The Impossible Alliance

by Candace Irvin

  And Alex was absolutely beautiful.

  He closed his hand over hers before she could open the vial and apply it. “It’s not necessary. You don’t have to wear it.” While they were on the job, yes. But not here. Not now.

  Not while they were alone.

  “Yeah, I do.” She shrugged. “Harold designed it for Sam—for me—when I was a kid. I’ve been wearing it so long I guess it’s become a part of me.” He waited for her to open the gold vial and apply the adhesive, then waited as she reattached the prosthetic and turned to slip the vial back in her bag. The moment she finished, he slipped his fingers into hers, knitting their hands securely, intimately. Then he leaned forward, closer than he had before.

  “Alex?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want to become part of you, too.”

  He anticipated the smile, had even prayed for it. But not the impish gleam in her eye. “You sure I’m not just a charity—”

  “Don’t even say it.”

  Her smiled grew. “Good.”

  It was. And it was about to get better. He had no idea what tomorrow would bring and he refused to waste another second on what he knew lay beyond. Not tonight. Tonight was for her and for him. For them. He smiled into her grin, determined to keep it light. At least one of them was going to walk away from this bed with one hell of a memory. He owed her that much.

  He loved her even more.

  “Wait right here. Don’t move a single muscle.”

  Her smile broadened. “Okay.”

  “You moved.” Jared rose from the bed and turned his back on that playful tongue sticking out at him. He’d get even soon enough. For now, he had a mission. And that mission started with a locked door—because nothing and no one, host included, would interrupt them this time. He pulled the bedroom door shut and threw the lock.

  Loudly.

  She laughed as he turned around. He tugged the shirt to his tuxedo out of his pants and released the remaining studs one by one as he returned to the bed. Alex mirrored his eager preparations, pushing the blanket off those long, gorgeous legs and swinging her bare feet to the floor.

  “You moved again.”

  She shrugged. “Some men can’t draw. I can’t follow orders. Bad, bad agent.” She disobeyed a third time, stretching as she stood, causing him to fumble the final stud on his shirt.

  “Do that again.”

  “Do what?” She caught his stare and followed it to her own body, down to the exact spot that had captured his attention.

  The V.

  The edges of the dress had parted far enough during her stretch to expose nearly all of her left breast to his greedy gaze. Hell, he could see the base of her nipple as it puckered beneath his stare. He tried very hard not to groan—and failed.

  She grinned. “I get it. I mean, most men are pretty visual. I managed to pick that up even before I became one myself. But something tells me that a man who can freeze-frame any sight he wants is probably a bit more sensitive to whatever’s currently in front of the naked eye….”

  He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He swallowed another groan, instead.

  The tempting witch knew exactly what she was talking about. And she definitely knew exactly what she was doing. He stood there, frozen, four feet from that bed, four feet from her, as Alex lifted her hands and hooked her fingers beneath the shoulders of that clingy fabric. His next groan tumbled out in perfect time with the excruciatingly slow peel that followed. Soon he was staring at the creamy upper curves of those amazing and achingly feminine breasts.

  But there, she stopped.

  He held his breath in anticipation as she pulled her hands away, waiting for the fabric to fall down on its own accord, nearly cursing in frustration as that blasted clingy fabric did what it did best. Clung. In all honesty, the dress might have ceded to his fervent desire if her nipples hadn’t hardened beneath his gaze, thrusting up just enough to snag and hold the edge of the silky right there. He swallowed firmly.

  “Like what you see?”

  Oh, yeah.

  She grinned. “Cat got your tongue?”

  No, something else had latched on to it and refused to let go. But he still had command of his feet. He used it, closing the distance. Bringing his aching body, his aching palms within inches of that fabric and what puckered beneath.

  She stepped back.

  His hands shot out instinctively, closing about her arms before she could take another step. “Not so fast, sweetheart.”

  “I was just going to finish the show.”

  “I appreciate the consideration. Truly, I do.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, the one he knew would be able to pick up the raw anticipation he couldn’t quite keep from his voice. “But we’re partners, honey. A team. And, as someone once told me, partners work together. Now, I also hope you enjoyed the show as much as I did, because it’s time to get ready for act two.” He dipped his head lower and bathed her lips with the red-hot desire burning through him. That lush, bottom curve, the top, the intoxicating seam in between, over and over until they finally parted on a husky moan.

  Still he waited.

  He drew a lazy circle between her soft lips and her hard, slick teeth. It was his turn to chuckle softly as she tangled her fingers in his hair and used the strands to pull him close and hold him there. He relented for a few sizzling seconds and then withdrew again, sliding his mouth down the endless column of her throat until the heady, salty sheen drove him back up. He nipped the throbbing pulse beneath her jaw, then dragged his mouth down to the scarlet mark he’d left behind two days before in this very room. He traced the outer edge with the tip of his tongue, then soothed it with the flat. By the time he returned to her lips, her shaky breath mingled with his.

  This time Alex didn’t wait for him.

  She invaded his mouth, sliding her tongue along the length of his, enticing him into her own mouth on a decadent promise.

  He followed. Delving deeper and deeper, until he could think of nothing but tearing off that damned dress and sinking onto the mattress behind them, sinking into her. Her nimble fingers returned to the waist of his trousers and deftly unhooked the catch. The soft rasp of his zipper hauled him back to his senses. He closed his hands over hers a split second before she tugged his pants down. “Uh-uh. It’s still my turn.”

  He pulled away just far enough to hook his fingers into the sea-green fabric that was surprisingly still clinging to the curves of her breasts. Then again, not so surprising. There was more than enough to hold it there. He trailed his fingertips across her skin, tracing the curves, mesmerized by the sight of her creamy skin against his darker skin.

  “Hurry,” she begged, “before I faint.”

  He chuckled. “Oh, darlin’. My memory’s not so far gone I can’t remember basic first aid. Then again, we should probably make sure.” He stared at the shock in her eyes that he could joke about it. It amazed him, too. But not as much as his determination to live in the moment. He’d spent his whole blasted life dreading the future. Right now, he intended on glorying in the moment. In her.

  He slid a finger across her bottom lip. “I vote we start here, with mouth-to-mouth.” He dipped his head before she could argue and plundered at will, stealing her breath and giving it back within a slow, drugging kiss. He captured her hands as they inched back to his waist. “You know, I bet I can still take a pulse, too.” He grazed his lips over her wrist, dampening the flesh, then drying it with a puff of air. He reveled in the shiver that spread up her arm as he bent his head again.

  “Not bad,” she conceded, her breath coming in soft and shallow.

  Jared chuckled. She was definitely getting into the spirit of it. She was holding up remarkably well, too. His own restraint was dwindling rapidly. Careful to keep his gaze locked on hers, he trapped her hands behind her back with one hand and tugged one side of that annoyingly resilient fabric past her left breast, the other past her right. He released her arms just long enough to peel the fabric past her wrists,
then trapped her hands again. “I still remember my pressure points, too.” He peeled the fabric over her flat belly and trailed a finger across her inner thigh. “In fact, there’s one right about here.”

  He made the mistake of looking at her body then, at all that long, lean, sinfully smooth flesh enhanced by a single wispy triangle of cloth. His first thought was that he’d have to kill Marty for even knowing it existed. His second was that he thoroughly approved. Mint-green and unadorned, the panties shimmered in the light flickering from the ceiling, catching it and highlighting her curves, setting him aflame.

  Unable to stop himself, he skimmed his palms over the silky mound. She arched into his hands, drawing him back to the game at hand. Anticipation fired his blood as he knelt before her. He slipped his fingers between her thighs, rasping them higher and higher until he reached her panties. She moaned as he dipped his head and latched onto the inner seam with his teeth, tugging it aside and branding a kiss in its place.

  “How am I doing so far, Doc?”

  Alex struggled for air as Jared grinned up at her. To hell with renewing his medic’s certificate. If the man kept this pace up, she’d have to award him the whole damn medical degree. She took another shaky breath. “Your technique is truly amazing, Dr. Coleman.”

  Jared’s grin was downright lecherous as he rose to his feet and trailed a finger from the hollow at the base of her neck to the valley between her breasts. “Oh, darlin’, just wait’ll you catch a glimpse of my bedside manner.”

  Liquid heat poured through her as he finally released her hands to slide both of his beneath her breasts, cradling them in his palms as if savoring their weight. Starting at the tops, he traced his fingers around the swells with incredible slowness. All the while she knew what he was doing. Knew that those amber eyes were taking picture after picture, freezing them, hoarding them in his brain so he could drag them out later. Finally, mercifully, his hands were underneath. He cupped her breasts again, this time pushing them up and together as he dipped his head. She sucked in her breath as he drew a line of wet fire back and forth between the tips, over and over until she was certain she was going insane.

  She pressed herself into his mouth, silently pleading with him to fulfill the fantasy she’d been obsessed with since that night they’d first run into each other in her uncle’s home. A shudder escaped her as he finally latched onto a nub and worried it between his teeth. Within seconds the fantasy had been seared away, allowing a magnificent, glorious reality to consume her.

  She moaned. Unable to bear the sweet pain a moment longer, she reached out for his trousers again, determined to rip them from him in shreds if she had to. She peeled the zippered edges down, sucking in her breath as he sprang forth. His sharp inhalation echoed her own as she reached out and slid a finger down his thick, jutting shaft. Mesmerized, she drew it slowly up, savoring the hoarse catch in his breath as it grated through her right ear. The blunt tip jerked up as she caressed his smooth skin. She wanted—no, needed—to hold him in her hands, to squeeze him.

  She gave in.

  He captured her gaze then, and they both knew the time for teasing and gentleness had passed. Seconds after she grasped him, he sucked in his breath and jerked back to shuck his pants. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as he tossed them after her underwear. Two seconds later she was flat on her back, wrapped in his arms, reveling in the rock-hard muscle covering every inch of him as he pressed kiss after kiss on her mouth, her chin, her neck, her breasts and everywhere in between.

  Desperate to finish her quest, she reached down between them and closed a hand around him, forging steel beneath her fingers as she slid them up and down his length. His hot breath and hoarse grunt carved out a hole in the pit of her stomach, causing her to clutch him tighter and quicken her pace. He grabbed her bottom and sealed her against him, rubbing his shaft over her, again and again. Just when she thought she was going to die from frustration, he reared up and cupped his hands beneath her bottom, parting her legs and tilting her hips just enough to receive him. A split second later he was deep inside her, buried farther than she’d ever thought possible, staring directly into her eyes as he touched her soul.

  They gasped together.

  And then he moved.

  He shuddered as he bent over her, nipping and sucking her neck as his hips took up a grinding rhythm she prayed would never cease. Her own moans combined with his erotic suckling, fanning the fire between them until it burned even hotter and brighter. She grabbed on to the gold medallion jabbing into her breasts with one hand, clutching it as she dug the nails of her other into his massive arms, desperately trying to anchor herself to him as the blistering wave inside her gathered in strength, wrenching her along with it. Harder and harder, faster and tighter, he pummeled into her, swirling her senses together in a dizzying inferno of sound and touch until all that existed was Jared’s ragged panting, his taut muscles and their driving hot, wet need. She climbed higher and higher as he chanted her name, pleading with her, until his hoarse, “Please, Alex. Now!” catapulted her over the edge, seconds before him.

  They hung there together, suspended, for a few glorious moments, before she drifted back down into his arms—drained, secure and loved.

  “Wow.” His muffled voice tickled her neck.

  Laughing softly, she tried to push at him, but he was too heavy and she was too exhausted.

  He took the hint and slowly shoved himself to his elbows, brushing the unruly curls from her forehead and twisting them about his fingers. “Go ahead and laugh, woman, you’re not breathing so well yourself.” He looped his arms beneath her, gathering her close as he rolled onto his back.

  Alex propped herself on his chest and smoothed a palm over the sheen covering his dusky skin. He groaned, closing his eyes as she swirled her fingers around his nipples before fingering the medallion, wondering if the gold coin had left as many marks on her chest as she’d left on his. Not that Jared seemed to mind. His deep sigh echoed the contentment radiating through her as she twisted the chain about her fingers.

  “You almost killed your partner, you know that?”

  She tugged the chain as she leaned down and whispered in his ear, “That’s okay, I know first aid, too.”

  “Darlin’, I’m surprised you haven’t been nominated for the Nobel prize.”

  She smiled, wondering if he knew that spent passion magnified his subtle drawl, much less what the result did to her still-pulsing insides. “You never know what’ll happen now that I’ve found a research partner to work with. Though in all fairness, I should post notice for the position before I make my final decision.”

  His lips twisted wryly as he opened those gorgeous amber eyes. “Sweetheart, I’d kill any man who dared to apply.”

  The second the words came out, he regretted them. She could tell by the way the heat in his gaze immediately lost ten degrees. The way the air surrounding them cooled. Froze.

  She waited for him to take them back.

  He didn’t. But he did reach up to smooth the damp wisps of hair from the side of her cheek. “I’m sorry. I had no right to make such a proprietary statement.”

  Yes, he did, dammit. Not only had she clearly given it to him, from the longing hovering at the outer edges of the amber, he desperately wanted it. But right now voicing it wouldn’t solve anything. She concentrated on unraveling and withdrawing her fingers from the gold chain as she smiled. “No problem.”

  It helped. It did allow him to ease out from under her body and then up from the bed entirely. It even allowed him to snag the blanket that had fallen to the floor during their lovemaking and carefully cover her with that, instead. It even allowed him to turn and withdraw the pair of jeans he’d left folded inside the armoire and don them. But it didn’t staunch the pain. In her, or in him.

  She was certain when he retrieved the laptop and the spiral notebook. Especially when he faced her.

  Oh, God, he was leaving.

  “Do you, ah…have a plan?” She plowe
d ahead, desperate to get his attention back on the mission and off them, desperate to get him anywhere but out that door. “Veisweimar, DeBruzkya, the ruby. We have to go back. Tomorrow. We both know it. The only question left is how we’re going to manage it.”

  He relented, at least for the moment, setting the laptop and notebook onto the mattress between them as he lowered his frame to the edge of what was now an extremely rumpled bed. A bed that also smelled of her and him.

  Of them.

  She forced herself to wrap the blanket above her breasts and tuck the ends beneath her arms as if nothing had happened, then scooted up to the headboard to brace her shoulders against it. Frankly, she needed the support. Especially when he met her gaze. How could he look at her and not look at her?

  When his glance fled, however briefly, she saw through the illusion. Somehow, that made it worse. As did the slight, but unmistakable, strain in his voice when he spoke. “We’ll need to find a way in that will buy us at least half an hour. My guess is the ruby is still in the lab. Remember the boxes stacked on the opposite side of the room from the gems and the safe?”

  She forced herself to concentrate on his words. “Not really.” She’d been too busy trying to locate the ruby amid all the other jewels. “Why, did you see something?”

  “A metal box. Given the rest of the boxes surrounding it, I’d assumed it was just another crate for all that equipment.”

  “And now you don’t?”

  “This one was a dull, almost lifeless gray, scratched up in quite a few spots, a corner crushed in where it had obviously been dropped. The metal was definitely soft.”

  “Lead.”

  He nodded. “I think so.”

  “How big?”

  “Roughly two and a half by three feet, another two deep.”

  She did a rough calculation in her head. Large enough to shield the next scientist from the radioactive decay within.

  Thank you, Karl.

  But how to get back in and get it? And how the hell did they get it out without DeBruzkya and his thugs figuring out what they were up to? A lead box that size would weigh roughly two hundred pounds. She slid her gaze down Jared’s still-naked chest and arms, pushing the memory of how those arms had made her feel minutes earlier as she studied them analytically. He’d hefted the safe, yes. Her, too. But could how far could he carry an oversize slab of deadweight?