by A. J. Quinn
As a reporter, Tate knew regardless of the inroads Althea Kane had made, there would always be people unhappy with the president’s choice for secretary of state. Just as she knew what could happen if the wrong person saw her with Evan Kane and correctly surmised what was happening. The potential fallout could wreak havoc with all of her carefully made career plans.
With a sigh, she leaned back, willed herself to relax, and acknowledged that from a pragmatic perspective, she should stop things from progressing before it was too late.
She might have even followed through if she hadn’t felt the flutter of Evan’s pulse. And if she hadn’t heard the accelerated beating of her own heartbeat as she remembered the taste of Evan’s mouth. Heat speared through her like lightning, and in that singular moment, Tate understood there was no turning back from the fierce need that grabbed her and held her in its grip. She could only think of her need to possess—and be possessed.
Evan’s relationship to Althea Kane didn’t matter, Tate decided with her last rational thought, as she slowly let out the breath she’d been holding and mentally switched off her internal alarm.
Sometimes words were overrated. She stopped any further protest or withdrawal by slipping her hands up behind Evan’s neck and tugging her closer. Finally, without any hesitation or thought, she guided Evan’s mouth to hers and kissed her.
Thoroughly.
Completely.
“I can live with that,” she said against Evan’s lips, barely recognizing her own voice. “And the answer is yes.”
Evan raised an eyebrow as she stared at Tate, her expression inquisitive and confused. “Pardon?”
Tate exhaled a ragged breath. Feeling strangely disconnected, she tried to remember who she was—a woman who didn’t, as a rule, indulge in casual sexual encounters. At the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since she’d heard another woman’s sigh. Or felt another woman’s heat. Or tasted another woman’s passion. And the truth was casual sexual attraction was light-years removed from the feelings hammering away in her chest.
Because, oh God, if sin could be tasted, it would taste like Evan Kane.
“How about I don’t care if your mother can arrange it so the only reporting opportunity I’ll ever find is covering afternoon traffic in rural Nebraska. My name is Tate McKenna and I want you, Evan Kane. As much as I think you want me,” she said, before she crushed her mouth to Evan’s.
Chapter Two
When Tate awoke after a brief, dreamless sleep, the bedroom was dark. The air was still, and only the faintest light bled through the one small window, soft and indistinct. Vaguely sore, tired from too little sleep, she rubbed a hand over her face and blinked several times. But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she caught herself smiling.
To her right, she could just make out the woman in bed beside her, and she stayed very still so as not to wake her. In repose, Evan’s breathing was deep and even, and the thin light enabled Tate to see the steady rise and fall of her small breasts.
She’d said yes.
Tate sighed, basking in the afterglow as her body remembered and ached.
At that moment, Evan shifted in sleep, and the top sheet slipped off her hip. Gazing at her with appreciative eyes, Tate was struck once again by her beauty.
She was perfect. The stunning face, damp and flushed from the heat. The warm, smooth skin. The long, lean, subtly muscled body. Just looking at her made Tate shiver, and her breath caught as moments from the previous night flashed in her mind.
Last night had been so damned good.
Happy birthday to me.
No, last night had been beyond incredible. Spontaneous combustion. The first time had been fast and hard and had sent her directly over the edge, but the second time…
The fire between them had raged on, and the night had dissolved into a mindless blur of pleasure. She could still hear herself whimpering, grabbing Evan’s hair, arching into her wickedly skillful mouth and begging her. Please, please, please.
Evan had focused her seemingly boundless energy on learning Tate’s body. Taking the time to explore what made her tremble, what made her ache and hunger, what made her come apart.
At times she had been edgy and intense. Other times, she’d been surprisingly acquiescent. Not exactly submissive, just seemingly content to let Tate lead, willing to follow her instructions not to move while Tate took her time devouring her.
And still other times, she had been gentle and sweet and funny. Tate couldn’t remember ever having laughed so much while making love.
She had been thrilled to discover how responsive Evan was. How her body moved as pleasure filled her. How she had moaned Tate’s name.
I want you, Tate. Again. I’m not nearly done with you.
She smiled.
They had made love repeatedly and with wild abandon, and Tate had felt something she hadn’t expected to feel in what was supposed to be a one-night stand. It had felt right and had made her think impossible thoughts…like extending whatever this was beyond one night. But now, as night waned, she knew that would be impossible.
She could think of all the reasons she shouldn’t see Evan again. All the reasons why it wouldn’t work. They were two very different people, focused on careers that came with long, uncontrollable work hours. Extended absences. And then there were the dangers inherent in their jobs.
Her smile faded.
She loved her job. Passionately. Had known since she was ten that she’d wanted to be a journalist and counted Kate Webb, Martha Gellhorn, and Marie Colvin among her inspirations. And she had pursued the education and constructed a career plan that would get her where she wanted to be.
Standing as a witness. Documenting the truth demanded by history. Filing stories of courage, endurance, and the impact of war on ordinary people.
Contrary to what some believed, she wasn’t naive. She knew the dangers inherent in her job. But she’d never wavered, despite the lure of safer, more secure jobs. And after focusing on her career for the last ten years, she liked where she was and had no regrets.
The only flaw in her plan, as she saw it, was she’d never learned the art of balancing career and relationships and, in fact, had failed every time she tried. Failed rather painfully the last time out, and being no fan of pain, she was in no hurry to try again.
She didn’t have a specific timeline in mind. One day she hoped she’d find the right woman. A partner for life. But not right now—or for the foreseeable future. For now she needed to stay focused.
As much as she loved her work, other challenges beckoned, and she knew she had one more year in her—two at most—doing frontline reporting. Until then, the best she could hope for were occasional nights like this.
Hot, unforgettable nights. No strings, no commitments, and no emotional entanglements. Anything more than that was simply out of the question. And getting involved with someone like the daughter of the secretary of state certainly wasn’t part of the plan.
There was only one problem. She never would have thought a one-night stand could become so addictive so quickly. And having been with Evan Kane on this one occasion, it was inconceivable she wouldn’t be with her again.
It was certainly something to think about.
Turning onto her side, Tate spent the next few minutes intoxicated by Evan’s fragrance, feeling her warmth burn against her hotter than any sun. And when she could no longer fight the silken allure, she leaned up on her elbow and traced the perfect symmetry of Evan’s face.
Warm. Smooth. Flawless.
It was the face of an angel with a devilishly sensuous mouth. Damp strands of short dark hair clung to the moisture at her temples, and her long dark lashes stirred as they cast shadows over her cheekbones.
Tate savored the moment as a fresh jolt of desire sizzled through her. Jesus, but she’s so damned beautiful. It was all she could think as she touched and tasted again, enjoying the sleepy warmth of her.
She tasted like ambro
sia and felt like heaven. She stroked the silky texture of Evan’s bare arm. So soft on the surface, but she could also feel her strength as muscles tensed and shifted just beneath her skin.
Evan sighed contentedly and was already smiling before she opened her eyes and saw Tate.
“Hey, beautiful lady,” she said. “I thought I’d dreamed you.” She wrapped her arms around Tate’s neck, pulling her closer. “But reality works out so much better, don’t you think?”
*
The predawn light was as soft as the slight breeze sifting through the window when Evan slipped quietly out of the bathroom. Her body was still pleasantly tender from a night of uninhibited passion, but she was freshly showered and fully dressed, with her short hair finger combed and smelling faintly of vanilla from Tate’s shampoo.
Last night had amazed her. Adrenaline fueled, like standing in the path of an inbound jet. Tate’s taste lingered still and, for a minute, the memories of the two of them intimately tangled flashed through her mind.
But it had also been a long time since she’d spent the entire night with a woman, and she wasn’t sure what to expect of the morning after.
She paused, settling against the door frame when she caught sight of Tate standing by the window looking lost in thought. Her eyes were nearly closed, but Evan could tell she wasn’t relaxed, noting the tension in the tightly controlled set of her shoulders.
She watched Tate push her hair out of her eyes, turning just enough to reveal her face in profile, and Evan found herself captivated all over again. She knew one thing for certain. With her hair sleep tousled, her eyes shadowed, and her lips soft and slightly parted, Tate looked every bit as beautiful in the dim light of morning as she had under the glittering chandeliers in the hotel ballroom.
“There’s something unbelievably sexy about the line of a woman’s bare back,” she murmured in quiet appreciation.
Tate turned abruptly, causing her hair to swirl around her shoulders like a cloud of silk. Control slipped for an instant and the startled expression on her face swiftly changed, showing flashes of both delight and uncertainty.
“I thought you’d gone.”
Evan ignored the sudden dryness in her mouth and shook her head. “No, still here. I hope you don’t mind, but I helped myself to your shower.” She gave a quick grin. “Just in case I run into anyone, I thought it best if it didn’t look like I’d spent the entire night—well, doing exactly what we were doing last night.”
Unexpectedly, Tate blushed. She cast her eyes around the room, and as if suddenly realizing she was naked, she crossed the room and slipped back into bed.
Evan wasn’t certain how to interpret Tate’s actions and gave her a long contemplative look. The heated blush covering a great deal of fair skin was the curse of a redhead. Still, she couldn’t recall the last time she had seen a woman blush.
“Hey, what’s going on?”
Tate merely shook her head as she slowly raised her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m being an idiot.”
Evan moved toward her, but when she laid a hand on Tate’s shoulder, it was shrugged off, causing her to step back. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“It’s nothing. Trust me.” Tate paused, seemed hesitant to continue. “It’s just—damn, I’m sorry. I thought I could do this, but it seems I don’t know how.”
“How to do what?”
With a visible effort, she pulled herself together. Calm again, detached, she looked at Evan. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone, and it seems I no longer know how things are supposed to end.”
“Does it have to—Oh, you thought I’d left while you were still sleeping.”
Tate looked away but didn’t try to argue. Encouraged, Evan leaned closer. “You were sleeping so soundly I didn’t have the heart to wake you when I got up. But trust me. I had every intention of waking you before I left. If for no other reason than to tell you last night was amazing. And to tell you I want to see you again.”
Tate blushed once again. Closing her eyes, she held herself very still. There followed a long silence, but when she opened her eyes, she managed a rueful smile. “You don’t have to say any of that. I don’t need promises,” she said softly. “I’m just glad you’re still here. It’d be nice if you stayed a little longer, but I’m not looking for more than that.”
Evan arched a brow. Tilting her head, she continued to silently gaze at Tate with those fascinating, inscrutable eyes, looking away only for an instant as she glanced at her watch, a complex aviator’s timepiece that gleamed dully on her wrist. “Damn, I’m sorry, but I—”
“It’s all right, Evan. I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Evan shook her head and her mouth curved with the faint trace of a smile. “Let me try this again. Tate, if this was a different place and time, I would get back in your bed and we would make love until you forgot all about whatever’s causing those shadows in your eyes.”
“That would work.”
“Good to know. Now tell me what’s bothering you.”
Tate swallowed. “It’s just…this wasn’t supposed to happen, and I can’t afford the complication right now.”
“But it has happened, and it doesn’t have to be complicated. People become lovers every day. We’re simply two adults who happen to want each other.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“But it can be, and another time, I’d be happy to debate the issue. The only problem is it’s nearly morning and staying any longer is a complication neither of us can afford. Bahrain may be one of the more tolerant nations in the Middle East, but traditional religious mores still view what we did in this room as immoral. There are no concessions made, regardless of my last name or how long a shadow my mother happens to cast. In fact, who and what I am makes me a more likely target for attention.”
Of course. And she’s not just the secretary of state’s daughter, she’s a navy officer. A pilot. Tate sat upright on the bed, the sheet gliding like water over her naked skin and pooling at her waist. Even if a person overlooked her sexual preferences, Evan Kane was a woman navigating a dangerous, testosterone-fueled, male-dominated world.
Message received. Loud and clear. Tate grimaced as she thought about it.
“Please, don’t be angry with me,” Evan said softly.
“I’m not angry. I just can’t believe I’ve not given any thought to where we are or who you are and how this might affect you. And I should have, given I’ve been living and working in the Middle East for several years.”
Tate hesitated before looking up at Evan once again. “At the moment, I also happen to be covering your mother’s official sweep through the region. I’m not certain, but…damn, I’m pretty sure I told you that at some point last night. At least I hope I did.”
“You did. Don’t worry. I’m well aware you’re a reporter.”
“Good, but it does beg the question, doesn’t it? If this”—Tate indicated the two of them with one hand—“is putting you at risk, why did you suggest it last night? Why did you spend the night with me?”
Evan looked at her with a startled expression. “I would have thought it was obvious.”
Tate crossed her arms over her chest and waited, her gaze fixed on Evan.
“Since you need to ask, you should know it had a lot to do with seeing you from across the ballroom last night and thinking you had the most incredible green eyes I’d ever seen.”
Tate’s brows lifted.
“And maybe because who I was had nothing to do with the fact you wanted me as much as I wanted you,” Evan added. “Should I continue?”
Tate knew she was being drawn in. Fascinated. But she sensed there was something else that remained unsaid. “No. But maybe I need to be certain. Is this—what we did—going to create any kind of personal problem for you?”
Evan shook her head. “No. The pilots in my squadron only want to know I’ll be there for them when it’s all on the line. As for anything else—it’s just nev
er been an issue.”
“What about your mother?”
“That’s even less of a problem.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because we live by a simple rule established some time ago. As long as I don’t embarrass her, what I do and who I do it with isn’t even a blip on her radar.” Without shifting her gaze from Tate, Evan’s face became so expressionless she might have been thinking of anything…or nothing at all. “You look surprised. It might help if you understand. Other than last night, Althea and I haven’t spoken—I mean, we haven’t had a normal exchange or conversation that didn’t end up with harsh words and bruised feelings—in longer than I care to remember.”
Tate thought back to the image she had of Althea Kane, looking pale and shocked as a tall navy commander offered her hand and led her onto the dance floor. “No offense, but why the hell not?”
“Because Althea and I fundamentally disagree with some of the choices I’ve made in my life.”
“What does that mean? What did you do that could have been so bad?”
Evan simply looked at her and shrugged. “Althea wasn’t exactly happy—no, that’s not right—I guess you could say she disapproved of my decision to enlist in the navy.”
Tate tried to remember what she knew about Althea Kane’s family but quickly realized there wasn’t a lot. Somehow Althea and her equally high-profile husband had managed to keep their private lives and, more specifically, the lives of their children away from the media glare. Beyond knowing the power couple had two children, possibly in their twenties, Tate really knew nothing about them. She turned to Evan, looking for clarity.
“I’m not sure I’m following any of this. To my knowledge, your mother has spent most of her career in service to her country. There was even a rumor some time ago she might throw her hat in the ring and go for the top job, but instead she came out in support of Max Renfield.”
“All true.”
“Then what could possibly be wrong with one of her children choosing to do the same by serving in the military?”