Cat eyes on a powerful man. She felt both the heat of him and the strength. Somehow she’d always assumed that executives in expensive suits were sort of wimpy under all that designer wool. She had been seriously wrong.

“Ms. Marcelli?”

Tension filled his voice. She shook her head again and tried to shrug free of his hold. When he didn’t release her, she gave him a quick smile.

“I’m fine.”

“You nearly fainted.”

“I know. I haven’t eaten today. I do that sometimes. Work distracts me. Then I get low blood sugar.”

“That can’t be good for the child.”

As there was no child, his concern made her feel a little guilty.

“I’m fine,” she repeated. “Really.”

He slowly removed his arm from around her waist. “Jack, bring Ms. Marcelli some herb tea. There’s a selection in the coffee room. Nothing with caffeine. Also, check to see if there are any sandwiches left from the lunch meeting.”

Francesca thought about protesting again, but before she could figure out what to say without blowing her cover, she found herself being ushered into an office the size of Utah.

Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of Santa Barbara and mountains from one wall and Santa Barbara and a hint of ocean from the other. Tasteful paintings decorated the remaining walls. Two large leather sofas formed a conversational area in a corner. Between them and the desk was enough room to hold a kickboxing class.

Sam settled her on the sofa, then sat next to her. Before she knew what was going on, he had her hand resting in his and his fingers on the inside of her wrist.

“Your pulse is rapid. Would you like me to call your doctor?”

She generally went to student health services whenever she needed a checkup. Somehow she didn’t think her friendly chitchat with the nurse practitioner qualified as having a doctor of her own.

Although she would have to admit that having her hand cradled by a handsome man held a certain thrill. He was warm, solid, and plenty sexy. Had she looked slightly more appealing than something gacked up by a stray cat, she might have tried smiling, flirting, and witty conversation. Not that she could think of anything witty right at the moment.

“No doctor calling,” she insisted, reluctantly drawing her hand free of his. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Although I have been taking up too much of your time.”

She started to rise. Sam kept her in her seat with nothing more than a steady gaze.

“Have some tea,” he said. “You’ll feel better.”

Both were an order.

Before she could protest, Jack appeared carrying a tray. There was a steaming mug of tea, along with a wrapped deli sandwich.

“We only have turkey left,” the young man said apologetically as he set the tray on the glass coffee table.

The small amount of guilt she’d felt before doubled in size. “Look. You’re being really nice-both of you. But there’s no need to fuss.”

The men ignored her. “Get on the computer,” Sam told his assistant. “See if you can track down either Malcolm or White. You’ll find a file in the usual place.” He turned his considerable attention back to her. “You said your boss had left for the day. How do you get in touch with him? I want to let him know that the boxes can’t be delivered. I’ll also make arrangements for them to be returned to him.” His fierce expression softened slightly. “He should never have left you to take care of them yourself.”

“I didn’t mind,” she said weakly, feeling the floor beneath her crumbling into quicksand. In a matter of seconds she was going to sink so deep, no one would ever find her. “And you can’t get in touch with him. He’s, um, heading for the airport. To, ah, get on a plane.”

She mentally winced. Lying had never come easily to her. Heading to the airport to get on a plane? Why else did people go to the airport?

Francesca sighed. Somehow this experiment had gotten out of hand. According to her research, Sam shouldn’t have stopped to help her, and he should never have taken things this far. The man was messing with her data.

“What airline? What flight?” He pulled a small leather-covered notebook from his jacket pocket.

Francesca didn’t know what to say. “You won’t be able to track him down.”

“Try me.”

Uh-oh. She was in way over her head. She gave Jack a frantic “rescue me” look which he either didn’t get or chose to ignore. Jason, the big and strong, poked his head in the office to inform them that he’d put the boxes in Conference Room 2. Jack disappeared with Jason, closing the door behind them. Leaving her very much alone with a man obviously capable of ruling the universe.

“So, Ms. Marcelli, your boss’s flight? His name would help, as well.”

“Please call me Francesca,” she said and reached for the tea. Her stomach growled, but she refused to touch the sandwich. Not while she was here under false pretenses. “Can you really get in contact with someone on a plane?”

“If I have to. It would be easier to reach him before he left. Is he driving down to Los Angeles, or taking a corporate flight out of Santa Barbara.”

Francesca thought of all the times she’d created situations to find out if strangers would take the trouble to stop and help her. She’d had nice old ladies offer her rides, friendly couples give her directions, even the odd schoolkid help her find a lost dog. But never had anyone taken things as far as Sam Reese.

She drew in a deep breath. “You’ve been great,” she said. “Really terrific. I don’t know how to thank you.”

His tawny gaze settled on her face. She regretted her dull-colored hair and oversize glasses, not to mention the deliberately unflattering makeup. Successful, gorgeous men like him didn’t much inhabit her grad-school world. Why couldn’t she have put on her sexy biker-girl disguise today instead of ugly-pregnant-woman?

Sam waited patiently. As if he had all the time in the world. As if he was used to people being reluctant to give up information.

“If you don’t want me to track down your boss, that’s your decision,” he said. “At least eat something. For the baby, if not for yourself.”

She really wished he would stop mentioning the pregnancy. Okay, so in all the years she’d been doing this sort of thing, she’d never once been put in a position of coming clean, but hey, this wasn’t her fault. She was being overwhelmed by guilt. Well, guilt and a more-than-mild attraction to a handsome guy.

“I’m not pregnant,” she said.

His gaze never left her face. One point for his side. She pulled off her glasses and tossed them on the table. It was a small gesture of vanity, but under the circumstance-wearing the world’s ugliest dress, sensible shoes, and an unflattering hairstyle-it was the best she could do.

“I’m a grad student studying social psychology. I observe how people react under different circumstances. In my work I’m trying to see if social standing, appearance, or gender influence behavior.”

Sam tucked his notepad back into his jacket pocket. One eyebrow rose slightly. “Will busy people eager to get home on a Friday afternoon stop and help a pregnant woman?”

“Exactly.”

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. She wanted to say something stupid, like she cleaned up real well, but held back.

“What’s in the boxes?”

She cleared her throat. “Mixed paper recycling.”

“You deliberately chose to address them to a company that had recently closed?”

“Yes.”

This time his gaze dropped to her protruding stomach. “And that?”

“A medical condition.”

His eyes widened.

She laughed softly. “Just kidding. It’s a device to simulate pregnancy. I borrowed it from a maternity store. Women use it to see how clothes will look as the baby gets bigger.”

He picked up the glasses and glanced through the lenses. “Clear.”

He smiled. A slow, sexy smile that made her long to trade in her black sensible shoes for a pair of red strappy sandals.

“I’m not an easy man to fool, Francesca,” he told her. “In fact, I can’t think of the last time someone did. You’re impressive. The fainting was a nice touch.”

She shrugged. “Actually that part was real. I haven’t eaten all day and that messes with my blood sugar.”

He motioned to her protruding belly. “You spend your day like this in the name of scientific research?”

“I don’t always dress up with a pregnancy belly. Sometimes I go out in a wheelchair, or tattoos and black leather.”

He leaned back against the sofa. “That would stop traffic.”

She smiled. “That depends on where I am.” She reached for the tea. “There have been dozens of studies done about the effect of appearance on behavior. Do you know that more people will stop to help an attractive person than an unattractive one?”

“Men are visual creatures.”

“But it’s not just men. Women do it, too. I’m studying-” She stopped and put down her tea. “Sorry. I get on a roll. My studies fascinate me.”

“I can see why. Who are you going to be tomorrow? If your costume involves black leather, feel free to stop by.”

She laughed. “Actually I’m supposed to be done with the research phase. My project for the summer is to write my dissertation. But the thought of spending all that time at the computer makes my skin crawl, so I’ve been putting it off.”

“What do you want me to do with the boxes?”

“Oh. I can take them with me. I need to return the cart, too. I borrowed it from the building maintenance guy.”

“So he gets full points for helping out the pregnant lady?”

“Absolutely.”

“What about me?”

Sam had a great voice, Francesca thought as a shiver rippled through her. Deep, rich, seductive.

“You get bonus points,” she told him.

“Good to know.” He angled toward her. “How about I let you keep the points and in return you join me for dinner tonight?”