Princess

by Christina Skye

  Hawk was shirtless and barefoot, water glistening across his muscled chest. “Oh, my,” she murmured.

  “Oh, my what? Jess, I need to know exactly what—”

  “Talk to you later, Summer.” Without a hint of regret Jess broke the connection. Her exhaustion had vanished the moment she set eyes on Hawk, damp, disheveled and dangerous.

  Before she could say a word, he tossed his shirt and towel down on the open sofa bed. “Get moving,” he ordered. “I’m sleeping here.”

  “That’s not necessary. You’ll be more comfortable on the bed.”

  He nudged her out of the way like a tank plowing over soft sand. “I’ll keep an eye on things out here. This way I can hear the door.”

  There it was again, the cool way he simply moved in and took over.

  But Jess didn’t need anyone to take over for her.

  Okay, so she was currently in financial freefall thanks to her lousy investment strategy, and her car was maybe held together with duct tape and chewing gum. Probably her job choice was lousy, too, but she had her independence, and this tough-eyed stranger had no business muscling his way into her plans.

  It was time to draw a line in the sand.

  “I’ll sleep here.” Jess crossed her arms and didn’t move.

  “You want to go one-on-one, Jess?” Her name was a harsh whisper. She was mesmerized by the challenge in his eyes as he tossed a pillow onto the bed.

  His hands went to the waistband of his jeans, and the button popped open. His zipper hissed down.

  Though it took incredible willpower, Jess didn’t allow her eyes to follow his zipper, because there was absolutely no reason she should be curious about what lay beneath.

  “If this is some kind of perverted test of wills, I remain unimpressed.”

  Ugh. Too prim, Jess thought. Why did this man bring out the worst in her?

  “It’s no test. I’m dead on my feet.” His fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans. “In three seconds, the jeans and anything else I’m wearing will be gone. If you’re still here, that’s your problem.”

  Despite all her willpower, Jess’s eyes flickered downward. Dark hair arrowed across his chest. Taut muscles lined his open jeans.

  Jess swallowed, her face filled with heat. She had to explain things clearly. “I need to leave my bedroom door open. It’s . . . a thing I have. I don’t like small spaces.”

  “No problem. I’ll make a note not to lock you up in the trunk of a car anytime soon.”

  Jess heard fabric rustle. His jeans shifted and began to fall.

  She spun around quickly. “Fine, be a jerk.” Grabbing her purse, she headed toward the bedroom, trying not to hear his soft laugh or the sound of his jeans hitting the floor. The sound left an unforgettable vision of a naked male body imprinted on her brain.

  The sofa bed squeaked, protesting beneath Hawk’s weight. “Any other grave secrets I need to know before I go to sleep?” he called.

  So he assumed it was some kind of joke. Maybe that was just as well. “No more secrets,” she answered shortly.

  “Good.” His voice wasn’t quite as cool as it had been. “’Night, Ms. Mulcahey.” The light switched off in the room behind her.

  Jess stared at the partially open door. He didn’t understand at all.

  With luck he never would.

  Summer Mulcahey paced anxiously outside a dilapidated warehouse, imagining her sister trapped in a hotel room with a psycho. Given her FBI experiences, her imagination was far too concrete and detailed.

  She probably worried too much, but the thought didn’t make her stop sweating. When her cell phone chimed, she answered immediately.

  The number was blocked, she noted. “Jess, is that you?”

  “It’s Izzy Teague, Summer. I just got your message.”

  Reining in her nerves, Summer walked away from the team of forensic experts finishing a crime-scene assessment nearby. “Izzy, what’s going on? My sister said she saw you tonight. She also said she was in a car accident. If Jess is in some sort of trouble—”

  “Jess is fine, Summer. Her Jeep spun out in a storm, and I smoothed things out.”

  Summer Mulcahey glared at the phone. She didn’t for one second believe the story was that simple. Izzy Teague was a security operative with class-A clearances, and he didn’t wander onto lonely country roads to handle random motor accidents. “Try again,” she said flatly.

  “Okay, it wasn’t just a simple accident.” Izzy blew out an irritated breath. “You really need to hear this now?”

  “I really, really need to hear this now.”

  “I’m involved in a project here, Summer. My friend was finishing his surveillance when your sister took a detour onto the shoulder. He couldn’t see her until it was too late, but he’s fine now. So is your sister.”

  Summer hunched over the phone, speaking quietly. “She’s my sister, Izzy. Since I know exactly what kind of work you do and the kind of men you do it with—”

  Izzy laughed dryly. “Of course you know. You’re married to one of those men.”

  “That fact is irrelevant. I don’t want Jess involved in my world or in yours. I mean that, Izzy. There are . . . reasons.”

  “Care to name them?”

  “No, and don’t cross me on this. If Jess has wandered into the middle of a mission, get her out.” Summer’s voice hardened. “Otherwise, I’ll come out there and see to it myself.”

  Jess was floating on a small boat in the Aegean. Waves rocked her gently, slapping against the hull while she slept beneath a hot, glorious sunset. Yawning, she decided to take off the top of her swimsuit and slather on more oil. . . . She shrugged off the straps, feeling the heat of the sun on her shoulders—

  She woke up with a start, on a strange bed in a cold room. As rain pounded against the window, driven by a hammering wind, she remembered where she was and why she was still there.

  For long tense moments, she didn’t move, letting the blurred edges of sleep slip away.

  2:21 A.M.

  So much for her vaguely sexual dreams.

  Abruptly her stomach growled. She had been too keyed up to eat very much after the accident, and now hunger pangs hit her in earnest.

  She glanced at the clock again.

  2:22 A.M.

  After a mental review of her possessions, she realized her options were limited to a raisin granola bar and a few other snacks, but all were stashed in her suitcase, which happened to be next door in the living room.

  Of course she wasn’t going near Hawk or the bed where he slept, probably wearing nothing.

  With a mental curse, she pulled the pillow across her head, ignoring her growling stomach. She was successful—for about twelve minutes.

  Finally convinced that further sleep was impossible, Jess sat up, staring into the darkness.

  She would simply pull on her robe, creep next door, and carry her suitcase back down the hall. Hawk would probably sleep right through, so there was no reason for her to be so jumpy.

  Even if he did sleep naked, probably with no covers over that phenomenal body.

  She pulled on her robe and crossed the bedroom. She never closed her door completely when she slept, so turning the knob didn’t pose a problem, and when there was no sign of movement next door, she moved down the hall toward the living room.

  Silently she inched through the darkness around a fake potted orange tree. The rain was hammering hard, and she was certain Hawk wouldn’t hear her.

  She took another step and stopped, her heart pounding as something struck the window.

  She jumped nervously when a second pebble struck the glass, tossed by the wind. Some instinct of danger made the little hairs stand up at the back of her neck.

  Which was ridiculous. Hawk had promised she would be safe here.

  Not that she believed him completely. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t jump her, at least.

  With the shadows stretching around her and the storm raging in the night, she began to pl
ay back everything he had said earlier. What if he and his friend were criminals, not government agents? What if she’d stumbled into the middle of something they wanted to keep quiet; something her sister didn’t know anything about?

  Jess realized she was shivering. Bending carefully to pick up her suitcase, she heard her stomach growl loudly. Wind rushed across her face, and then she was spun around, pinned immobile against the wall. Callused fingers gripped her throat.

  Choking her.

  chapter 8

  The movement came so fast that Jess had no time to fight back. She was falling before she knew it, her heart slamming in her chest as panic set in.

  Even then he didn’t speak or offer threats. He simply gripped her, silent and ruthless, until the room began to blur around her.

  Jess gasped for air.

  Suddenly his hands loosened and his arm shot around her shoulders, to keep her from falling. “What the hell are you doing?”

  She tried to talk, but could only manage a dry cough.

  “Tell me, damn it.”

  “Not—” Jess bit off another cough. “Not meeting spies from a hostile government.”

  His voice was flat and emotionless. “Then why were you out here?”

  Jess drew in a gulp of air. “To find the last granola bar and the other food I usually carry in my suitcase.” She shoved impatiently at his arms, more irritated than frightened now. “Because I was hungry, okay?”

  He muttered a curse. Only then did she realize that in her irritation she had elbowed him in the ribs. “Sorry.” She leaned closer, trying to see his face in the darkness. “How bad is it?”

  His body was wedged against hers, trapping her against the wall. His hand seemed to burn through the thin cotton of her nightshirt.

  The old, awful fear kicked in. Small places. Locked doors. Darkness.

  Trapped.

  A moan broke free, and she twisted, frantic.

  A second later Jess was free.

  “You should have listened, damn it. I told you I was a light sleeper. Your suitcase is on the desk, so grab your granola bar and whatever else you need, then go back to bed. And this time, stay there,” he said tightly.

  Jess rubbed her wrists, which still stung from the force of his grip. What kind of dark world did this man inhabit, where threats lurked around every corner?

  She decided she didn’t want to know. Her sister inhabited that same world, and Jess had seen her sister’s face all too often after a tough assignment, ruthlessly stripped of any emotion. Sometimes it was days before Jess heard her sister laugh again.

  Summer loved her work, but Jess knew that she paid a high price for dealing with the darker side of human nature.

  Jess realized that this man had learned to pay that same price. But his choices were none of her business.

  In a blur she turned, carrying her suitcase down the hall, but by then she’d lost all hint of an appetite.

  Hawk didn’t move.

  If he was getting well, his fractured ribs had an odd way of showing it. Jess’s jab with her elbow hadn’t helped the pain, but Hawk didn’t hold that against her. Most women would fight if they were suddenly slammed up against a wall and attacked in the middle of the night.

  Scowling, he sat on the sofa bed, listening to rain hammer at the window. He had simply acted by training. First a noise, then a shadow—and he had shot awake into full attack mode, cutting her off before she could move.

  It was simple ingrained habit now. Recognize a threat and then immobilize it.

  Except that tonight, Hawk wasn’t dealing with a sociopathic assassin or ruthless bioterrorist. Tonight his hands had closed around the neck of a guileless woman without a clue to the dangerous currents sweeping around her.

  He closed his eyes, remembering her moan of panic when he had pinned her against the wall, hands to her throat.

  She’d been terrified beyond what he’d expected.

  Why?

  Not that it was his problem. The woman was trouble, and the sooner he was gone, the better, because he didn’t have even one damned inch of room for more trouble in his life.

  Three hours later, the rain was still hammering at the windows.

  As Hawk finished shaving, he looked at the pills Izzy had given him earlier. The headaches were more frequent, almost once a day now, and the other side effects were just as noticeable.

  Having the hormones of a reckless fifteen-year-old boy wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. He was a man who enjoyed being in control—always—and the distraction from the damned meds the Navy had seen fit to give him was a serious annoyance.

  Not to mention the rest of the side effects.

  Thanks to his enhanced libido and markedly extended arousal time, his mood was becoming downright surly. He was dedicated to serving his country, but being a medical guinea pig was taking things a step too far.

  Frowning, Hawk rolled the cool plastic bottle between his fingers. Then he dropped the meds into his backpack.

  After he finished dressing, he checked on Jess. She was sound asleep, one arm wrapped around a pillow, her body curled in a tight ball. With her bare legs dangling over the edge of the bed and the covers askew, Hawk could see the curve of her hip beneath her simple pink nightshirt.

  His body responded with instant, savage force.

  Biting off a curse, he scanned the room, gray in the predawn light. Her clothes were folded neatly on a chair, her notebooks lined up on the desk. She was all packed, ready to leave as soon as she woke. Recalling her anxiety about retaliation for her negative report, Hawk had already taken precautions with Izzy.

  But neither man believed that she was in any real danger. Izzy had checked, and there was no record of her real name anywhere in the hotel database, and there were no internal memos about her inspection.

  Wandering to the closet, Hawk picked up a pair of boots on top of her suitcase. He noticed a hole the size of a quarter in the bottom of one sole. She had wedged a piece of cardboard in place to cover it.

  If she was out of money, why didn’t her sister help out? Or why hadn’t Jess asked?

  Nothing about the woman made any sense.

  Not your problem, he thought coldly. And you couldn’t help her even if it were.

  Coffee?

  Yes. Jess opened her eyes and inhaled deeply, praying that the intoxicating scent filling her lungs wasn’t a by-product of her strange dreams.

  “Are you decent in there?”

  She pulled the covers up hastily at the sound of Hawk’s voice beyond the half-open door. “Decent enough.”

  He opened the door, fully dressed, carrying a tray. There were lines on his face that she hadn’t noticed the day before. “I thought you’d want some breakfast.” He put the tray on the corner of her bed. “Considering all you got from me a few hours ago was a lecture and a granola bar.”

  It wasn’t an apology, but Jess decided it was close enough. “If you’ve got coffee on that tray, I might have to kiss you.” She sat up and propped her elbows on her knees. “What time is it?”

  “Almost six. Your sister called a few minutes ago. When I told her you’d call back shortly, she wasn’t exactly thrilled.”

  “Summer is convinced all men are out to dupe me and I’ll be too naïve to notice it.” Heat filled her cheeks as she realized how that sounded. “I don’t mean that my sister’s not wonderful,” she added quickly. “Or that I’ve never—that I haven’t—” She cleared her throat. “Because I have, you know. Summer’s just protective. Maybe overprotective.” Jess was still trying to figure that out, working through the whole twin dynamic thing, and she knew by now that it wasn’t an easy relationship to explain. Sisters were close, but twins were part of each other, sometimes linked mind to mind in a way that bordered on freaky.

  Not that he’d be the least bit interested in her family background or sibling issues.

  She waved a hand. “Never mind. It’s just one of those family things.”

  “You’re identical
twins?”

  Jess nodded.

  “When I was a kid I always thought it would be cool to have a twin.” Hawk stared out the window at the rain. He turned, his eyes following her as she stood up and slipped on a pink fleece robe. “I left the newspaper here for you.” He took a step back. “Now I’d better get moving.”

  “You don’t even want coffee?” Jess bent over the tray, lifting lids and checking pots. “Especially coffee that smells as wonderful as this? Come on, tell me how you like yours.”

  Hawk hesitated.

  “A few minutes won’t kill you, Lieutenant. That storm outside is going nowhere.”

  “No sugar. A microsplash of milk.”

  Amused, Jess filled a cup, added a single splash of milk, then held the coffee out politely.

  She tried to act calm and polite, not at all flustered, as if she wasn’t wearing a nightshirt and they hadn’t shared hotel accommodations the night before.

  As if he hadn’t taken her for a spy and tried to strangle her.

  Hawk accepted the cup, his jaw hardening.

  “Are you okay?”

  “You don’t have to serve me,” he said coolly.

  “It’s no bother. How about half of a grapefruit? Or maybe a croissant with butter and jelly?”

  He stabbed a hand through his hair. “I really need to get out of here now.” He sounded tired and tense.

  “Don’t be an idiot.” Jess shook her head. “I know how much energy it takes to ride a motorcycle off-road in the mud, so stop arguing and eat.”

  Hawk stared at her. How long had it been since a woman fussed over him, worried about him, bothered to ask his coffee preferences? He couldn’t begin to remember.

  “Get the lead out, Lieutenant.”

  When Hawk looked up, she was chewing a wedge of grapefruit enthusiastically, while a bead of juice trickled down the corner of her mouth.

  It seemed as if a switch were thrown somewhere, pumping up every nerve and muscle group in his misbegotten, unpredictable body. Not that Jess was remotely his type. She was clearly a one-man woman, the kind who believed in three kids, chasing fireflies and staying in love until you died of old age. The sight of her eating shouldn’t have been remotely sexy, but somehow Hawk kept thinking about licking away that trail of juice, exploring her tongue, enjoying all the warm corners of her full mouth.