Page 17 of Shadowed Agenda
Pavlo rushed toward Regan, cursing himself for not accompanying her to her suite. Pavlo wouldn’t be able to catch up to him. He had too great a head start.
“Are you hurt?” Pavlo asked as Regan straightened her dress.
“No. He wanted to scare me,” she said, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulders. “He succeeded. A reporter’s badge was dangling from his neck, but I couldn’t catch the journal’s name. I doubt the guy was a real journalist. He suggested I accept the Senator’s invitation. I suggested he look up the wordinvitationwhen he returned to his desk.”
Pavlo had to admit he liked Regan’s style. She’d remained calm, and, despite being scared, she’d shot off a sarcastic comment.
“I’ll keep pepper spray in my handbag from now on.” Regan slid her key card into the lock and looked at him over her shoulder, her smooth forehead now etched with fine worry lines.
The situation was escalating, and Pavlo didn’t think pepper spray would be enough of a deterrent.
“Thank you for helping me evade the media after the taping and dinner,” she said, pushing the door open.
Pavlo caught it before it shut and followed her into the suite. “After everything that’s happened today, I’d feel better if I checked your suite.”
“You’ve been watching too many movies, Barislov.” Regan stood in front of him, hands on her hips, barring his way. “This is a hotel suite, not a creepy old mansion on top of a hill.”
Yeah, he’d expected resistance. Regan was good at that. Pavlo moved closer, and Regan tipped her head up. Fatigue had dulled the brilliant blue eyes, but they met his, daring him to cross the invisible line that extended to either side of her. His mouth quirked of its own accord. Fine by him if she wanted a staring contest. No one stared down a Navy SEAL.
He placed his hands on his hips, mirroring her stance. His gaze didn’t waver. Neither did hers. Pavlo took a step forward. He towered over her, and their bodies were only inches apart.
The tension between them grew. He listened to the barely discernable rhythmic inhale and exhale of her breath. The tension shifted. Regan bit her lower lip and blinked.
Pavlo said nothing but reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
Regan placed her hand on his chest. “I… I really need to…” she stumbled, the words barely audible.
Oil and water, Pavlo reminded himself once again. The woman in front of him was as sexy as hell, but once this week was over, they’d never see each other again. Regan wasn’t one-night stand material.
She blinked. Her thick, dark lashes brushed her cheeks.
He raised his eyes and stared at the room behind her, slowly regaining his composure.
Regan stepped back. The warm imprint of her hand on his chest lingered. She swept her arm out. “You won. It would be my pleasure if you’d check out my hotel suite to ensure no monsters are hiding in the six-inch space under my bed.”
Pavlo’s chuckle stopped abruptly.
“Stay there,” he said, pointing to a stack of the Senator’s brochures sitting on the coffee table, and then pulled out his ankle piece.
Regan’s eyes widened, and she clamped both hands over her mouth.
Pavlo moved cautiously. Regan was right. It would be impossible to hide under her bed or anywhere in the open space that defined the living area, office area, and wet bar. That left the wardrobe in the bedroom and the bathroom.
Glock pointed ahead, Pavlo entered the bedroom. He flicked the light switch and quickly cleared both rooms.
“Only dust bunnies hiding in the six-inch space under your bed,” he told her. “The fake reporter who accosted you in the hallway probably left the brochures.”
Regan pointed to the gun in his hand and then his pant leg. “Is that normal for you?”
“It’s like a woman putting on a pair of earrings,” Pavlo said, holstering his Glock and immediately added, “Don’t touch the brochures. We may be lucky. They might have left fingerprints.”
Now was the time to have that talk he hadn’t been looking forward to. If Regan was surprised he wore an ankle piece, he was sure she wouldn’t be thrilled when she found out he was a partner in a private military company.
“I’ll need to call the police,” Regan sighed heavily and flopped onto the couch.
“If you make a big deal, a hotel employee is bound to leak the information to the press, hoping to score a few bucks, and you’re once again in the media spotlight.” He waited for Regan to digest the information.
“I have to do something,” Regan said, her voice trembling.