by Linda Conrad
She reached over, touching a finger to his lips. “Shush.” Stroking each lip, she used her fingertips as though they were her most sensitive body part.
Capturing her hand in both of his, he kissed each finger. Then he turned his attention to the inside of her arm, kissing his way up to the sensitive skin at the elbow and taking a quick nip.
Mary sucked in a breath, jerked and tugged at her arm. But he held her steady.
Smiling, he blew a warm breath against her flesh. “Are you saying you don’t want a repeat performance of the other night?”
He hoped to hell she would say no, but his instincts told him her first answer would be yes. As if of its own volition, his hand moved to her waist, and he flattened a palm against her rib cage, letting his knuckles brush the soft underside of her breast.
A corner of her mouth curved up. “I keep forgetting what kind of things we did. Guess I was sort of out of it that night. It might help if you could remind me…”
He brought his mouth down on hers with hungry enthusiasm. As his skin prickled with an erotic flush, he felt the extra blood pounding into his extremities.
Jake couldn’t remember when he’d ever met a woman with such a love of life, such honesty, such passion. A woman who laughed heartily, blushed easily and trusted with abandon.
Yet underneath the wide-eyed, trusting librarian he’d glimpsed a strong, decisive woman. Someone he could spend a lifetime getting to know.
Some other lifetime, he reminded himself. After his assignment was over. But after finishing with this life, he would have to move on to the next. And then the next.
Mary squirmed beneath him and his hands were suddenly fondling her ripe breasts. Just where he’d wanted them in the first place.
To hell with the next life. To hell with his assignment. What he wanted—needed—was right here begging him to give and take extraordinary pleasure.
“Make love to me, Jake.” Her whisper seemed to hang in the air like heavy perfume.
Claiming her mouth again in a kiss that could be illegal in ten states, he growled his agreement with what she wanted. The sound she made deep in her throat fed his desperation. He tangled his tongue with hers and sucked at her bottom lip.
His lips moved to her jawline as he began kissing his way down her vulnerable neck. Then he discovered his talented fingers had already unbuttoned her blouse and unsnapped her bra. When was the last time he’d used those moves on a woman? He couldn’t remember. Too long ago. But all of a sudden he was truly grateful for his body’s automatic responses.
As foggy as his mind seemed, he was determined not to have an exact repeat of the other night. This time he would get the bra all the way off.
He urged her arms out of the shirt’s sleeves as he kissed his way across her shoulder. “Hello, Ariel,” he murmured when the tattoo came under his lips. “Long time no see.”
Mary giggled and slipped out of her bra all on her own. Her hands went to his shirt and he suddenly decided they were both too well-dressed for the occasion. Besides, the heat from the fire had become too intense for clothes.
They stripped as he felt droplets of sweat crisscrossing his forehead. Fire fed the hunger, consuming his brain. He took her mouth again and let his hands roam free.
She shuddered and dug her fingers through his hair, arching into his caresses. One last time he desperately tried to fight her effect on him. But it was then he realized his hands had already moved ahead without him. Giving in with no real regret, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, sucking her nipple hard.
“Please, Jake!” Her hands went to his shoulders, frantically trying to hold on while her nails dug into his flesh.
Yes, he would please her again. But this time he had no intention of rushing. He moved to the other breast and her body bowed, the urgent sense of desire rushing through them both. She pressed against him and suddenly he found his erection cradled at the juncture of her thighs.
It took everything in him not to push inside her. To claim her again. Hard and fast. He’d been her first. He wanted to be her only.
Instead of demanding what he wanted, he scooped her up in his arms and carefully placed her on the sofa. He gazed down into her dreamy eyes as she reached out, arms begging for him to come to her.
Going to his knees before her on the soft hearth rug, he spread her legs and edged between them. He bent his head to steal a quick taste of her lips again. She tasted of coffee and sugar—and of a unique spice that must be one of her own. Running his hands up along the insides of her thighs, he felt her skin quaking under his touch. When his fingers slipped into her wet and warm spot, she went wild.
It took every ounce of his willpower to keep from savaging her. But he was hanging on to sanity by the slenderest of wires.
Moving closer, he rocked his erection against her most tender flesh. Parting her with his fingers, he widened the path for himself.
“Jake!” Her voice was drenched in white heat.
“I like it when you call my name.” He slipped inside her and she threw her legs around his waist to hold him in place.
Kissing her forehead, her nose and finally her lips, he gave her gentleness despite what his body desired. He kept his kisses soft, slow and undemanding. When her breathing at last came easier and she opened her lids to look up at him, he found the firelight had jumped into her amber eyes. They were bright with passion.
He started rocking again. Slow. Sure. Her eyes fluttered shut as a sheen of sweat appeared on her skin. He drew her higher, until he heard her breathing turn to labored pants. In that moment he forced himself to stop again, deliberately slowing things down and not taking her too fast—too rough.
She clung to him and gasped for air. He kissed her earlobe, her hair. He wanted her to acknowledge the sensual nature he knew was buried deep within her. For that, he needed her complete trust and realized the only way to get it was to let her set the pace.
If…waiting didn’t drive him mad in the meantime.
Mary urged him to begin their sexual dance once more, using a combination of moans and roaming hands. But he gritted his teeth and held on. Then—at last—she began rocking against him.
“Yes,” he murmured. He bent to her breast and took one of her nipples into his mouth.
He sucked and she rocked harder. Faster and higher. When he ground his hips against her pushes and then reached between them to flick his thumb across her sensitive nub, she screamed out.
Feeling the pleasure begin to ripple through her, Jake lost all rational thought. He pounded violently, rejoicing as she met him thrust for thrust. In moments, he felt her shudder and let himself go. Driving deep one last time, he saw stars behind his eyelids as they raced over the edge together.
Outside the large country house at that moment, a man named Vanos Papandreou sat in the brush with a pair of infrared glasses trained on the downstairs windows. Known only as the Pro to clients and competitors, he had no trouble waiting for targets to move—even if that meant sitting in a cold drizzle for hours on end. But it appeared that this man and woman were in for the night.
Vanos’s orders had come down from his employer. He was not to make any kind of direct assault. No, this client wanted tactics that were only designed to frighten. To scare off a perceived threat from this man. Or failing that, the client wanted every overt move to appear to be an accident.
The Pro’s mess-up on the mountain road earlier tonight had only been a slight miscalculation. He’d intended to push the target’s SUV off the cliff and then make it look like an unfortunate accident. It had been a perfect setup, too perfect to pass up. Vanos figured he would be due a bonus for quick work. But when his truck didn’t hit the SUV squarely, Vanos was surprised at his target’s superior driving skills.
His employer had said the target might be in law enforcement. Vanos could now confirm that assessment.
But it didn’t matter. Over the years Vanos’s targets had ranged from Secret Service agents to a twelve-year-old boy a
nd everywhere in between. The boy had bothered him—for a while—but the money had been excellent on that job, coming from a stepbrother who wanted the kid’s inheritance. Those kinds of major payoffs went a long way toward easing a wayward conscience.
Vanos was known as the Pro for good reason. A professional in every sense, he never missed.
The client in this case wanted scare tactics and accidents. And despite the fact that Vanos was a master marksmen who could hit a moving target at over a hundred yards, what the client wanted was what the client received.
Stashing his night glasses and falling back to his newly rented sedan, Vanos began conjuring up various methods to throw a scare into the man. Perhaps the best idea would be to target the woman?
Perhaps. But whatever methods he decided to use, Vanos figured he would turn this job into a game. To scare instead of kill.
Yes, this one could be fun.
Chapter 8
Mary awoke when sun came streaming through the blinds and hit her in the eyes. They hadn’t slept a whole lot last night. After their spectacular lovemaking session on the sofa in front of the fire, she and Jake had climbed the stairs to his bed—and the party had continued.
A silly grin broke out on her face as she thought of how Jake had reached for her again and again all night long. He’d made her feel needed—special. Mary was feeling much more of everything than she had ever felt. She would never forget the night—or Jake.
Stretching like a lazy cat, she reveled in the odd but sweet aches and the overall languorous feeling she was experiencing. If they decided to stay right here in bed for the rest of the day, she wouldn’t care. Actually, they could stay here for the rest of the week.
Rolling over, she reached for Jake, ready to snuggle up for however long he wanted. But his side of the bed was cold and empty.
She sat straight up and looked around to find herself alone in the bedroom. Listening for running water in the shower, she was disappointed to hear nothing but silence.
Where was Jake?
Deciding he must be downstairs fixing breakfast, she grumbled as she forced herself out of the bed and onto her feet. Food wasn’t that important. Not anymore. Mary had found something much better to take her mind off eating.
As she headed for the gigantic master bathroom she considered how, despite its imposing look both from the outside and within some of the rooms, Jake’s house seemed warm and inviting. Now she could imagine what Jane Eyre must have felt when she’d first come to Thornfield.
As if she belonged. For maybe the first time in her life.
Hugging herself around the waist, Mary grinned like a fool while walking into the bathroom. She wished for the ability to whistle so that the whole world could see how happy she was. But not a chance. Jolene was the whistler in the family.
After turning on the water for her shower, Mary took a moment to glance around the room. Expecting to see a mess, towels on the floor and water everywhere, she was surprised to see that Jake must have straightened up after both of them last night and after himself this morning.
The man was neat, and the most tender and exciting lover imaginable—and he could cook.
Jake was too good to be true. But that thought stopped her cold. Hadn’t Jane Eyre also felt the same about Rochester, her true love and the hero of the book?
But Jane Eyre’s love story had been rocky and miserable. She’d found out that her hero was secretly married.
Mary stepped under the shower spray, absently mulling over what her gut instincts had been telling her where Jake was concerned. She had so little experience in the man department that she feared being hasty.
She sensed that Jake was good. Deep-down good. Unlike some of the men in her life up to now. But there was something…
As if he were two people, Mary decided as she ran the bar of soap along her chest and belly. Yes, the wonderful-lover-and-good-man side to him had certainly captured her heart. She was far enough gone over that part of him that she almost couldn’t remember what had been nagging at her subconscious about his other side.
But then it came to her. Most of the time when Jake looked at her, it was with a combination of heat and tenderness. But on occasion she spotted some emotion in his eyes that didn’t match either his words or his actions. Wishing she had enough experience to figure out what that emotion was, Mary finished her shower and dried off, still considering it.
She had seen that look somewhere else besides in his eyes, on someone else—a long time ago. But where? Traipsing back through the bedroom and searching for her clothes, Mary kept sifting through her memories. That look—it was familiar. But…
She suddenly remembered. Her big sister Lucy’s eyes had carried that exact same look whenever she’d been feeling guilty about something. As a kid, Lucy was always doing one thing or another that she’d ended up regretting in the end. Stealing Mary’s toys when they were little. Stealing a boy Mary had her eye on in junior high. Lying to their mother and father about seeing Damien in high school.
Now that Mary thought it over, the expression was definitely guilt. But Mary didn’t have a clue what Jake could be feeling guilty about. Hmm. That wasn’t totally true. It could be he was feeling a little guilt over being her first lover. But guilt about taking her virginity was nonsense. She’d begged him. Wanted him to be the one.
Mary hoped with all her heart that wasn’t his reason for feeling guilt. But if it wasn’t, the other possibilities seemed scary. What if he was lying to her about not being married?
A shudder ran along her spine as she finished buttoning up her blouse. She hated the idea, but maybe when she returned to work, she should look him up on the Internet despite her earlier reservations about being sneaky.
Just to prove that he was telling the truth, mind you.
Sitting in a rocker on the house’s wide veranda, Jake hung up his secure SAT phone and took a sip from his coffee mug. Grateful the coffee was still warm in the chilled morning air, he looked out at the tangle of pines, Douglas firs and shrub brush surrounding the house.
The entire area encompassing the house had been landscaped with native plantings, making the place look like a mountain ski resort. But at the moment he would’ve preferred a rolling grass lawn where one could easily see out to every inch of ground. A moment ago he’d finished speaking to his partner Jim about the incident on the road last night and was told that a security alarm team would have to be sent from the Denver field office. It could take days, if not a full week, to free up a team.
Jake knew how alarm systems worked and probably would’ve been able to install a system himself, but he didn’t have the necessary equipment. Frustrated, he wondered how long he could go on like this. Undercover life was no kind of life anymore. He felt as if he’d been living in purgatory for the past few years—neither in heaven nor hell. Just living.
Mary came to mind and Jake tried to will away her image. His guilt on her account had become debilitating. His mind would barely focus on the investigation. What good was a covert agent who couldn’t keep his head in the game?
Last night with Mary had shaken him. Consumed him. Not only the sex—past his compulsion where Mary was concerned and way beyond the guilt, he’d glimpsed heaven in her bed.
How was he supposed to walk away from that and go back to purgatory? The need to possess her—to be possessed—had transported him right out of the realm of murderers and money-laundering schemes. He had even ignored whatever rules he’d vowed to follow as a covert government agent. Mary dominated him, mind and body, as she’d begged him to take her again and again.
She had given him the biggest gift of his life—hope. Hope that he could actually love another woman. For ten long years, he’d been positive that for him love was only in the past. That Tina had been it for him.
Tina was the love of his life. She’d brought him out of his shell and turned him into a man who could be charming and make friends. She was his partner, his lover, his coach and his most ardent che
erleader.
When she’d died in that car wreck, Jake had thought his life was over. He’d buried himself in his new job as a covert operative—living other people’s lives.
Now…now, Mary’s sharp intelligence and loving ways had brought him back to life. Back to giving a damn about what he did and whom he hurt.
And what would come of all this life and hope he was feeling? In the end, he would be forced to walk away from her. If for no other reason than that when Mary discovered the truth about his lies, she would never speak to him again. He couldn’t blame her, but it would kill him just the same.
“Jake?” Mary stuck her head out of the front door and spied him sitting at the far end of the long veranda. “There you are. I thought I’d lost you.”
As she smiled and walked toward him, Jake’s heart knew the truth. He loved her—desperately. If all things were equal, he would tell her the truth right now and take his punishment. But things weren’t equal in this case. Mary’s life was on the line.
He’d already arranged for someone to keep an eye on her when he couldn’t. But despite his assignment, he wanted to be the only one who was her protector. No one could do the job the way he could. He would never recover if any disaster befell Mary. With Tina, it had taken years. This time he knew it was worse for him. Knowing that, he could not. Would not. Let anything happen.
“Breakfast is on the stove,” he said as she came close. “You’re getting a late start on the morning. What do you have in mind for today?”
Her bottom lip stuck out slightly and it made him chuckle to see her looking petulant. “I would’ve liked another hour or two in bed—with you.”
Standing, he took her into his arms. The kiss he gave her was slow, warm, with a definite promise of things to come. He wanted her to feel what he felt. Wanted to pour out his love through his kiss—his touch. But he knew she needed words. Words he could not give her.