Aim for the Heart. Ingrid Weaver

She knew men. That was one of the side effects of living in the midst of them all her life. She knew full well how whenever they were hurt their first instinct was to bury the pain. At times it seemed the stronger the man, the more determined he was to keep his feelings inside. Some of the toughest soldiers in Eagle Squadron carried around emotional baggage that would cripple most people. They would rather face torture than open their hearts to anyone, especially a woman.

      Yet Hawk hadn’t really opened up anything, had he? He’d divulged only the bare facts that he’d deemed pertinent. For that Sarah was grateful. The information he’d given her would allow her to do her job better, because she now understood the source of the tension she’d sensed between Hawk and Jibril despite their cordial greeting.

      Hawk had drawn a very clear line. It would be foolish to cross it. It would be grossly unprofessional. It would endanger her objectivity and thus her ability to perform her duty if she allowed herself to feel sympathy for him. Feeling sexually attracted to him was making it difficult enough to maintain her professional distance.

      Two more days and this would be over. Then she wouldn’t have to wonder what the woman had been like, or whether even after fourteen years Hawk was still mourning her the way Sarah still mourned Jackson…

      Damn. Hawk’s memories weren’t the only ones that were getting stirred up here. She’d better get her head on straight before she let herself get distracted.

      Her pulse thumped hard. She realized it had been three minutes since she had checked her rearview mirror for a tail. She pulled to the curb.

      “What are you doing?” Hawk asked.

      “Making sure we weren’t followed.” She twisted on the seat to get a better view of the vehicles that passed them. None seemed familiar, but that was no guarantee. Until she knew more about who the hired assassin was, she wouldn’t know whether he worked alone or had a team to help him.

      “Quicker to walk,” Hawk muttered as he leaned against the door. His jacket creaked again. The warm air that wafted from the heater in the dashboard brought the teasing hint of leather and man.

      Something else that he’d said the night before came back to her. I still don’t trust you…but you’re one hell of an interesting woman.

      He’d already called her beautiful, but he’d also called her crazy and suicidal. She didn’t take compliments on her appearance any more seriously than she took insults—they were superficial and didn’t affect her one way or another. Yet to be called interesting by a man as intelligent and complex as Hawkins Lemay… Lord help her, now that affected her. It was even more hazardous to her objectivity than the sight of him in a tuxedo.

      Sarah settled her sunglasses more firmly on her nose and put the car back into gear. She couldn’t let this get personal. She was going to do her duty. That’s what she knew best.