by Kay Hooper
“This hotel is filled with women,” she told him fiercely. “Try whistling to one of them.”
“But I don’t want one of them,” he protested, and winced when the door was slammed in his face. He stood staring at the unyielding wooden barrier, resisting a sudden urge to kick the thing as he heard the metallic click of the lock.
“Damn.” He turned around, and felt a flush climb into his face as he saw Gigi.
She was standing with her arms folded, her face solemn but a demon of laughter in her eyes. In a dispassionate tone she said, “Anyone who could rouse Trina to a display of that magnitude must be a veritable fiend.”
“You’re a lot of help,” he said in a disgruntled voice.
“You haven’t asked for my help,” she told him politely.
He stared at her for a moment. “Help.”
With a faint smile she said instantly, “You have a certain amount of charm, even if it is a bit rusty from disuse. And though you aren’t a gentle man, there is a great deal to be said for being a gentleman.”
Skye stood still for a moment after she strolled away, then turned and headed purposefully for the lobby. One of the desk clerks giggled as he passed, and another gave him a somewhat awed look, both reactions telling him that at least part of Katrina’s outburst had been overheard.
And that, he reflected ruefully, just might sink his ship for sure.
—
For a full ten minutes after she’d slammed and locked the door, Katrina was so angry she could barely think. Gradually, however, the inevitable letdown overcame her, and she sank into her chair to stare at the computer. Her head was pounding, and she felt both a mild astonishment at her anger and a sense of bafflement at Skye’s words.
His demand that she quit her job seemed, on the surface at least, to have sprung from sheer sexual domination, and that was what had sparked her rage. She had been furious, and mixed with that had naturally been her own sense of hurt that he apparently thought so little of her work that he would order her to abandon it without hesitation.
But a certain amount of bitter experience reminded her now that he often spoke without stopping to consider the probable impact of his words, and that his innate impatience made him quick to demand what he wanted. And what had he wanted in those first moments after he’d come into her office?
Her.
He hadn’t thought about her work at all, except as something standing between the two of them. And, intolerant as always, he had simply taken the quickest and most direct route to getting what he wanted. Her job was in the way—so he wanted it shoved to one side. It wasn’t important, and the added comment about taking care of her had just been an impatient, purely expedient rider along the lines of “Never mind. I’ll take care of it.”
“Arrogant so-and-so,” she told the computer.
He was arrogant…but she wasn’t surprised by it, and couldn’t seem to get angry about it. She might just as well get angry at a comet for following its natural path. He hadn’t meant to hurt or upset her, and it had probably never occurred to him that he would. And, to do him justice, he had instantly tried to apologize.
It was odd, she realized, but he hadn’t gotten angry in return. He had been clearly intrigued by her temper, and he had laughed at her—No. Not at her, but at what she had said. Thinking about what she had said, she had to admit it sounded amusing in retrospect.
A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts, and she went to unlock it. Then she stepped back, startled, as one of the bellmen carried in a delicate crystal vase holding an enormous bouquet of long-stemmed red roses.
“Doesn’t waste much time, does he?” the bellman observed cheerfully as he set the vase on her desk.
Two realizations struck Katrina then. One, that she lived in a goldfish bowl and, two, that Skye’s impatience and temper weren’t the only extravagant things about him. In the most dignified tone she could manage, she said, “Thank you, Dennis.”
“There’s a card,” Dennis said with a wink, and then escaped before she could throw something at him.
Katrina eyed the offering for a moment, then plucked the card from among the blooms and retreated behind her desk. She sat down and opened the little envelope cautiously, not entirely certain what to expect.
I’ve forgotten how to whistle, but it doesn’t matter. I want only you. I can’t make pretty speeches about it; a starving man doesn’t ask—he just grabs. I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Thank heaven he wrote it himself, she thought vaguely, never doubting that the decisive, bold strokes of the pen were his. And what could a woman do with a man like Skye? A rough apology, blunt and without grace…and utterly disarming.
“Damn you,” she murmured.
Katrina sat for a long time, her gaze almost blind. Then she turned off her computer and left her office. She didn’t think about where she was going or what told her he’d be waiting for her, but she wasn’t much surprised to find herself opening the door of her suite and going in. He wasn’t in the den, but she went on into the bedroom. And he was there.
She held the card up briefly before putting it on the dresser. “You knew I’d come,” she accused.
“No.” Wearing only a pair of dark sweatpants and looking vibrantly male, he came toward her slowly. “I hoped. But I wasn’t sure.”
“Dammit, you got me up here anyway!”
He smiled just a little, a crooked smile, and his eyes were luminous. “They say if you wish hard enough, you can make the wish come true.”
Katrina cleared her throat, feeling the heat of his powerful body as he stood before her and stingingly aware that her body was responding instantly, as if he had reached out and enveloped it in his own intensity. “Is that what you did?” she managed to ask huskily.
“Yes.” He reached up slowly and began unwinding her braid, tossing the pins carelessly aside and watching intently as fire flickered in the auburn strands that fell over her shoulders and curled wildly.
“You—you had no right to make that demand of me,” she managed to say. “No right at all.”
“I know.” Though his voice contained a husky undertone, it was quiet and steady. He slipped around behind her, his hands smoothing the silk that covered her upper arms, rubbing slowly in a movement that was lazy and soothing.
“My job is important to me,” she whispered, feeling her bones begin dissolving. He gently pushed her thick hair aside so that it fell forward over one shoulder, and she bowed her head instinctively when his warm lips touched the exposed nape of her neck.
“Of course it is,” he whispered against her neck, his fingers dealing with the long row of buttons down her back. “I know that. You’re a trained, experienced agent. You’re also a hotel manager with responsibilities. I could never ask you to give up any part of what you are.”
Katrina caught her breath as the silk dress slid down her body and pooled in a glimmering circle of blue around her feet. His hands were at her waist now, pulling her gently back against him, and she was trying to think long enough to get this matter understood between them. “Then why did you?”
“I wanted you,” he said deeply. One of his hands lay on her stomach, fingers spread wide over the blue silk of her teddy, and his other hand slid slowly down her side to her thigh and began toying with the garter holding up her stocking. “I saw you walk across the lobby, and I couldn’t think of anything else. You looked so cool and beautiful, as if you’d never gone crazy in my arms. I wanted you to go crazy again, to forget everything but me and wanting me.”
His mouth was moving over her neck and shoulder, trailing fire. With her head still bowed, she looked dazedly at his powerful hand covering her middle, beautiful and starkly male, and watched the long fingers of his other hand expertly unfastening the snaps holding her stocking. She could feel his body hardening against her, his heat almost scorching her. Her eyes felt heavy, the lids half closing, and she was only vaguely aware that he had unfastened the other stocking and then the garter belt.
She swayed, and her hand came out to brace herself on his shoulder as he knelt beside her. He was smoothing the stockings down her legs, removing her shoes and the gossamer hose. When he stood up again, she turned naturally to him and would have gone eagerly into his arms if he’d let her.
But Skye held her away from him, his hands grasping her upper arms firmly. His brilliant eyes moved slowly over her body, then lifted to her face. “If I’d known you were wearing this sexy thing underneath your dress,” he said thickly, “I would have locked the door of your office and taken you right there.”
She gasped when he pulled her slowly to him, his words and the burning strength of his body making her feel naked despite the teddy. Her mouth opened brazenly under the almost bruising force of his lips, and she clung to him as he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed.
She wanted him….
The desire he kindled in her mind and body was such a vast, overpowering, all-consuming thing that Katrina never wanted gentleness from him, or patience, or even tenderness. She just wanted him. She didn’t think in his arms; she could only feel with the simple, stunning pleasure of totally awakened senses. She became a wild thing, crazy with the desperate need for him, and no matter how primitive and forceful his passion was, she gloried in it.
The knowledge that he lost control with her, that she excited him as potently as he excited her, freed her to experience fully the unexpected depths of her own passions. She might have tried to hold back, even in bed with him, but his hunger and fierceness combined with her own love shattered her control so completely she couldn’t have.
It wasn’t even a matter of giving herself, but simply a matter of a possession that was mutual.
Her own blind fervor drove his desire higher; she knew that because he made no secret of it. If he couldn’t make pretty speeches about his need, he charmed in a different, rougher way, his hoarse voice uttering raw words of stark necessity that seared her to her bones. And his hands on her, his beautiful hands that were hard without hurting, brought her body to life in a way she had never thought possible.
Katrina lost herself so utterly in the heat and frantic urgency of his passion that she thought she’d never find herself again. And some dim instinct told her he had marked her forever, inside where it wasn’t visible to the naked eye. Deep inside her, where it burned like a brand on her soul.
—
The bedroom had been peaceful for some time when Katrina became aware of a guilty memory. The accounts. It was already the middle of the afternoon; she didn’t stand a chance of finishing up by the end of the day even if she went back to work immediately. She was debating with herself as to whether Skye would protest her leaving him, when the sudden summons of the phone on her nightstand made the matter academic.
“Oh damn,” Skye muttered in disgust, removing one arm from around her to reach for the pesky intruder. “What?” he growled into the receiver.
And Katrina, held closely beside him, didn’t need the abrupt stiffening of his body to alert her, because she heard the hard voice of the caller almost as clearly as he did.
“Skye? He’s loose.”
Chapter 7
“How the hell did that happen?” Skye bit out, releasing Katrina and sitting bolt upright. His expression was grim.
She sat up slowly beside him, still hearing the caller’s voice clearly because it was so powerful, so distinct.
“I don’t know yet, but I mean to find out,” the caller promised darkly. “I just got a call from one of the agents; the other’s in bad shape and needs to be taken to a hospital. It happened half an hour ago. Adrian didn’t try to take the car, he simply vanished into the hills. I told Thompson to get his partner to a doctor and keep his mouth shut. In ten minutes I can be airborne with a squad of marshals.”
“We can’t have a manhunt out there, or we’ll tip our hand for sure,” Skye said flatly.
“It isn’t a game anymore, Skye,” Daniel Stuart, director of the FBI, said in a sharpened tone.
“You owe these people.” Skye’s voice was hard. “And you gave your word, Daniel.”
“I can’t have Adrian running loose down there!”
“He won’t be for long.” Skye threw back the sheet covering his naked body and swung his legs off the bed. “I’ll get him.”
“Alone? Skye, are you out of your mind?”
“I’m not alone. There’s a small army here, one you’d love to get your hands on anytime, and they have a vested interest in capturing Adrian.”
There was a pause, and then Daniel swore violently. “I don’t like it—”
“You didn’t like it when they made it possible for me to catch him the first time. Forget your marshals, Daniel. Bring only enough men to hold on to him. See you there.” And he hung up the phone decisively.
Katrina knew that Adrian had been held in a remote house no more than ten miles from the park, and the thought of that killer loose on an unsuspecting countryside frightened her. But something else frightened her more, sending ice through her veins and tightening her throat until she could hardly speak.
Almost inaudibly she said, “You won’t get the others, will you?”
Skye rose from the bed and began dressing. “There’s no need. Adrian can’t get far, not on foot. I’ll be able to move faster if I go alone.” He retrieved his gun from the top shelf of her closet, where he had put it the day before, and shrugged into the shoulder harness.
“I’m going with you,” Katrina said, throwing off the covers and sliding from the bed. She went to the dresser and began hauling out clothing.
“No, you aren’t,” he said flatly, sliding his bare feet into moccasins and reaching into the closet for a thin Windbreaker.
“Skye!”
“Katrina, you aren’t an experienced field agent trained to handle this kind of thing.” He came to stand before her suddenly, one hand lifting to frame her face. His eyes were shuttered, his voice still harsh. “You’d only get in my way. Believe me, I know what I’m doing.”
She stared up at him, holding the still-folded clothes to her naked breasts. In a wondering tone she said, “Dane was right. You do think you’re made of iron, don’t you?”
He gazed at her lovely, still face, aware that her catlike amber eyes held shock, that her slender body was rigid. In spite of the urgent need for him to get moving, he was fighting the urge to discover why she was looking at him with that expression of strange surprise. He didn’t understand it. His own actions made perfect sense to him; Adrian had escaped, and he was going after him.
“I have to go,” he said, ignoring her question and hearing the reluctance in his own voice.
She dropped the clothes she was holding and grabbed handfuls of his jacket. “Answer me!” she demanded.
Skye was trying to keep his attention off her naked body, and having little luck. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains of the window, painting her body gold and lighting her wild hair with fire. He hated leaving her! “Of course I don’t think I’m made of iron,” he said finally, irritable because the question was unimportant.
“Then why are you going alone?” Her voice was fierce, her eyes burning. “Get Dane! Get someone!”
He forced patience into his voice. “I told you—I’ll move faster alone. I’ve tracked Adrian before, and I know how his mind works.” He bent his head and kissed her firmly, then pulled her hands loose from his jacket and stepped back.
“Don’t,” she said.
Skye turned away from her, surprised at the effort it took. And it wasn’t, he realized, just because he could hardly stand to be out of her presence these days. It was something else, something on a deeper level—a wrenching tug inside him, as if some vital part of himself were irrevocably connected to her and resisted his leaving her. He had never felt anything like that before, and it disturbed him. “I’ll be back,” he muttered, and knew his promise was unvarnished truth.
He’d always return to he
r, no matter what stood in his way.
—
Katrina dressed in desperate haste, softly cursing her trembling fingers, trying to make her mind work. Dane, of course. He knew his brother best, he knew what she had only just seen clearly for herself. He had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t listened, hadn’t believed that a man with Skye’s strength could ever need anyone else for any reason.
He needs someone to care about him, so he’ll stop to think before risking his neck.
She had seen it for the first time, that unconscious, heedless inability in him to recognize the fact that he was made of flesh and blood. It had shocked her, because until then she hadn’t known what Dane’s warning had meant. But she knew now. She knew that Skye’s very strength, the burning life force inside him, made him completely, unconsciously reckless when it came to his own survival.
Katrina had fought for her survival, grimly and with all the will she could command. She had stoically endured interrogation techniques expressly designed to break the human mind and spirit, and had refused to be broken. She had faced her childhood terror of small rooms and close places, rejecting the mind-shattering horror of a nightmare come to life as she had stared at four bare gray walls in a three-by-five-foot cell. And she had emerged with a sure grip on her sanity to rebuild her life.
She knew how precious life was, and how vulnerable that life was to the vagaries of fate.
But Skye…He didn’t know. Nature had given him a natural impatience and recklessness, and then had added both an unusual physical strength and an inner fire that burned with all the invincible heat of a crucible.
What had he said about Dane finding him months after he had left Germany? I probably would have managed to get myself killed. God knows I was trying hard enough.
His own life didn’t matter very much to him. And it wasn’t a defeatist thing, but simply a careless one; he never thought about it. He would always be largely indifferent to his own fate, she knew now. But his great strength and incredible life force had provided a kind of aura, a rare cloak of sheer luck, and he had survived despite his own hell-bent recklessness.