Free Rebecca York by Beyond Control

wrong?" He looked at her, then around the almost empty room.
    "Nothing's wrong."
    "Something."
    "I was thinking about soup—just as you mentioned it."
    "Maybe because we were both looking at the appetizers."
    She nodded, then turned back to the selections as the waitress set down her drink.
    At the corner of her vision she could see her dinner partner's fingers curved over the edge of the menu he held. At the party he'd touched her with that hand. The pressure of his skin against hers had created sensations within her that she'd never experienced before. What if she reached out and laid her fingers against his flesh? Would it happen again? Or had her memory blown the incident completely out of proportion?
    When the waiter came over, she ordered an appetizer portion of homemade mushroom ravioli and a tomato-and-mozzarella salad.
    "That's all you're having?" Walker asked.
    "I'm not very hungry."
    He ordered the bread soup and the mixed Italian grill.
    "What business do you think we need to talk about?" she asked when they were alone again.
    He lowered his voice and leaned forward across the table. "Bridgewater heads the Armed Services Committee."
    "Yes."
    "I was wondering if he's gotten any recent updates from Fort Detrick," he said in an even lower tone.
    "You mean where they store the chemical and biological warfare agents?" she asked in a similar voice, wanting to make certain they were both on the same page.
    "Not just store. Test."

    "Okay."
    "You'd know about it if Bridgewater had received a report on something new they were doing? Or an old project that's back on line. Maybe moved to another facility."
    The recent conversation with Sid Becker leaped into her mind. He'd been asking about something similar.
    "Like where?" she hazarded.
    He shrugged. "I'm trying to check out a tip from a confidential source. I was hoping you could help."
    She felt like they were sitting across a poker table, not a dining table. He was doing the same thing she'd done with Bridgewater—asking a question, but asking cautiously. And she was being just as circumspect.
    "You want me to do your dirty work for you?"
    "Unfortunately, the source is dead. I tried to call him this morning. His office told me that he'd died of heart failure. Which is odd, considering that he was a relatively young man."
    The information made her scalp tingle. Before she could ask for more details, the waiter appeared with the salad and the soup.
    She sat staring at the fat white slabs of mozzarella lying on top of tomato rounds, the red-and-white composition arranged on green romaine leaves suddenly astonishingly unappealing.
    Walker hadn't touched his soup. He was looking down at the table—no, looking at her hand where it rested next to her plate. Lord, had he been thinking about touching her— the way she had?
    "What's your motivation for telling me any of that?" she whispered.
    "When I called my source this morning, I was transferred somewhere else. I'm pretty sure there's a trace on his phone."
    "Are you trying to scare me?"
    "No."
    Was that a lie? Unbidden, the thought popped into her mind that there was a way to find out. Before she could stop herself, she reached across the table and laid her fingers over his, knowing in that moment that this was why she had really agreed to meet him.
    She had come back for more of what had passed between them—fearing she would never get it and fearing at the same time that she would.
    She felt the warmth of his skin. But that simple sensation was buried below the swirl of awareness that enveloped her.
    The breath froze in her lungs as she grappled with confusion, elation, terror, and a sexual pull like nothing she had ever imagined in her life.

    It was more than she had bargained for. Although she had initiated the contact, she sought to jerk away.
    He was too fast for her—and too determined. His hand turned upward, closing around hers in a grip that was firm and possessive.
    She saw his lips move. Maybe he mouthed the