Today

Chapter One

MORTAL FEMALE SEEKING SINGLE SUPERHERO for love, laughter, and then some. Must be charming, witty, sexy, and willing to commit. Specific superpowers negotiable, but strength and endurance a must! Interested Protectors, please contact Jennifer Martin at Employee Box #657, Mortal-Protector liaison Office.

Jennifer tapped her pencil faster and faster against her desktop as she read, reread, and then re-reread the personal ad in the back of the current issue of the Mortal-Protector Liaison Weekly Bulletin.

It couldn't be. Could it? Someone—anyone—please tell her it wasn't so. Tell her there wasn't a personal ad in the newsletter suggesting that she would be interested in dating a superhero. Correction: not suggesting, but flat-out stating that she wanted to make whoopee with one of those arrogant, self-absorbed. Protector types! Continually saving the world gave a guy one hell of an ego, and so far Jennifer hadn't met one with whom she'd even want to have coffee—much less go all the way. Really! A boyfriend, sure. A Protector for a boyfriend? No way. She had standards, after all!

She exhaled in a whoosh, then looked around at the nearby cubicles, wondering if anyone else was reading the newsletter. No one was pointing at her and laughing. At least, not yet.

Tomorrow the ad would be plastered all over the Venerate Council of Protectors' Web site—that was where the newsletter items all went, eventually—and then every Protector in the world would see it. They would all think she was hunting for a superhero husband.

Absurd. Unthinkable.

And even more ridiculous since her mother was so gung-ho about hooking her up with one. Sinking farther down in her chair, she tried to get out of her colleagues' line of sight. This was a nightmare. Her own personal nightmare. And a particularly nasty one.

At that thought, she brightened. Maybe it really was just a dream. Any minute now her alarm clock would buzz, she'd wake up, and she'd laugh about the silly games her subconscious was playing. After all, since she hadn't placed an ad, there couldn't really be one.

Could there?

She'd better take another look. With her fingers crossed so tight she cut off the circulation, she closed her eyes, counted to ten, then peeked out from under her eyelashes.

Well, darn. There it was—plain as day, and larger than life.

Which meant there was only one explanation: her mother was at it again.

The metal legs of her chair scraped against the concrete floor as she shoved it backward and stood up. Daphne Martin might have brought her daughter into the world…she might have helped her find her funky rent-controlled apartment…she might even be the main reason why Jenny had landed her great job as a press liaison here at the MLO. But this time Jenny's matchmaking mother had simply gone too far.

Tucking the newsletter snugly under her arm, she marched out of her cubicle toward the elevator. She needed to set the record straight with her mother, and she needed to do it now.

Taking a deep breath, she jabbed the down button, all the while hoping like heck that the courage she felt wouldn't abandon her during the five-story descent to her mother's lair in the computer lab.

*****

Starbuck propped one leg on Daphne Martin's desk and watched, amused, as the older woman crawled around on the floor.

"See, the problem is the polarity," she said over the low-pitched hum of whirring tape drives and other computer paraphernalia. She followed a bright blue cable to a particularly ominous-looking machine, then slipped behind it and disappeared from Starbuck's view. "We're getting some sort of electrical interference," she called, her voice muffled. "That's what's slowing our system down."

There were a few loud grunts, followed by a metallic clanking noise, and then Daphne's head popped out from around the side, followed in short order by the entire woman. She rocked back on her heels, pushed a lock of curly gray hair out of her face, and flashed Starbuck a winning smile. "But you probably didn't come here to listen to my problems with the computer system."

He shrugged, hoping he looked like nothing more than the befuddled mortal employee he was pretending to be. "I'm on break. I just came down to shoot the breeze. If you want to talk shop, go for it."

In fact, he hoped she would. Daphne was a piece of work, and Starbuck genuinely liked her. For that matter, he had something of a crush on Daphne's daughter, Jenny. Unfortunately, Jenny didn't know he existed and, since she made no secret of her disdain for Protectors, wouldn't care anyway.

Also, he told himself, neither liking the Martin woman nor lusting after her daughter changed the basic fact that Daphne was his number one suspect. There was a mole working in the Mortal-Protector Liaison Office—a mole who had already dribbled pieces of Council information to the Protectors' archenemy, Hieronymous, and his band of Outcasts. And the rumor was, Hieronymous was expecting more information any day now—serious information that could only come from a spy with high-level access like Daphne. Starbuck had to find and bring down that spy.

Hieronymous's most recent scheme to enslave all mortals and take over the world had only barely been foiled—by Zoë Smith, a halfling who'd just joined the council, and the half sister of Starbuck's good friend Hale. While the girl's handling of the entire episode impressed him, neither Starbuck nor any of the other Protectors believed that Hieronymous would stop with that try. The villain wanted his power back. He wanted to crush his ex-peers, the Venerate Council of Protectors, wanted to enslave all mortals, and above all wanted to seat himself on some golden, godlike throne.

And he was nothing if not persistent.

No, the man was more than just an egocentric nuisance; he was a very real threat. He'd already turned some weaker Protectors, and he wasn't above releasing Henchmen to do his dirty work.

To mortals, Henchmen looked perfectly human—usually lawyers or used-car salesmen or telemarketers. But Protectors could see through the disguise, and it was part of their mission to fight Henchmen and prevent them from doing the bidding of whoever had set them free.

Lately Heironymous had been releasing a lot of Henchmen. Hell, lately Heironymous had been causing a whole lot of problems. Which was why, when the Venerate Council learned that the MLO had been infiltrated by a spy, they'd immediately called on Starbuck.

Lucky him. Unlike most Protectors, Starbuck looked…well…normal. Like a regular guy. His friend Hale might resemble a Greek god, but not Starbuck. Not at all. And he took no end of ribbing for it, that was for sure. However, his looks did give him one advantage: he was perfect for infiltrating all environments. Since most mortals didn't even know Protectors existed, they didn't have a clue about the things of which he was capable. And, because he looked so different and so often worked under deep cover, many Protectors didn't know he was one of them.

Still hunkered over the electrical cables, Daphne Martin muttered something under her breath, then held up a screwdriver. "This isn't working. Maybe it's in the code." She scrambled toward the monitor and keyboard set up on a makeshift desk on the far side of the windowless room. "Can you wait just a sec?"

"No problem." For good measure, he tried probing her mind, but she was still closed to him, just as she'd been for the week he'd been working at the MLO. His looks might contribute to his vocation as a spy, but his particular superpowers—reading minds and manipulating time—were really what made him good.

Unfortunately, it seemed, Daphne was one of those rare mortals whose mind naturally blocked him. And considering she was his prime suspect, that little fact was damned frustrating. Leaning back, Starbuck crossed his arms over his chest and examined Daphne the old-fashioned way.

A true flower child, the woman had been in her element back during the sixties…and she still dressed as if she were going to hang out in Haight-Ashbury. She was also the smartest mortal Starbuck had ever met. According to the dossier he'd memorized, she'd been recruited by the council back in the seventies after the Mortal-Protector Treaty was first signed, and she had single-handedly developed the entire computer system for the MLO.

That was not a small feat, considering everything had to be done in secret. Daphne had completed all that work without consulting any other mortals on any aspect of the project that might even hint at the existence of Protectors, the MLO, or the supersecret location in a sub-sub-subbasement of the United Nations building in New York City.

In other words, the woman was ultrasmart—and she had access to a wealth of council information. The information that was supposedly heading Heironymous's way was top, top, top secret. The kind of stuff kept deep within locked computer files. Files to which only Daphne and a select few trusted members of the council had access.

The only question was, had Daphne turned? Was she selling secrets to Hieronymous? Starbuck just didn't know, and the fact that he couldn't probe her mind only made him more suspicious. It was a shame, really, since he liked the woman, and surely arresting her for violations of the Mortal-Protector Treaty would put a damper on any shot he might have at catching her daughter's eye.

The woman was still typing away, a pencil tucked behind her ear as she chewed on the end of another.

"Hey, Daphne," he called. No reaction.

"Daphne."

Still nothing.

He opened his mouth to yell, "Da—"

"Mother!"

Starbuck's breath caught as he turned to face the door. Jennifer Martin—looking very angry, and very, very adorable—stood there. Daphne's tap-tapping at the keyboard stopped, and she twisted around in her swivel chair until she was facing her daughter.

"Hello, sweetie. What on earth are you doing down here in the computer room?"

"What am I doing here?" the girl echoed, the color in her cheeks rising with her voice. "What do you think I'm doing here?" Without even a glance in his direction, she marched across the room, her short dark curls bobbing with every purposeful stride, and slapped the current issue of the Mortal-Protector Liaison Office newsletter down on her mother's desk. "That is what I'm doing here!"

"This week's issue?" Daphne asked—a little too innocently, Starbuck thought. "I hear it's a good one."

Jenny crossed her arms over her chest and started tapping her foot. "Mother! What on earth were you thinking? I'm not interested in dating one of those…those…Protectors!"

Starbuck fought a cringe. Not that she was saying anything he hadn't already figured out in his week of undercover work here, but hearing it from the girl's own lips…well, so much for any chance he might have with the first woman he'd been really attracted to in a long, long time.

A wide smile passed over Daphne's face. "Now, sweetie, don't get all upset. It's high time you settled down with a good man—"

"Mother!"

"—and who could possibly be a better man than a Protector?"

Daphne's daughter ran her fingers through her hair, then shot Starbuck a look of exasperation. "You see what I have to put up with?"

He smiled, knowing the fact that she was sharing her frustration with him thrilled him more than it should.

Their eyes caught and held for one magnificent moment before she turned back to her mother. "I'm not interested in dating a Protector, Mom. We've been over this a dozen times. I want you to stop this matchmaking. You're driving me insane."

"Nonsense. You need a husband. A strong husband. Someone who can open tight pickle jars and understands loyalty and responsibility. She crossed her arms over her chest, a faraway, wistful look in her eye. "Someone not like your father."

"Mother! Aargh!" She threw her hands up and faced the heavens—well, the subbasement ceiling—as Starbuck fought a grin. He couldn't help but sympathize. He'd spent plenty of time with Daphne over the past few days, and he was well aware of how persistent the woman could be.

Daphne's expression was nonplussed. "Mother knows best, dear." She turned to him. "Don’t you agree?"

"I—"

Jenny shot him a warning look, and he snapped his mouth shut. "Mother does not know best," she said. "Not about this. Right, Starbuck?"

This time he had the good sense to keep his mouth closed—even before Daphne's pointed glance. Even without his superpowers, he knew enough not to get involved in a fight between a mother and her daughter.

Daphne pushed back from her keyboard, her rolling chair gliding across the floor toward Jenny. "Sweetie, what's the harm? Maybe you'll like whoever answers that ad."

"I won't." She crossed her arms over her chest, and Starbuck cringed from the note of sureness in her voice. No matter how much he might hope for a chance with this girl, it just wasn't going to happen.

Of course, what he should be doing was trying to get close to Jenny, not in order to date her, but to get a few glimpses into her mind. Surely her mother had said something to her—even something seemingly innocuous—that might prove or disprove her guilt. And if Starbuck spent enough time with Jenny—probing here and probing there—maybe he'd eventually find the clue he needed.

He'd avoided probing the girl's thoughts in the past—mortal minds were highly protected by the Treaty of I970—but just yesterday he'd applied to the council for a warrant on Jenny, and this morning they'd given him the go—ahead. Still, he hesitated. Somehow a probe seemed unchivalrous, considering the crush he had on her. Yet a week had passed without a solid clue, and Starbuck needed to make some progress. He also needed to face up to the fact that a relationship with Jenny Martin was out of the question. She didn't want a Protector. Starbuck was a Protector. End of discussion.

Daphne put her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "At the very least, you need a date for the MLO's annual party. Go with whoever answers your ad; then that will be the end of it. That's reasonable, isn't it?"

"No…" Jenny frowned, and Starbuck could tell she was being worn down by her mother's persistence. "I mean, maybe. I suppose. But that's not the point. The point is, I've—"

"Already got a date." The words were out of his mouth before Starbuck even had time to think about what he was saying. Both women turned to stare at him, Jenny's ocean-blue eyes even wider than her mother's. "I mean…" His eyes caught Jenny's and he took a deep breath, hoping he wasn't about to get shot down in a huge way.

If she said yes, not only would he have a date with a woman he adored, but he'd also have access to the one person closest in the world to his prime suspect. Mentally crossing his fingers, he took the plunge. "The thing is, Jenny can't go with a Protector. She's already promised to go with me."

Chapter Two

What the…? Jenny turned to Starbuck, her mouth hanging open. The man was either a saint or an idiot…and considering that he appeared to be willingly stepping into the middle of one of her and her mother's famous frays, the better money was on the latter.

"You two are going to the party together?" Her mom sounded just as surprised as Jenny felt.

"Um, yes." Jenny tried to school her features into some sort of normal expression as she cast a glance toward her savior. She and Starbuck had talked only a few times since he'd started working at the MLO, but he seemed nice enough.

His looks were definitely a plus. He was built like a normal guy, not pumped up like some Mr. Universe wanna-be. Instead, he was tall and lean with an academic's body and an attractive face. He had unruly hair that begged for a woman's fingers, and deep brown eyes hidden behind studious wire-framed glasses. Eyes she could trust. After a moment she lifted her chin. "Absolutely, we're going together."

She held her breath as she glanced over for confirmation, afraid she'd misunderstood his intentions, afraid he was now going to shake his head, back slowly away, and get himself out of this mess as quickly and efficiently as possible.

But he didn't. He just stood there—her hero for the day in wire-framed glasses, jeans, and a button-down shirt—and said, "Of course we are. I'm thrilled you agreed to go with me."

"Why?" Daphne asked.

Jenny took a step back, indignant that her mother would be asking someone why he would be thrilled to go out with her. Then she realized the question wasn't directed at Starbuck, but at her. "Why?" she repeated, trying to buy time.

"Yes, why? Why are you going with him?" Daphne turned to Starbuck, her expression of disbelief morphing into a winning smile. "No offense, Starbuck. It's just that my little girl has standards, and you're not—"

"A Protector?" he asked.

"Exactly!" Her smile broadened.

The corner of Starbuck's lip curled, as if he found the conundrum amusing.

"I do have standards, Mom. And one is that I don't want to date a Protector," Jenny said, feeling a little bit like a broken record. As she realized what she'd said, her brow furrowed. "I…uh…I mean—not that Starbuck and I are dating."

"Right," he said, picking up her cue. "Since I'm new, Jenny was kind enough to agree to go to the party with me."

"Mmmm-hmmm." Her mother managed to express a world of disapproval in that one simple noise.

"Mother…"

"I'm just saying that you should make more of an effort."

Jenny rubbed the back of her neck and bit her tongue to avoid telling Daphne—yet again—that she really wasn't interested in making that kind of effort.

"Piter's nice," Daphne said.

"Piter? The new Protector on staff?" Jenny's voice was rising, but she couldn't help it. "He's always looking in the mirror." She thought she heard a chuckle from Starbuck, but when she glanced over at him, his expression was perfectly bland.

"He's extremely attractive, quite polite, and very, very eligible. He even saved three Girl Scouts from getting run over by a garbage truck yesterday."

"Enough, Mom. I'm going with Starbuck." Determined to put a stop to her mother's meddling, she marched over to Starbuck and looped her arm through his. "Not Piter, not some other Protector…Starbuck."

"But—"

"No buts, Mom. I'm not dating a Protector. And you're just going to have to get that through your head."

*****

Considering the daggers Daphne shot in his direction as Jenny led him from the room, Starbuck wondered if he'd just sacrificed his newly forged friendship with suspect number one. Personally, he didn't mind the trade-off. Professionally, though, he needed to keep his eye on the ball. Hieronymous was a very real threat, and Starbuck couldn't allow his libidinous feelings to get in the way of doing his job.

"Sorry about my mother," Jenny said as the elevator doors closed in front of them.

"Don't worry. I've been here awhile. I'm starting to get used to her."

"Yes, well, imagine spending the last twenty-four years with her." Jenny's smile went straight to his heart, and for just a second he reached out to gently probe her mind.

No! He pulled back, frustrated with himself for taking such liberties. He needed to know if she had any information about Daphne, but he certainly didn't need to be poking around in her brain like a schoolboy wondering if the pretty girl really liked him. Besides, that was a question to which he already knew the answer; she wasn't going out with him; she was going out with the apparently mortal guy who'd offered her a way out from under her mother's thumb.

Jenny squinted at him. "You okay?"

"Fine. I'm fine." He'd be more fine if she'd press the stop button, throw him up against the wall, and plaster him with kisses. But that was about as likely to happen as Hieronymous sending a message to Zephron, the council's High Elder, to say that he was really tired of all this evil stuff and he was retiring to a small island in the Caribbean.

The doors slid open, and Starbuck stepped back to let Jenny exit first. She headed straight down the hall toward her cubicle, and he rushed to keep up with her. "Uh, Jenny?"

She turned, her eyes wide and questioning, and suddenly he was overcome by a wave of nervousness.

Stop that! He was a Protector. A superhero. The envy of mortals who knew, and the stuff of myth to mortals who didn't. Unfortunately, Jenny didn't fall into the envious category, and in this case, he was the one awed by her. Thank Zeus he'd never had a crush on a mortal girl before; once was proving to be plenty difficult.

"Starbuck?"

"Right." He caught up to her. "I was wondering if you wanted to grab some lunch. We could even go outside. Maybe take some sandwiches into Central Park? Work out the details for the party?"

Even though she shot him her most winning smile, her eyes were apologetic; he knew she was going to say no.

"Oh, gosh, I'd love to, but I've got an appointment. I'm spin-doctoring that whole thing with Zoë Smith in Los Angeles, and I've got to debrief her half brother, Hale."

Starbuck nodded, remembering what Jenny's job at the MLO entailed. She worked as a press liaison, and that meant it was her job to write press releases and do whatever else it took to make sure that the general public didn't become aware of Protector activity. In other words, Jenny was responsible for putting a normal spin on anything weird the Protectors did—like flying off buildings or shape-shifting—and for covering up the whole debacle with Heironymous's last scheme. Not the easiest job in the world, that was for sure.

"I've heard of Hale," Starbuck said casually. "Is he here yet?" Right about now, Starbuck could do with some advice from his buddy.

"Any minute now," she answered, looking at her watch.

Something brushed past Starbuck's shoulder, and he waved it away, then looked around for a bug or a draft. Nothing. He frowned, wondering what he'd felt.

"I'd better get to work," Jenny said. "But why don't I e-mail you directions to my place? You can pick me up, and we'll go to the party together."

He nodded, then stumbled as something hard bumped into him from behind.

"Starbuck?" She looked worried…probably afraid he'd lose his balance and fall on top of her.

"Fine," he said, his arms windmilling as he tried not to topple over. "No problem. I'm fine."

Jenny didn't look convinced, but she gave him a little wave as she walked away, confusion flashing in her beautiful blue eyes.

Starbuck looked around again, hoping to find the culprit, but still…nothing. Then the air shimmered, and he knew what it was—or rather who it was. "Don't you dare materialize here," he whispered to his invisible friend. "You'll blow my cover. We can't be seen together."

The glimmer in the air disappeared, and Starbuck headed toward the custodial closet. He opened the door long enough to make sure Hale had a chance to get in; then he closed them both inside. The air shimmered, and Hale materialized.

"You're making a fool of yourself," Hale said.

Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Good to see you, too."

"I'm serious. Fawning all over a mortal. It's pathetic."

"Not all of us have your particular prejudice against mortal-Protector relationships."

Hale frowned, probably thinking about his sister, who'd just married a mortal—a man Hale had grudgingly come to respect. "Maybe so," he said, "but I'd have to say the girl's on my side. She isn't exactly jumping up and down at the possibility of going out with one of us."

"Well, you're right about that. Still, I'm not here to date the natives. I'm here to find a mole. And that's all I'm interested in doing."

"Liar."

Starbuck grinned, knowing better than to try to pull one over on his friend. "Yeah, well, at least I'm good at it."

Hale smiled, a disgustingly charming expression. The irony of the situation struck Starbuck—he, who wanted one specific mortal woman, didn't have any of the obvious charms that seemed to attract them; Hale wasn't the least bit interested in mortal women, and with his chiseled, cover-model looks, he was a walking magnet for them.

"How's the mole hunt going?"

"Not too good," Starbuck confessed. "Daphne Martin's my prime suspect, but she's a natural blocker."

"Daphne?" Hale seemed genuinely surprised.

Starbuck nodded. "I know what you're thinking, but everything points to her."

Hale's eyebrow arched. "You know what I'm thinking?"

"Sorry. Bad choice of words." Mind-probing was highly illegal except when warranted, and it was particularly tacky with friends.

"Daphne's got such a thing for Protectors, I'm surprised you think she'd turn."

Of course, Hale was right. She was practically a one-woman cheering squad for Protectors. Or at least, for eligible Protectors she might fix up with her daughter. "For that matter, she's such a fan she's more than a little miffed that Jenny's going to the annual MLO party with me. She was gunning for Piter."

As expected, Hale grimaced, as if he'd just bitten into something nasty. "Piter's a jerk."

"Careful what you say. Piter's led some successful missions, he's got a ton of commendations, and he just saved those Girl Scouts. He's been one of the council's golden boys for years."

"He's still a jerk."

Starbuck chuckled. "Yeah, well, I'm inclined to agree with you." He'd done his homework on most of the Protectors, knew them though most of them didn't know him. Piter had an ego that wouldn't quit, and he was skilled at hiding it from his superiors—and, apparently, from Daphne.

Of course, even though Piter might be a jerk, he also had pecs. In other words, he was a perfect male specimen—a god of a man, like most other Protectors—whereas Starbuck more resembled the ninety-eight-pound weakling in the old Charles Atlas advertisements. "At any rate," he said, "Piter's just here doing his rotation. He's not my problem."

"Does he know about you?"

Starbuck shook his head. "No." Mortals made up the bulk of the MLO staff, but Protectors rotated in on a regular basis. Before Starbuck took this job, he and the council had decided that they wouldn't reveal his presence to the Protectors who rotated through.

"So I guess Jenny's a natural blocker, too?"

"Not on the surface."

"The surface?"

Starbuck hesitated, but then fessed up. "I haven't tried to go deeper yet. I'm planning on pumping her for information the old-fashioned way. It's less…unchivalrous."

Hale's usually jovial face turned stern. "I'll agree that pumping mortals is one of the benefits of associating with them—so long as you keep your head on straight. But this is your prime suspect's daughter. You won't be breaking any laws to probe her thoughts. After all, you have a warrant. Don't get all sentimental just because you've got some puppy-love crush."

Starbuck had told himself all that and more when he filed the application for the thought warrant; he sure as hell didn't need Hale to tell him what to do. He might be forced to sift through all of Jenny's thoughts to find what he needed, but if he could at all avoid it…"Don't tell me how to do my job."

"I'm just saying, probe in and find the information you need. This is Heironymous we're trying to stop. If you're feeling all gooey and sentimental, just avoid her thoughts about you." His friend grinned. "Don't lose sight of the ball, my friend, just because you've got your eye on a pretty mortal."

"I'm not an amateur, and I've never blown a mission. I'm—"

The air shimmered, and his friend disappeared.

"Hale!" Hopping Hades! His buddy's habit of turning invisible during conversations was so annoying!

"Starbuck?"

He froze. He knew that voice. That was Jenny's voice.

Well, damn.

Chapter Three

Jenny stared into the dimly lit custodial closet, trying to make out what was going on. She'd heard voices, and…

"Jenny." Starbuck turned, his eyes avoiding hers. "What do you want?"

She peered into the closet, trying to see who else was inside. "Are you talking to someone?"

"Me? No." Starbuck stumbled out, crashing toward her as if someone had shoved him from behind.

She held up a hand to steady him. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," he said. "I'm fine. I just lost my balance." He turned around and slammed the door shut behind him, and she thought she heard a low groan.

This was all very weird. "I…I could have sworn I heard you talking with someone. I thought I heard you say 'Hale' as I opened the door. Is he in there? Why didn't you tell me you knew him?"

"Him? Him who?"

"Hale. My appointment. He hasn't shown up yet. Is he—"

"Nope. He's not in there. And I don't know him. I don't know any Protectors. Though I suppose I'll meet some working here."

"But I heard you…" She was sure of it.

"Right. That. I, uh, I said hell. I'd stubbed my toe in the dark in the closet."

"Oh." That didn't make a whole lot more sense. "So what were you doing in there in the first place?"

There was a long pause; then he said, "Looking for the men's room?"

"Oh." She waved off the answer. The man was cute, but definitely odd. He gave her a sheepish smile that she found surprisingly endearing. "Well, anyway, I'm in a rush because this Hale fellow should be here any minute, but I came back because I don't have your e-mail address."

"My e-mail address…?"

"To send you the directions to my apartment. To pick me up for the party."

"Right. Of course," he said. Scribbling the address on a piece of paper, he handed it to her, and their hands brushed. Her fingers tingled from the contact. Surprised, for a moment she considered staying and talking to him, but that was silly. She had a job to do, and she didn't need to be mooning over some guy she'd practically just met.

"Right. Well, I'd better go." She tucked the address into her pocket, then hurried back toward her cubicle. Something he'd said, though, tugged at her memory, and she stopped after a few steps and turned back to face him.

"What?" He looked both pleased and surprised that she'd stopped.

"I'm just surprised you haven't…well, met any Protectors."

He took a step back, as if her words made him uncomfortable. "Why's that?"

She shrugged. Maybe she was being silly. "I don't know. Your name? I mean, it's not an average name, now is it? I guess Starbuck is just different enough to make me think of Protectors. Well, Protectors and nonfat lattes."

He laughed. "Right. That makes sense. Well, my parents named me. Maybe they knew it was a name common for Protectors and wanted me to sound like one."

Jenny felt her mouth twitch. "Maybe your parents hung out with my mother."

He laughed again, obviously amused by her wry comment. "I sincerely doubt that."

She checked her watch, realizing that while she'd been chatting, she'd probably left her appointment waiting. And Hale was reportedly not the most tolerant of superheroes. "Look, I need to rush." The simple truth of the fact depressed her, but she really did have to go. She forced a laugh. "I'll see you tomorrow night, though, right? My mother won't be pleased if I turned down Piter for a date who doesn't show up."

"Absolutely." His smile was warm and genuine, and she found herself smiling back…and genuinely looking forward to tomorrow night.

Starbuck stayed on her mind the rest of the day and all through Thursday, and by the time Jenny reached her apartment that evening, she was a bundle of nerves.

Two days before, things had been simpler. Now she was dressing for a date. And though her head kept reminding her this wasn't a real date, her heart kept leaping to all sorts of dumb conclusions.

Not that a date was such an amazing thing in itself. But considering that she had a classified job, finding a regular guy she could really talk to wasn't the easiest thing in the world for Jenny. And her weird hours meant that she never seemed to have a free weekend. She hadn't connected very often, or found herself in the position to connect, with an attractive man who shared her lifestyle. Which probably explained why she was so looking forward to going out with Starbuck.

Two days before, she probably wouldn't have been able to pick him out of a crowd; now she could sketch his face from memory. They worked in different sections of the MLO, but she'd seen him pass by three times since they'd parted on Thursday—and each was burned into her memory.

In just a short while she'd see him again, and as the minutes ticked by, the quivering in her stomach increased. A long, hot shower didn't do anything to cure her nervousness, and when she stepped out of the tub she grimaced at her reflection. "You're being silly," she said. "The only reason he asked you is because he could tell Mom was driving you insane. And the only reason you're all quivery is because he's good-looking. You hardly know the guy. This isn't what you're making it out to be."

Which sounded perfectly reasonable, but her reflection didn't look convinced. She tossed a scowl toward the mirror. Well, why shouldn't she look forward to this pseudo date? She was a grown woman. If she wanted to have a fun evening, she would. And Starbuck seemed like a nice, fun, normal guy—no matter what his reasons were for escorting her to the MLO party.

Gnawing on her lower lip, she wandered into her bedroom clad only in an oversize towel. For the first time in a long while, she stood in front of her closet, uncertain of what to wear. Yesterday she would have chosen a simple print dress—plain, comfortable, nothing that would draw too much attention. But today…

Before she could talk herself out of it, she dug into the farthest recesses of the closet to pull out the slinky black dress with the low neck and spaghetti straps that she'd bought on a whim two months ago. She'd never worn the outfit in public, though she'd tried it on alone in her apartment more than once. Each time, it had made her feel decadent and sexy.

The dress hadn't yet made it out of the house, but tonight…well, maybe tonight she wanted to see the way a certain pair of deep brown eyes looked when Starbuck saw her in it.

"Now you are being silly." This time she spoke to her reflection in the bedroom mirror, and, once again, her reflection didn't argue. She stuck her tongue out at it. "Lot of help you are."

Well, it didn't matter. She was wearing the dress, and that was that. Taking a deep breath, she dropped her towel, then slipped the garment over her head. She wasn't exactly sure what it was about Starbuck that intrigued her, but something did. And one other thing was certain: he'd notice her for sure in this dress, and tonight, that was all she wanted.

*****

"You're beautiful." Starbuck whispered the words, knowing they were inadequate, but not sure how else to tell Jenny how absolutely stunning she looked.

A slow blush tinged her cheeks, making her look even prettier. She cast a subtle spell, and he was completely bewitched.

Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself of his mission. Focus, Starbuck, focus. The point of tonight's outing isn't to get close to this girl—even though that is certainly a perk. In her eyes, I'm just a guy doing her a favor. And I need to do my job. Need to get her thinking about her mother…and then I need to read those thoughts.

Hale was right. Starbuck couldn't let himself be swayed by his feelings for this woman—as beautiful as she was. Even if Daphne hadn't directly told her daughter about any illicit activities, she had likely said something that was a clue. And Starbuck had to get that clue.

Of course, it was tough to focus on work when Jennifer Martin stood right in front of him, practically oozing sex and sin. Forget about probing her mind; right now he was interested in probing much more enticing parts.

"Starbuck?" Her voice was hesitant, almost shy.

"Hmm? What?" He jumped to attention, realizing he'd been staring.

"You're staring," she said.

"Well, you're beautiful."

Again, the color rose in her cheeks. "You said that already."

He moved closer, stopping only when he was near enough to smell her shampoo. "I thought it was worth repeating." He drew in a breath, losing himself in the enticing scent of lavender.

She swallowed, then pressed her lips together. For an instant she met his eyes, then quickly dropped her gaze to the ground. "We should probably get going."

"Right. Of course." Taking a step back, he silently cursed himself. This girl wasn't interested in Protectors, which meant she wasn't interested in him. Or wouldn't be, once she truly knew him. He needed to keep this as they'd begun it: he was simply a mortal doing her a favor. Those were the rules of the game, and he needed to keep them at the forefront of his mind.

"Is this your car?" She sounded a bit surprised, and he regretted his decision not to bring the Ferrari. Somehow the standard-issue council car—complete with an assortment of council-approved gizmos that would have made James Bond drool—had seemed a little too unlikely for his cover as a newly hired government worker. Instead he'd bought a banged-up Chevette. And right now he was wishing he'd hired a limo. Or taken a taxi. Or fought the subway. Or walked.

"Actually, my car's in the shop. This is a loaner. Sorry."

"No, no. It's fine." She smiled as he opened the door, whose hinges groaned. Getting in, she used a towel he'd draped over the back of the seat to cover a rip in the upholstery. "I don't even own a car."

"Well, I know it isn't exactly a Ferrari."

Her smile just about melted his heart, and she said, "So long as it drives, that's all we need."

He turned the key, started the car, revved the engine…and then listened to it die. He tried again. This time the engine started, and continued to purr. Actually it was more of a low growl, but there was definitely engine noise. That, at least, was a good sign. The Chevette's gears were less cooperative than his Ferrari's, and it took a few seconds to get the car into first. Metal ground against metal.

Jenny shifted in her seat to face him. "You do know how to drive, right?"

Great. She might not like superhero types, but Starbuck also doubted that Jenny Martin was looking for thin, geeky guys who couldn't drive. He could practically feel the testosterone surging through his veins and, even though he knew it was stupid, he hit the clutch, slammed the car into gear, and peeled out into traffic. A Protector's lightning-quick reflexes were handy for fighting crime, but they were also useful in the impressing-women department. Or they had been before.

Both he and Jenny leaned precariously to one side as they squealed around a corner. As soon as they were back on a straightaway, he glanced in her direction. "I can drive," he said.

"I guess so." Her hand was tight on the door handle, but her smile was relaxed. "Remind me never to doubt you again."

Their eyes met, and for just a moment he was certain he could see her thoughts without the benefit of his mind-probe. It wasn't a theory he had the chance to test, however. She gasped, and he had to look forward again. He jerked the car sideways to avoid a stopped taxi.

"Eyes on the road, Starbuck."

"But the view's so much better to my right."

"I…yes…well…"

He didn't have to look at her to know she was blushing again. "Don't worry, Jen. I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know." A softness laced her voice, and he knew that she trusted him.

The knowledge made him giddy, at least until he remembered that her trust was predicated on a lie. She thought this was a date with a mortal, not that Starbuck was an undercover Protector out to snare her mother in a web of deceit. It was really time to quit fantasizing that something real could develop between them. He must move on to the problem at hand—finding out if Jenny knew anything about her mother's recent activities.

He rested one hand lightly on the steering wheel and the other on the gearshift, trying to be casual in his interrogation. "So how long have you been working at the MLO?"

"Two years now. Ever since I got out of college."

"So far it seems like a great place." He'd learned from past experience that the best way to get information was to get a person talking about him- or herself.

"Oh, yeah. I love it."

"Even though you're not crazy about the people you work for."

Her smile was almost embarrassed. "Don't get me wrong. I'm in awe of the Protectors. When I was a little kid I used to believe in superheroes…and then I grew up and found out they were real." Her smile revealed a tiny dimple. "That was a very cool realization."

"But…?" he asked. She'd made it so clear that she didn't want to date a Protector, there had to be a "but."

She half shrugged. "But when I started working at the MLO, I started meeting some of those real-life superheroes. Those pompous…Well, let's just say they're—"

"Not terribly humble?"

"That's an understatement. I mean, some of them are. I interviewed Zoë Smith after that whole big thing in LA, and she was great. But she's also a halfling, so it makes sense she wouldn't be too stuck-up around us mortals. Her brother, though…"

Starbuck nodded. Hale was definitely a mortal snob. He'd protect them, yes. Sleep with them, sure. Feel something for one…no way!

" And many others, too," Jenny continued. "I mean, I've run across a lot of Protectors in my time here. They're mostly nice enough…but they're not…real. Too much testosterone, too much hubris." She shrugged. "And since I've already got such a bizarre job, I think I'd like something of a normal home life—you know?"

He did know, and he also knew that he wasn't a guy to add normal to anyone's personal equation.

She didn't wait for him to answer. "My mom, on the other hand—"

"Thinks her little girl deserves more than normal."

Jennifer sighed. "I just want a normal guy who loves me for me…and I'll love him for him. I don't think that's too much to ask." She looked up, peeking at him from under her eyelashes. "Do you?"

He swallowed, wanting to tell her everything and see if she couldn't learn to see past what he was, past her preconceptions. But that was a bad idea—on so many levels. "No," he finally said. "Not too much to ask at all." He cleared his throat, determined to segue back into business. "So how'd your mom get hooked up with the MLO, anyway?"

She started to answer, then snapped her mouth shut as he whipped the Chevette around another comer. The force of the turn pressed her against his shoulder. She righted herself immediately, but just that tiny contact sent waves of awareness crashing through him. "Sorry," he said, even though he wasn't sorry at all and, frankly, wished he needed to turn again so he could feel her touch once more.

"That's okay." Her voice was breathless, but he wasn't sure if it was an after-effect of their unexpected caress or if she was now afraid of his driving. "About my mom…"

"Right."

"She's always been a computer genius. She and my dad designed some really cool stuff back in the sixties before I was born."

"Why doesn't your dad work at the MLO?"

A tiny shrug. "Don't know. Never met him. He ran off to join Greenpeace right after Mom got pregnant. He's doing some penguin study in Antarctica now." She turned in her seat and smiled. "I think he's another reason I'm so keen on dating normal guys. No quirks. No oddities. No penguins. No wanna-be superheroes." Again, she aimed a shy smile in his direction.

"Just your basic normal guy."

"Right. Normal." He cleared his throat, then ticked her list off in his mind. About all he had going for him was the no-penguins requirement. Too bad.

Back to business. "So your dad left, and your mom ended up recruited by the MLO?"

"Right. I'm not sure how they found out about her—she's never told me. I think it has something to do with some guy she was seeing before she married my dad." She turned to face him squarely. "He was a Protector, and from what I can tell, she adored him. But she dumped him for my dad, and—especially since my dad's a nutcase—she's regretted it ever since. By the time her divorce came through, that Protector guy had married someone else."

"Probably explains why she's so insistent on your dating a Protector."

"Oh yeah. Doesn't take Dr. Freud to figure that out."

"And this guy got her a job at the MLO?"

"I think so. At any rate, she's been working for the council for as long as I can remember. Top-secret clearance and all that. It's pretty neat, really."

"You're proud of her."

It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway. "Totally. She drives me nuts, but she's the greatest. If she'd just drop this whole matchmaking thing, she'd be perfect. But she's so set on fixing me up with a Protector…"

"Well, she can certainly pick from the best of the bunch."

She turned to squint at him. ''I'm not sure what you mean."

This was it. Time to get down to business and get Jennifer Martin thinking about her mother—and about her mother's secrets. "I just mean that she's got access to the whole council mainframe. I mean, heck, she built the mainframe. And it's got detailed information about every Protector. Their assignments, their vital statistics, the works." Everything, that was, except for information on the Venerate Council's spies. Starbuck and the other undercover operatives weren't included in the mainframe. But other than that very elite group, the MLO's computer knew every bit of classified information about everything. And Daphne could access it.

Jenny shot him an ironic glance. "In that case, I wish that computer knew all there was to know about mortal guys. Dating a Protector—"

"I know." He didn't think he could stand to hear her say it one more time. "It's not your thing." Tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, he tried to figure out where to take the conversation next. He might as well just jump right in. "So do you think your mom ever peeks into the data?"

"You mean does she just poke around?" Jenny's voice squeaked. "In the confidential files?"

"It's got to be tempting."

"She could lose her job. Mom wouldn't do that. No matter how much she wants a Protector son-in-law, she's not about to go snooping illegally."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

He shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "It's just that your mom doesn't strike me as the play-by-the-rules type."

Jenny scowled, clearly agreeing with his assessment, but unsure what to say. Good. He wanted her mind sifting through possibilities, remembering any offhand comments the woman might have made.

"It's absurd." Jenny turned to face forward, her arms crossed over her chest.

"Sorry." He'd pushed her far enough. "I didn't mean to suggest anything. Just making small talk."

Her shoulders sagged as she sighed. "It's okay. I'm probably being too sensitive. It's just that she's got such a respected position, I'd hate for any rumors to get started."

"I wouldn't dream of suggesting a thing."

This time her smile was genuine. "I believe you."

They rode in silence for a while, and he let his mind float free; then he began to let his mind connect with hers. Her surface thoughts were fuzzy and scattered, her mind taking in the city streets, scanning over the sidewalks and storefronts.

He probed a bit further, dipping into the more intimate recesses of her mind. He pushed back through a haze of fear about his driving—he stopped probing long enough to tap the brake and slow down—then he moved deeper.

Pushing aside the mists of her mind, he wandered down the mental paths that had opened because of their conversation. Clear paths. A good sign. Talking about her mom had blazed a trail for him.

But when he brushed through to home in on the thoughts that had jiggled loose, it wasn't Daphne he found. His heart beat faster as he focused, mentally blinking to assure himself that his mind's eye was telling the truth.

There it was, plain as day: one thought, distinct from everything else in her head. Blazing bright, like red flashing neon—I want him to kiss me. Please, sometime tonight, let this man kiss me.

Well, if that was what the lady wanted…who was he to say no?

Chapter Four

Thank goodness he can't read my mind! Jenny slunk down farther into the car seat and gazed out the window, hoping her cheeks would cool off before she had to look at him again.

She couldn't believe she was actually hoping he'd kiss her. He was practically a stranger. A cute stranger, true, but a stranger nonetheless.

Well, that was what dating was for. They were on a date. They'd get to know each other, and maybe, just maybe, it might lead somewhere—if her mother didn't arrange for Starbuck to be transferred to Alaska or something.

"Penny for your thoughts."

At the sound of his voice she jumped a mile, then turned to look at him as she tried to catch her breath. His grin broadened, and she had the uncomfortable feeling he really did know what she was thinking.

Absurd.

She shook off the feeling and pasted on a smile. "Just wondering about my mom. She's not too thrilled that you're accompanying me tonight."

"Yeah, I got that impression." For a moment he seemed to hesitate; then he reached over and took her hand. She tried to remain calm despite the tingling sensation the contact brought. "But I'm not out with your mother. So long as you want to be with me, I'm happy."

"I…I…" She hesitated, suddenly shy. Things were moving too fast. She wanted to pull back, wanted to slow down, but he'd drawn her in, wrapped her up in his spell, and she wanted him to wrap her up in his arms.

A frown touched his lips as he pulled his hand away, and she realized that he must have misinterpreted her hesitancy.

"I know I just stepped in as a favor. But I was kind of hoping this could be a real—"

"Yes," she blurted. "Real is good. I'm fine with real. Real is much better than imitation." She knew she must sound like an idiot. So much for trying to make an impression.

Fortunately, Starbuck didn't seem to mind the way she was blathering on; he just aimed a smile in her direction and kept on driving. A bit wildly.

Her fingers tightened around the door handle. He hadn't killed them yet, but the night was still young. She sneaked another glance in his direction, amazed by the way his hair seemed to beg for her fingers. Not that she intended to be so bold as to caress him like that. Better just to put her hands in her lap, turn back around, face forward and—

"Stop sign!" she yelped.

"I see it." He hit the brakes and screeched to a halt, then glanced over at her. "Don't worry. I've got it under control." His smile was bright, and she couldn't help but return it. He might be a reckless driver—no, he was a reckless driver—but even so, she'd never felt safer in her whole life. Odd, yes. Disconcerting. But on the whole, such illogical security was a rather pleasant feeling.

Probably for her benefit, he slowed a bit as he negotiated a few more streets, finally pulling to a stop at the valet stand in front of the Montclair Hotel. "We're here."

She sat up straighter. "So we are."

"Nervous?"

"About the party? Or your driving?"

He chuckled. "About your mom."

At that, she sobered. "I'll be fine. You're the one who should be nervous. If Mom thinks we're an item, you may find yourself working at the Alaskan transmitting facility by next week. Seriously. Mom's got clout."

''I'll take my chances," he said, his tone and expression confident. "I've got a few friends with clout, too, and I have a feeling I'm here for as long as I want to be."

Good, she thought. As the valet opened the door for her, she stifled a smile. She wasn't quite ready to admit it to him, but right at the moment, nothing would make her happier than having this wild-haired reckless driver around for a long, long time.

*****

An annual affair, the MLO party never failed to draw a good crowd of both Protectors and mortal employees. The council sponsored the event and encouraged all Protectors to attend. After all, the MLO was the first line of defense between a Protector's cover story and the outside world.

The event was always held in a New York hotel, but the council took precautions to keep its secrets. No uninitiated mortals staffed the party, and every Protector was warned away from any displays of power unless he or she was absolutely certain that no inappropriate witnesses were in visual range. So far no one had slipped up, and the party always proved to be great fun for mortal MLO employees and Protectors alike.

At least that was what Starbuck had been told. In his particular line of work, he couldn't admit to being a Protector, and until recently he hadn't worked for the MLO. So even though he'd been a full-fledged Protector all his life, and he'd been an active council member for years, this was his first time at this party. After taking a long look around the ballroom, he had to admit he was impressed.

Long buffet tables laden with all sorts of delicious goodies lined two walls. Thirty or so round tables, each with a freshly pressed white tablecloth and four chairs, were scattered throughout the room. Clusters of people gathered about, some sitting at the tables, some simply hanging out sampling the food.

The far side of the room had no tables. Instead someone had laid down a portable wooden dance floor. As Jenny and Starbuck entered, about two dozen Protectors and mortals were jamming to the lively tunes of Levitation, a band that several musically inclined Protectors had formed some three years previous.

"They're good," Jenny piped up. "Aren't they that Protector band?"

"I think so," Starbuck said, even though he knew for a fact they were.

"Yeah, they are. I recognize them now. Do you know their story?" She was smiling, her face aglow as if she wanted to share a secret.

"Nope," he lied.

"I did some spin on them once. About two years ago, a mortal heard them play, and they ended up with a record deal. Pretty cool, and their manager still has no clue what they do when they're not playing gigs." Her eyes danced with amusement. "I figure that if he ever does find out, he's going to be royally pissed to have missed out on such a great marketing opportunity."

Laughing, Starbuck took her arm. "You've definitely got a point there." He nodded toward the bandstand. "Do you want to dance?"

Her cheeks flushed, and Starbuck fought the urge to kiss her right then and there.

"I'm not a very good dancer," she murmured.

As if on cue, the band wrapped up what it was playing and switched to a slow, soulful ballad. Starbuck held out his hand, smiling. "Nothing to a slow dance. Just close your eyes and sway."

The color in Jenny's cheeks increased, but she nodded, then took his hand. They moved to the dance floor. Through one song and the next, he simply held her as they swayed on the floor. Her body, soft and warm, melded perfectly with his. He was in heaven, plain and simple. There was no place on earth he'd rather be, nothing in the world he'd rather think about—then he opened his eyes and saw Daphne standing in the corner, and reality came crashing back.

Piter leaned against a wall near her, and Daphne moved closer. There was something about seeing Jenny's mother with the other Protector that made Starbuck's stomach turn. Piter knew more than just the basic council secrets, but he didn't know that Daphne's loyalty was in question. If he made just one slip of the tongue…

Starbuck glanced down at Jenny and sighed. As much as he wanted to spend the entire evening doing nothing more than holding her, the simple fact was that it was time to focus on his job.

*****

That dratted mortal is dancing with my daughter! Daphne sighed, losing track of Piter's voice. Starbuck had his arms wrapped around Jenny, and—darn it all—Jenny seemed to be enjoying herself.

Her whole life, Jenny'd been headstrong, but she'd been smart, too. Yet about this…Daphne couldn't understand why her daughter didn't realize how much better her life would be with a Protector by her side. Why did she insist on making the same mistakes as her mother? Dating a mortal led nowhere, as Daphne had learned the hard way. They weren't the same breed; they weren't raised to save others, to be more than just out for themselves.

"—if you really think so."

Daphne blinked, then remembered where she was and turned to Piter. "Pardon me?"

"I said I'd be happy to go over and talk with Jenny, if you really think she wants me to. She seems quite cozy with that other fellow, though. I don't want to step on any toes."

"No! No." Daphne cleared her throat, then patted his hand. Such a polite young man. A Protector, through and through. "I mean, they're not cozy. They're just friends. And she's mentioned you several times to me. I'm sure she'd love the chance to get to know you better."

"She's mentioned me?"

"Absolutely." Not favorably, but that was just because Jenny was headstrong. Piter was a nice guy. So cultured. So considerate. Surely her daughter would figure that out soon enough.

He took a step forward, obviously interested. "Well, if you're sure…"

"I'm sure. I'm sure." She made a shooing motion. "Go."

He did. Almost instantly. And something about his eagerness made Daphne frown. Nonsense. There wasn't anything untoward about Piter's interest in her daughter. All it meant was that the boy had good taste.

No, this was what Daphne wanted.

And she could only hope that Jenny had the good sense to see what a prime catch Piter would be.

Chapter Five

As the band played a popular love song from the eighties, Jenny kept her eyes closed, letting the music flow around them. Her cheek was pressed against Starbuck's chest, and she could feel the rhythm of his heart even through his shirt and sport coat.

There was something so peaceful—so right—about being in this man's arms. As if she belonged there and nowhere else. She knew she was being silly, letting foolish romantic notions get the better of her, but that didn't change the way she felt.

With soft strokes he caressed her back, and with every pass of his fingers, she fought the urge to beg him to kiss her. The touch was so casual, she doubted he even realized what he was doing. But Jenny noticed. His tentative strokes ignited every atom in her body, and if he kept it up much longer, she might just explode. Even so, she wanted him to keep doing it forever. What was a little explosion weighed against the pleasure of Starbuck's caress?

They stayed like that—two people so close they seemed almost one—until suddenly he stopped and pulled back.

With a frown, she opened her eyes, tilting her head back and looking at him, afraid she'd somehow done something wrong. He wasn't focusing on her. Instead he was watching something on the far side of the room. "What is it?" she asked.

His smile reassured her as he stroked her hair. "Sorry. It's just that your mom's watching us. I'm thinking we should go over and say hello."

"Oh." She couldn't fault his politeness, but hanging out with her mother didn't rank high on Jenny's list of things she wanted to do at the moment. In fact, it ranked far, far below continuing this dance. "I suppose we should."

He chuckled. "You sound thrilled."

"No, you're right." With a sigh she pulled free of his arms. "Let's get it over with."

He didn't bother to hide his amusement as he raised his elbow for her to take. After a second, she cracked a smile, too. "Sorry. I just know what she's going to say, and—"

"You don't want to hear it."

"I've heard it all my life. I guess one more time won't hurt." Besides, Starbuck's arm linked through hers somehow fortified her—at least enough to stand up to her mom for five minutes. Cocking her head, she looked into his deep brown eyes, drawing courage from him, then took a determined step forward. "Okay," she said. "Let's go."

They'd barely fought their way past the thick crowd at the edge of the dance floor when they were stopped again. For a split second, Jenny thanked fate for the reprieve. Then she realized who had stopped them: Piter.

"Jenny." He held out his hand, and she reluctantly took it, then cringed as he kissed her fingertips. "You look lovely."

"Thanks." She didn't meet his eyes; instead she concentrated on her painted toenails. When he released her hand, she looked up to catch him aiming a curt nod in Starbuck's direction.

"Starpluck, isn't it?"

Starbuck's smile seemed carved from ice, but he took Piter's outstretched hand. "Starbuck."

"Right. Of course. I remember. I'm Piter. I'm the Protector on rotation at the MLO this month."

"I know who you are," Starbuck said, his voice as cold as his smile.

Jenny silently cheered. Good for Starbuck. Piter may have fooled her mother, but Jenny knew that he was one of the most arrogant men she'd ever run across. Even for a Protector. She was glad that Starbuck could see through him, too.

Unfortunately, Piter wasn't too put off by Starbuck's cool reception. He just chuckled softly, as if he were amused by some private joke, then turned back to Jenny. "Let's dance."

"We were just going to go talk with my mom."

She moved forward, Starbuck's strong hand at her back guiding her, but Piter stepped in front of them. "I was just with your mother. Considering how thrilled she was when I told her I was going to ask you to dance, I'm sure she won't mind if you make a little detour on your way to see her."

No way. No how. "I don't think—"

"The lady's not interested," Starbuck interrupted, taking a step forward.

For a second, Jenny thought the two men were about to get into it—a situation that surely wouldn't favor Starbuck, especially considering that mortals tended to fare rather poorly when pitted against superheroes in fistfights—but Piter held up his hands and backed off. The wide grin that spread across his oh-so-perfect face showed off rows of sparkling white teeth. The image reminded her of Mack the Knife, and she stifled a shiver.

"Hey, not a problem," Piter said. "I'm not trying to interfere."

Jenny didn't believe that any more than she believed her mother would stop meddling if she just asked politely. Considering the tight line of Starbuck's jaw, he didn't believe Piter either. The Protector obviously wanted to muscle in on their date, and Starbuck wasn't going to let him.

She wrapped herself in that knowledge like a warm blanket. No matter how unwelcome this encounter with Piter, it had one overwhelming benefit now she knew that Starbuck was just as interested in her as she was in him.

*****

Piter was on his sickly-sweet best behavior, and Starbuck's nerves were at the breaking point. More than anything he wished he could whip off his glasses, flex his biceps, and tell the bastard to get the hell out of Dodge.

Of course, there were a couple of problems with that little plan, not the least of which was that Starbuck had no biceps to speak of. Worse, revealing that he was a Protector was simply out of the question.

The only good thing about this situation was that apparently Daphne hadn't been pumping Piter for secrets…Instead, she'd just been recruiting him to date her daughter. Which was good in that it didn't add any more evidence to support Daphne as the mole. It was bad in the respect that it didn't add any more evidence to support Daphne as the mole. He was still on square one case-wise.

If that wasn't bad enough, he was stuck at this party watching his date be harassed by an overbearing peer, and all Starbuck could do was fend the guy off like any normal mortal on the planet. It was times like this when working undercover was damned inconvenient.

Still, he was Jenny's date, and he didn't intend to let some other bozo muscle in. With a firm grip, he steered Jenny away from Piter and toward her mother. Once again, the other Protector stepped into their path. Once again, Starbuck tamped down on his temper.

"The lady said no," he said through gritted teeth. "What does she have to do, send you a form in triplicate?"

Piter puffed up like some arrogant rooster. "I don't believe she actually said no. And the lady can speak for herself."

"Yes, she can," Jenny said. "But if I didn't actually say no, I still meant it. Thanks, but no thanks. I'm perfectly happy with the dance partner I've got."

Piter moved forward, and then the creep actually stroked the side of her arm. "Just one dance, Jenny," he cajoled. "Where's the harm in that?"

Okay. Enough is enough. Starbuck's hand fisted, and he pulled back, ready to let loose with every ounce of strength in his body.

Except he couldn't. Not only did fistfights rarely impress women, he was also undercover. He had to play the mortal role, and mortals didn't pick fights with Protectors. At least, not mortals with any intelligence.

Piter glanced pointedly at Starbuck's fisted hand. "I'd think twice if I were you."

They locked eyes for just a moment, and Starbuck hoped that somehow the anger he felt was coming through loud and clear. Maybe so, because Piter broke the stare-off first. "Listen, Starcluck, I'm not trying to steal your date. I just want to cut in. One dance. Where's the harm in that?" He flashed Jenny a winning smile, and Starbuck suddenly knew why this creep was so well liked among the council members. Not to mention how he'd won over Daphne. The man was a born politician.

"There wouldn't be any harm," Starbuck said, "If Jenny were interested. She's not."

"How will she know for sure until she gives it a try?" The Protector aimed his million-dollar smile in her direction. "Come on, babe. Let me cut in for just one dance." He nodded to the far side of the room, where Daphne stood next to a potted palm, obviously trying to look nonchalant. "It'll make your mom happy." Before she even had a chance to answer, he took her elbow and pulled her forward.

Jenny shot Starbuck a frustrated glance, even as she was jerking her arm away. "I said no. What's the matter? Too many syllables for you?"

But Piter held on. "Where's the harm in one dance? Your mom's dying to see us on that dance floor."

"She'll get over it," Jenny said, right as Starbuck decided that enough was truly enough. Maybe he couldn't fend Piter off with his strength, but there were other methods. Methods he wasn't supposed to use for personal gain, true, but desperate times…

With every ounce of strength in his body he focused, letting the flood of energy gather in his chest. It was special energy that only he and a few other Protectors were able to summon, a secret trait that only the council elders and his best friends knew was in his repertoire of superpowers.

Jenny squinted at him, her brow furrowed with concern. "You look horrible. Are you okay?"

He knew he looked as though he were going to be sick, but he couldn't help that any more than he could answer her. The moment was already upon him. Like lightning bugs zipping around inside him, the power bounced and fluttered, building and building until, finally, he was ready. Summoning his strength, he exhaled, breathing out all the energy he'd absorbed.

Then, as he knew it would, the world froze and time stopped.

With a low groan, he sagged to his knees. Time manipulation took a lot out of a guy, and he hadn't prepared much for this exertion. He'd be weak for as long as time was stopped. Heck, he shouldn't even be doing this. If the council found out, they'd have his head.

He glanced toward Jenny—frozen in the moment, still squinting toward where he used to be. Well, let the council do its worst. Some things—some people—were more important than rules. And right now, Starbuck wanted to get Piter's attention focused on something other than Jenny. Also, truth be told, Starbuck wanted to one-up Piter, even if the bastard never knew who had gotten the better of him.

The only question now was, what could he do?

Since he hadn't prepared, he had only a few minutes before the energy faded and everything continued again. With a little preparation, he might have pulled off a full half hour to poke and prod around while time stood still, but the best he'd ever managed on the spur of the moment was five minutes.

He looked about, the dancing couples frozen in mid-dip, the bubbling champagne fountain caught in mid-bubble, Piter reaching for Jenny and looking damn smug while he did. Well, why shouldn't he look smug? Perfect body, perfect face, perfect hair, perfect clothes. The man was a prime example of Protector genetics and breeding, and he knew it.

And since Starbuck was undercover, there wasn't a damn thing he could do—with or without time on his side—to wipe that smug expression off his face.

Or was there?

The idea was devious, true, but Piter deserved devious. And surely it would cause enough of a commotion that Starbuck and Jenny could sneak out of the room entirely before he even noticed they were gone. And it wouldn't cause any lasting damage.

He shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't.

But when he looked over at Jenny again, his heart seemed to swell, and he knew that he had to do it. Anything for her. Anything to get Piter off her back. And anything to one-up anyone who would try to steal her from him. This would be silly, but it would also be fun.

He did one last thing before he set out on his scheme to humiliate a guy who needed to be taken down a peg or two. He bent over and kissed Jenny on the lips.

Chapter Six

Piter's pants were around his ankles, his shirt was pulled over his head, and his hands were twisted up in the sleeves. Jenny had no idea where the obnoxious Protector's coat was, but under the circumstances, it didn't seem important.

She pressed her fingers to her lips, which seemed warm and tingly under her touch. This was weird. Not her lips—though, that was odd-but the whole Piter situation. Weird. Very weird. Definitely bizarre…especially in a dance hall full of Protectors.

Two seconds before, Starbuck had been standing right in front of her, looking quite green around the gills. Now he was tugging at her hand, whispering that they ought to get out of there before Piter pulled himself together.

"But…?" She looked at Starbuck, then back to Piter, and all the Protectors and mortals gathered around him laughing. She felt entirely bemused. "What's going on?" she asked.

Starbuck shrugged. "I guess some other Protector is playing a joke on him."

"But…but I didn't even blink." They were moving toward the exit, but she kept glancing back toward Piter. "I mean, one minute he was standing there. The next minute he's in his underwear. I never looked away. It happened just like that." She snapped the fingers of her free hand. "It's just not possible."

Starbuck stopped, disbelief apparent on his adorable face as he leaned against the wall. "Everything you've heard about, with these Protectors' superpowers, and you say it's not possible?" He took a deep, exhausted breath. "Come on, Jenny. How would you spin this?"

"For mortals? I have no clue." The whole evening needed a spin. First she was on a wonderful date; then she was being hounded by a persistent super-nuisance; then she was caught up in the middle of something that seemed suspiciously like poltergeist activity. She shrugged. That explanation would work as well as any other. "A poltergeist, maybe? Mortals would believe that."

"Well, there you go. On our way out, we can ask the concierge if the Montclair is haunted." He took her hand and tugged her toward the exit, his grip somewhat weak.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine." His voice was thin, and she got the feeling he wasn't really fine at all. "Probably something I ate."

"But?"

He tugged at her hand. "But let's go now, while we can. Unless you'd rather stay?"

One quick look over her shoulder was all she needed to decide. Piter was almost completely disentangled, and if the flailing of limbs was any indication, he was anything but happy. As for Daphne, she'd moved to help Piter, but her eyes were scanning the room, probably searching for Jenny. "No." She zipped through the door, this time pulling him behind her. "Let's get out while we can"

Holding hands, they stumbled out of the ballroom and across the mezzanine to the marble staircase, then down the steps and out the wide glass doors to the valet stand.

"I still can't believe I valet-parked a Chevette," he said in a gasp, propping himself up against the wooden stand.

"So long as you tip, I don't think they care." She smiled over at him, having a wonderful time and willing to go just about anywhere now—even if it meant suffering through his driving again.

"You're probably right." He gave the ticket to the valet, then walked back and, very nonchalantly, took Jenny's hand. The simple gesture warmed her all the way to her toes, and she wanted to lose herself in the feeling. The trouble was, she couldn't. She wanted to focus on her and Starbuck and nothing else, but it just wasn't happening.

She sighed, shifting from foot to foot. After a moment, he noticed her agitation. "Go ahead," he prompted. "Say it."

Relieved, she exhaled. The truth was, Piter's predicament was driving her nuts. If she didn't figure it out, it would bug her all evening. She was thankful Starbuck seemed to understand—and that was yet another reason she just might fall for him. Hard.

"It's just that a poltergeist might be an okay explanation for mortals," she whispered, "but I don't see Protectors buying into it."

"No?"

She shook her head.

"What then?"

"I don't know." She really didn't. She'd never run across anything quite like this before. "Maybe superspeed…?"

"That must be it," he said, a bit too agreeably. "I'm sure you're right."

She frowned. "Except that we still should have seen something. It all happened in the blink of an eye. I don't think any Protector can move that fast."

"Hmmm. I'm not sure." He frowned, but then perked up as his car chugged up the hill from the parking garage. "Car's here." He slipped his arm around her waist and steered her forward. His grip was no longer weak.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

He nodded. "I told you it would pass." He jerked his head toward the car. "Ready?"

She let herself be led toward it, then frowned and stopped. Something weird was going on. Starbuck seemed jumpy all of a sudden, and she had no idea why. Of course, maybe it was the confrontation with Piter. That she could certainly understand.

Still…

"Do you think there are Protectors that fast?" she asked. The truth was, as much as the MLO knew about the superhero race that had pledged to protect mortals, they surely didn't know everything.

Starbuck shrugged, tipping the valet who'd finally exited his car and left it running in the drive-through before them. He wanted to steer Jenny to the car, and he wanted her to drop this subject. He wasn't worried that she'd figure out that time had stopped—even if she did, she certainly wouldn't tie it to him—but the whole topic made him uncomfortable. For one thing, it reminded him of just how blatantly he'd broken the rules. For another, it reminded him of the fact that he was a Protector—a powerful one—and that he had lied to Jenny about everything.

He needed an explanation—one she could buy into and then forget about. Unfortunately, he was all out of convenient, rational-sounding lies.

And then he concocted the perfect answer: Hale. Maybe his friend didn't approve of mortal-Protector relationships, but he darn well would help Starbuck out of this mess. He'd better.

"Maybe not just speed," he said, hoping he sounded casual. "Maybe invisibility, too."

"Oh, right!" Her face lit up as she considered the possibility. "Of course. Hale! That's his superpower. Well, one of them. Except I didn't see him at the party."

"I think that's the point, sweetheart. You didn't see him."

Her eyes widened. "You think he was there?"

"I'd bet money on it."

"And you'd be right." The air shimmered and Hale suddenly appeared, scaring the hell out of both Jenny and Starbuck. As their hearts slowed down, both whipped around, looking to see if anyone had noticed the good-looking guy materializing from thin air.

Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying the least bit of attention to the trio now standing by the ugly Chevette.

She propped a hand on her hip. "You did that in there? In a split second? You stripped him down and got him caught up in his own shirt?"

Hale nodded, then smiled in Starbuck's direction.

"Absolutely. I'd be pretty stupid to say I did it if I didn't—especially just to cover for some other Protector. I mean, the council would have my neck…and, really, who's that loyal a friend? "

Starbuck stifled a groan as Hale buffed his nails on the front of his own shirt.

"A heck of a piece of work, if I do say so myself," his friend enthused. "Sometimes I amaze even myself."

"I'm amazed you could move so fast," Jenny marveled.

Hale shrugged modestly. "Years of training. And when you think about it, what else could have happened? I mean, it's not as if anyone can stop time."

Starbuck tried not to roll his eyes at his friend's outrageousness.

Jenny frowned as something dawned on her. She looked from Hale to Starbuck. "I thought you two didn't know each other."

Hale stuck out his hand. "Well, we do now, I guess. I'm Hale."

"Starbuck. I've heard of you."

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? What have you heard?"

"Just that you're a bit of a prankster…but that you're loyal to a fault."

Hale grinned. "I don't know who your source is, but let him know I approve of his assessment." He winked. "Although I'm not loyal enough to take credit for something as dopey as that prank up there—at least, not if I didn't really do it." He nudged Jenny and then explained. "I just know that guy needed to be taken down a peg or two."

She laughed politely, but her attention was on the car, and Starbuck was thrilled when she took a step in its direction. If she was thinking about leaving, maybe she was finished thinking about "Hale's little trick" in the ballroom. He was disappointed when she said to the other Protector, "Uh, would you like to join us? We're going to…uh…go get a coffee." Coffee was the last thing on Starbuck's mind, and he hoped Hale realized it.

With a cocky grin, Hale perched on the hood of the Chevette. "Now, that's an invitation I wouldn't dream of passing up."

"Great," Jenny said. Strangely, her voice lacked enthusiasm. Had she simply been inviting Hale along out of politeness?

"Yeah," Starbuck echoed, looking daggers at his friend. "That'll be wonderful."

"It's a plan. I'd love to get to know you both better. Let's go." Hale slapped his palms on his legs, then jumped off the hood of the Chevette. In two long steps, he was at the door and in the backseat, waiting for them to join him.

The one thought that kept going through Starbuck's mind was that, when all this was over, he was going to kill his friend. No. Killing wasn't good enough. Torture. Maybe tar and feather him.

He pictured buff Hale running around with feathers stuck to him and decided that wasn't a half-bad idea. The idea cheered him, and he was grinning when he got into the car.

"Oh, man, I completely forgot," Hale interrupted, leaning forward. "I can't go with you after all."

"Oh, darn," Jenny said. She didn't sound particularly upset, and Starbuck decided that maybe he wouldn't tar his friend after all.

"That's a real shame," he added.

"How about I take a rain check?" Hale asked.

"Sure," Jenny agreed quickly.

"Yeah," Starbuck said just as fast, eager to get his huge friend out of his tiny car.

After climbing out, Hale walked around and poked his head back in through the passenger window. "Well, you kids have fun." He winked, and Starbuck rolled his eyes. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Starbuck cranked the engine. "Thanks. Have a good one." He started to pull away, but Hale's arm was still in the car. The man held fast, keeping the Chevette from moving. Show-off.

"One second, you two." Hale leaned in farther, amusement dancing in his eyes. "I just want to say what a cute mortal couple you two make. And I'm touched—no, honored—that you asked me to join you for coffee."

Starbuck bit his tongue, resisting the urge to tell Hale to shove off.

Jenny was nicer. "Thanks. That's very—"

"I mean, there just aren't words. You'd have to read my mind to understand how deeply, deeply touched I am to be invited out by you guys. But since you can't…" He trailed off with a shrug.

Starbuck blinked, his head cocked only slightly. Surely Hale didn't mean for him to…

But then Hale nodded, almost imperceptibly. Starbuck wasn't about to pass up the invitation to get into Hale's head, even if only for a moment. As he probed just under the surface, he found Hale's message for him, as plain as day. Don't say I never did anything for you, pal. And don't come crying to me when this breaks your heart.

Chapter Seven

It just didn't make any sense, Daphne thought. Not Piter's predicament—although that too, was very odd—but her daughter's behavior. It was giving Daphne fits.

Goodness knew she had raised the child right. And the girl was smart as a whip. But despite her over-the-top IQ and her second helping of common sense, Jenny was completely oblivious to her mother's efforts to make her life perfect.

And now she'd gone and sneaked out of the party with Starbuck, leaving a perfectly wonderful specimen of masculinity behind.

Baffling.

Well, one thing was certain: it was time for Daphne to take some more serious steps.

Frowning, she glanced at Piter, who was glaring in turn at pretty much everyone in the room, as he tried to figure out which of his peers had pulled such a practical joke. She'd need the man's help, of course, but considering how eager he'd seemed to dance with Jenny, he'd surely agree.

Her daughter might be a little miffed at first, but this was for her own good. In the end, Jenny would thank Daphne and realize just how useful a superman in the family would be.

*****

Jenny twisted her hands in her lap, suddenly shy. She was thankful Starbuck was navigating the streets at a reasonable speed, and she didn't feel compelled to hang on for dear life. She cast a surreptitious glance toward him, then blushed when she realized he was watching her out of the comer of his eyes.

"So, uh, did you want that cup of coffee?" she asked.

He nodded. "That would be nice."

Oh. Well, heck. She'd kind of hoped they could skip the coffee and cut to the chase. But, well…"I, uh, know a cute coffee shop in my neighborhood." Her palms felt sweaty, and she wiped them on her dress, gathering her courage to take the next step. "Or, you know, if you'd rather, we could go to my place and I could make a pot."

She was stepping out on a limb, and she knew it. In date-speak, inviting a guy up for coffee often meant a whole lot more. But that was what she wanted, she did hope it would turn into a whole lot more. Still, their date had begun as a favor, and for all she knew she was reading his signals completely wrong…She desperately hoped she wasn't. Something about her and Starbuck clicked, and even though she hadn't known him very long, she felt more comfortable with him than any man she'd ever known. She prayed the closeness she felt wasn't one-sided.

A slow smile spread across his face, and Starbuck took his attention off the road long enough to fully meet her gaze. His eyes were warm and inviting, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she held.

"Just tell me the best way to get to where you live," was all he said. Then he took her hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. Jenny trembled as a million tiny sparks shot through her body.

Somehow she managed to give coherent directions, and he even lucked out and found a parking space on the street only two blocks away. Hand in hand, they walked back to her building, talking and laughing about nothing in particular, but having one of the best times Jenny could remember having.

As she slipped her key into the lock of the main door to her converted-warehouse apartment building, she shot him an apologetic smile. "I just want you to know that I don't do this often." In fact, she'd never done this.

"Go home?" he teased.

"Invite men to my apartment on a first date."

"Well, I'd suggest my apartment, but since we're already here…"

"You're teasing me," she said.

"I certainly am."

She rolled her eyes, needing to at least put on the pretense of prudence. "Fine. But just remember you're only coming up for coffee."

He stepped closer, then placed his hand over hers as she turned the key and let them into the building. They stepped inside; then he closed the door and pressed her back against it. The heat from his body filtered through her, and she wondered if it would be rude on a first date simply to melt into the hallway's linoleum flooring. Deliriously, she wondered what Emily Post would have to say about it.

His breath burned against her ear as he leaned forward and whispered, "What if I want more than just coffee?" His lips brushed her temple, and the tip of his tongue flicked against her earlobe. Shivers raced through her body. "What if I also want…"

She held her breath as he trailed off.

"…cookies?"

She giggled, but when she leaned back and saw the undiluted passion burning in his eyes, the laughter died in her throat. What kind of cookies was he talking about? For the record, right then, at that moment, she hoped like heck he didn't want a plate of snickerdoodles.

"Of course," she whispered. "I'd hate for it to get around that I'm not a good hostess."

Almost imperceptibly he moved closer until no air remained between their bodies. "And I certainly want to be an accommodating guest."

She hoped so. He was so warm and firm that, at the moment, she could handle being accommodated right there in the entranceway.

With a firm mental slap, she pulled herself together. If she wanted to melt into his arms, the least she could do was steer them out of the hall. "We should go up."

"I think that's a winning idea."

The building's ancient elevator creaked and groaned as usual, but it managed to haul them up to the twelfth floor and Jenny's apartment. With only one dim bulb, the hall was dark and creepy. "The actual apartment's a lot better than the rest of this place," she said. With her mother's help, Jenny'd landed a huge one-bedroom with a full wall of windows. She loved the apartment, though the building itself left a lot to be desired.

"I think it's got atmosphere," Starbuck answered.

"That it has." She paused in front of her door, her shyness returning. "Well, this is it."

"So it is. Shall we go in?" With the tip of his finger, he traced the side of her face, then pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. "Or should we stay outside and entertain the neighbors?"

"We should go in." She probably sounded overeager, but so what? Right then, right there, she wanted nothing more than to be alone with Starbuck in her apartment. And the sooner they got there, the better.

He was breaking rules left and right: council rules, his own rules, basic etiquette rules. You name it, Starbuck was breaking it.

But he didn't care. He should be getting close to Jenny as a means of investigating Daphne. He knew that; by Zeus he did! He just couldn't do it. Investigate, sure. He could—would—do that…eventually. But the getting-close part was purely for him, purely for them. The truth of the matter was, he was getting in deeper and deeper. He was falling hard for Jenny—hopping Hades, he'd already fallen hard—and he was setting himself up for a big disappointment.

As much as he wanted her—and Zeus help him, he wanted her desperately—in the end, she wouldn't want him. Not knowing what he was. Would she? And not after he'd lied to her about everything. Which left him in something of a moral dilemma. Did he follow the evening to its logical conclusion, with Jenny in his arms and maybe him in her bed? Or did he act the gentleman now, and step away gracefully?

He knew what he should do. It would save them both heartache and tears when the truth was revealed. But the heat of desire that burned in his veins wouldn't let him do the noble thing, the chivalrous thing. No, he wanted Jenny. He'd wanted her since the first time he saw her. Maybe they'd have only this one night, whatever happened, but, by Zeus, he'd live off the memory of it for the rest of his life.

"Starbuck?"

Her words drew him out of his reverie.

"Are you coming?" Her tongue wet her lips, her voice nervous, and he realized he was still standing in the hallway.

"Oh, yes." With one long stride, he stepped over the threshold, kicking her door shut behind him. She started to move toward the living room, but he caught her in his embrace and pulled her close. "About that coffee…"

"Actually, you can have your choice: coffee, tea, or…me?" Her low, sultry voice tickled his senses, and when she wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled herself up on tiptoe to brush his lips with a kiss, he just about came undone.

She pulled away, her eyes soft, but her expression one of bewilderment.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing." She shook her head. "Just déjà vu. It's silly, but I have the oddest feeling we've kissed before."

He recalled his illicit kiss when he'd stopped time, then squashed a trickle of guilt. "Well, we haven't. So maybe it's your psyche telling you how right we are together."

Her smile started at the left side of her mouth and spread across her face. "That must be it." She caught him around the waist, then tilted her head back to look him in the eyes. "But you never did answer my question. Coffee? Tea?"

"You."

"You sound so sure."

"Sweetheart, right now I don't think there's anything in my life I've ever been more sure of."

"Well, then…" This time, when she lifted up on her toes to kiss him, it wasn't a soft brush of her lips. Bold and forceful, this kiss would have knocked him backward if he hadn't already been standing with his back against a wall. Passion flooded out of her and into him, as if they were sharing the same feelings, as if they were one person.

His body heated and hardened, and he slid his hands down her waist to cup her smooth behind and urge her closer. He wanted to lose himself in her arms. Hell, he wanted to lose himself in her. But not too fast. This night was for her, and whatever happened, he intended to give her as much pleasure in one night as a mortal woman could handle.

Her soft body against his was driving him crazy, and he moaned, fighting the urge simply to yank her skirt up and lose himself in her. He suddenly knew she wouldn't object—as their bodies melded, her mind opened to him—but she deserved so much more than a frantic tumble on the living room carpet.

She deserved romance. Dim lights. Champagne and strawberries. A fire crackling in the fireplace and soft music wafting through the room.

"Starbuck, please." Her whisper held a plea, but it wasn't her words that spoke to him; it was her thoughts. Kiss me, touch me, make love to me.

Without any effort on his part, her thoughts reached out and found his. She was begging for his touch, the emotions spilling from her reaching into his soul and stirring similar feelings that had been sleeping for years.

He wanted to love her, to protect her, to be there for her. Most of all, he didn't want to disappoint her. Her plea might remain unspoken, but the longing came through loud and clear. She wanted him, and that was all Starbuck needed. In one gentle motion, he tilted her face up to his, pressed his lips to hers, and tasted her sweetness.

Chapter Eight

As if he knew her most secret desires, Starbuck's touch took her to the very edge of sanity. She'd been silently begging for his kiss, and then his mouth closed over hers. With undisguised passion, he urged her lips apart, exploring and tasting her even while she did the same.

He tasted of red wine and something else. Something male and powerful and very erotic. As his fingers tangled in her hair, his tongue warred with hers, teasing and tempting…making silent promises of a night to come.

Her knees went weak, and she knew she was standing only because of his hand around her waist. Almost as if he understood her dilemma, he lifted and carried her, bridelike, to the living room sofa—as if he were Mr. Universe instead of the normal-looking guy she'd fallen so hard for. To her, though, he was the most handsome man in the world.

"Here?" he asked, setting her down.

She shook her head, wanting him to carry her to the bedroom. She wanted to lie with him on her satin comforter and feel the silky, cool material contrasting with the heat of their bodies.

Without her asking, he picked her up again. This time he kissed her forehead and carried her to the bedroom. When he laid her gently on the middle of the bedspread, she knew she'd died and gone to heaven.

"I want—"

He silenced her with one gentle finger over her lips.

"Hush. Let me show you what you want."

And he did, tempting and teasing her with decadent desires so fresh and new she barely realized she'd imagined them. But she had. Each time his hand touched her body, only an instant before, she'd craved his touch there. Each time he kissed her, she'd been on the verge of whimpering for another taste of his lips. And when he traced his finger up her leg and under her skirt, she could only whisper, "Yes," and know that she'd been longing for him to touch her as he did.

He was her perfect man, her perfect lover, knowing her secret, sensual whims and desires without being told. There was a synergy between them, and she reveled in it, hoping her own touch brought as much pleasure to him.

With a featherlight touch, his fingertips grazed the inside of her thigh again. "Do you like that?" he whispered.

She could manage only a moan, but he seemed to understand. Gently caressing her, he slid the silk of her skirt up her leg, then pressed kisses in the soft area just beside her knee. The rough stubble of his beard tickled, somehow adding to her excitement, and she let the flood of warmth build inside her, pooling between her thighs in the one place where she ached for his touch most of all.

"Please, Starbuck, please."

His hands did wonders even while his mouth worked a magic on her she'd never experienced. His hands caressed her hips, and he lifted his head just long enough for their eyes to meet. Then he slipped her panties off and kissed her intimately. The thrill of his tongue on such a secret, sensitive place shot through her, and she moaned, her whole body stiffening against the onslaught of pleasure.

"Do you like that?" His whisper teased her, all the more because he had to know the answer.

"Yes. Oh, yes. But I want—"

"More."

She nodded shyly. "You. I want you. Now. Please, Starbuck. Please."

*****

He wasn't about to argue. With one deft movement, he slid out of his clothes. With another, he buried himself inside her, thrilled by the absolute certainty that she wanted him as desperately as he did her. Even if he couldn't read her thoughts, he could certainly read her body. Every little quiver, every soft moan, told him that she wanted him. The knowledge made him feel more powerful than he'd ever felt simply being a Protector.

He loved this woman. So help him, he did. It was crazy to feel this intensely so quickly, but he did. Everything she did was right, everything she said was…If she would just let herself, he was certain that she might love him, too—even despite everything. But there was no time for thoughts like that.

They moved together in a timeless rhythm, instinctual to men and women of any race. It was an expression of togetherness, an expression of love.

With an exquisite touch she stroked him, her fingers moving expertly over his skin. Every movement, every touch, ignited the sparks that burned in his blood. He wanted her, needed her to find her release; if she didn't soon, he was afraid he would explode.

She moaned beneath him, her ecstasy building with his, the raw passion on her face delighting him. He held on tight, not willing to lose himself without her, and listened to her thoughts. Only when he knew that she was on the brink did he let himself go. The explosion took them both to the edge of the universe and back. At last, exhausted, they lay together in each other's arms.

"That was amazing." She wrapped her arm around his chest and snuggled closer. "You're amazing."

A wave of guilt crashed over him. He wanted to tell her the truth—he even went so far as to open his mouth to speak—but in the end, he simply kissed her. This was their moment, and he wanted to keep it perfect. He loved this mortal woman, and his greatest fear was that this one night was all he'd have of her. Once she found out his secret…For at least a little while, he wanted to abandon his heritage and live an illusion.

He'd been undercover his whole life. Tomorrow he could go back to the MLO and back to the mole hunt. Tomorrow he'd be Starbuck, the super-geeky undercover agent, once again. But right now he just wanted to be himself. Not Starbuck the Protector, not Starbuck the agent. Just Starbuck the man. A man Jenny was actually attracted to. Not because he was buff like Hale, but just because he was him. Surely he deserved a bit of happiness. Especially when all he was asking for was one brief, cherished moment with a woman he'd found to be exquisite beyond all others.

"Hey," she called, kissing him on the nose. "You're a million miles away."

He smiled, shaking off his melancholy. "On the contrary. I'm right here."

"Yeah? You looked lost in thought. What were you thinking?"

"About tomorrow."

"Oh."

The direct mental connection between them had faded, but he didn't need to probe her mind to recognize her disappointment. Tomorrow they'd both go back to work. Tomorrow reality would move back into both their lives. Tonight had been wild, crazy, wonderful. Tomorrow would be…

"I was thinking maybe we should play hooky," he said.

"Really?" Delight filled her voice.

"Really."

"We'll get in trouble. No one will believe us if we call in sick"

He shrugged. "So? It's the MLO's fault for scheduling an office party on a Thursday. They've gotta know half the office'll go AWOL tomorrow."

"Hmmm. You could have a point." She rolled over until she was straddling him, naked, then rewarded him with a saucy look "There's just one problem with your plan."

"Oh?"

"What on earth are we going to do for a whole day and another night?"

Laughing, he pulled her down and kissed her perfect lips. "I can think of one or two things."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he said, then proceeded to show her exactly what he had in store for her until Saturday morning rolled around.

*****

Daphne stood in the downstairs hallway of her daughter's apartment, drumming her fingers on the wall as she waited for the super to meet her. They were up there, she was certain. She'd seen the lights from outside, seen the shadows moving about. For the last two days, they'd been up there doing Lord only knew what. Well, after two days of them not answering the phone—despite Daphne's repeated messages—she had a pretty good idea what her daughter and Starbuck were doing.

She shook her head, frustrated by her daughter's foolishness. Clearly the girl had been bewitched—and it was up to her to convince her child that Starbuck wasn't the man for her.

Really. A mother's work was just never done.

The click of a heavy metal door sounded behind her, and she turned around to greet the building's super.

"Hey, Ms. Martin. What you doin' here?"

"Arnold." She smiled sweetly at him. "So good to see you again." The man had been the super in her own building before he'd moved to this one. He'd been the reason she'd found this apartment for her daughter.

"You're lucky you caught me. I was just on my way out."

Lucky? Actually, she'd been banking on it. For the five years she'd known him, he'd spent Saturday mornings with his sister's kids. She'd desperately hoped today wasn't an exception. And it wasn't. "Oh, I don't want to hold you up."

"No worries. I got a few minutes. So what can I do for you?"

"Well, I wanted to go up and leave some things for Jenny, but I can't seem to find the elevator key she gave me." So it was a teeny, tiny little lie.

"Ain't she home right now?"

Damn. Daphne had been hoping Arnold would just assume Jenny was out.

"Well, yes, she is." She took a step toward him and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "The thing is, she has a young man up there with her, and I don't want to interrupt. I figure they'll go out later. You know, for a romantic lunch or something. Then I can pop in and leave her stuff."

Arnold sighed and shook his head. For a minute, Daphne was afraid he'd say no. "Ms. Martin, you know how expensive these keys are. They're not standard-issue. You can't just go down to any hardware store and have a copy made. You gotta get the key from the manufacturer."

She exhaled in relief, then tried to look chastised. "I know. I'm so sorry." With a flourish, she pulled her checkbook out of her purse. "Will a fifty-dollar deposit cover it?"

With a wave, he brushed off the comment. "Don't worry about it, Ms. M. Just try to keep a hold of this one, okay?" He headed back toward his apartment, presumably to get her key.

"No problem, Arnold," she called. No problem at all.

He came back with the item, and after she thanked him, he headed out the front door and hailed a taxi. The building was all hers, and so was the control panel inside the elevator. She checked her watch. Piter would be here within the hour.

Time to get moving with her plan.

Chapter Nine

They were both laughing when Jenny pulled her apartment door closed behind her. "Sure you don't want to stay in a little longer?" After two solid days of lovemaking, letting up only for breaks to laugh and joke and eat, she still hadn't had her fill of Starbuck.

He faked a faint, falling against the wall. "If you had something more substantial than Cheerios and coffee, I might just take you up on that. But I'm weak. Must…have…food."

"Wimp." Delighted, she danced ahead and pressed the elevator call button. "But let's hurry, though. I want to get to the market, stock up on healthy, high-energy food, and get you back in my apartment as soon as possible. We've got almost two full days before we have to be back at work, and I've got plans for you, mister."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She returned his smile, realizing she was happier right now than she had been in a long time. She might have known him for only a few days, but Jenny also realized she was falling in love. She'd let Starbuck into her heart, and now she didn't want to let him go.

The elevator door opened and he followed her in. "So just how do you plan on keeping me around?" A tease laced his voice.

"Any way I have to." She quirked an eyebrow. "I was thinking maybe handcuffs. Or at least tight leather restraints." They were alone, and as the doors slid closed, she slipped into his arms. "What do you think? That enough to keep you in bed?"

"Jenny, all I need to keep me in bed is you."

She grinned. "Then you're fresh out of excuses, because that's exactly where I intend to stay."

He caught her mouth with his own in a slow, sensual kiss. Warm and languid, she could happily have stayed in his embrace, sharing his kiss, until the elevator made its creaky way down to the lobby. She wasn't expecting the lurch that brought the elevator to a sudden halt.

"What happened?"

"We're stuck." He pointed at the needle above the door.

"Looks like we're between seven and eight."

The walls seemed to close in around her. "Oh, this is just great."

"It's no problem," Starbuck said. "We'll just ring the alarm. I'm sure the super will be here in no time."

But when he pushed the alarm button, nothing happened.

The walls moved in closer, or seemed to. "I don't like this."

He curled an arm around her shoulder. "We'll be fine."

"No, you don't understand. I don't like elevators. I mean, I'm okay when they're moving, but I get really claustrophobic after a while." She aimed an apologetic smile in his direction. "Sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about." For a long minute, he looked into her eyes as if he was searching for something. Then he nodded and smiled, but it seemed a little forced. "I'm sure some other tenant will figure out this thing's stuck soon enough," he said. At her grimace, he continued on to say, "But no sense waiting, right?"

"What are you going to do?"

He wasn't looking at her. Instead, his eyes were scanning the elevator ceiling. "I don't know. I'm making this up as I go."

Unfortunately, he was making it up. Under normal circumstances, he might just pry the doors open, pull the elevator car up to the next level, and get them out that way. Too bad all that prying and pulling wasn't in a mortal man's range of ability.

A mortal guy would probably wait for help, especially since this ancient elevator car didn't seem to have a working trapdoor on the roof. But Starbuck wasn't willing to wait. He'd sensed Jenny's thoughts, and she wasn't kidding about her claustrophobia. While she was doing a good job of hiding her fear, he could see it creeping up behind the mental wall she'd built. When it built up enough pressure, she wouldn't be able to fight it anymore. He didn't intend to force her to go through something like that. Not if he could help it.

And help it he could. Now' he had to figure out how to do so without blowing his cover.

He let his gaze dart around the car, trying to locate something that might facilitate their escape. Nothing. Then he looked up again. The roof resembled old-fashioned ceiling tiles, and he could tell from where he stood that they were each solid and permanent. Yet, maybe Jenny wasn't paying close attention…

It was worth a shot. He certainly didn’t have a better idea.

"Listen, sweetheart. I want you just to sit tight. I'm going to climb up there and see if I can't get the trapdoor to open."

She nodded, and he managed to get a toehold on the handrail that ran along the edge of the interior wall. The easier thing would be just to jump, but considering his looks didn't exactly jibe with his strength, Jenny would certainly notice something amiss if he leaped ten feet into the air.

Climbing to the ceiling, he managed to grab the light fixture and hold on as he took a better look. The old-fashioned metal was molded to look like ceiling tiles.

One quick glance down confirmed that Jenny was hunched on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest. He'd move before she decided to look up.

Superstrength ranked high on his list of cool things about being a Protector, and, right then he was especially happy for it. Risking Jenny’s curiosity about the noise, he punched his hand through the ceiling at one of the seams, then peeled it back. With a final tug, he pulled the square completely loose, revealing a person-sized hole that led through to the top of the elevator and the gaping elevator shaft.

Since he couldn't drop the ragged piece of metal onto the elevator floor—Jenny would surely realize it wasn't a true trapdoor—he pitched it up onto the top of the elevator. With a groan for Jenny's benefit, he pulled himself up and scoped out the inside of the elevator shaft.

They weren't in too bad a predicament, all things considered. The elevator car partially blocked the door to the seventh floor, but the doors to the eighth were easily accessible by the service ladder.

He popped his head back over the opening and checked on Jenny. She was standing up now, watching the ceiling with anxiety lining her face.

"You okay?"

"I'll be better when you get back down here."

"I can do you one better than that. How about I get us both out of here?"

Her smile was answer enough, and he knew he wasn't about to disappoint her. After blowing her a quick kiss, he climbed the ladder and turned his attention to the door leading out to the eighth floor. The emergency release latch wasn't functioning, and he reached out to pry the doors apart manually. From his perch, the angle was awkward—certainly no mortal would be able to get sufficient leverage—but he managed it without even breaking a sweat.

As soon as the doors were open, he dropped silently back to the top of the elevator. Then he anchored himself with his feet, bent at the waist, and dropped his upper body into the car. Jenny reached up, her hands closing around his, as she let him pull her up onto its roof. She followed him then, climbing the ladder to freedom.

"You okay?" he asked once they were out on the eighth floor.

"I'm with you," she answered. Her smile was a little watery, and she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. "How could I be anything but fine?"

*****

Time for a rescue.

With Daphne pacing behind him, panting after their climb up the stairs, Piter stood in front of the seventh-floor elevator doors rubbing his hands. Finally! For almost a month he'd been sucking up to this woman, trying without success to find a chink in her rigid morality. This would be the opportunity.

So far he'd been able to provide Hieronymous only with the bits and pieces of council information he'd acquired the old-fashioned way—poking through Daphne's desk drawers after working hours and digging through the computer files his level of clearance would allow. But that wasn't enough. He'd already promised the man top-secret information that could only come from Daphne. If she were on their team, he'd have full access to the MLO's computer network. It galled Piter to have to get so close to a mortal, to pretend to actually like her and her daughter. But disappointing Hieronymous simply wasn't done.

At first, the woman seemed entirely unconvertible. His little hints and innuendoes had gone completely unheeded. The woman might be brilliant, but she was spacey as hell; it apparently never even occurred to her that one of her oh-so-wonderful Protectors might be working for Hieronymous. Instead, all the woman was interested in were her damn computers and her darling daughter. Which meant that Piter had been forced to pretend interest in Jenny. So when Daphne approached him with her latest scheme—rescue claustrophobic Jenny from a broken elevator and win her love and admiration—he'd willingly agreed. Once he had the girl safely in his pocket, the mother would be sure to follow.

The trouble before, of course, was that Jenny hadn't even been interested in giving him the time of day. Stupid little mortal twit. She seemed much more enamored of that scrawny Starduck fellow. Well, there wasn't a mortal male in the world who could hold a candle to a Protector. And Piter wasn't used to being ignored.

He'd get the girl. As Daphne had said, Jenny's interest just needed to be jump-started. And what better way than an effortless rescue from a broken elevator, with her mortal lover standing around like an impotent idiot?

A slow grin crossed his face. A heck of a plan, if he did say so himself!

"Ready?" Daphne finished one lap of her pacing and stopped behind him.

"Whenever you say the word." He kept his voice polite, friendly, and deferential—all the while longing for the days when he could tell Daphne exactly what he thought of her, her daughter, and mortals in general.

"Go ahead. Jenny hates elevators. She'll be so grateful she'll probably jump into your arms."

"I hope so. Your daughter's all I think about." Not exactly the truth, but not exactly a lie, either. The girl was beautiful.

"It's okay, Jenny," Daphne called toward the still-closed doors. "We're coming."

With no effort at all, Piter pried the doors apart. The elevator car wasn't lined up with the hallway, though, so he moved the car with one hand until the closed interior doors matched those of the now-open seventh floor.

"Now, Piter. Open the inner doors. Be her hero."

That was a plan he could live with. He took a deep breath—the better to accentuate his chest and arm muscles—then pasted on his I'm-a-loyal-council-member smile. If it fooled Zephron, it could fool anyone.

Set at last, he reached out and effortlessly slid the inner doors open, ready to accept the flood of grateful kisses from Daphne's daughter.

There was just one little problem: the elevator was completely empty.

He turned to Daphne, every ounce of concentration going to conceal the anger he knew must be burning in his eyes. He needed to be calm and polite and deferential. He'd duped the woman so far; no sense screwing up all his careful planning simply because this one plan had gone awry.

Pasting on a smile, he took her hand and patted it. "I think, Daphne, dear, that it's time we moved on to plan B."

Chapter Ten

Springtime in Manhattan! All the trees and flowers were in bloom, and the air smelled fresh and alive. Starbuck breathed deeply and squeezed Jenny's hand. She smiled up at him, then squeezed back, her touch reminding him of how much he'd gained over the last few days. Everything in his personal life was going right, and for that he was thankful, even though his professional life was crashing down around his ears.

On the personal front, Starbuck was spending more and more time with Jenny. After the elevator fiasco they'd spent the rest of the weekend together, and during the next two days at the office they'd shared every break, heading back to her apartment after work.

She loved him. She hadn't admitted as much, true, but he was certain. So far he'd resisted the temptation to pry into her mind and see what she was thinking, but he didn't need a mind-probe to know how she felt. Her mouth might not have spoken the words, but her body certainly had. She loved him. And while the knowledge thrilled him no end, it also scared him. Someday soon he'd have to tell her the truth. And when he did, he could only hope that she loved him enough to forgive him his lies and to forget her previous rule about dating Protectors. He believed she would, but he was scared.

On the professional front, things were a little shaky. He had, on some level, tried to continue his investigation. A few more select probes into Jenny's mind had revealed absolutely nothing incriminating about Daphne. Either the woman had worked hard to keep her daughter out of the loop, or she simply wasn't the mole. Starbuck hoped for the latter, but if that was the case, then he was even farther behind on his mission than before.

As for checking out Daphne directly, he'd finagled a permanent transfer to her department, but hadn't learned a thing except that she was irritated with him for dating his daughter. That was hardly a news flash.

She had thanked him for rescuing Jenny from the elevator, but she'd seemed a little miffed about the whole thing, too. Of course, when Jenny had told the story, she'd been delighted to be able to tell her mom that a mortal guy could be just as much a white knight as any Protector. Starbuck hadn't said a word. He'd leaned against a wall and tried not to look either woman in the eye.

His lack of progress in finding the mole was frustrating. Guilt was eating at him, but he couldn't tell Jenny the truth—couldn't break his cover—until he caught his enemy. And the longer he continued playing a mortal, the angrier Jenny would be when the truth came out.

"You're quiet tonight."

"Just thinking," he said.

"About what?"

"About you, of course."

Her delighted laughter surrounded him, and he shook off his melancholy mood. He'd known the risks when he got involved with Jenny. No sense moaning about it now.

"Want to go get a coffee or something?" She half bumped him with her shoulder. "Or do you just want to head back to my place?"

"I want to head to your place—but you're down to Cheerios again, and I need sustenance."

"You certainly do. I don't want you passing out." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "I've got better plans for you."

"Fast food," he said with a grin. "We should get fast food."

Laughing, she pointed across the street. "Why don't we grab something from that deli? We can take it back and have a bed picnic."

He grinned, too. "Fine with me. So long as we get to do more in bed than eat dinner."

She squeezed his hand. "I think that can be arranged."

They were waiting at the comer for the light to change when he first saw it. An old woman. Apparently confused, she'd stepped off the curb and right into the path of a crosstown bus.

Starbuck tensed. He needed to do something, but his natural superspeed and strength weren't going to help him—not unless he was willing to blow his cover. No, he had only one choice—stopping time.

Jenny noticed the old lady almost at the last second, and her scream pierced the air just as Starbuck froze time. He ran to the woman, dragged her out of the way, and set her on the curb—maybe she'd think her reflexes had saved her—then ran back to Jenny just as his power and time continued on its course. Jenny's scream once again rent the air.

"Oh." Her shriek faded into a single confused word. "But…that woman. She was in front of that bus. I…I was sure of it."

Starbuck couldn't speak. For that matter, he couldn't stand. The effort of such a last-moment, no-preparation time manipulation had taken its toll. He fell helpless to the sidewalk.

"Starbuck!" Jenny knelt beside him. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

He tried a smile, but wasn't sure it succeeded. "Told you I needed sustenance," he joked.

She frowned, apparently in no mood, and pressed her hand to his forehead. "You don't have a fever."

"Need…to…sleep." But he didn't want to. Something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but every atom in his body yelled for him to fight the exhaustion. To stay awake. To help Jenny.

"Is he okay?" asked a new voice. Starbuck squinted, saw the tailored suit of what could only be a Wall Street attorney. "Can I help?"

"I don't know," Jenny answered, her tone frantic.

Starbuck tried to focus on the lawyer guy. Something was wrong. He couldn't see the man anymore. Just a tall, thin, slimy creature standing next to Jenny. And she was talking to him as if there weren't anything out of the norm going on at all.

A chill washed over him. Henchmen. The lawyer was a henchman!

But why would a henchman be here now?

Hieronymous.

"He seems really weak," Jenny added.

The henchman peered into Starbuck's face. "Stupid mortal."

Jenny gasped, her head whipping around to face the creature. "Did you say mortal?"

"And you're a stupid one, too," the creature said. His clawlike hand closed around Jenny's arm. "My master will be very pleased."

She jerked away, even as Starbuck fought to move against the blanket of exhaustion weighing him down. "Let me go!" she cried, managing a really nice left hook with her free hand. Then she got a good kick to the groin. If the creature had been mortal, her attacks surely would have freed her. But since henchmen didn't have human groins, the kick barely slowed him down.

"Starbuck!" she called.

He struggled, but his muscles wouldn't cooperate. He could only watch, helpless, as the creature dragged her away. A half dozen passersby looked on, their expressions nervous. Clearly no one was going to help Jenny.

Reaching out with his mind, he tried to probe the creature's thoughts. He got only random words: Piter. Stopping her. Daphne. Get the girl. Leverage.

And then the connection faded, leaving him with nothing else. From the smattering of thoughts, it sounded as if Daphne was the mole, and she was worried about Piter catching her. But why on earth would she kidnap her own daughter?

No, he couldn't believe Daphne was the mole. Logic told him his feelings for Jenny were coloring his perception, and he knew that was true, but even so…he just had a feeling in his gut. Daphne wasn't his bad guy. He'd been tracking her all this time, but now, in this time of trial, he saw he could never believe that of her.

But if not her, who? Piter? True, the man's arrogance made Starbuck gag, but he was a decorated Protector and an honored member of the council.

And yet, Protectors had been turned before…

The basic truth was, he didn't know who was who or what was what. But he damn sure intended to find out. And he would save Jenny.

Just as soon as he managed to stand up.

*****

Starbuck burst through the doors to Daphne's computer lab to find her hanging up the phone, tears streaming down her face.

"He's got her! That evil cretin has my baby girl!"

"Piter?" he asked almost hopefully.

Daphne shook her head. "Hieronymous."

Starbuck's mind churned a mile a minute. Could both Daphne and Piter be innocent? Could there be another suspect?

With one hand on her shoulder, he led Daphne to a chair and sat her down. "Tell me exactly what happened."

"I was just puttering around—trying to get the database uplink working—when the phone rang. This horrible creepy voice said he had my little girl and he was going to give her over to Hieronymous if I didn't do exactly what he told me."

Starbuck knelt in front of her, his hands on her knees.

"What does he want?"

She sucked in a breath, then lifted her head up to meet his eyes. "He wants the password to the MLO mainframe. He warned me not to tell anyone, but, oh…what am I going to do?"

Starbuck closed his eyes. With that password, Hieronymous would have complete access from anywhere in world. He'd have a wealth of information at his fingertips, including which Protectors were undercover and where—and considering his growing band of Outcasts, he could surely take the Protectors out one by one. He supposed he was glad that he knew this, that he could stop Hieronymous, but to sacrifice Jenny for the good of…

"Did you give him the password?" he asked.

"No!" Her eyes were imploring. "But he's supposed to call back in an hour. Starbuck, what other choice do I have? They've got Jenny."

"Yes." He stood up. "But we're going to get her back." They had one hour to do it.

"How?"

He couldn't tell her everything, but he could tell her enough. "I think I know where she is."

"You do? Where?"

"Piter's. If he's giving you only an hour, he won't risk taking her far away." And Starbuck was banking on Piter being so arrogant that he wouldn't think that anyone might yet be on to him.

"Piter? I don't understand. He's such a nice young man. And he's a Protector. Why would he be mixed up with Hieronymous?"

Starbuck didn't answer directly. Instead, he parried with a question of his own: "I need you to be honest with me, Daphne. I know you weren't too thrilled when Jenny and I started going out. I know you would have rather seen her go out with Piter."

"Well, um, yes." Her cheeks flushed crimson. "It's nothing personal, it's just—"

"I know. Don't worry about it. What I want to know is, did you seek out Piter? Or did he tell you he was interested in Jenny?"

"Now that you mention it, he approached me. About a week or so after his rotation started. He's very charming, and I tried to set him up with Jennifer, but she just wasn't interested."

Charming, shmarming. "I think his charm is rather overrated," he found himself saying.

She squinted at him through tear-filled eyes. "What do you mean?"

He took a deep breath. He was getting ready to malign a fellow Protector without any proof whatsoever. At least, no more proof than a gut feeling and several garbled thoughts of a Henchman.

Sometimes you just have to go with your gut.

"I mean, I think he works for Hieronymous. I think Piter's a spy."

At that, Daphne burst out laughing. It was not the reaction he'd expected, that was for sure.

"Piter can't be a spy. He's too…polite."

Starbuck ran his hands through his hair, not sure how to argue with logic like that. "Just listen to me, okay? I'm not really a new employee. I was assigned to work at the MLO to help catch a mole."

"A mole! That's impossible."

He shook his head. "All too possible, I'm afraid."

"But why you? Why would the council enlist the aid of a mortal on a mole hunt?"

That was a good question, but he wasn't yet willing to tell her the whole truth. "Equal opportunity employment. It's the law."

"Oh." She still looked baffled, but she no longer looked defeated. "So you can help me? You can help me get my little girl back?"

He took her hand. "Daphne, that's my plan."

Chapter Eleven

Daphne twisted her hands in her lap, not sure what to believe. Piter a mole? Starbuck an undercover agent? Everything was off-kilter, and the worst of it was that she had to rely on a mortal to help retrieve her little girl.

"Can't we get a Protector involved?" she asked.

"No time. And I can't be certain who to trust." He turned and headed out the door. "Come on. We're wasting time."

She hurried after him. "Who can't you trust?"

"Well, I can trust Hale, maybe." He paused, then said, "For one thing, I'm taking a big risk trusting you."

"Me?" Her voice was squeaking, but the idea that she'd be involved in something nefarious was just ludicrous. "Why on earth wouldn't you trust me?"

She rushed to keep up as he headed for the elevator.

"For one thing, you're the only one who works at the MLO with full access to the computer."

"Well, yes, but that doesn't make me a spy."

"No, but it makes you a suspect. And right now, things don't look so good for the guy you picked for your daughter."

They were in the elevator now, heading up through all the subbasements to the main portion of the United Nations Building.

"Would you please, please tell me why you don't trust Piter?" The thought that she might have been setting her little girl up with one of Hieronymous's bunch made her sick to her stomach.

Starbuck started counting reasons off on his fingers. "We know there's a mole. We know you have access to the information the mole has gotten…and likely more he wants. If we assume you're not the mole, then the mole must be someone who either has an in with you, or thinks he can get one. One who has been near you in the past. One who plans to be near you in the future."

"But—"

He held up a finger. "As for getting an in with you, you've got only one point of vulnerability that I can see, and that's Jenny. Everyone knows you want her to date a Protector, so Piter put on his most charming face and tried to get to Jenny through you."

Daphne swallowed, afraid of where this was going. Especially since everything he'd said so far made perfect sense.

"You think he's the cat's meow, and so you're obliging. Piter figures it's all going to work out. Jenny will fall head over heels for him, he'll marry her, and suddenly he'll have full access to you and everything you do."

"Except Jenny's not interested in him," she said, her mouth dry. "She's interested in you."

"And despite your best efforts at the party and on the elevator—"

"You knew about that?"

"I just figured it out."

"Oh. Sorry." In retrospect, that little stunt did seem pretty stupid.

"Yes, well, as I was saying, it didn't work. And Piter must have finally realized that Jenny wasn't ever going to fall for him. So he's upped the ante. He still needs Jenny to get to you. So instead of marrying her, he's arranged for a henchman to take her." He shrugged. "It all fits. I'd bet my job on Piter being our bad guy. Heck, I am betting my job."

The elevator doors opened and she followed Starbuck out into the United Nations lobby. "Nothing personal, but I don't give a fig about your job. I just want my daughter back"

"Then trust me. And help me."

She nodded, silently putting her trust in him. She'd rather have the help of a true Protector, but she was certain of one thing—Starbuck was in love with Jenny. She supposed that had to count for something.

*****

"Why are you doing this?" Jenny struggled against the ropes holding her wrists together as she glared at Piter.

"Let's just say I'm a sore loser." A thin, dangerous smile touched his lips. "You should have danced with me, sweetheart. This would have gone a whole lot better for you."

"I'll never dance with you. For that matter, I'll never do anything for you. I don't know why you're holding me, but it's not going to work"

"Is that so?" He bent down, then chucked her under the chin as she tried to back away from his touch. "Well, lucky for me, your cooperation isn't an issue. Your mother's is."

A cold chill crept up Jenny's spine. "My mother?"

"Either she helps me…or her darling daughter's going to have a very bad day."

"Helps you?" The chill increased, and she scooted back against the wall. The whole situation pretty much proved her mom was nuts about loving Protectors so much. Clearly they weren't the saints Daphne claimed. And Jenny intended to point that out to her mom at the first opportunity. Assuming, of course, that she survived this. She licked her lips. "Helps you how?"

His devious smile was nothing like the falsely charming expression he'd plied her with at the dance. "Not me, exactly. Hieronymous needs your mother's help."

Hieronymous. Her stomach churned and she closed her eyes, longing for Starbuck's strong arms around her. But he wasn't there, and she was all alone, and no matter what else happened, she was certain of one thing: she was in big trouble.

"Get away from her, Piter."

Starbuck! Jenny's eyes flew open, and there he was, standing right in front of the open window with Daphne at his side.

"I'm okay," she called out. "Run, get help. He's in with Hieronymous."

Starbuck only nodded. "I know."

"Then get out of here!" She was frantic, but Starbuck wasn't moving. Didn't he realize that a Protector like Piter would tear a mortal like him apart?

"Let her go, Piter."

Not too surprisingly, the traitorous superhero laughed. "And who's going to make me?"

"I am."

Jenny cringed. Starbuck was about to get pulverized, and he didn't seem to realize it.

Again, that devious laugh. "You and what army?" Then Piter turned to smile at Daphne. "Ah, my darling Daphne. I'm so glad you could make it. I hope you brought the password."

"I sure did," her mom said, as Jenny held her breath.

"The password is creep. All lowercase and two Es."

"Very funny." Piter turned to Jenny. "Your mother has the most delightful sense of humor. I'm hoping it will become more refined when she realizes that she might end up childless."

"You're scum. You know that, right?"

He smiled thinly. "Sticks and stones, Jenny. Sticks and stones." And then, lightning-quick, he was beside her, lifting her around the waist. She struggled against the ties binding her wrists and ankles, but to no avail.

"Let me go!"

In a flash he was at the balcony, holding her out over the traffic rushing by fifteen floors below. The world seemed to spin in a fit of vertigo, and she closed her eyes tight, terrified, then opened them again, needing to know what was going to happen.

"Sweet Jenny, that's exactly my plan."

"Put her down, Piter." Starbuck's voice rang out calm and self-assured, and even though Jenny knew there wasn't any way in the world he could help her now, somehow the knot of terror in her stomach dissolved just a tiny bit.

"Happy to. Just give me the password."

"I'm only going to ask once more. Put the girl down."

"You're awfully arrogant for a mortal."

"You'll forgive me if I don't say what you are. There are ladies present."

At that, Piter laughed again. "I will say this, Starpuck: you do amuse me."

"I'm glad to hear it," he answered. Jenny held her breath as he moved a step closer. "I hope you'll be just as amused when I take you to council headquarters for prosecution."

"I'll give you the password!" Daphne cried. "Just give me my daughter."

"There we are," Piter said, and Jenny could hear the smile in his voice. "I knew you could be reasonable." He took a step forward, and the fifteen-story drop beneath Jenny turned into three feet as she dangled relatively harmlessly over the balcony floor. She wasn't out of the woods yet, but the situation was much improved.

"Perfect, Daphne," Starbuck said. Then he sprang forward. If Jenny hadn't been watching, she wouldn't have believed it. Somehow he pulled Piter forward, the motion loosening his grip on her, and Jenny fell with a ker-plop to the ground. She rolled clear, then scooted away until her back was pressed up against a clay planter. Daphne ran to her, and she wrapped her arms around her mother, then watched, helpless, as the man she loved was pulverized by Piter.

Except he wasn't getting pulverized.

She couldn't understand it. Somehow Starbuck was holding his own. Piter swung a leg out to connect with Starbuck's middle, but—ka-thonk—Starbuck intercepted it with his arm and sent Piter tumbling. And when Piter leaped through the air toward Starbuck—ka-bloom—Starbuck's foot struck Piter in the chest and sent him tumbling backward.

How could he do that? It didn't make any sense, and Piter looked just as baffled as Jenny felt.

And then she realized—the man she loved, the mortal she loved—was a Protector in disguise.

*****

So much for keeping his Protector status a secret. But when it came down to catching his villain or maintaining his secret, there really was no contest. Especially not with Jenny held captive.

"You're not a mortal." Piter sneered as he picked himself up off the floor.

"You catch on fast," Starbuck snapped, avoiding another blow. He needed to hold on until backup arrived. He'd sent a message to Hale as he and Daphne had raced out of the UN. He only hoped Hale had received the message.

"Who are you?"

"Starbuck, level-five undercover agent. At your service."

"An agent," Piter said in a hiss as they circled each other. "I should have known."

"I'm rather glad you didn't. Makes things much more interesting, don't you think?" He laughed, hoping to taunt the other Protector into making a mistake.

"Things may be interesting, but I'll still win." Piter launched himself forward, and Starbuck caught him just in time to send them both tumbling backward, over and over, to the edge of the balcony. He heard Jenny gasp, but he didn't have time to reassure her. But maybe her reaction meant that even though she knew he was a Protector—that he lied to her—she still cared for him.

"I've heard of you," Piter said. "Not your identity, of course, but your reputation. You've got the ability to stop time. I suppose that little stunt at the party was your handiwork."

Starbuck glanced over at Jenny, who was listening, mesmerized, to their odd conversation. "I'll happily take credit for that."

"And mind-reading, too. Is that how you've snuggled up to little Jennifer? And why? Needed to find out if Mommy was spilling secrets? Figured it would be easier to get into her head once you were in her bed?"

"That's not true," Starbuck said, his words measured.

"Of course it's not." Piter laughed. He cast a glance over his shoulder toward Jenny. "We wouldn't want the little mortal to see the truth, now, would we?"

Energized by a burst of fury, Starbuck threw himself at his enemy. The trouble was, Piter was stronger. And faster. Not only did Starbuck have a slightly less than the typical Protector physique, Piter's special gift was strength. Which put Starbuck at a significant disadvantage.

Apparently Piter knew it, too, because he spun around and headed for Jenny. She saw him coming, and her scream ripped through the air, as did Daphne's shriek for Piter to stay away.

Starbuck had no time to gather energy for temporal control. He had only one chance, and he knew it. If Piter got hold of Jenny, it was all over. There was only one way to keep her safe, and Starbuck would have to time it perfectly.

Knowing the risk, he raced forward, catching Piter around the waist just as his fingers were about to close around Jenny's arm. He kicked up, leaping to the top of the balcony ledge, the two of them teetering above the street.

"Don't do it." Piter gasped. "Neither one of us has a propulsion cloak."

"You should have thought of that before you kidnapped my girlfriend," Starbuck said in a snarl. At least he conveyed more bravado than he felt. The truth was, without a cloak they'd both go crashing to the ground below. Unless he used his time-stop just perfectly. And he had to pray Piter let him gather energy on the way down.

He couldn't risk Piter's getting loose any longer. With one final look at Jenny, he sent himself and Piter tumbling over the edge of the balcony and plummeting toward the ground. Faster and faster gravity pulled them down, and without their propulsion cloaks, both were almost as defenseless as mortals. Almost. Fifteen stories. They'd survive the fall, but it would hurt like Hades—if he didn't time this perfectly.

Closer and closer, the ground rose up to greet them, and Starbuck was beginning to fear he'd timed this badly when—kerthwunk!—they stopped in midair. Something tightened around Starbuck's waist even as he saw golden binder cuffs close around Piter's wrists. A shimmer in the air gave his friend away.

"About time," Starbuck muttered.

"Getting a little nervous?" Amusement laced Hale's voice.

"Not at all," he lied.

"Quite a risk you took there."

"I figured you'd show up." He grinned and gave a shaky laugh. "And if you didn't, I was working on Plan B: stopping time at the last second. Fortunately we'll never know if my timing was good or bad."

Hale laughed, then sighed. "I don't mean the risk on me. I mean the girl. She knows all your secrets now."

That she did. Starbuck ignored Piter's snarled curses, and hoped Jenny could love him anyway.

*****

She had watched, terrified, as the man she loved—the man she didn't really know, it seemed—plummeted toward the ground. She had needed to touch him, needed to know that he was really safe, but by the time she and Daphne raced to the street, Starbuck and Piter were already gone, presumably to the Ops Center in Washington, D.C. There Piter would be booked and tried.

Now a day had passed, and Jenny had done little more than sit on her couch thinking while her mother wandered around burning casseroles and apologizing. Jenny loved Starbuck; so help her, she did. But was she ready for life with a Protector? Wasn't this everything she'd railed against?

"What are you going to do?" Daphne asked.

Jenny jumped a mile, then put a hand over her racing heart. "You startled me."

"Sorry." Her mother stirred something with a wire whisk. So far it smelled good. Too bad her very unculinary mom would soon destroy it. "I'm just wondering if you're still thinking."

"Of course I'm still thinking. What else have I got to do?"

"Well, you could quit thinking and start picking out wedding dresses. That boy loves you. And he's quite a catch."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You only say that now that you know he's a Protector."

"Maybe. But it doesn't change the fact that he is a Protector. Or that he loves you." She paused, a gentle smile on her lips. "And you love him."

Tears welled in Jenny's eyes as she pressed her lips together. "I do love him." But she wasn't sure that was enough. He was a Protector, true, and she'd sworn to herself she'd never date a Protector. But Starbuck was…different. Or maybe he wasn't different after all, but she just loved him and so it didn't matter. And maybe she'd been a little too rigid anyway. The truth was, she hadn't fallen in love with a Protector or a mortal. She'd fallen in love with Starbuck, plain and simple.

But even if she was willing to date—even marry—a Protector, one little problem still remained. "He lied to me, Mom. He lied, and he kept secrets."

"Well, he lied to me, too, but you don't see me holding it against him."

"He read my mind."

"Maybe. Maybe he read mine, too. And he thought I was a spy. I'm not holding that against him."

"It's not the same, Mom."

"Isn't it? He was doing his job, Jenny. Don't punish the boy for doing what he had too."

Jenny sighed, giving in to the fury of emotions raging inside her. "I do understand. And I do love him. When he and Piter went over that ledge, I thought—" Her voice hitched and she drew a shaky breath. "It doesn't matter. He's alive, and so help me, despite everything I love him with all my heart and soul."

"I'm glad to hear that." His voice came out of nowhere. Starbuck!

Joy overwhelmed her. She whipped around to see him standing in the doorway. She raced into his arms, and he caught her around the waist and spun her, then planted kisses on her forehead, ears, and lips.

Behind them, she heard her mother slip out of the room and clatter around in the kitchen.

"Starbuck," she murmured, snuggling close.

"Miss me?"

"Yes." She tilted her head back. "Yes, I did. I really, really did."

A tiny smile touched the corner of his mouth. "Good. I missed you, too." He cleared his throat. "I suppose now's the time to officially tell you that I'm a Protector."

"Really?" She feigned disbelief. ''Well, what do you know about that?"

"And I can stop time."

"Some people have all the luck."

"And I can read minds," he said.

"A handy trick."

"It can be."

She cocked her head and looked him in the eye. "Find anything particularly interesting in my mind?"

He looked a bit sheepish. "I'm sure I would if I'd poked around enough, but I promise you I didn't. I was only looking for information on your mother. Very focused. I promise."

She could hear the concern in his voice, and she lifted herself up on tiptoe to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "I believe you. You were on a job." She shrugged and sighed. "I understand. Really I do."

He stroked her hair. "And?"

"And I love you." She grinned. "You can even read my mind if you don't believe me. I was being a bit too rigid about all that Protector-mortal stuff."

His arms closed around her, obviously relieved. "I believe you."

She pulled away just slightly and cast a glance toward the kitchen to make sure her mother wasn't listening. "I do have a little question about"—she lowered her voice—"the times we made love. You seem to know—"

"What you want?"

"Well, yeah."

"I don't suppose you'd believe that I'm incredibly intuitive?"

"Are you?"

"I wish." He stroked her cheek with the side of his thumb and smiled. "But I wasn't reading your mind, either. At least not on purpose. Your thoughts just surrounded me. There was a connection between us, a connection I never want to break." He met her eyes. "Nothing like that's ever happened to me before."

"No?" She grinned. "Nothing like that had better happen to you again. At least, not unless I'm around to share it."

"That's a promise I'm happy to make." He cocked an eyebrow. "But you're sure it's me you want? I mean, you might have a hundred offers from other Protectors."

She frowned, not sure what he meant.

"The ad. Your mom's ad. Remember?"

She laughed. "I never even checked my mailbox. And I never intend to." She held out her arms to him, happier than she could ever remember being. "Come here, Starbuck," she murmured, drawing him close. "My very own Protector."

And as they kissed, Jenny heard her mom's voice drift in from the kitchen.

"What did I tell you? Mother always knows best."