Читать книгу Undercover Bride - Kylie Brant - Страница 10

She was exquisite in candlelight. As sounds of Chopin crashed around them, Caleb sipped from his glass, unmindful for the moment of the finely aged wine he tasted. Some would consider it sacrilegious not to savor every drop of the rare wine. It seemed even more sinful not to feast on the beauty before him.

“You’re staring.”

He inclined his head, unabashed to be caught in the act. Despite her accusation, she continued to eat the succulent pheasant. She was clearly used to male appreciation.

“You’re very beautiful.”

His words were a simple statement, and she accepted them with a shrug. “I’ve found that the true measure of a person lies beneath the surface.”

He nodded slowly, setting his glass down. “Usually, although with some people what’s on the surface is all there is. You’re different, though. There’s something about you, Rachel, that hints at layers, one wrapped tightly around the other, to conceal secrets you rarely reveal. It makes a man want to be the one to peel those layers back, one by one, and discover…everything.”

To disguise the slight tremor in her hand, she laid down her fork. There was no reason this man’s words should affect her. His seductive words were just that, not an indicator that he suspected she wasn’t what she seemed. But the shiver that skated over her skin wasn’t completely due to a fear of his mistrust. She reminded herself that he was a master of words, one who used them as weapons, to cajole, threaten and condemn. Just as her father had. Thought of her father had the tremors abruptly dissipating.

“And what about you, Caleb Carpenter?” Her tone was light, the reason behind the question wasn’t. “Is there a part of yourself that you seek to keep from the world?”

He chewed carefully, as if pondering her question. “I suppose many would regard me as a very private person, yes. It suits my purposes to keep important matters to myself.”

“Is that what caused you to advertise for a wife, rather than seeking one out in a more traditional manner?” Her words were almost a dare, although they were delivered innocently enough. The literature Sutherland had given her stated exactly what had caused Carpenter to search for a wife. He’d reiterated as much in his words to the troops shortly after her arrival today.

This time his answer was even slower in coming. He picked up a napkin and wiped at his mouth before answering. “I confess I never thought overmuch about the qualities I would look for in a wife.” His gaze warmed, and he reached over to enclose her fingers in his. “And only recently have I begun to discover what those qualities are.”

The heat in his look was mirrored in his touch. She smiled, but after a moment, removed her hand under the guise of reaching for her wineglass. She preferred to avoid his touch. It had a way of clouding her thoughts, momentarily blurring her intent. The unfamiliar feelings were no doubt caused by a combination of fatigue and adrenaline. However explained, they were annoying. Emotion had never been allowed to infiltrate an assignment. It never would be.

He was a man who would appear at home in a roomful of shimmering people, clad in a designer tux and cupping a cognac snifter in his hand. She didn’t doubt that he was cultured, but knew the veneer could be an effective disguise. Most would never question his charming, civil mask. Most would never perceive the underlying element of quiet menace about him that he strove to conceal.

Conversation lagged, and neither made a move to end it. Caleb was content to study her in the resulting silence. She’d chosen a pale-yellow sleeveless sheath that was a perfect foil for her hair, which she’d again pulled up in a knot. Despite his earlier words, he knew the value in taking it slow with her. He’d been only eight when he’d spent time tagging along with the gardener on his parents’ estates, admiring the roses. Anxious for the buds to unfurl into full bloom, he’d systematically peeled a full dozen of them, convinced that once he’d stripped the delicate petals aside, the rose would be fully visible. Instead, he’d been left with a path strewn with destroyed flowers, and a stern scolding. The man had learned much from the child; there would be far greater pleasure to be had if he peeled away the layers of Rachel Grunwald one filmy strip at a time. The patience it would take was no deterrent. Patience was a particular strength of his.

Her words interrupted his reverie. “You spoke of family earlier. Do any of them visit you here?”

His gaze dropped and he reached for his wine again. “No. I go to San Francisco to see them every month or so.”

His answer was just short of brusque, but it didn’t stop her from probing further. “Do they share our convictions for the future of the white race?”

The music changed, into something moody and melancholy. “My family is very traditional and extremely stubborn. We’ve agreed to disagree about what I’ve chosen to do with my life.” Because the admission was accompanied by a twinge of regret, he pushed his chair back and rose. “Are you finished? It’s still early. I could show you the grounds.”

Rachel stood, a genuine smile curving her lips. “I’d like that.”

The grounds, she soon learned, consisted of a lush, well-kept lawn surrounded by three hundred acres of land. The compound had been built on a plateau surrounded on two sides by the picturesque Sawtooth Mountains. As they rounded the house, Rachel saw again the buildings that dotted the vicinity, and asked about them.

“Some are living quarters for the troops. The few families here have their own homes. Kevin lives in one with his daughter. Careful.” His hand lightly touched her elbow. “The walk there is uneven.” The shiver his touch evoked was due to the rapidly cooling temperature, she assured herself. The sun was already bleeding across the sky. “The other buildings are for training purposes. The troops follow a daily regimen…weaponry instruction, hand-to-hand combat and so forth.”

He was describing a day much like any other she’d spent within various militias. “I spent quite a bit of time in the Comrades compound teaching hand-to-hand tactics and martial arts. I’d be interested in seeing your facility, even in providing some instruction if there’s a need for it.”

She caught him smiling, and arched her eyebrows. “You find that amusing?”

He held up his hands placatingly. “I’m not impugning your talent, believe me. But I don’t like the thought of you wrestling with some of these gorillas here.”

“Gorillas don’t frighten me.” Still intent on scanning the area, she started a little when he slipped his gray suit jacket over her shoulders.

“You’re shivering. The temperature drops quickly at night. Would you like to return to the house?”

She wasn’t about to give up the opportunity to explore the compound further. “No, I’m fine.” To her chagrin, he veered from the direction of the buildings, steering her to the gardens beside the house.

“You may enjoy taking a closer look at the garden tomorrow. Chad, the gardener, does a marvelous job.” Even in the swiftly lengthening shadows, Rachel could see he spoke the truth. The plants were heavy with blooms, their fragrance stinging the air. It would be even more impressive during the day.

With seeming idleness she said, “He must be very talented. How did you convince him to take a job so far from civilization?”

Caleb halted, and together they watched the sun sink behind the mountains in a spectacular display. “I never saw a sunset like that in San Francisco. I’ve yet to grow tired of it.” Belatedly, he answered her question. “Chad is one of our recruits. Those with particular talents often serve in a slightly different capacity.”

Disappointment rose. She ruthlessly kept it from her voice. “How lucky for you that your recruits are so gifted. Dinner tonight was excellent.”

With a touch on her elbow he guided her to a bench at the side of a path, and they sat. “Yes, Eliza is a jewel. She came to us from the Sons of Freedom. Have you heard of them?” Rachel had. “Their loss was my gain.” His teeth flashed in the growing darkness. “I’ve put on five pounds since she’s been here.”

She smiled at the pun, but her mind was busy. She would have stood a better chance of extracting bits and pieces of information from hired help. From his words, she assumed that everyone on the compound was a part of The Brotherhood. Did that mean that Carpenter was paranoid or just very careful? Either way, her job had just gotten a little more challenging.

She pushed the thought aside and seized the opening he’d offered. “If I’m going to eat like that every night, it won’t be long until I start tipping the scale myself. I’m used to being quite active.”

Her words had the desired effect. “Of course you are. Feel free to use the training facilities any time you wish. They’re stocked with state-of-the-art equipment.”

“I’m not surprised.” She turned to face him more fully. “From what I’ve seen there’s been no expense spared in the complex. You must be quite proud of what you’ve accomplished here.”

“Personal wealth makes a great many worries fade away. I feel strongly about what I’m doing. Your father was also a patriot for the cause, wasn’t he? I remember reading about his death when I was in college. You must have been, what? Twelve?”

“Fourteen,” she murmured, averting her gaze. She had to steel herself for the questions that would follow. She didn’t want thoughts of her father crowding in at a time like this, not when she had the opportunity to build a tenuous bond with the man beside her. But the memory of Hans Grunwald would very likely prove valuable in forging that bond. He had, after all, died for the very convictions Carpenter so fervently believed in.

“I’m sorry.” The gentleness in his voice was as much a shock as his words. “It must have been very difficult for you.”

“He died a hero.” The statement all but stuck in her throat, the words parroted from her mother. She’d never understood how her mother could regard as a hero a man who died carrying out an assassination attempt. Had never comprehended how a life of hatred and violence could earn a man a place as a martyr. Her failure to make that connection had led her straight to SPEAR.

Diligently, she shoved the jumbled pain and guilt back into the dark mental corner where she usually kept them. She had an assignment to do here. And memories of her father merely strengthened her resolve to destroy The Brotherhood.

Did Carpenter’s family feel the same bewilderment and failure at the choices he made? Were they physically sickened when they saw the way prejudice had twisted their son, their brother, into something unrecognizable? She thought they must be. From what he’d mentioned, they didn’t approve of his beliefs. She wondered if they’d experienced the same horrible epiphany she had, when she’d finally realized that beneath her father’s face dwelled a monster.

“I’ve upset you.” The pad of his finger caressed her jaw. It was difficult not to jerk away; the thoughts had left her strangely vulnerable.

She shook her head. “He inspired the same sort of loyalty from his followers that you do from yours, and he was a man who insisted on handling important matters by himself. Much as you did this afternoon after Colonel Sutherland interrupted us.” She watched him carefully. “I was concerned when you insisted on confronting the intruders alone. Was there any trouble?”

He gazed into the distance, his profile etched in the darkness. “No, there was no trouble.”

It was apparent that was all he intended to say on the subject. Rachel was far from content with his answer. “Good. I didn’t hear any gunfire, but then, I didn’t know how far away you were.”

“Most problems offer an array of solutions. Force just happens to be the most final one.”

And although her blood ran cold at his ambiguous answer, Rachel was really no closer to knowing what had transpired that afternoon with the Hispanics.

It came as no surprise to Rachel when she opened her door the next morning and saw the same young man, dressed again in black fatigues, leaning against the opposite wall in the hallway. She gave him a casual smile. “You must be an early riser. I hope you had time for breakfast this morning.”

His countenance was stiff, and he focused on a point over her head. “Yes, ma’am.”

She started down the hall, and he fell in after her. She wondered what he’d do if she stopped suddenly. Probably plow right into her. Clearly he had taken Sutherland’s chastising to heart. She wouldn’t dislodge him as easily today.

Rachel gave a mental shrug. The young man would be of no concern for a while. She was going to spend the next day or two familiarizing herself with the compound. After the conversation she had with Carpenter last night, she’d felt secure in doing so.

The omelet she had for breakfast was delicious, although she found it somewhat difficult to swallow with her guardian angel hovering nearby. Since the soldier didn’t seem prone to initiating conversation, she tried to engage him. “If we’re going to spend our days together, I think I should at least know your name.”

He hesitated for a moment, before replying, “It’s Private Sallem, ma’am.”

“And I’m Rachel.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She gave a mental sigh. “And what’s your first name?”

He gave the question more consideration than it merited, before finally deciding it was harmless. “Raymond.”

“Excellent.” She smiled at him. He couldn’t be more than nineteen or twenty. What could have led someone his age to the hate-filled world of The Brotherhood? Had he been raised in prejudice, as she had, or had he chosen it for himself? She found herself curious. “Do you have family in the compound, Raymond?”

“No, ma’am.”

Her appetite satisfied, she rose from the table and walked from the dining room. “Where are you from?”

“Missouri, ma’am.”

The hallway was lined with artwork she hadn’t had an opportunity to study last night. She paused before each painting and sculpture. The selections could provide more details about Carpenter. Or they may only reveal a man used to surrounding himself with expensive beautiful things. The thought that he probably considered her presence here in the same light nearly made her cringe.

“Missouri is a long way from Idaho. How often do you make it back to visit your family?”

Although she wasn’t looking at him, she could hear him shuffle his feet. “I don’t have any family, ma’am. My mom died a couple of years ago. I’ve been on my own ever since.”

Which might explain the attraction of the militia group, or others like it. If Raymond had sought out the group in search of a surrogate family, he couldn’t have chosen less wisely.

Ironically, she felt the first stirrings of sympathy for the soldier. Surely in one so young it could not be impossible to show him the error in his thinking. As quickly as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. She’d faced down automatic weapons carried by far younger kids than Raymond. Disillusionment with the status quo seemed to be the lowest common human denominator. And she’d never been in the business of rehabilitation, at any rate.

She slipped on a pair of sunglasses she’d carried downstairs with her and led her young shadow outside and down the front steps. Her first destination was the garden she and Caleb had lingered in last evening. The place where he’d uttered that cryptic statement that had said everything, and nothing, about the trespassing Hispanics. Under the pretense of strolling through the grounds, she took her time studying the confines of the compound, at least what she could see of it from there.

The drive leading to the road in front of the house was at least a mile. Gates stretched across the entrance, connected to what she imagined was an electric fence line. Although she could see activity there, she was unable to make out the number of men patrolling from this distance. She made a mental note to investigate it later.

It wasn’t necessary to feign fascination with the magnificent display of color before her. Although Rachel had no claim to a green thumb, she could appreciate the efforts of those who did. The garden was a fitting addition to the nearby mansion, and for the man who seemed used to the best of everything.

With seeming aimlessness, she exited the garden and began strolling toward the buildings, ignoring the young man at her side. But when they were within a hundred yards of the training facility, Raymond broke the silence. “Ma’am? You’ll probably want to head back up toward the house. These buildings are used during the day for training operations.”

“Perfect.” She graced him with a bright smile. “I was telling General Carpenter last night how much I was missing my daily workouts, and he invited me to use the gymnasium facility. Is this it?”

“Yes, this is it, but I don’t think the colonel would…that is…” His words trailed off when she whipped off her glasses to stare at him.

“The colonel?”

Raymond was clearly uncomfortable. “I—I mean the general. He probably wouldn’t like it.”

“But I’ve just told you that he okayed it, didn’t I? So I don’t foresee any problem.”

Turning on her heel she strode to the entrance and pushed the door open. Carpenter hadn’t been exaggerating, she discovered. The building was fully outfitted with top-of-the-line equipment. No expense had been spared training the men and women of The Brotherhood how to fight for the dogma they were dedicated to.

Despite the use for which it was intended, she had a grudging admiration for the equipment itself. She’d never worked out in such a well-maintained gymnasium outside of the agency’s training facility.

She walked about the place, openly watching the drills going on in some of the rooms. And when she found a gymnasium empty, she lost no time entering. It was too much temptation to merely look at the various stations. Soon she was slipping out of her shoes and hoisting herself up on the balance beam to run lightly across it and back several times. Then spying an electronic sparring machine in the corner, she went to examine it. She was only peripherally aware of the moment when Raymond slipped away, probably to report to Sutherland.

“I see you’re interested in our machine. Do you train?”

Rachel whirled around to see a red-haired woman about her age crossing the gym toward her. She was dressed in the customary black fatigues.

“I do, but I rarely have the opportunity to use equipment like this. You’re very lucky. I’m Rachel, by the way.”

“My name is Kathy.” The woman surveyed her curiously. “I hope you fare better than the last two applicants. General Carpenter takes his responsibility to The Brotherhood very seriously, and his standards are quite high.”

There didn’t seem to be an appropriate answer for that statement, so Rachel didn’t offer one. “The general invited me to use the facilities and I’m going to take him up on it. Is this gymnasium going to be free for the next hour or two?” As she spoke, she unbuttoned her shirt and shrugged out of it. Clad in a tank top and shorts, she sat to pull off her shoes. She always preferred to work out barefoot.

“There isn’t a session scheduled for this hall until this afternoon. I’ll be leading it myself.”

Rachel bent her knee and lunged forward to loosen up. “Oh, so you’re a trainer here.” She switched legs. “I was an instructor myself in the organization I came from.”

The woman looked pleased. “Really? Would you like a sparring partner? It’s not often that I can find a worthy match here.”

“Sure.” She welcomed the opportunity. It was imperative to stay in shape during the assignment. It was impossible to tell when she would be called on to defend herself.

After a warming up for a few minutes, the women stepped into the middle of a ring drawn on the mat. For the first few minutes they circled each other, feinting a few times, gauging the strength and agility of their opponents. Watching Kathy’s eyes, Rachel was able to estimate when her intent changed to something more serious, and easily dodged the first spin kick, dancing gracefully out of reach.

Kathy’s face hardened. They circled again, and Rachel rushed in, landing a blow lightly in the woman’s midsection. The other woman feinted left, and kicked out. Too late, Rachel moved away. The kick caught her in the shoulder with enough force to stagger her. If she hadn’t moved at the last minute, it would have taken her down.

Her eyes narrowed. This was no ordinary sparring match, one to test speed, endurance and agility. Kathy wasn’t checking her blows. From the look of determination on the other woman’s face, she wouldn’t be satisfied until Rachel was lying on the mat.

She had no intention of indulging her.

Rachel began to spar in earnest, determined to put an end to the competition. Again she watched Kathy’s eyes. That’s where the purpose would show, a split second before the hands or feet moved. She dodged a blow that would have rocked her chin back and waited for the next kick. When it came, she caught the heel of Kathy’s foot and used her momentum to pull the woman off balance. She landed hard on the mat and Rachel followed her down, her knee to the woman’s throat in a final demonstration of victory.

“Ah…an interesting exhibition.” Rachel’s head jerked at the sound of Carpenter’s voice, and Kathy took advantage of her distraction to roll away and rise.

Rachel stood, her brows arched. “I wasn’t aware we had an audience.” Several men, including Sutherland and Raymond, were gawking from the doorway. Her attention, though, was focused on Carpenter, trying to gauge his reaction. He was, she decided a moment later, mildly amused.

Carpenter looked around him. “Dismissed, men.” When it took a few moments for them to begin to disperse, he repeated himself, a thread of steel entering his voice. “I said, you’re all dismissed. Back to your stations.”

They exited quickly, and Kathy slipped out a side door, leaving Rachel and Caleb alone in the gym. Rachel went over to retrieve her shirt and shoes, and Caleb strolled after her. “Here.” He tossed her a towel from shelf against the wall. “Not that you seemed to work up much of a sweat. Are you finished with your workout?”

“Actually…no. I had just started when Kathy offered me a match.” She studied him carefully. “You told me I could use the facility.”

His hands in the pockets of his trousers, he meandered over to her and leaned against the wall. “And I meant it. I just hadn’t been prepared for the sight of my fiancée dumping the colonel’s daughter on her behind.” He shook his head, as if the memory of the sight still amused him.

Her attention fragmented. It was the first time the term fiancée had been used without a qualifier—like applicant or candidate. Another thought occurred. Stilling in the act of retying her shoes, she looked up. “Daughter. Kathy is…”

“Sutherland’s youngest,” he affirmed, eyes gleaming. “One of our better instructors, too. You minimized your talents in this area.”

The minimization, she was sure, had existed only in his presumption. She surprised them both by offering, “Maybe you’d like to get a closer look at my talents.”

Her words seemed to have left him momentarily speechless. She must be a little shell-shocked herself, to have issued the impulsive invitation. Maybe it had been his amusement, as if the talents he’d spoken of had little more than entertainment value. Perhaps she was seeking to solidify their relationship as it was; that of adversaries.

At any rate, he was about to demur; she saw it in his eyes. With a pitying look, she promised, “I won’t hurt you. I usually take it easy on a match opponent.”

The verbal blow landed square on his ego. His gaze narrowed. “I don’t.”

She shrugged, smiled at him. “Then I won’t either.” She kicked her shoes off again and waited, as he moved more slowly to do the same. While he was getting prepared, she moved to the corner and worked off some of her nerves by pounding on the body bag suspended from a chain.

“Hopefully you’re taking out your frustrations on that bag, and won’t have much energy left for me.”

She whirled and the bag swung back and bumped her hip. She didn’t notice. He was barefoot, had divested himself of his shirt and had rolled up his pants. Her gaze followed the line of his leg to the hint of calf muscle showing below the hastily rolled cuffs. Her eyes traveled upward to linger over his flat belly before fixing fascinatedly on his bare chest.

She swallowed. His tall body was rangy rather than broad, sinewy rather than bulky. A perfect V of black chest hair covered lightly padded muscle. It was impossible not to appreciate the picture he made. Objectively speaking, of course.

Her objectivity fled when her gaze landed on his face. The slightly amused smirk on his lips might be considered cute by some. She longed for nothing more than to knock it off.

He made a come-and-get-me gesture with his hands. “I’m ready if you are.”

She strolled over to the ring, and waited for him to follow. “Oh, I’m ready, all right.”

She eyed him as they circled in the ring, as each tried to detect the first hint of weakness in the other. In hand-to-hand warfare she had to use her weaknesses, as well as her strengths. If the opponent outsized her, she would have the advantage of speed. Against superior strength, she would still have agility. The only rule of combat was to never, ever fight battles she couldn’t win.

She was determined to win this one.

He moved in with a right jab aimed for her stomach. She ducked under his arm and spun, delivering a kick to his kidneys. She didn’t temper the force and knew it stung, even without the reproachful look he fixed her with as he rubbed the spot. “That hurt.”

This time it was she who smirked. “It was meant to.”

There wasn’t a smile on his lips, but his eyes gleamed. “Something tells me that you think you’re pretty hot stuff on the mat.”

“Something tells me that you’ve spent your share of time stretched out on top of it.”

He shook his head, a flicker of humor crossing his face. “Baby, I’m going to make you pay for that one.”

With a mask of renewed resolve on his face he kept moving, blocking her feint and right cross, jabbing out, catching her firmly in the shoulder. “Ready to stop yet? I’d hate to really hurt you.”

She bared her teeth. They continued to circle each other warily, waiting for an opening, searching for a vulnerability. She landed one more kick to his belly, and was almost downed when his foot shot out behind hers and he gave her a push that should have toppled her. She held on to his arm to regain her balance, then wrested it behind him. It was a trap. She knew it as soon as she moved; she didn’t need his husky laugh to tell her so. She should never have gotten that close to him. Nearness dissipated her advantage. Her mobility was threatened. She released him, clasped both hands, and drove her elbows into his rib cage.

Although his breath released with a satisfying whoosh, he had the presence of mind to grab her before she could spin away, and used his greater strength to wrestle her to the mat. Where he landed smack on top of her.

She used her elbows to wedge some breathing room for herself and forced herself to meet his laughing gaze.

“I didn’t dare tell you this while you were intent on knocking my block off, but I have a confession to make. I have to admit to experiencing a certain, ah…fascination at the sight of two scantily clad women fighting.”

“Sparring.”

“Whatever.” His teeth flashed and there wasn’t a hint of contrition in his smile. “I guess that makes me a pervert.”

“Well, it makes you male. Of course, the two terms aren’t mutually exclusive.”

His chuckle seemed to roll up from the pit of his belly. She imagined that she could feel every roll and pitch of it as it worked through his body. Every inch of his long length was pressed close to hers. Angles against curves, heat to heat. The pounding of her pulse no longer had anything to do with her exertion, and everything to do with their position. It was time to fight dirty.

She let her eyelashes flutter, and parted her lips. Her body softened against his. She didn’t have to feign her breathy gasps for air. She saw the instant the laughter faded from his eyes, to be replaced with primitive masculine intent. His knee pressed between hers, and his mouth descended slowly, his gaze fixed on hers.

And a moment later he stilled, his lips a fraction away, male discomfort evident on his face. “Ah…you know that your knee is in a very tender spot…you do know.”

She smiled sweetly.

“My mother is expecting grandchildren.”

“Then I’d advise you to get up. Slowly.”

With exaggerated care he rose, moving back cautiously while she stood, as well. He watched the self-satisfied look settle upon her face and it brought an answering smile. Damn, if she wasn’t something. Unexpected, alluring, intriguing. And sexy enough to melt a glacier.

He stepped forward, stuck out a hand. “Truce?”

She eyed it suspiciously, before putting her hand in his. The moment their fingers clasped he yanked her against him, and wrapped his arms securely around her waist to keep her there. “Remember,” he whispered, his lips close to hers, “never trust an opponent. Especially one promising peace.”

His mouth closed over hers for a quick, teasing sampling, but lingered when reaction rocketed, smashing expectations. There was more here than he’d anticipated, far more to be shared than a casual kiss between acquaintances. He paused, his lips motionless on hers for a heartbeat. He’d faced danger often enough to recognize it, often enough to avoid it when possible. A visceral instinct was warning him now, screaming at him. It wasn’t like him to ignore it. It wasn’t like him to rush in regardless, to mindlessly dive into sensation.

He deepened the kiss for a heated, hungry taste. Her tongue glided along his in a velvet dance and need slammed into him. Inner warnings went ignored. The battle changed, became passion warring against passion, strength pitted against strength.

He hauled her closer. Her arms welcomed him, twined around his neck and enfolded him in a greedy embrace. Their mouths mated, tongues battling and bodies straining against each other. One of her hands raked into his hair, the other gripped his shoulder. The evidence of her desire stripped his mind clean.

She was a medley of wild flavors and silken textures. Her mouth was pure sin and was rapidly driving him beyond reason. The arousing scent of her lingered in the curves and hollows of her neck, and behind her ear. He swept his palm down her spine, cupped her bottom, damning the fragile barrier of clothes between them. He wanted to explore her. He wanted to find all the secret places that made her gasp and moan and beg. He wanted to drink the cries from her lips and wring them from her again and again, until he’d marked her for his own.

And the depth of that wanting shocked him. It fired an alarm through his system that wouldn’t be stilled, that couldn’t be ignored. He lifted his head, although need still pounded through his veins like a locomotive. The cessation of pleasure was keen, and it took effort not to reach for her again. Because it took such effort, he took a step away from her. And then another.

“I’d better get back to the office.”

He barely recognized his voice, edgy and ragged. He watched her eyes, still dazed and slightly drugged-looking and it was all he could do to keep from dragging her to him again, pulling the damn holder from her hair and tangling his fingers in the thick blond strands. Deliberately, he turned his back and walked over to where he left his clothes.

After a moment, she did the same. Buttoning her shirt was a task that required concentration. Donning her socks and shoes gave her an excuse not to look his way. But not looking at him couldn’t stem the tide of emotions flooding through her. She needed time; time to get things back in perspective, time to reset her course.

Her fingers faltered over knotting her shoe, and she gave a mental curse. She ordered her flagging composure back by sheer force of will. It wasn’t as if this was the first time she’d been kissed by a thoroughly reprehensible man, one being investigated for his involvement in heinous activities. Fingers stilling in their tasks, she drew a deep breath and released it.

But God help her, it was the first time she’d enjoyed it.