“I’m not hungry in the mornings. I usually skip breakfast altogether.”
He cast her a long, sensual glance. “Maybe you need to work up an appetite.”
Her breath caught. He was giving her that look again, the one that said he could make her ravenous, and not just for food. Then it was gone, as if she’d imagined it.
“I’ve got to get to the office,” she said.
“Ten minutes and we’re out of here.”
They sat at a small round table, Jake barely fitting in the little, wrought-iron chair. They finished eating quickly and were on the road again.
It was a little past seven when he pulled into the executive lot and turned off the engine. It wasn’t until they rounded the building, heading toward the front door, that Sage understood why he had come to pick her up.
* * *
“I had a hunch this might happen when I read this morning’s paper.” Jake surveyed the crowd that had begun to gather in front of the mirrored-glass building. “I didn’t figure they’d get here so early. Is there a back way in?”
“No. Just the emergency fire exits. They let you out but not in.”
He moved a little in front of Sage, putting himself between her and what appeared to be students from the MSA—the Muslim Student Association who had been demonstrating at the university a few days before. Some young men wore traditional Muslim garb: white, flowing robes called thobes and headdresses secured by an agal, the black rope that held them in place. Caftan-style dresses in various colors and patterns were worn by a number of the women, who had their heads and necks hidden by colorful scarves.
There were other young people there, kids in Western dress who sympathized with the cause, some of them carrying signs. One read Students for Middle East Democracy. Another, Free Libya. A third said Stop the Bloodshed. The group was relatively small, not more than thirty people, and fairly well behaved.
So far.
Another group milled around to one side. Jake couldn’t tell exactly who they were. But there were always radicals drawn to protests like these, people just itching to cause trouble, he knew. As the crowd spotted them climbing the wide concrete steps toward the front door, a soft rumble of recognition turned into a muffled roar, and he went into high alert.
Someone shouted, “Friends of the Saudi royal oppressors!”
Someone else shouted, “Freedom from tyranny!” and hurled something in their direction. A tomato splattered against the wall next to Sage’s head. She made a little sound in her throat as Jake pushed open the door and shoved her into the lobby.
“Oh, my God,” she said, pressing her back against the wall there. “Oh, my God.”
The security guard came out from behind his desk and started hurrying toward them. Jake waved him away.
He caught hold of Sage’s shoulders, felt her trembling. “It’s all right, Sage. The people out there are mostly just kids, trying to be supportive of a cause they believe in, or at least think they do. They’re harmless, for the most part.”
Her trembling eased a little. She steadied herself, straightened, and Jake released her. “It’s…it’s not like the sheik is in line for the throne or anything. He’s just a businessman.”
“As I said, they’re mostly trying to make a point. Unfortunately, there are radicals in every group. They’re the ones we need to watch out for.”
“Oh, God.”
“Look, we’ll work out a better way to come and go. Put a man on the back door, and develop a strategy to keep things running smoothly. We need more security people in here to make sure none of the protestors try to come inside. And we’ll need men outside, too, to ensure your employees’ safety.”
“Can you handle that?”
“Trace can. I’ll call him, have Atlas provide the extra men we need.”
Sage looked up at Jake, her eyes bigger and more golden than usual. “I had no idea something like this would happen. Now I see why Ian hired you. I’m glad you’re here.”
Jake thought of how protests like this had a way of swelling, how there was a good chance things could get worse in the next few day. He thought of the danger Sage might actually be facing. “So am I,” he said, and realized he meant it.
* * *
Sage led Jake into the conference room. “I hope this will do. There’s a phone in here and a computer. Is there anything else you’ll need?”
“I just have to make a few calls, get things rolling. I was hoping we’d have another day or two before things got stirred up. Looks like that’s not going to happen.”
She tried to smile. She still felt shaky inside, a little off-kilter. “Marie just got here. I’ll have her bring you some coffee. Let me know if there’s anything you need.” Sage closed the conference room door and for a moment leaned against it.
She had scoffed at her grandfather, thinking it ridiculous to hire a professional bodyguard. It was beginning to look as if he was right.
Which was usually the way it worked. She’d been twelve years old when her grandfather’s detective had found them—Ian’s son’s runaway wife and daughter hiding in a Chicago tenement. When Louis, Sage’s father, had died, Ian had come for them. He had convinced her mother to return with him to Houston.
From that day forward, Ian Dumont had raised her. Sage had just turned fifteen when her mother died of breast cancer, and after that her grandfather became her whole world. Over the years, she had learned to trust him as she never did another man.
Sage wasn’t convinced she was in any serious danger now, but she didn’t want to be assaulted or harassed just for coming to work. Jake would make sure that didn’t happen.
Jake. Besides being dangerously attractive, he was an interesting man. Smarter than she’d given him credit for. And from the moment he had spotted the threat in front of the building and taken charge, she had known with complete certainty that he was capable of protecting her from whatever might come.
A thought that eased some of the tension inside her.
Sitting down in the cream leather Eames chair behind her desk, she went to work. She started making calls, digging up the information Jake had asked for, and some she needed, as well. She had the name and contact information of the aide who was handling the Saudi end of preparations for the visit, Caseem Al Dossari. She made a list of questions, then phoned the man in Saudi Arabia.
Did the sheik or his family have any special needs? Did anyone require or prefer any special foods? Was there anything in particular the family wanted to see or do while in Houston? Most importantly, how did the sheik and his family wish to be addressed?
The man patiently answered each of her questions and added a few more details he thought might be useful.
Sage finished the cell and spent the next few hours going over her notes and making other calls.
It was almost noon when she finished the call and her assistant buzzed her on the intercom.
“Yes, Will?”
“Mr. Cantrell has a few things he needs to go over.”
“Of course. Send him in.” She sat up a little straighter, tossed her hair back over her shoulder as Jake walked through the door.
“I just wanted to let you know we’ve got security coming in this afternoon. They’ll be round-the-clock in the building until the negotiations are finished.”
“That’s a relief.” Not wanting to be at even more of a height disadvantage, she stood up and walked toward him.
“You