by Meryl Sawyer
Before she knew what hit her, he’d coaxed her willing lips apart and was teasing her tongue with the tip of his. He leisurely stroked back and forth and back again, taking his sweet time. She wanted to shove him away, she honestly did, but she couldn’t seem to bring herself to break the kiss.
His tongue roved deeper, and he changed the angle of his kiss. She clutched his shoulders to steady herself. Her body seemed to have left its physical confines and was floating free—and uninhibited.
He proceeded with a slow, melting kiss that weakened her defenses even more, and her mouth opened wider. A traitorous thought crossed her mind—she couldn’t get enough of him—then vanished when his warm hand cupped her breast.
Oh, no! She didn’t moan, did she? The cocky jerk would get the wrong idea. She had to bring this to a stop, but her turncoat body was lost in a haze of sensual pleasure. She couldn’t help arching backward, nudging the taut nipple into the palm of his hand.
As much as her breasts tingled, a warm fullness had invaded the area between her thighs. Her nails dug into his bare shoulders, certain to leave half-moon prints in his skin.
“Damn all,” he said, lifting his lips from hers for the briefest moment.
“Don’t stop,” she said before she could help herself.
He kissed her again, harder this time. He gently squeezed her breast, his thumb rubbing the nipple beneath the damp fabric. The taut bud drew even tighter and formed a marble-hard bead. He squeezed just a little and the moist heat built between her thighs.
Kyle pulled Jennifer closer, his hand cradling her breast, the nipple pressing hot and hard into his palm. He desperately wanted to bend down and kiss each breast in turn, then run his tongue over the tight nubs. But she’d given herself up to his kiss and he didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind.
For a moment, he wondered if he was going to lose it. He’d been with too many women to remember, yet none of them had turned him on like this. He gave himself a hard mental shake.
Man, aw, man. Concentrate. Hold back. It’s just a kiss.
He bided his time, kissing her thoroughly and playing with the plump breast. A measure of self-control returned even though the hard heat in his groin was increasing by the moment. She released a soft moan, and he took it as a red light.
He slipped his hand under the fabric of her bikini and pushed it away from her breast. He touched her bare skin, cupping it with his hand. She was smoother and softer and warmer than he’d anticipated. The nipple rock hard. He teased it with the pad of his thumb.
“Oh, Kyle,” she said with a moan.
He leaned down to kiss her and caught a glimpse of her exposed breast in the moonlight. Surrounded by tanned skin, the pale globe seemed whiter, capped by a dark, tight nipple. He’d made love to bustier women, but none of them had been half as sexy.
His mouth closed over the tip of her breast and he applied gentle suction as he circled the nipple with his tongue. She shivered, digging her nails into his shoulders. Spurred on, he licked the plump fullness, nipping a little as he moved across her warm breast.
His sex strained at the fly of his trunks. Sucking in a stabilizing breath, he kept his movements slow, gentle. He’d known all along she’d be like this and he intended to drag it out enjoying every moment.
He became conscious of a noise or something. Jennifer jerked upright and tugged the swimsuit over her breast again.
“Jennifer! Jennifer! Is that you out there? I need to talk to you.”
“It’s Thelma Mae. I’ve got to go.” Jennifer jumped in the water and swam away before he could grab her.
Chapter 15
“Sadie! Sadie!” cried Jennifer as she rushed into the clinic’s recovery bay and saw her dog awake in a padded cage.
Her tail wagging, Sadie lurched to one side, banged against the padded wall and finally heaved herself to a half-sitting position. She was so happy to see her that Jennifer’s eyes blurred with tears.
“Hey, there, girl. You’re feeling better, huh?” She unlatched the cage and reached inside. “You had me so worried.”
Sadie opened her jaws and a slack tongue slapped at her hand, the dog’s feeble attempt at a loving lick.
“You’re still a little groggy, right?”
The dog’s eyes were a little glazed, Jennifer thought, but she was alive. Yesterday, all she could do was pray Sadie would survive. Not only was her dog alive, but she was recovering.
“Sadie’s doing remarkably well,” said the technician as Jennifer slipped her arm around her dog, careful not to touch the bandage on her neck.
“When can she come home?”
“Dr. Bustos says it’ll be a few days.”
Running her hand over Sadie’s smooth coat, Jennifer said, “I’ll come get you the minute you’re well enough to leave, okay?”
In response, the dog leaned against Jennifer. Sadie valiantly attempted to give Jennifer another sloppy kiss, but her tongue missed the target. Jennifer’s heart did a slow backflip. She leaned down and nuzzled Sadie, brushing her nose against the dog’s silky ears.
“I’ll be back,” she promised as she pulled away. “I have to get to class. I’m late. Kyle will have started already.”
At Kyle’s name the dog cocked her head to one side and began wagging her tail so hard it thumped against the padded wall. Jennifer closed the cage, promising, “I’ll be back later. Understand?”
The bloodhound whimpered, a low, soul-piercing sound as Jennifer closed the cage. It took all Jennifer could do to walk out of the clinic. She knew this was best for the dog, but it was so hard to leave her alone in a cage.
As she hurried to her car, Jennifer tried not to think about last night. What would have happened if Thelma Mae hadn’t called to her to ask about Sadie.
Was she falling into Kyle’s trap again? she wondered. Was she being pulled back in time to when she’d been a lovesick teenager?
No … she … was … not!
Remember what happened. You were an emotional wreck. You don’t want to go through that ordeal again.
She chalked up her foolish behavior last night to the craziest day of her life. She’d been grateful to Kyle for all he’d done … and vulnerable.
Kyle pretended he didn’t see Jennifer come into class late. He’d known she’d reported to the firing range before dawn. He assumed she’d gone to the clinic the minute it had opened to visit Sadie. He’d been stalling by discussing tactics of various types of terrorists groups until Jennifer arrived.
“This morning’s paper had an article about one of the emerging types of terrorist groups. Did anyone catch it?” he asked.
“Yeah, I read it,” responded one of the men. “Environmentalists claimed they set fire to the Forest Industries headquarters somewhere in Oregon.”
“That’s right. The Earth Liberation Front said the fire was ‘in retribution for all the wild forests and animals lost to feed the wallets of the greedy corporations represented by the Forest Service Industries.’”
“Isn’t that the same group who set the fire in Vail that burned some buildings and destroyed several ski lifts?” Jennifer said.
Kyle tried to keep the smile off his face. All the men had puzzled looks, none of them seeming to recall the earlier fire by the same underground group. She was quick and smart. And sexy as hell.
Last night proved to him that there was more than just the past between them. She might not be ready to admit it, but she was not in love with Chad Roberts. Still, he’d have to go easy with her. After Thelma Mae had interrupted them, he’d knocked on Jennifer’s door and got nothing more than a curt “good night” from her.
“Yes,” Kyle replied, putting his private thoughts aside and concentrating on the subject. “The ELF is the same environmentalist group who took responsibility for the fire at Vail. Like Timothy McVeigh and some paramilitary groups, these environmentalists are part of the terrorist threat that’s home grown. Let’s talk about how you all might handle such groups. Any idea
s?”
“Most of us on the Miami-Dade County Antiterrorism Task Force are assigned specific duties,” said one of the men. “Bomb squad, sharp shooting, K-9. One person is responsible for staying in contact with FBI and local undercover agents. They’re supposed to alert us if there’s a threat.”
“True, but we can help ourselves,” Jennifer piped up. “Using the Internet and reading papers, we can anticipate problems. The Everglades is an environmental hot button right now. The ELF group struck in Colorado, then in Oregon. They’re all over the map. South Florida, our territory, could be next.”
The men murmured their agreement. Apparently, none of them had considered the ELF a threat in their area. Typical, Kyle thought, most Americans tended to think of terrorists as a group of crazed Middle Easterners.
“We have no choice but go into action after they’ve struck,” commented one of the men.
“This is a game of contacts,” Kyle told the group. “One person shouldn’t have to shoulder the entire responsibility for gathering info on potential terrorists. All of you need to cultivate people who can help.
“Get to know the fire arms dealers and the people who sell timing mechanisms and components that may be used in bombs. Incendiary devices start fires and accelerants to keep the fire going, giving the terrorists time to get away.
“Someone, somewhere sells this stuff to the terrorists. You, as a group, can anticipate and head off problems if you have good contacts. Heathrow Airport security in London has stopped more terrorists from getting on planes. How? They have luggage checks and dogs and sophisticated equipment, but what has proven the most reliable? Gut instinct.”
“That’s right,” one of the men said. “I remember the woman who boarded a plane for Israel. Her boyfriend had hidden a bomb in her cosmetics case. The man at the passport station sensed something was wrong and discovered the bomb.”
“Correct,” Kyle told him. “People selling firearms or components that might possibly be used in bombs have gut instincts, too. Something doesn’t seem right about a person. It’s your job to stay in contact with as many of these people as possible. Ask them if they sold something to a suspicious character.”
“Isn’t paying large amounts of cash instead of using a credit card or a check another red flag?” asked Jennifer.
Kyle had planned on mentioning it next. He nodded, giving Jennifer a smile, but she stared back at him, her face blank—all business.
“Right. Large sums of cash is always a warning.” Kyle stood up and stretched his bad leg. “Let’s take a break while I set up the new piece of equipment we’ll be using.”
He wanted to go over to Jennifer and ask about Sadie, but the other men were clustered around her. Everyone wanted to know all about the rescue operation yesterday. Kyle set up the DNA field unit he was demonstrating.
“Time’s up,” he said a few minutes later. “Let’s talk about the benefits of DNA testing in the field.”
“How fast do you get results?” several of the men wanted to know.
“In a matter of minutes,” Kyle answered. “One day, every police station in America will be able to check DNA instead of having to wait months for test results.”
“Around Miami, there are billboards saying something about home test kits if you want to know the father of your child,” said Jennifer. “They’re for sale on the Internet, too. Are these kits for real?”
“I don’t know. I’m careful not to hang around with women who wonder about their child’s paternity.”
Kyle’s comment drew a laugh from the guys, but Jennifer stared at him as if he was a wad of gum stuck on the bottom of her shoe.
“I haven’t seen these kits, but I understand they’re reliable,” Kyle said when the chuckles subsided. “As I said, it’s a technology that will be widely available very shortly. What we have here”—he held up the small black device—“is a field unit designed for special forces.”
“Why would they need a DNA test kit?” Jennifer asked.
“Good question,” he responded. “If you come across physical evidence, you will want to quickly analyze it so you’ll have a better idea who you’re looking for. Example: You’re called in when a suspicious package might be a mail bomb. We’ve had lots of those in the last few years.”
“Too many,” someone commented.
“If it is a bomb, there may be some physical evidence on it. A hair. A speck of blood. You’d be surprised how often people scratch themselves and leave a trace of blood.”
The group nodded, obviously excited about the possibilities of DNA field test kits such as this one.
“Instead of making anyone bleed,” Kyle said with a grin, “I’m going to test this kit first on Jennifer. Place a short strand of hair on this.” He held up a disk that looked like a photographer’s slide.
“What am I supposed to do?” she asked.
“Use these tweezers to pull off the sterile cover strip.” He picked up a pair of tweezers from his desk. “Then put your hair on the tacky surface in the center.”
She walked up to his desk with a mischievous grin. While she worked on it, Kyle explained the finer points to the rest of the men.
“It’s important to keep your fingers on the cardboard rim. That way you don’t deposit any of your own DNA material on the slide and get a false reading.”
“I’m finished,” Jennifer said. “Now what?”
“Drop it into the slot at the top of the machine.” He waited until she’d inserted the slide, then added, “Now press the On button at the left. Take your seat and we’ll wait five minutes for the machine to give us a readout.”
Jennifer returned to her chair while one of the men asked, “What kind of readout will it give us?”
“There’s a small screen like you see on pagers. It will print the message there.”
“You’ve got the machine plugged in,” Jennifer commented. “In the field, it must run on batteries.”
“That’s right.” He nodded, then asked, “What information will the DNA test tell us first?”
“Racial background,” guessed several of them at once.
“Good guess. That’s the second bit of info the machine will give us. The first is sex—male or female.”
They discussed other types of information the field DNA machine would provide them until the machine made a low-pitched ping.
“It’s ready,” Kyle said with a smile at Jennifer. “Let’s see if it tells us the DNA sample belongs to a female Caucasian.”
Jennifer smiled back and winked. At last he was getting somewhere. He picked up the machine and tilted it slightly to read the small screen.
“Female,” he said, reading the first bit of info to the class. He looked at Jennifer again after the kit had determined her sex. She was grinning like a TV evangelist raking in the bucks. “It got that part right. Let’s check the rest.”
He read the next line to himself. Aw hell! He’d been taken.
“Canine.” He looked at Jennifer who now appeared as innocent as she possibly could. “You put one of Sadie’s hairs in the machine.”
“You said to place a hair on the slide. You assumed it was my own hair, but I felt compelled to test the accuracy of your device.”
The men chuckled and cast admiring glances at Jennifer. Even Kyle had to admit she’d been clever. Jennifer would prove to be the most valuable member of this team.
Jennifer finished class late that afternoon and called Paws N Claws. Sadie was better, improving with each hour. The news put a bounce in her step, despite her sore ankle, as she went over to the firing range to practice for the second time that day.
She’d learned her lesson. She refused to put anyone in jeopardy because she wasn’t a crack shot. She was becoming more accurate each time she practiced, but there was still a long way to go.
It was nearly dark when she arrived at Paws N Claws to see Sadie. The reception area was closed, so she walked into the recovery room. Sadie wasn’t in her cage.
“Oh, my God. Did something happen?” she said, then noticed the technician wasn’t in the area either.
She found the woman in the adjacent area, inserting an IV in a cat’s paw.
“Where’s Sadie? Is she all right?”
“She’s out back in the grassy area with Kyle. We like to get the dogs up and walking as soon as possible. Just like people in hospitals, animals need to get moving again.”
Jennifer thanked her, then hurried out back. What was Kyle doing here? She should be the one helping Sadie.
Behind the clinic was a grass yard surrounded by a wooden fence painted Key West blue, a bright tropical shade. Most of the fence was concealed by bougainvillea and tree ferns. A single floodlight lit the area.
At the far side of the yard, Sadie was hopping along beside Kyle on three legs. The dog’s tail swished back and forth, the way it did when she was happy. No question about it. Sadie adored Kyle.
And Kyle had saved Sadie’s life. Jennifer had no right to be upset about him being here with her dog.
Jennifer shrugged out of her day pack and dropped it on the ground. “Sadie, girl, how are you doing?”
The dog looked over at her, tail now wagging furiously. She would have attempted to bound across the grass, but Kyle held her back.
“She’s doing great now,” Kyle informed her as she approached them.
“Now?”
“When I first took her out of the cage, Sadie had a hard time making it on three legs.” He pointed down to the white cast covering her paw. “I held her up with one arm, and she got the hang of it.”
Jennifer petted Sadie, wondering how to handle the situation. She did not want Kyle inserting himself into her life. She needed to distance herself from him as much as possible.
“I’ll take over,” she said with surprising calm.
“Sadie’s just about had it. I’ve walked her three times around the yard. She’s gone to the bathroom. The technician said to take it easy the first time. Tomorrow morning, Sadie will be raring to go. Right, girl?” He fondled Sadie’s long ears and the dog gazed up at Kyle as if he’d hung the moon.
“Let me take her in then.” She took the leash from Kyle and walked away. With any luck, he’d get the hint and disappear.