CHAPTER 1

Olivia Montgomery checked her hair before entering her father's office. Every blonde strand was in perfect order. Her white silk blouse was buttoned up to her throat and her ankle length, brown skirt covered her slender legs. She had nothing to be ashamed of, yet, at times, she wanted to muss her hair and look like a hoyden. She wanted to wear sneakers instead of Bally shoes, and she wanted to wear jeans instead of Donna Karan suits. She wanted…

She didn't know what she wanted, but the sense of dissatisfaction that had marred her days recently simply wouldn't go away. Yet she didn't know how to explain to her father how she felt.

She knocked on the oak door, opened it and stepped into her father's office. The room was opulent with a teak desk facing the center, green velvet drapes at the windows and a Persian carpet on the floor. Outside the windows overlooking San Francisco, the sun sparkled on the Pacific Ocean.

"Good, you're here." Her father swiveled around in his leather chair to smile at her. He was a handsome man in his late fifties. "I wanted to be the first to tell you. I'm being offered the ambassadorship to Turagray." He paused to let his words sink in, the smile on his face growing wider.

"South America?" Her sense of dissatisfaction grew stronger. Even though she didn't want to go to South America, she did understand his delight. Finally, after so many years in the diplomatic corps, he'd been offered a position of major importance. Turagray was a small, but strategically significant important nation with untapped oil and mineral reserves, as well as a thriving economy based on the export of some of the finest emeralds in the world.

"I'd love to come with you." What else could she say? She'd acted as his hostess since her mother had died when Olivia had been ten years old. He relied on her to run his house and be the perfect daughter.

He nodded and steepled his fingers. "I thought you might want to come. Since Turagray is dangerous, I've made some special arrangements for you."

The way he said arrangements made Olivia anxious. "What kind of arrangements?" She couldn't quite mask the nervous tremor in her voice.

He rustled through the pile of papers on his desk. "The security staff at the embassy is small, which means you'll have to be able to take care of yourself from time to time." He drew a sheet out and studied it for a moment.

She eyed him, her anxiety increasing by leaps and bounds. Now was the time to tell him she really didn't want to go, but the words wouldn't form. "I've been taking care of myself for years." Maybe not as well as some women, but better than most others in her social group.

Her father's benevolent smile dimmed. "I understand you're a very responsible adult, dear, but what you'd do in a kidnapping situation? Or if the embassy were taken over by terrorists."

Terrorists! She stilled the tremor in her hands. Tell him you don't want to go, she ordered herself. Instead she said, "Is there a possibility of me being kidnapped?"

She needed to get away, but not to Turagray. Paris maybe. Paris always did manage to make her feel better. Her emotions had taken a beating recently. Just thinking about Andrew still made her ache with regret. He'd married someone else, and she'd been left to nurse an almost-broken heart. She thought almost because she hadn't quite fallen in love with Andrew, though she'd felt herself compelled to do so.

She reached into her pocket and felt the coin he'd given her. It grew warm, then almost hot against her skin. It would bring good luck, he'd said. She didn't feel lucky yet.

Her father tapped his fingers on the desktop. "I realize the possibility of trouble is remote, but if there were a problem, you need to know how to diffuse the problem."

Okay, she thought, wondering where he was leading. How does someone prepare for trouble in an embassy? That's what the Marines are for. "How do you propose I learn to diffuse trouble?"

He looked benign as he studied her. "I've made some provisions for you. A school… actually, a facility that trains people to defend themselves from all possible circumstances. You could think of it as a ultra-fancy spy spa." He chuckled. "Yes, a fancy spy spa."

"Are you suggesting I'll learn how to defend myself while taking a mud bath?" She could see the spa in her mind now. Handsome men, bubbling hot mineral baths, and firearms. Such a combination! She shuddered. She didn't like guns, and mud baths had never really been her style.

Her father swallowed. "This school is for people to learn to be personal security specialists."

She frowned trying to interpret his words. "You mean like a body guard?"

"Exactly. Very prestigious. You'll be well taken care of. I have every assurance of that."

She held her hands out in front of her. The sunlight from the window caught her manicure and reflected it back at her. She could almost see her face in the shiny polish. She wondered if her manicurist had gun-resistant nail polish.

"I don't know, Daddy. I'm not sure I like the sound of this. I'm twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight. I don't think I want to go back to school." Especially a school that specializes in guns.

Copyright © 2005 by Miriam Pace and Jackie Hamilton