by Diane Saxon
Impassioned, he turned his smoldering gaze on her. Her tongue turned to dust, sticking to the roof of her mouth so she couldn’t respond, couldn’t swallow. If she was ever on the receiving end of passion like that, she would willingly go to hell for the man. His lips moved, but all she could do was blink, aware that although he was speaking, the rush of blood to her brain had drowned out all clarity of his words. Just the sexy lilt and cadence flowed over her.
“Barbara.” The echo of his voice pushed through the thick swathes of water obscuring her hearing. “You want to try it with me?”
Oh God, did she ever? The quick spurt of saliva loosened her tongue and nearly choked her as it clucked against the roof of her mouth.
His brow dipped in confusion, but the inquiring smile still remained. “Barbara? Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She had to look away from him, unable to meet his penetrating gaze any longer in case she made a fool of herself and told him how he took her breath away with his rugged, handsome face. How the understanding in the depths of his eyes moved her to trust. How the brief flickers of awareness gave away his attraction to her, making her far too aware of his presence. It would be the absolute truth, but she was used to saying nothing. Not renowned for her verbose nature, Barbara spent a lot of her time in silent contemplation of those around her. This man compelled her to blurt out her life story.
A wave of bitterness rolled through her stomach. Of course he did. It was his job to seduce her. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally. He was supposed to cajole her, romance her, do whatever it took to get the result he needed. She knew that, understood how it worked. And he’d already succeeded.
She raised her hand and rubbed her fingers across her dry lips. “Could I have a glass of water, please?”
A glimmer of disappointment crossed his face, gone almost before it was detectable, but she was an observer and very little passed her by. She gave a quiet cough and rubbed her throat. “I think it must be the air conditioning in here.”
His small murmur of agreement still made her feel as though he didn’t believe her, but he moved to the other side of the room and stepped through the doorway she’d noticed when they arrived, and she realized it was a small bathroom.
She rubbed her hands on the top of her thighs to remove the sheen of sweat as she waited for him to return.
It had taken her a little longer to grasp the situation, but she recognized the dance she was to participate in. Trust was the issue. It was his job to gain her trust, but she’d recently learned no one could ever be trusted, not one hundred percent. Not even family. Not when you couldn’t even find them. Worse still, she understood most people she’d come into contact with couldn’t be trusted at all.
She accepted the glass of water and sipped at it while she continued to appraise the computer in the guise of a comfortable reclining chair.
“It’s very sci-fi.”
“Hmm.” His deep rumble couldn’t disguise the pride pulsing from him.
She concentrated on Dominic. Most likely the same as the computer. On first impression, completely harmless, even comfortable, handsome on the outside, lethal through and through despite the friendly appearance he gave with his snuggly cardigan image. Anyone who threatened her peace of mind was a hazard.
The breaths she took in between the small sips of water were controlled, slow enough to keep her pulse from spiking. The same technique she used just before she shot a target.
“So…” The impression of patience fell a little flat in the light of the excited sparkle in his eyes. “…you want to give it a go?”
Left with little choice, Barbara shrugged. The man seemed determined to get her to sit in it, even if it was only for his own vicarious thrill. “Have you tried it out yourself?”
“No, I’ve not had the chance yet. It only arrived a couple of days ago, and I’ve been a little…occupied since.” He stroked the chair and made her smile. “I tried the old version plenty, but this is supposed to be far superior.” His mouth gave a wry tilt at the edges, and her steady, calm pulse tripped as carnal thoughts sneaked through her mind and then continued on as normal.
“What do I need to do?”
The sharp clap of his hands echoed in the quiet of the cell, and Barbara’s pulse faltered again. This time for another reason. If she’d had a gun in her hand, she may well have shot him. Unexpected moves made her seriously jumpy recently.
By the time he took his attention off the game chair, she had herself under control again.
“Hop on up.”
Easy enough for him to say, but she still wasn’t convinced about the whole “electric chair” idea. Besides, the seat was way too high for her to simply hop on.
It must have been her raised eyebrow that did the trick as Dominic snapped up the remote again and pressed a button. The hydraulic controls rotated the seat, lowering it to a height to accommodate her. His eyes glittered with anticipation. He could be a very sick person and still electrocute her, but his restrained smile persuaded her otherwise. With a long, slow perusal, she skimmed her gaze over him and contemplated how such a man could still vibrate with boyish enthusiasm. As his hair flopped over his forehead, she almost smiled again.
Reluctant to give in too easily, Barbara waved a hand at the chair and felt Dominic’s frustration roll off him as he gave a gusty sigh. Funny. It appeared the professor had a tolerance issue. Either that, or he’d allowed his enthusiasm to direct his emotions. She’d thought him unfathomably patient, but it seemed he did have his trigger points.
“It was a little high.”
She gave him a quick squint and repressed the grin as he tugged his cardigan once more. In lieu of saying anything further, she handed her empty glass to him and slipped onto the huge chair, partly just to watch his reaction.
Designed obviously for a much larger form, Barbara wallowed in the middle of it. The new soft leather allowed her to slip backward into the comfortable hollow formed between seat and backrest while Dominic, all business, adjusted the settings so her legs were supported and the back reclined to a semi-sleep position.
A little exposed by her recumbent position, Barbara’s muscles tightened. Unused to being at the mercy of anyone, she screwed up her eyes and blew out a slow breath.
“It’s okay, I have you, Barbara, you’re quite safe.” His smooth brogue washed over her. She was already at his mercy just placing herself in his care, and she’d come to no harm so far.
It didn’t make her feel any safer. She could trust no one. She breathed slow and deep, forced the muscles in her face to relax. The firm touch of his hand on hers shot a tingle up her arm, but she refused to allow her body to flinch. She prided herself on her utter control. A control that had slipped lately and she needed to get back in hand, especially in light of the challenge the handsome professor seemed to throw up.
“Yeah, yeah, I know you have.” She put a touch of cocky in her reply. “I’m good, thanks.”
Warmth radiated from his skin over hers. With a conscious effort, she relaxed the muscles in her neck and shoulders and allowed the stiffness to seep from her fingers, her core. With a deep breath in, she compelled the balled up tension in her thighs to relax. Surprised at how taut her knees still were, she concentrated on softening them, all the way to her toes. Relaxed, she sighed out. She had no control, nor did she need it. A small smile twitched her lips at the errant thought flitting through her still active mind.
“Are you okay now?” Liquid honey poured through his deep voice in a soothing cadence while his thumb circled on the back of her hand to lull her even more.
“Yeah.”
“What are you thinking?”
She opened her eyes and stared into the deep stormy swirl of his gaze. He didn’t want to know her thoughts. They were far too deep and dangerous.
Closer than she’d imagined, she had to either have lost herself in her meditation, or he was far more surreptitious than she’d given him credit for.
A combinat
ion of both was the most likely explanation.
She kept the smile on her face, reluctant to let him see how much he’d disturbed her. If she told him it had crossed her mind to have wanton sex with the sexy professor, he’d probably run for the door.
In case he could read her thoughts, she tried to redirect them. “I’m thinking I may just have to kill you if this is some kind of kinky sex game you’re playing.”
With a swift snort, he flung back his head and laughed, but she didn’t feel the corresponding pull of amusement.
“I am serious.”
His mouth pulled into a wide smile. “I know you are.” He squeezed her hand, the pressure from his fingers light and friendly. “But you haven’t got to worry. I’m no sexual pervert. I’m just doing my job.”
All business, he pulled a bundle of wires from a panel in the chair, tiny electrodes attached to the ends. She smothered the strange disappointment that he hadn’t engaged in the light flirtation the situation had called for and tried to focus on whether he may well be about to electrocute her.
“Here, I need to attach these ones to your head.”
“What do they do?”
“Measure brain activity.”
“They may not find any.”
“In which case, I’ll declare you dead.”
“There’s an option I hadn’t thought of.”
She smiled up at him before she closed her eyes in an effort to regulate her breathing. The soft whisper of his breath over her forehead made it difficult to concentrate. Even counting failed her once his fingers stroked her skin as he applied the electrodes one at a time, leaving her confused as to whether the soft tingle radiating over her flesh was caused by the electrode static or his touch.
“Is it switched on yet?”
“No. Not until I activate the computer.”
Another thrill shot through her veins. That answered that question. Not the contraption, but the professor who stirred her blood.
“Sit forward, please.”
She sprang open her eyes to find him close. Too tantalizingly close. Spiky black lashes, so defined she could almost count them.
They fluttered, and his gaze came to rest on her, one dark eyebrow raised. “Barbara, could you sit forward?”
With a guilty start, she shot forward in the seat and almost off the other end at the touch of his fingers on her waist. His soft cough froze her in place.
“Sorry.” The quick scorch of awareness blazed over her cheeks. “I’d started to relax.” He’d never know she lied.
He held up a few wires. “I need to attach these ones to your back.”
She wasn’t sure if he required a response. All she knew was he wasn’t about to get one from her dry throat. Nothing happened in the dense silence, but heat radiated from his fingers through her T-shirt. Thankful he couldn’t feel the rash of goose bumps scattering over her skin, she stared hard at the wall in front of her. Maybe it was his form of torture.
She straightened her spine, losing contact with him. He coughed again. The insistent tug on her T-shirt made her turn her head to meet his apologetic smile.
“I need to stick them to your skin.” He shrugged, holding out the contact between forefinger and thumb while he waited for her permission. She could do little more than nod and then turn to face the wall again. She closed her eyes and counted backward while she made a desperate attempt to ignore the cool air brushing her skin as he edged the T-shirt up. Determined, she ground her teeth, intent on calculating the numbers in her head. She lost the tally as his warm fingers grazed her skin. Unable to focus, she turned her mind to counting how long it took him to attach each conductor to her skin.
“Lie down. I need to do your front.”
Her heart almost exploded out of her chest, and she lost count again. Was it four or five? Fuck. How was she supposed to survive him sticking five more on her front? The light pressure of his fingers already warmed her stomach and made her thighs turn to liquid heat.
The firm weight of his hand on her shoulder persuaded her back. She needed more than counting and deep breathing to distract her, possibly a short, sharp shock from the electric chair. A zap of power to numb her fingers so she could resist stroking them over the hair that flopped so close to her face.
While he was occupied, she took a moment to study his handsome features, his angular jawline, the slight twist of his firm bottom lip as he held it between his teeth. She almost groaned with desire before she jerked herself back to reality. Her sharp move jolted a node out of his hand so it swung loose by its wire.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
The quick flash of irritation amused her as he lifted the hem of her T-shirt and attached more electrodes, working from her stomach upward. Her muscles twitched under his fingers.
“So what’s the procedure, sir?”
“Dominic.” Intent on his job, a small line formed between his eyes and convinced her he couldn’t possibly be human if he hadn’t noticed the smooth rub of his fingers enticing her stomach to contract. “We’ll start with a short, simple scenario. Get you used to the technique. I know you’re still really tired, so nothing too taxing today.”
He hitched the material higher, exposing her flesh as he placed one electrode under the line of her bra, one on the top of her breast. His knuckles grazed her skin while tension radiated from him as he wrenched his hand back and made nonsense of her previous conclusions. He was affected.
“Are you ready?”
Ready for him. Ready for sex. “Yes.” She breathed. Sex with the Irish god was definitely the answer.
“Good.” He raised the helmet as though he was giving her a choice of whether to put it on or not and then slipped the visor down over her eyes, blocking out the vision of him. The multi-hued reflection looked like the blank screen of a television.
Mild disappointment flooded her system. Damn, but she wasn’t about to have sex with the professor.
The quiet sound of his footsteps retreating preceded a few clicks. “Try and relax now. We need to record your base heartbeat and blood pressure before we start. Unlike a basic simulator, you will have changes in these.” A moment of silence, and then his deep tones came through the headphones in the hood. “Ah, I see you are relaxed.”
She almost grinned.
The warm tone of his voice came through her headset. “Very possibly dead.”
This time she did smile. He’d probably expected her heart to be racing, but before she even began basic training, she’d learned how to apply transcendental meditation to reduce her vital functions to simulate the state of sleep. One of the guys her brother knew in Special Forces could almost feign death. With a little help from drugs, he could achieve the state for a considerable amount of time. She wasn’t as experienced or talented, but she had control, except when Dominic got too close, but it appeared the monitor hadn’t been turned on before that moment. Even though she had been.
“If you want to recline your chair any more, go ahead. Just don’t disconnect anything.”
She closed her eyes. “No, I’m fine like this.”
“Good, we’ll start.”
She opened them again as the screen flickered to life. It didn’t seem right, she wasn’t quite ready…
The familiar thwack, thwack, thwack of the Black Hawk’s tilted blades increased as the twin engines fired up and sent them to cut through the air, allowing the machine to lift off the ground. Heart stable and pulse regular, Barbara smiled behind the helmet as she placed her fingers on the controls and thrilled at the sensation of being in flight. Second nature to her, she relished the opportunity to fly again.
Although he’d told her it was far more than a simulator, she was stunned by how accurate the entire experience was. If she’d woken up from a deep sleep, she would never have been able to tell the difference. The motion, the feel, the smell, the sound—all were a perfect reproduction.
She guided the Black Hawk, dipping in low so she could see the faces
of people in their cars, the scatter of sheep as they tried to escape the monster hurtling over the top of them at 150 miles per hour.
Relaxed, she turned the machine in a low, sweeping circle to head out toward the coastline, the territory of her training grounds so familiar and comfortable. It soared over the clifftops until she turned it out to sea.
»»•««
Pleased with himself, it really hadn’t taken that much to relax her and start to gain her trust. She’d spent the afternoon flying the Black Hawk simulator, and she was still refreshed and animated when she finished.
Ravenous, she almost inhaled the food he placed in front of her when they returned to the kitchen for dinner. Basic, typical of the food he preferred. A thick steak, wedges of potato, and no green shit anywhere in sight. He heard no complaints from her, but as Emilio slipped into the kitchen, Barbara’s head shot up and the man froze.
“Who the fuck are you?”
Emilio’s Adam’s apple gave a frantic bob, while Barbara laid down her fork and picked up the knife from the side of her plate.
Dominic placed his hand over Barbara’s tense one. “Emilio. This is Emilio, Barbara.” Her muscles relaxed beneath his, but she never released the knife as she lowered it. “It’s okay, he works for me.”
She gave a slow nod but never took her gaze from Emilio, who scuttled across the kitchen, his nervous laughter following him as he opened the door into the yard. “I’ll come back later.”
Before Dominic could say anything to waylay him, Emilio was gone.
“Well, he’s freaking nervous. Was it something I said?”
Dominic turned to her and surveyed the knife she laid on the table. “He may well have felt threatened.”
“Threatened? He shouldn’t sneak around without having the decency to introduce himself.”
