Playing For Keeps (Montana Men)

by Jaydyn Chelcee

“Well, if you aren’t—”

  “I’m not—”

  “I might give him a shot, then. He’s fiendishly hot.”

  “Fiendishly? You make him sound like a vampire or something.”

  Flayme laughed. “You know what I mean. Wicked. I love those fierce, penetrating blue eyes of his. They’re utterly bedroom sexy.”

  “They are?” Sam asked. “I hadn’t noticed.”

  Flayme snorted. “What are you, dead from the neck down? Of course you’ve noticed.”

  “Okay, maybe I noticed a little, but…we don’t get on.”

  “Uh-huh. So he hasn’t kissed you?” Flayme busied herself collecting some papers off Sam’s desk.

  “What?”

  “You know…kissy-wissy?” She puckered her lips and made kissing noises.

  “I haven’t kissed Travis.”

  “So he’s lousy in bed?”

  “Oh, no, he’s great…” Sam’s words trickled away. Her dark Spanish eyes narrowed. “You tricked me.”

  “I did, but your secret’s safe with me.”

  “It was over before it really got started.” Sam shrugged. ‘Nothing’s left.”

  “Too bad. Sometimes going back is even better than the first time.”

  “I gotta go. You’ll be here until at least midnight, but the guards know. I have to have that entire file updated, the information printed off and ready to go out tomorrow.”

  Flayme nodded. She knew a change of subject when she heard one. “It’s okay. And don’t worry, I’ll send it post haste in the morning.”

  “No. Don’t mail or email it. Print it off, save a backup, then delete the files. After that, deliver both the hard copy and thumb drive personally to the president.”

  Flayme narrowed her eyes. “He knows I’m the one delivering the package?”

  “He does. Is there a problem?”

  “No.” Thoughtfully, she tapped her chin with a blood-red fingernail, then shrugged. “I’ll deliver it first thing tomorrow morning.”

  Sam eyed her for a moment. “Is there something I should know?”

  “No, of course not.” Flayme gathered the last file and smiled. “No problem. I swear.”

  “Okay.” Sam shrugged. “I’m expecting a call from Jayla Ross. We’re meeting here about twelve-thirty. I’ve told the guards to expect her. Just buzz her in when she gets here. Our flight leaves at two a.m. for Hawaii…sun and fun on the beach for an entire week. I can’t wait.”

  “Jayla Ross. Gotcha. Now get outta here. Shoo. You still have to get ready for the dinner party.”

  “I know.” Sam groaned. “Why did Molly have to have it on a Monday night? And on the night before my vacation begins? I swear the woman has built-in radar to wreck my plans. See you here a little after twelve.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter Three

  Sex is like having dinner—sometimes you joke about the dishes; sometimes you take the meal seriously.

  ~Woody Allen

  Washington D.C.

  Whitehouse

  February 16, Monday

  Two hours and fifteen minutes before the assassination…

  CIA Agent Samantha Rivers pushed a sprig of soft brown hair behind her ear, adjusting the ear bud determined to slip out of place. Across the room, Travis watched her with eyes he knew betrayed the fact he wanted her.

  If only she’d look his way—once—just once—and when she did—saw him, instead of looking through him. Damn woman, she never looked him in the eyes. Not anymore. Not like she once did.

  He had a bad feeling she never would again.

  She pretended to look at him, but always focused her gaze above his head. Or averted it completely. Sometimes she busied herself straightening papers and magazines when she had to discuss a case with him. What did she have against him? Hell, no use asking such a dumb question. He knew exactly why she detested him. It had nothing to do with the kisses they’d shared—kisses so hot his soul felt scorched, but everything to do with her husband’s death. Why the sorry bastard had to get killed when he did was a question that gnawed at Travis constantly.

  No, he’d known from the look on Sam’s face she’d never forgive him for her response to his touch. Damn it! She’d done everything she could to cut him out of her life, except for his job. She needed him as one of her agents, because like Duel, he was the best at what he did, but she resented the fact she needed him in any way.

  The past six years he’d pursued her—to no avail. He knew things—too many things she’d rather he didn’t have intimate knowledge of—like the bruises he’d seen on her back and ribs. The way she moaned in the back of her throat when he aroused her, the sweet weight of her breasts in his hands, how her nipples tightened and tasted on his tongue.

  Afterward, she’d run from him. She hadn’t stopped running since. He knew she ran because she was ashamed she’d responded to him the way she had. Damn it, he’d known she’d feel guilty. He’d known going in that her conscience would eat her alive, but he hadn’t heeded the warning signs. No, he’d only thought of what he wanted—Samantha Rivers, with every beat of his heart. He still did. He suspected that particular want was never going to be cured.

  Somehow, Sam had burrowed into his heart, settled in and took permanent root. The first time he’d caressed her breasts, Samantha had come undone in his arms. In spite of the fact she’d been starved for sex, Travis knew she’d never absolved herself or him for that one brief interlude.

  She hadn’t forgiven.

  And he hadn’t forgotten.

  Six years ago, and seconds after he climaxed, her cell phone rang. The sudden chill that came over him, told him the call would destroy them. He’d tried to talk her into not answering. Of course she ignored him, pulled out of his arms, and picked up the phone with unsteady hands.

  He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look on her face; the ultimate refusal to believe what she was hearing. Sam stared at him with big doe-like eyes filled with shame and horror. He took the phone from her and demanded to know who was on the other end. The call from the D.C. Metro Police Department where David served on the force ended any chance of a future with Sam.

  David Rivers was guilty of a lot of things, and his untimely death just proved if he’d been where he should have been, then the man would still be alive to inflict havoc. Travis didn’t know if that was a blessing or not. But from the look on Sam’s face when she ended the call, he’d known right then their chance of a future together died, along with David Rivers.

  Travis tried talking to her, but Sam couldn’t escape him fast enough. She’d carried the guilt around with her for these past six years, and he was certain she intended to carry it around for at least the next six years, if not forever.

  Yeah, he knew things about her, so many things and more, much more—things he couldn’t tell her, things she didn’t know. Travis clenched his jaw. Sam was wary of him for all the wrong reasons. Somehow, he had to fix things between them.

  Duel sidled up beside him. “Careful, bud, you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

  Travis ignored his partner, and allowed his gaze to follow Samantha’s progress across the crowded floor as she made her way through the elite multitude of Washington’s upper crust of political big dogs. She looked heavenly in the red satin evening gown and sparkly choker around her throat. “Huh? What did you say?” Travis frowned.

  “I said you’re wearing your heart on your sleeve.”

  Not letting Duel distract him, he shrugged. “No problem, she’ll never notice it there.”

  “Uh-huh. Let’s hope I’m the only one who notices your dick jammed against your zipper like a pistol ready to fire.”

  Travis glanced in the southerly direction, and swore softly. “I can’t help the response of my body. And she won’t see that either.”

  “Has she ever?”

  Feeling defensive, Travis refused to answer.

  Duel gave a low whistle. “Shit. I was kidding. I didn’t know y
ou’d done her. Lucky guess.”

  “I haven’t done her.” At Duel’s doubtful look, Travis swore again. “Fuck. I don’t like sharing information. For God’s sake, she freakin’ hates my guts because I…she wouldn’t let me do it again, even if I got on my knees and begged.”

  “Something besides sex happened between the two of you? Don’t deny it. I’m an expert at reading faces, old buddy.”

  “Yeah. Something happened, but not what you think. A kiss. A damn kiss that led to more and more, until I had her beneath me…you know? It wasn’t like we were declaring we were in love or anything. It just happened.”

  Duel snorted. “It might have just happened, but whether you think so or not, just seeing the look in your eyes when she’s around, there’s more to it than that. You are so gone.”

  “Shit.” Travis folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe I am, but she sure isn’t.”

  “Need an ear? I’m a good listener.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve said enough already. I try not to think about it. The ghost of her husband stands between us. I sure as hell haven’t talked about any of it.”

  “Sometimes talking about things helps put them into perspective.”

  Travis shook his head. “Perspective? There’s nothing left to worry about putting into a better sense. I fucked her. She let me. I want her again. Right after I made love to her, she gets the damn phone call telling her that David is dead.”

  “That sucks.”

  “Yeah. She hates my guts. That’s about as plain a picture as it gets.”

  Duel’s lips quirked. “Well, you just painted a pretty simple picture there, partner, but when the hell did life get uncomplicated?”

  Travis clamped his lips together. “I wouldn’t say it’s uncomplicated. No. It’s very complicated. Feelings…emotions are always so damn convoluted.”

  “They can be.” Duel nodded his agreement. “That’s why you never look back, my friend. Never take a second or third ride. You pull on your pants, make your exit and make it fast.”

  “I’m not that unfeeling, Duel.”

  “It doesn’t have to be cold while you’re doing it, Travis, just when it’s done, you’re finished. Tuck your dick behind your zipper, and mosey on down the road.”

  Travis narrowed his eyes. “You must have told that to Sam, because it’s exactly what she did to me six years ago.”

  “She tucked her dick behind her zipper?” Duel said, tongue in cheek.

  “Funny. Same as, though. We were on assignment in Paris, back when Sam still worked in the field. We were posing as newlyweds. I guess we took our roles too seriously. You know, sharing a room, meals, her undies scattered everywhere. I kept jerking her bras off the shower rod and tossing them at her when I needed the shower, because you know…she’d rinse a couple of them and hang them over it. One day, I just held onto one. Damn. It was soft and silky and even though she’d washed it, I still smelled her perfume on it, and fuck if I didn’t get hard as a rock standing there sniffing her fucking bra.

  “She didn’t know I was in the bathroom and burst in. There I stood, naked, hard, her bra pressed to my face sniffing it like a perverted freak. Hell, she probably thought I was some kind of depraved monster.”

  Duel laughed. “What did she do?”

  “She very carefully backed out of the bathroom and slammed the door. But then she shoved the door back open, yanked her bra out of my hands, gave me a cool, but thorough once over, then slammed the door in my face again.”

  “She gave you the once over?” Duel snickered. “Jesus. You mean like…she stood there and measured your dick with her eyes?”

  “Yeah, bold as can be. She took her sweet time, too. I swear to God, I nearly buckled to my knees and whimpered.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I took my fucking shower. A cold one!”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Nothing. We went to dinner, and pretended it never happened. Then things went wrong. Sam took a bullet for me the next day.” Travis felt a shudder tear through his body at the memory. “I thought I’d die right there when I saw her go down. We were in deep shit and there she was bleeding. God, we had to get back to our room undetected. I carried her up a flight of stairs because the stupid lift was stuck on another floor. Everyone thought it was romantic…you know? Honeymooners and all? Once we were safe in our room she…uh, she didn’t want me to remove her shirt. I did anyway because, hell, I couldn’t take out the damn slug with her clothes on her back.”

  “What happened?” Duel asked.

  “Nothing. And I mean absolutely nothing. She was hurt.”

  “Travis?”

  “Nothing happened…then,” Travis said. “I was too damn mad to…for anything else.”

  “Why?”

  “Not only had she taken a bullet meant for me, but she’d had the crap beat outta her. All the bruises were out of sight. We’d already been there for three days and Jesus, the bruises. You know? Back, breasts, chest, ribs, they were the ugliest puke yellow, healing, but still bad. I was livid, because I’d had no idea. She hadn’t said a word.”

  Duel frowned. “When did you say this happened?”

  “Six years ago. Why? It doesn’t matter anymore. The bastard who did it to her is long dead.”

  “David? Her husband?”

  “Yeah. The fuck! I’d kill him myself, if he wasn’t already food for the worms.”

  Duel held up his hands. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to share. Whatever happened between you and Sam is between you and Sam, but Travis…think about it, old partner. How old is that kid of hers?”

  “Hayley? I don’t know…five…maybe a little older. Why?”

  “Any chance she’s your kid?”

  “No…I…no. Sam would have told me if I made her pregnant.”

  “Would she?”

  Travis cursed beneath his breath. “No…I don’t know. But crap…there’s no way Hayley belongs to me. I was careful.”

  “Careful enough?”

  “Yeah. Careful enough…I think. Hell, I don’t know. I used protection, if that’s what you’re asking. Six years? Man, I just don’t think Hayley’s mine.”

  “Maybe you need to find out.”

  Travis felt like he’d been pole axed. He stared at his partner. Duel was about six years his senior, and right now, Travis felt like a teenager being lectured by his father. “Shit. I…you know…I peeled the damn condom off and tossed it away…then I…was there again, inside her. No rubber. I mean…I’d just got off, but I needed…I just wanted to feel her around me without that damn thing on my dick. But we didn’t finish, not a second time. The fucking phone rang. What happened with Sam…what happened between us wasn’t planned. It just happened.”

  “Yeah…it just happened. Babies have a way of just happening too.”

  Travis looked at him, blinked. “God, are you always careful?”

  “Yes. Always. I have no intention of bringing a child into this world with a woman I don’t love.”

  “I never thought...I have to talk to her. Hell, she won’t even look at me.”

  “If you want her to notice you, you’re going to have to do something to wake her up to the fact you’re alive.” Duel grinned and tested his ear bud to make sure it was in place. “More than what you’ve already done, that is.”

  “Yeah. I did that once, and she’s hated me ever since.”

  “What? Can’t hear you over the music.” Duel cupped his ear.

  “Nothing. I don’t know what the hell to do to get her to pay me some attention.”

  Duel shook his head. “Kiss her, for God’s sake. That usually grabs a woman’s attention real fast.”

  “Kiss…her?”

  “Don’t tell me you’ve never swapped spit with the woman.”

  “Jesus, Duel. Right. Kiss her.”

  “Can it,” Duel ordered, “unless you want Sam to know what you’re up to.”

  Samantha reached them a
nd heaved a long sigh. “Fifteen more minutes, guys. Molly will excuse herself. We see her safely to her quarters, then she’s on her own. We return to the party and act as if everything’s normal, stick around for another half hour, then we’re outta here. We uh—”

  Travis stepped closer, locked his fingers around Samantha’s upper arms and molded his mouth to hers. For a second, she pressed her fist against his shoulder, then gave into the pressure of his lips.

  “Shee-eet,” Duel stuttered. “I didn’t mean here…now.”

  Samantha jerked back and stared at Travis as if she thought he’d lost his mind.

  Travis wasn’t so sure he hadn’t.

  “What are you doing?” she cried. “Don’t you ever do that again!”

  Travis glanced at Duel.

  Duel shrugged. “You’re on your own, buddy.”

  “Coward,” Travis muttered.

  Sam’s face turned red as her gown. She glanced around wildly. Her lips trembled. She straightened her shoulders and finally turned back to face them. Her expression looked dark as a rolling thundercloud. “You two are so not funny.”

  “Wasn’t trying to be funny,” Travis said grimly. “Besides, he told me to do it. In fact, he dared me to do it. Wanna dance?”

  Sam’s gaze leapt from Travis to Duel and back to Travis. “You’re both nuts! No. I don’t want to dance. Are you insane?”

  “Maybe. But I do wanna dance.” Travis caught her elbow and guided her onto the dance floor before she could utter a single protest.

  “What are you doing? I said I don’t want to dance.” Samantha’s dark eyes snapped with fury. She held herself as stiff as a pole, and kept a good distance between their bodies.

  Inside, Travis felt his heart jerk. Samantha was in his arms and she felt damn good. He tilted his head, his attitude a bit cocky. “You like my kisses.”

  “I do not,” she gasped.

  “Deny it all you want, but the high flush on your cheeks gives you away.” He yanked her closer—close enough so her full breasts pressed against his chest.

  “What are you doing?” she snapped.

  “We were too conspicuous standing here with you hissing at me like a coiled rattler.”