the man who’d been within a hairsbreadth of laying her on the plane’s floor and making love to her? Maybe he really does have a wife. She cleared her throat to mask her discomfiture. “How long will that take?”
“Depends how busy they are this morning. Generally, the private plane passengers receive preferential treatment.”
A uniformed man appeared in the plane’s rear door. “Welcome to the U S of A,” he said, sounding more fatigued than jovial. “When will you require the plane again, sir?”
Lars glanced at what appeared to be a very expensive wristwatch. “It is nearly six thirty a.m. Shall we say between four and five this afternoon?”
“Which would you prefer, sir?”
“We can split the difference. Have her prepared to roll at four thirty.”
“You got it. Are you and the lady ready to deplane?”
Lars quirked an eyebrow at her; Tamara nodded. The man stepped aside, and she walked down the stairs and into an enormous hangar. She turned to Lars, who was right behind her. “Why are we inside?”
“It is better for the airplanes to be out of the weather, but the real reason is it allows customs to search for contraband, and lessens the odds of someone smuggling anything into the country.”
She glanced about. “Where do we go?”
He pointed and then placed a hand beneath her elbow. “Last door at the end of the hangar.”
Customs went as smoothly as everything else. Lars hadn’t been joking when he’d told her flying this way would spoil her forever. “What’s next?” she asked.
“Follow me.”
They took an elevator to a well-appointed, private lounge with a killer view of the runway. He held a brief discussion with a young blonde woman behind a counter before joining her. “I have rented us a small suite for the day. My company has an apartment in the city, but I do not wish to take the time to travel to it.” His gray gaze bored into her. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“I guess so.” She pursed her lips together. “I still think…” He laid a hand over her mouth, forestalling the rest of her words. “Now you look here.” She drew away and kept her voice low. “You cannot be treating me as if I were a child.”
He bent close and spoke near her ear. “Please, fraulein . We do not want to draw attention to ourselves. Our rooms are very close. Just down that hallway.”
She took a measured breath. If he hadn’t tossed in that bit about her being in danger, she would have just picked up her suitcase and lost herself in the crowd. As it was, maybe she should hang around long enough to see what he knew. She’d been assessing him surreptitiously while he spoke to the blonde, and his insistence that she stay didn’t feel like a trap. Sincerity all but shimmered about him. “All right.” She jerked her chin upward. “Lead out.”
His relief was palpable. He held the door of the lounge open and ushered her down a long hallway, up a half flight of stairs, and to a door marked 15-C. After a momentary grapple, he pulled an electronic key card from an inner jacket pocket and swiped it across a panel next to the door.
She stepped through once the door swung inward, and her jaw fell open. She wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but the well-appointed suite laid out before her rivaled her accommodations in Monte Carlo. Beige and off-white sofas with plump, colorful cushions were arranged around a big screen television. A small kitchen sat off to one side with stainless steel appliances and a rectangular table. Across from the kitchen were two closed doors, presumably a bedroom and bath.
She dropped her suitcase and purse, and spun to face Lars, who had just closed the suite’s door and activated the deadbolt. “Tell me about the danger. Now.”
“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” He divested himself of his valise and computer bag, tossing both onto the floor near a coffee table.
“No. The sooner you tell me what you know, the sooner I can
“Depends how busy they are this morning. Generally, the private plane passengers receive preferential treatment.”
A uniformed man appeared in the plane’s rear door. “Welcome to the U S of A,” he said, sounding more fatigued than jovial. “When will you require the plane again, sir?”
Lars glanced at what appeared to be a very expensive wristwatch. “It is nearly six thirty a.m. Shall we say between four and five this afternoon?”
“Which would you prefer, sir?”
“We can split the difference. Have her prepared to roll at four thirty.”
“You got it. Are you and the lady ready to deplane?”
Lars quirked an eyebrow at her; Tamara nodded. The man stepped aside, and she walked down the stairs and into an enormous hangar. She turned to Lars, who was right behind her. “Why are we inside?”
“It is better for the airplanes to be out of the weather, but the real reason is it allows customs to search for contraband, and lessens the odds of someone smuggling anything into the country.”
She glanced about. “Where do we go?”
He pointed and then placed a hand beneath her elbow. “Last door at the end of the hangar.”
Customs went as smoothly as everything else. Lars hadn’t been joking when he’d told her flying this way would spoil her forever. “What’s next?” she asked.
“Follow me.”
They took an elevator to a well-appointed, private lounge with a killer view of the runway. He held a brief discussion with a young blonde woman behind a counter before joining her. “I have rented us a small suite for the day. My company has an apartment in the city, but I do not wish to take the time to travel to it.” His gray gaze bored into her. “Does that meet with your approval?”
“I guess so.” She pursed her lips together. “I still think…” He laid a hand over her mouth, forestalling the rest of her words. “Now you look here.” She drew away and kept her voice low. “You cannot be treating me as if I were a child.”
He bent close and spoke near her ear. “Please, fraulein . We do not want to draw attention to ourselves. Our rooms are very close. Just down that hallway.”
She took a measured breath. If he hadn’t tossed in that bit about her being in danger, she would have just picked up her suitcase and lost herself in the crowd. As it was, maybe she should hang around long enough to see what he knew. She’d been assessing him surreptitiously while he spoke to the blonde, and his insistence that she stay didn’t feel like a trap. Sincerity all but shimmered about him. “All right.” She jerked her chin upward. “Lead out.”
His relief was palpable. He held the door of the lounge open and ushered her down a long hallway, up a half flight of stairs, and to a door marked 15-C. After a momentary grapple, he pulled an electronic key card from an inner jacket pocket and swiped it across a panel next to the door.
She stepped through once the door swung inward, and her jaw fell open. She wasn’t certain what she’d expected, but the well-appointed suite laid out before her rivaled her accommodations in Monte Carlo. Beige and off-white sofas with plump, colorful cushions were arranged around a big screen television. A small kitchen sat off to one side with stainless steel appliances and a rectangular table. Across from the kitchen were two closed doors, presumably a bedroom and bath.
She dropped her suitcase and purse, and spun to face Lars, who had just closed the suite’s door and activated the deadbolt. “Tell me about the danger. Now.”
“Would you care for something to eat or drink?” He divested himself of his valise and computer bag, tossing both onto the floor near a coffee table.
“No. The sooner you tell me what you know, the sooner I can
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