Bulletproof Bride - By Diana Duncan Page 0,37

to stroll nonchalantly toward him.

His head snapped up at her entrance, his face expressionless.

"Dale will meet us there. I said you were nervous and wanted to arrive with me." The lie had stuck in her throat, but as usual, Dale had affably agreed.

Gabe draped her soft wool shawl over her shoulders with efficient, impersonal hands before escorting her outside. "Remember to stay in my sight at all times. I'll be watching Trask and his sons. Those three have main vault access."

He opened the car door and Tessa slid into the Jaguar. She pressed her hands to her abdomen. "I hate suspecting my coworkers of such horrible crimes. It makes my stomach hurt."

His mouth tightened. "Betrayal is ugly." Her throat constricted at the pain in his eyes. He looked like he had firsthand knowledge. She'd seen hints of the darkness that lurked under his lighthearted manner. Was he haunted by his life-or-death job? Or something more personal?

Either way, he wouldn't tell her. Whatever burdens he carried, he seemed determined to shoulder them alone. Her heart aching, she watched him stroll around the front of the Jag with his deceptively graceful walk. "Are you all right?" she asked as he started the engine.

His strangely flat gaze roved over her face before returning to the road. "I'm fine. Watch out for yourself."

His warning rang in her ears with double meaning. She was on the verge of starting a new life, the life she'd always wanted. She couldn't afford to ruin it by getting personally involved with him. "I'm learning."

He didn't respond. Instead, he slid a CD into the player. Mick Jagger serenaded them all the way to the Chantal Ballroom. You can't always get what you want. Profound words.

Gabe stopped the Jag in front of the valet parking sign. He climbed out and handed his valet key to the attendant. Squaring his shoulders, he consciously focused his thoughts. Showtime.

Behind them, Trask stepped out of a new Porsche, followed by a tall redhead who could pass for playmate of the month.

Gabe whistled. "A Porsche. Bank managers must make pretty good wages these days. Or—"

"Mr. Trask?" Tessa whispered? "Do you think he's the one?"

"We'll definitely keep an eye on him." At least until Gabe's boss faxed all the suspects' tax returns. Gabe's request had been delayed by an IRS computer glitch and the usual end of the fiscal-year jam. Even the highest government clearance couldn't force the IRS into efficiency.

He placed his hand on the small of Tessa's back and escorted her into the foyer. At the coat check, she handed over her wrap. As she bent her head the chandelier's muted glow caressed the velvety nape of her neck.

His heart pounded like a kid sneaking a peek at his first girlie magazine. Damn it, he should feel zilch when he looked at her. She was strictly business. The desire burning through his veins mocked his resolve. Confused, he shook his head. Why did his traitorous body continue to defy his brain?

Dale detached himself from a group of conversing guests and strode up to them, bending toward Tessa's cheek.

"Dale!" Tessa threw her arms around his neck and turned so Dale's lips met hers, thwarting the innocuous peck on the cheek he'd been aiming for.

"Hello, pretty lady." The big man appeared puzzled, but gently returned her kiss. "Ready to dance the night away?"

Gabe barely held in a snarl. The putz didn't deserve her.

"Nice to see you again, Val." Dale's gaze bored into Gabe's a second too long for comfort. The giant's eyes narrowed.

Maybe the Jolly Green Giant wasn't as dense as he appeared. Gabe lowered his lids. How much had his expression given away? Double damn! He was screwing up a scenario a rookie could manage. Get to work. "Don't you look marvelous," he simpered, toying with his bow tie. Not far from the truth, he grudgingly admitted. Accounting must be more profitable than Gabe had been led to believe. Or maybe mamma had picked out Dale's designer tux. The snide thought cheered him slightly.

"Our table is in here." Dale took Tessa's elbow and led them through the foyer into a large dining and dancing area.

Just like in the country club, Gabe beat Dale by a second to hold Tessa's chair, earning another curious glance from the big man. To hell with it. He indulged in a nanosecond of satisfaction. "Tessa, do you want something from the bar?"

She patted Dale's hand. "Dale can get it. He knows what I like."

Gabe slanted her an intimate, knowing look.

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