“Of course I give you my word,” Kyle said instantly, his curiosity aroused to a fever pitch.
“Nobody knows exactly who they are, and very few people know of their existence.” Templeton looked back at Kyle. “What we do know is that they are a covert organization of wealthy, powerful men.” His voice was filled with admiration and respect. “They are peacekeepers and protectors who save lives and restore order, often financing and planning rescue missions in situations where government hands are tied.”
Kyle’s head reeled with the information he’d just been handed. A covert organization, men wielding power and influence for world peace… It sounded like something from an action-adventure movie, and yet he had no reason to doubt what the ambassador had shared with him.
“You said that these Noble Men were the ones who brought me here. Why me?”
For the first time since the ambassador had greeted Kyle, he smiled. “I can’t know for sure, and I wouldn’t begin to question the choices the Noble Men make, but I would imagine it’s because you are one of the best pilots that the United States Navy has to offer.”
His smile faded. “You must understand that, officially, the United States military is not involved in this operation. Unofficially, they will allow you to use their planes and their equipment, and will provide ground support. I’m placing one of my top military attachés in charge of the ground support unit. She will be available to you day and night, whatever it takes to make this mission a success. Her name is Joanna Morgan.”
The ambassador looked down at his wristwatch. “I had hoped she would join us here, but apparently she’s been held up. We’d like to get twenty-four-hour patrols started as soon as possible.”
He stood and Kyle did the same. “You will be staying in your family apartment?”
Kyle hesitated only a moment, then nodded. He’d have preferred to stay on the base, but apparently that wasn’t where the ambassador wanted him.
“Good, then if you’ll just have a seat in the reception area, I’m sure Joanna will be here momentarily. She can drive you to your apartment and you two can begin strategizing your mission.”
He walked around the desk and once again held out his hand to Kyle. “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander, for being available to serve not only the Noble Men, but the people of Montebello as well.”
“I look forward to getting to work immediately,” Kyle replied. The two men said their goodbyes and Kyle left the office.
“May I get you a cup of coffee while you wait?” the secretary asked with a friendly smile.
“No thanks, I’m fine.” Kyle sat in one of the dark blue, upholstered chairs, wondering how long he’d have to wait for this Joanna Morgan to show.
Now that he knew exactly what his mission here would be, he was eager to get started. His mind replayed all that Nigel Templeton had told him.
Two grieving fathers—a king and a sheik—both pointing fingers at the other. If war broke out, the consequences would be felt around the world.
The Noble Men. To say that the concept of a secret organization of wealthy, influential men intrigued him would be a vast understatement. Who were they? What had driven them to form such an organization? What made some men become altruistic and idealistic, while others became fat-cat corporate heads, worshipping the almighty dollar?
He shoved away the mental picture of his father that suddenly sprang to his mind. At the moment he had more important things to think about than Edward Ramsey.
He’d given his word that he would not speak of the Noble Men, and his mind worked to figure out just what he could tell his team of flyers and what he couldn’t. They needed to know only their objective, to keep the skies free of threat, and Kyle was confident they would follow his instructions without question.
A woman walked in, swiftly crossing the room to the receptionist desk. Although Kyle saw her only from the back, he couldn’t help but admire the long shapely legs beneath the short navy skirt, the curvy form of her derriere and the shiny dark hair tied back at the nape of her neck.
She spoke to the receptionist, but their voices were too low for him to hear. He wondered if this woman was the one he’d been waiting for—Joanna Morgan.
When she turned around, a shock of recognition ripped through him. “Marie,” he whispered. At the same time his gaze shot to the name on her badge: Joanna M. Morgan.
She gasped, her dark eyes wide. Before he had time to say another word, she raced past him and out into the hallway, as if she’d seen the very devil himself.
Kyle didn’t hesitate. He jumped out of his chair and ran after her.
Joanna Morgan raced down the hallway and ducked into a nearby ladies’ room. She leaned against the door with all her weight, almost afraid he might barge in after her.
It couldn’t be him. She wasn’t supposed to ever see him again!
What was he doing here?
She waited a moment for her breathing to slow, then moved away from the door and stood at one of the three sinks. She stared into the mirror at her reflection. She looked as if she’d just seen a ghost. She had. She’d seen the ghost of passion past.
Kyle Ramsey. It had been him. There was no pretending. Kyle had been sitting in the ambassador’s waiting room.
She closed her eyes and instantly was granted a vivid mental picture of him. That thick, wavy brown hair, those charcoal-gray eyes and those full, sensual lips had haunted her for the past couple of months.
It was almost exactly three months ago that she had made love to a virtual stranger. She’d like to believe that she had been drunk, but she knew better. Joanna never did anything to excess, especially drink.
No, she hadn’t been drunk—she’d been intoxicated by the sexy charm that had radiated from his eyes, inebriated by the flirtatious, playful banter they had shared, smashed on the blatant masculine sexuality that had rolled off him in waves.
“Marie.” A rapid knock sounded on the door.
She bit her lower lip, fighting against a wave of nausea. She’d never expected to see him again. Their night together had been a crazy lapse of judgment, a momentary slide into insanity, a wild ride of abandonment that had been completely out of character for her.
“Marie…Joanna.” This time the knock was louder and echoed with a touch of impatience. “You can’t stay in there all day. Sooner or later you have to come out.”
He was right, of course. She couldn’t stay in here forever, but she needed a little time to regain her equilibrium. She wasn’t ready to come out yet. She still hadn’t fully recovered from the absolute shock of seeing him again.
“Joanna, we have work to do.” His voice came softly through the door.
Work to do? What work could they have to do? A new wave of despair swept through her as her brain struggled to make sense of his words.
Oh heavens, he’d come from the ambassador’s office. He’d been in there when the ambassador was to meet with the top gun navy pilot who was sharing her new assignment with her.
Just that morning Ambassador Templeton had told her about her new, important assignment—providing ground support for a team of top gun fliers who were coming in unofficially to patrol the skies over Montebello.
Kyle was the top gun navy pilot, and she would be working with him until the current tensions between Montebello and Tamir were resolved. Fate had a hysterical sense of humor, she thought. Unfortunately, at the moment she wasn’t laughing, she simply felt as if she might throw up.
“Buck up,” she commanded herself. “You’re