    Josh leaned back, still holding her hand, looking at her. “Tell me about Raven,” he murmured. “Tell me about the life that shaped such a remarkable woman.”
    Raven looked down at their clasped hands for a moment, watching his thumb brush over hers again and again, almost a compulsive movement, and she was very conscious of the intimacy between them. The quiet apartment. The darkness of night outside. The feeling that they had locked out danger for a while. Returning her gaze to his, she had to swallow suddenly, because she had never seen such a look in a man’s eyes before.
    “It’s … an ordinary life, most of it,” she answered at last. “I’m a service brat; Pop was career army, stationed all over the world. I had an aptitude for languages—or maybe it was just exposure. I picked up half a dozen languages by the time I was sixteen. Tara was my older sister. We were close.”
    His hand tightened on hers, and Raven shook off the dark thoughts. She managed a laugh. “My name isn’t Anderson, by the way. It’s O’Malley. I stick with my first name as often as I can; it makes things simpler.”
    Josh, even though he was conscious of the danger surrounding her and aware of the urge to grab what he could because there very well might be no tomorrow for them, kept an iron rein on the demands of his desire. He had seen shadows in her eyes whenever she remembered her sister, but he didn’t have to be told this lovely woman had seen too much these last years to have escaped being scarred by other things.
    Thinking of that, he said quietly, “You’ve given up a great deal for your work. A personal life. Even a secure identity. Friends who know who you are. A home. Or is there a home you go back to?”
    She shook her head. “Not really. My parents live in Seattle, but they don’t know what I’m doing; I didn’t want to worry them. I had an apartment at first, but it hardly seemed worth the bother. I was rarely in it. Hagen’s team is asmall one, so we’re all—well, utilized pretty frequently. I’m out of the country more often than in.”
    “The other apartment,” Josh said slowly. “Does it really belong to friends?”
    Her smile was brief, mirthless. “No. The manager thinks so, of course; I had all the proper authorization. The tenants went through a reputable agency to sublet; they have no idea that their apartment is being used as a