Oath of Honor

safeguarding POTUS? Some of them tried to have a normal life after

hours. She wasn’t one of them and never expected to be. She’d always

wanted to do exactly what she was doing—she craved the stress and

challenge and satisfaction of her work. Except for the damn cold.

Nodding to the agent huddled in his topcoat on the porch of the

truly awesome house, she stamped her feet on the deck to clear the

snow from her boots and pushed through the door into the big kitchen

that took up half the rear of the house. Caterers and waiters and busboys

bustled around, replacing half-empty champagne glasses with full

ones, pulling trays of hot hors d’oeuvres from the oven, and sliding

cold canapés from the refrigerator. A huge coffee urn sat on a sideboard

with a stack of what looked like honest-to-God china cups next to it.

No way was she drinking out of one of those. She grabbed one of the

paper takeaway cups pushed back under one of the cabinets and filled

it to the brim with hot black coffee. Carefully making her way around

the party staff, she eased through the door into the dining room, where

several agents observed video feeds from external cameras, watched

computer monitors displaying overhead satellite images, and manned

the radio COM center. Several greeted her, and she flicked a finger in

their direction.

She shed her coat, tucked it into the closet at the far end of the

room, and meandered down the hall toward the noisy celebration. The

coffee was hot and strong and she sipped it appreciatively. Her fingers

and toes started to warm. Maybe there was life beyond December

after all. She stopped in an archway with a view of the great room and

automatically scanned the space looking for the other agents. Finding

them posted strategically around the perimeter, and satisfied all was as

it should be, she leaned a shoulder against the archway and relaxed.

She knew everyone at the gathering, either personally, by sight,

or from reviewing the guest list at the morning briefing. The only

person out of place was the woman standing directly across the room

from her. Captain Wesley Masters. Evyn would have noticed her

under any circumstances—and who wouldn’t? Her face was a striking

combination of elegant angles and sweeping planes, her eyes that vivid

sparkling green, her toned body showcased in the immaculate uniform.

Uniforms really didn’t do much for her, since she was surrounded by

• 32 •

Oath Of hOnOr

people wearing them all the time, but just the same, Masters looked

good in hers. Very good. Lean hips, medium breasts, narrow waist, and

slightly broader shoulders. Evyn didn’t have to work hard to conjure

up a fantasy of wrapping her legs around those tight hips and twisting

her hands in those thick, sun-kissed locks. Instantly, she banished the

image. Masters was not fantasy material. She was all too real and was

probably going to be a pain in the ass.

POTUS was about to embark on his reelection campaign, which

meant constant traveling, insane hours, unpredictable changes in the

itinerary, and very real threats at every stop. It was game time, and no

one, including the green medical officer across the room, was going

to have the luxury of time to adjust to the new circumstances. Masters

would have to hit the ground running, and hopefully she’d be able to

absorb everything she needed to know in record time.

“Have you met the new WHMU chief yet?” a rumbling voice

asked from beside her.

She turned toward Tom Turner, her boss and head of PPD. “Saw

her when she came in. Surprise, surprise.”

Tom winced. “You know how it is. Decisions get made, people

forget to share.”

“Uh-huh.” Politics—same old BS. “Kind of rushed to just drop

her in like this, don’t you think? We never even had a briefing.”

“I’m sure the other members of her team will brief her on the

medical end of things,” Tom went on.

Evyn sipped her coffee, watching Masters move away from Pete

until she was standing alone at the edge of the crowd. Her face was

composed, unreadable really, as she carefully focused on first one

individual in the crowd then another, as if she was memorizing their

faces. Maybe she was.

“She’s never worked with a security detail before,” Tom said.

“She’s going to need indoctrination.”

“And pretty damn fast too,” Evyn said absently, fascinated by

the intense, absorbed expression on Masters’s face. The fantasy in her

head changed from the hot, anonymous body pressing down between

her thighs to a glimpse of a captivatingly beautiful face leaning over

her, fierce concentration in her green, green eyes. She imagined how it

would feel to be the focus of all that intensity, and something fluttered

under her rib cage. Her heart rate jumped and raced. Pulling her eyes

• 33 •

RADCLYfFE

away from the navy captain, she tried to capture the last few words Tom

had said. No luck. “I’m sorry?”

“I’m assigning you as her unit liaison.”

Evyn stiffened. “I’m sorry? Me?”

“She’ll need basic training to know how the unit runs, how we