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"Protective Measures are taken when somebody tries to kill Congresswoman Kaye Miller. Kaye's politically powerful godfather drafts operative Daniel DuCharme as her bodyguard, and he becomes fiercely attracted to the beautiful widow, even though she's seven years older. When Kaye is kidnapped by a crazed paramilitary group, Daniel wades into a battle, nearly dying in the process. Dana Marton throttles up the suspense as they scramble to prevent a disaster and battle their sizzling attraction. Marton's characters are neatly drawn and compelling, as is a plot peppered with seething emotion." Romantic Times BookClub

Kaye Miller looked at her friends and colleagues milling around the grand ballroom, and wondered which one had tried to kill her.

Cold fear slithered up her limbs, along with a sense of bewilderment and betrayal. Who was it? And why? She'd only seen the shadow of the man's head through the car window, that and the Capitol Hill parking pass that marked him as someone close to her.

"Maybe next term," she said in response to a question from Congresswoman Sawyer by her side and scanned the crowd, considering each man in turn.

True, politics was a cutthroat business, but she couldn't imagine any of these people as a coldhearted killer.

"If the wording was toned down ?" She turned her full attention to Sawyer and made an effort to redirect her thoughts. "It shouldn't take much to get that little extra support you need."

"But I can count on your help?"

"You have my full backing." She was all for education reform.

Sawyer thanked her and moved on, leaving her alone and at the mercy of darker thoughts that brought images of crushed metal and screeching tires.

An accident, according to the police.

She wanted to believe them. She couldn't. She'd been there. The man had come after her with a purpose.

Would he come back to try again?

She absentmindedly rubbed the red plastic multiple sclerosis bracelet on her wrist, an accessory that almost every person wore tonight, including the men. Then she caught herself and dropped her hand. She didn't want to look nervous. She widened her smile and tried to focus on enjoying the evening. She didn't succeed. The lushly decorated room, the huge garlands of red roses and carnations, felt oppressive, as if the walls were closing in. And there were too many people. People she was no longer sure about.

Nonsense.

She was safe here, surrounded by at least two hundred politicians and media. Nobody would be stupid enough to try to get to her in this crowd.

Still, when somebody bumped her from behind, she jumped. "Excuse me," a petite woman in a striking maroon dress said with a smile, balancing her drink and dessert.

Kaye stepped out of the way and let her by, tried to place her. She'd been skipping too many social events in the past two years. There had been a time when she would have known everyone at a gathering like this.

Sinatra's voice came faintly through the speakers, not meant for dancing, just loud enough to provide some pleasant background noise for the guests at the Multiple Sclerosis Society's Award Gala ? everyone who had supported the vote for the newly approved research funds for the society. Tonight The Hotel George was as well-guarded as the White House.

And yet...she could not ignore the bristling of the short hairs at her nape, the distinct and disturbing sensation that she was being watched.

Wasn't she always? She was a public figure, Majority Whip in the House of Representatives. Thanks to C-SPAN and countless other news sources, people tended to recognize her. Even in this room where almost everybody knew her already, somebody might be keeping an eye on her, waiting for an opportune moment to come over and push his or her agenda.

Staying busy was good. She turned to join the group of men she'd recently scrutinized. Then she saw him: Tall and dark-haired, he wore a black tuxedo like every other man in the place, and watched her from across the room. Her, not someone behind or next to her ? she was certain of that. His sharp gaze held her in a way so that she could swear she felt his attention. She didn't recognize him from the Hill, although he could have been one of the new aides.

Instinct said he wasn't. Not media either since he wasn't wearing a media badge. In a room full of all-smiles politicians, he seemed to stand alone with his sober intensity.

He didn't look away when she caught him staring. Why was he watching her? What did he want? Was it him? The man in the tunnel? She couldn't tell. She hadn't seen enough.

Who was he with? She thought she recognized the daughter of Senator Massey from Iowa, but the others she couldn't place. The people in the small group around him were chatting, but he didn't seem to be involved in the conversation. The older woman on his left put a hand on his arm and said something. He turned to her to respond.

Nobody. He was nobody important. She let out her breath. A guest, that's all. Maybe a young representative who wanted to talk to her on some issue, but couldn't quite work up the nerve to approach the Majority Whip at a party.

And yet, he didn't look like someone who could be easily rattled. She watched him as he bent his head to listen politely to whatever the woman was saying. There was a strength to him, evident even at this distance, in his posture and controlled movements ? a lot like Cal's.

She found the strength of strangers threatening just now. Kaye kept moving.

"Here you are." Norman Barney's weathered face lit up as he spotted her. "I was hoping we could discuss my little project. I want it in the hopper as soon as possible."

That's what she needed, some normal everyday conversation instead of standing alone and steeping in paranoia. "Agricultural easements?"

He nodded and steered her from the group.

She smiled and stifled the little voice in her head that screamed "anything but that!"

Norman Barney's voter base included a large number of farmers and he took representing them seriously. Nothing wrong with that, except that the man had a rather dramatic manner when he took the floor. A recent five-hour discourse on the proper processing of tripe came to mind.

"I'd like to hear your take on the upcoming presidential summit, too. It does affect my constituents. They depend on cheap labor from south of the border."

"We should be able to squeeze in a quick meeting next week," she said pleasantly. She wouldn't have minded a little work-related discussion, but she didn't want to enter into an argument right here, right now, an outcome that their opposing position on the issue guaranteed.

He waved that off. "Nothing that formal, Congresswoman. I was just hoping for a few minutes tonight. Just to sound you out."

"Kaye?"

The familiar voice had the power to lift the dark cloud that had seemed to hang over her all evening.

She turned with a smile. "I didn't know you were coming."

Cal was here. Nothing could happen to her now. Standing next to him was like standing in the shadow of a tank.

"Thought I'd stop by to say hi to my favorite god-daughter. Congressman." He nodded to Barney.

The man just about snapped to attention. Cal had that kind of effect on people.

"Colonel Wilson. It's been a while since we've seen you on the Hill."

"Retired." Cal let slip a half-smile.

"Getting some golfing done?"

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that. Mind if I steal Kaye for a few minutes?"

"No, no," Barney said. "I'll catch up with her later. Good to see you, Colonel."

"What are you doing here?" she asked as the congressman walked away.

Cal watched her closely with those dark eyes that others found formidable. "How are you?"

"Good as new," she said, but her hand fluttered to her left shoulder, dislocated in the crash in the tunnel. Nobody here, except she and Cal, knew about the accident. Her high-necked gown did a good job of covering the fading bruises.

"I had a little talk with your security detail," he said soberly, not missing the gesture.

He never missed anything. "Thanks." If Cal gave some pointers to Harrison and Green, she felt that much safer.

"I want to bring in one of my own men."

She raised an eyebrow in response. Supposedly he no longer had any men in his command.

"From my old team. I managed to maintain a few contacts," he said with convincing innocence.

As far as anyone knew, the Colonel had retired a couple of years ago, only doing some light consulting now and then. Right. He was up to his neck in something, but no matter how much she itched to figure out the mystery, in the interest of national security and their friendship, she always accepted his explanations.

She wasn't about to start questioning him now. "They're already whining about the security I have." She kept smiling, in case anyone was watching. "I'm not going to get budget approved for more. The police don't think the accident was anything deliberate. They think the other driver might have been under the influence."