“I figured three years were long enough. A woman can only wait so long, Dallas.”
“Who said I wanted you to wait?” he taunted, slowly twisting the thick braid around his hand now.
“Wasn’t that part of our argument?” she reminded him, unconcerned that he had her prisoner by the hair. She mocked him with an imitation of his voice, continuing, “‘I think we should wait, Kel. This thing we have could fizzle out, Kel. Let’s wait for a few years, Kel.’”
John winced at those quotes. Damn woman had the memory of an elephant. He held her head still as he lowered his. Her eyes gleamed back in the gaslight expectantly. A nasty thought occurred. “You waited three years to make your move?”
Her smug smile answered him better than words. He tightened his hold of her braid as the revelation sunk in. The woman was incredible. She had a move planned years in the future. “Three years? You decided three years ago to get me to marry you? That couldn’t be!” He looked at her incredulously.
“Hate to point out the obvious. You are, as of today, married to me.”
Murderous. That was what he felt. Yet, he’d also had to admit that he hadn’t felt quite as alive as he did now for a long, long time. The years without her paled in comparison to her presence in his life. Kel had a way of making every minute memorable. He placed an experimental kiss on her waiting lips, as if tasting them for the first time.
“I’ll have to think of my next move to get out of this trap,” he said against her lips. Another thought occurred. “Ha, I’m married to a woman named Leiha, not Kel.”
Her smile grew wider. “Technical, technical.” She lifted her lips and kissed him back, softly and tenderly, as if she’d waited for a long time for this moment. Three years, actually, John thought, still in disbelief. “Husband of mine – Leiha is short for Kaleiha, the Muslim diminutive for Kel.”
John wanted to . . . He never ever knew exactly what he wanted to do with Kel Grant. She had been his trainee but sometimes he wasn’t sure who was training whom. And like a damned fool, he’d chosen to ignore the part of him that screamed not to get involved with a woman like her. Look what that had got him into.
His disgust must have shown on his face because Kel laughed, not a bit perturbed that her groom should be so reluctant on his wedding night. The combination of her womanly scent, perspiration and baby powder was heady and he wanted to just forget about winning an argument right now and do what he wanted.
“Come on, Dallas,” her smoky voice mocked. “All these years with the Temple should have taught you something. There’s always more than one move.”
“Oh?” Not if you were trapped. Checkmate. But he wasn’t one to ignore a way out when it was offered.
“It’s easy, actually. It’s a Muslim marriage. All you have to do is say ‘I divorce you’ three times and you have your freedom back.”
But of course. He knew that. “I knew that,” John said.
“See? You can say that any time and we’re through.”
“Just like that? I can say that now?” he challenged, wanting to push her as much as she was pushing him.
Her eyes turned predatory. “I let you go the last time, didn’t I?” she asked softly. “Go on. Say it now if it makes you feel better.”
John studied her face as she waited. She looked like a doll – big eyes, delicate nose, elegant arching dark eyebrows, lips made for kissing. But he knew the woman underneath; she was no lightweight in the grey matter area. What was it about her that made things both simple and complicated at the same time? He could say those words now, undo the deed and that should set the record straight. If he wanted to be married, he’d be the one doing the asking. Three easy words to say. It was his feelings that were causing difficulties.
“Later,” he said instead. She wanted out so fast? She could wait, he decided.
“Dallas?”
“What now?”
“You going to hang on to my hair all night or are you going to kiss me?”
“Actually, I was going to hang you with your hair.” He looked at it, wound around his hand three times. “I can’t believe how long it’s grown.”
She moved even closer against him and he forgot about her hair for the moment. “Dallas, if you don’t kiss me properly, I’m going to tell all the women out there tomorrow you’re a lousy lover.”
“I want it on record that I’m doing this under duress,” he informed her as he lowered his head to her uplifted face.
“Duly noted. Now kiss me like a lover should. You’re out of practice.”
A man could only take so many insults. John decided to show her that being married meant she could be shut up, just like that. Her mouth opened eagerly under his, and he started practising.
Kel Grant loved two things in her life: her job and her man. One she kept a secret, the other she kept an eye on. She’d never known a life other than the one that had been chosen for her since birth and, sometimes, she felt some regret that she couldn’t lead a normal existence, one with a nine-to-five job and a husband and two kids. But she found out that you couldn’t just pretend not to catch things that she was trained to see. She couldn’t pretend to be something other than what she was.
That John Dallas was the love of her life was a secret even to those in her inner circle. There must be no vulnerable chink in her armour if she were to do her job right. She had asked him one time, and one time only, to get out of the game. When he’d refused, she knew she had to let him go for a little while. A close call with death right after that convinced her she’d done the right thing. John Dallas could end up a target if anyone knew how important he was to her. The long hours of recuperating alone in her room gave her time to do what she did best – to think, to lay out a strategy of defence.
How did you keep a love safe? A clean break. How would you keep an eye on love? Be in power. How could she go on living without her love? Commit to a time schedule to get him back. What if he wouldn’t take her back by then? Worse, what if he found somebody new by then? She was a master strategist; she’d deal with those problems when they arose.
Lately, she’d been hearing things about the Black Knight. He had been asking questions about certain classified assignments and she had felt the ripples of concern from those who didn’t like to be questioned. Her sources were good. Her love, she was told, could be in danger from all sides, and no one would help him then.
Well, she had kept an eye on him all along, hadn’t she? Time to come in and . . . and what?
She had a game plan but it was not easy to manipulate John Dallas. He was one of the Temple’s best operatives, specializing in hostile negotiations. The man’s instincts were fine-tuned to every invisible signal given on both sides of a bargaining table; he would be suspicious of any obstacles that appeared to be out of place.
In fact, she knew there was no way to stop his persistence. He’d try to get answers. But if she were close by, at least she would know when he was too near the truth for his own good. One thing was eminently clear – only she could protect him. She didn’t trust anyone else not to sacrifice him for the sake of the game.
Three years hadn’t diminished two facts. She still loved him to pieces. And he still sent her up in flames with just his kiss. No one kissed like John Dallas. Slow and wet and sensuous. Searching and finding all the secret dreams of her soul, as he sucked on her tongue and explored every part of her mouth. Releasing her lips, only to recapture them, until there was no doubt who owned them. Mine, he told her silently, as he ate her like a sumptuous feast. Mine, he demanded, as he drank and sipped as if she were his favourite ’84 Merlot. Mine, he claimed, over and over again, his tongue dancing with hers in an endless promise.
How, she wondered in a daze in between his kisses, had she survived this long without him? She moaned softly as he sank deeper into her, trapping her under his weight.
When John finally lifted his lips from hers, Kel found herself looking into his fierce dark eyes. This close, she could see the lig
ht grey ring around the black orbs, with the luminous grey striations that had always fascinated her. When he was angry, they seemed to flash like little lightning bolts. As they were doing right now. Kel grinned up at him. She liked her opponents angry, that is as long as she remained calm.
His black brows crinkled together in suspicion. “You know I want you,” he stated the obvious, since she could feel just how much he did, “and I have questions that go beyond this job. Hell, it might take me another three years to get all my questions answered, but this isn’t the time and place. Kel, what are you doing here?”
“And if I tell, what then?” she baited.
He shifted position, putting more weight on his elbows, glaring furiously as her smile grew ever wider. “Damn your kinky ass, you always liked to get me up at the wrong times.” He leaned down closer, as if to kiss her again, then shook off the temptation. “What is your role in the game, Kel?”
This time, his voice brooked no argument. She lifted a hand to stroke his thick hair back. It was a little damp from the heat and perspiration.
“I was in the vicinity when the Sphinx went down,” she explained, “and they sent word to me to retrieve some information from the surviving pilot. Being a woman, I had to move among the villagers but the Resistance was very helpful, craftier than we had thought. They have a smuggling system that is quite sophisticated, using the villagers, especially the women. You would be amazed how many places you can hide guns under that black garment.”
John’s eyes lit up with interest. Kel knew that he liked this kind of information for future negotiation ventures. “Continue,” he said.
“Don’t you want to get more comfortable?” she invited. “You must be hot in those clothes.”
“Very,” he admitted, “but I like being on top of you too much. I missed this, you know.”
Her heart bloomed with pleasure. She had wondered whether he still wanted her as much as she wanted him. Time was different for a man, and she was too realistic a woman to imagine that John’s feelings had remained constant.
“I missed this too,” she told him softly.
The flecks in his dark eyes gleamed. “But not enough, apparently.” There was a hint of bitterness in his voice. As if he didn’t want to think about it, he changed the subject back. “Go on. Tell me what happened to the pilot. I was set to do the H-A-X. and now you tell me the Resistance knocked him off. What did he have on him anyway?”
“I didn’t say they killed him. He was in worse shape than anyone let on, and was already dying when I got to him. On the way down he landed in a ravine that cut up his ’chute.” Kel lost her playful mood for the moment as she recalled the dead man. “The villagers really couldn’t do anything about his head injury.”
“What about the Sphinx?”
“You know the government’s men are swarming over the thing by now, trying to dismantle it. Study everything.”
“I don’t get it,” John said. “Why then are we exchanging arms for a dead man? How would that keep the Sphinx’s technology out of enemy hands?”
Kel watched as he mulled the information over in his mind. His weight left hers as he turned on his back to lie at her side. He stared up at the ceiling, continuing to ask questions, his voice quieter now. She didn’t attempt to answer him, understanding that he was just thinking out loud. That he was doing so told her a lot about how much he trusted her, and she felt a little twinge of discomfort. She firmly tucked it away. There was nothing to feel guilty about.
“Why does the Temple care about the Resistance? Why aren’t we negotiating with those who shot the Sphinx down?” John jerked his head to the side, looking her straight in the eye. “Unless the pilot is the most important thing. What is it, Kel? They must’ve known I’d arrive too late. What does the dead Captain have that could be more important than the newest military air toy? Who are we negotiating for? What information did you retrieve?”
Kel turned to lie on her side so she could see him better. His flowing robe hid most of his body from her eyes, but it also emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. He never did like wearing too many layers, so it was easy to guess that he hated what he had on. But he was too good to let it show when he was doing his job, of course. Her John was essentially a T-shirt and jeans man, but sometimes casual clothing wasn’t an option in his job.
“Relax. Take off your clothes,” she ordered softly. Well, she had her own selfish reasons.
This time, it was his turn to smile at her. A sinfully wicked curve of those sexy lips. It sent shivers down her back, and it was way too hot to catch a chill. Always a tough negotiator, he asked, “And what would I get in return?”
She rested her head on her arm, while her other hand strayed tentatively over his chest. “What do you want?” she teased, ever the strategist. “Me? Or answers to your questions?”
He didn’t even take a moment to consider. “You.”
“That’s nice,” Kel murmured, and pulled at the cloth covering his neck, “but why do I get the feeling that you’ll try to get the answers anyway, likely using unfair methods?”
His smile became even more wicked, if that were possible, as he began to loosen his thick waistband. His eyes never left her as his hands tugged at his clothes. “Oh, it’ll be very fair,” he promised. “You’ll find it extremely satisfying.”
Kel’s breath caught as his naked chest came into view. Lord, but that man had a nice chest – smooth where it should be, lightly patterned with hair where needed. She was suddenly greedy to see more, but he was deliberately moving too slowly. With rare impatience, she ripped off the loosened sash at his narrow waist, along with a bunch of buttons.
She didn’t notice that John had become still, passively letting her do as she wanted. She didn’t notice anything at all, in fact, but the tremendous swell straining against his white underwear. “Oh my,” she whispered. And licked her lower lip.
She ignored John’s choked groan. When she reached out her hand, he grabbed it.
“I thought you wanted me out of my clothes,” he reminded her, although his voice sounded a little forced.
Kel had waited all this time; she could wait another five minutes. Besides, she had her reasons to prolong this little torture. It wasn’t easy, but she swallowed her impatience.
“OK,” she said.
John literally slid out of his clothes, not even sitting up to remove his pants. He kept his eyes on her as he kicked them out of the way. She took in all of him – the thickly muscled arms, the flat stomach, the powerful thighs covered with a fine sheen of perspiration. The years had made him leaner.
There was one offending garment left. She stared at the item meaningfully.
“What do you want?” John echoed her earlier question.
Kel reluctantly looked up and the desire smouldering in his dark eyes was almost too much. But things were moving faster than she wanted. Timing was important here, she reminded herself. She wanted to make sure that the information she’d be giving John Dallas tonight was just the right amount, no more, no less. If her timing was off, she knew he’d force her to answer the questions she didn’t want to. Exactly what had happened three years earlier.
She inched a little closer, taking great delight in being so close to her man again, taking in everything she had missed so much – his scent, his nonchalant sexuality, his responsive body – and wanting more than anything else to close the emotional gap between them.
“Food,” she replied, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. “I haven’t eaten since midday.”
John stared back at Kel. She was serious. She really meant food. He didn’t doubt it because he knew how ridiculous her metabolism was. The woman could out-eat a horse.
“You teased me out of my clothes and now you want to eat?” he asked. He slowly turned until they were facing each other, several inches apart. “What sort of wifely behaviour is that?”
“You did ask me what I wanted.” She looked at him in amusement. “Dallas, you just have to lear
n how to slow down a bit. Besides, you always did like to watch me eat.”
John laughed huskily. “You’re the only woman I know who thinks food is foreplay.” He leaned forwards and kissed her. “You’re going to have to hurry. This husband is hungry too.”
He needed to calm his raging libido, anyway. There were things more important than sex. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, John, while your brain cells and important body parts vehemently object. Kel Grant didn’t just show up like a desert mirage for no reason; the woman had specifically avoided being physically near him for years. Sure they’d had one or two conversations on the phone whenever their jobs happened to cross paths, and she’d never hidden the fact that she still found him attractive, but no matter how hard he tried to persuade her, she’d never once agreed to see him.
Not once. Until now.
He wasn’t given the codename Black Knight for nothing. The moniker wasn’t meant to denote some romantic notion of a medieval warrior – it was the chess piece that he was named after. In the game, the Knight negotiated a stealthy path, neither straight nor diagonal, hiding motive and purpose from his opponents. He was trained to see what others hid, and Kel Grant, the woman who had haunted him all this time, was hiding a lot.
Part of him accepted that because she was an operative doing her job. Part of him was furious because she’d chosen to play his opponent instead of his sidekick. Every move she’d made so far was a delay tactic. He was, after all, a negotiator in this business, and she was nowhere near capable of hiding anything from him for long.
His eyes narrowed as he watched her walk to the tent’s back entrance. She bent forwards to pick up a large tray that he hadn’t noticed before, giving him a tempting view of those bikini briefs that barely covered her ass.
Yeah, some negotiator, Dallas. So far, his wonted steel-trap mind and cool logic had failed to function at all. Things that he’d been trained not to allow had dominated all the present negotiating – a low-cut wisp of a tank top, a pair of long legs that he knew were ballerina-flexible. Her lips asking to be kissed. He frowned. How many others had kissed them since him?
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