Kiss and Tell

by Cherry Adair

The force of his conviction sent a shiver down her spine. She pretended to scowl. "Hmmm."

  He groaned; she felt the vibration low in her belly.

  "What?"

  "If someone bottled those damn sexy noises you make, they could sell them and become millionaires."

  He smelled so darn good she could have eaten him with a spoon. And she wouldn't sell one mouthful for any price. It was part soap, part outdoors, part sex, and wholly Jake's own unique scent. Blindfolded, she could pick him out of a lineup.

  This man would make no promises.

  She ran her hands up his hip and kissed him gently, nibbling at his stern mouth, at the taut muscles that held his smile in check.

  She'd heard of chemistry. She'd read about attraction. But she'd never experienced anything like this in her life. It was as though her body wanted to absorb his. As if she could close her eyes and melt into him. Marnie wanted to taste him, learn him, and know everything there was to know about him.

  But she wasn't stupid enough to say so right at this moment. She searched her brain for something to say, some words that would keep him in this bed with her a little while longer.

  "Tell me about your friends. The other Musketeers. What were their names?"

  He took so long to answer, she was afraid he was going to spring out of bed and leave.

  "Paul Britton, we called him Brit. Your tall, blond, and handsome type." Marnie shivered as Jake ran his hand lightly down her back. "Had more women after him than a movie star. Embarrassed the hell out of him. We used to rag him all the time about his looks."

  "And the other two?"

  "Ross. Ross Lerma." Jake's eyes did that internal smile she was becoming familiar with. "Lurch. Hell of a partner. Looked a little like Gene Kelly. Moved like him, too. Judas, he got in and out of the direst situations. Saved my butt a time or two. We knew each other so damn well, how the other guy's mind worked. It was magic when we paired on assignments. Perfect synchronicity, you know?" Jake got a strange look on his face. Part sad, part angry.

  "What about the other one?" she asked softly, resting her hand on his chest and rubbing lightly over the springy hair she found there.

  "Joe Skullestad. Skully. Big. Black. Bad." Jake smiled. "The kind of guy you'd want at your back in a dark alley. And Skully and I were in a few. He's the one that saved my ass when this happened." Jake touched his throat.

  Marnie gently moved his hand out of her way.

  "What happened to them?"

  "Brit was killed six years ago while defusing a bomb on a commercial flight stuck at Orly. He was a valuable T-FLAC agent. They knew of him. The tangos took him in exchange for the passengers. Saved three hundred people. They took him out with them.

  "Lurch, almost a month to the day after Brit. South America." Jake's jaw tightened as he looked right through her. "Lurch offed the woman who gave me this scar necklace as a memento. She shot him before she went room temperature. He died in my arms. Skully hauled my ass out, got me home. He died five years ago. Embassy bombing, Beirut."

  "And what did they call you?"

  "Anything they wanted."

  "Come on, Jake. You must have had a nickname, too."

  "Tin Man. They called me the Tin Man."

  "Why?" Marnie already knew the answer.

  "Haven't you figured it out yet?" Jake said flatly. "They called me the Tin Man because I don't have a heart."

  Oh, Jake. Marnie slid over his body and wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his throat.

  "Yes, you do," she told him softly. "You wouldn't care so passionately about finding this Dancer guy to avenge your friend's death if you didn't." You wouldn't make love to me so sweetly if you didn't have a heart, she thought, the ache in her own heart sharp and sweet.

  In a way she wished she'd never tried to find a subject to hold him in bed. In another she was grateful for this small bit of insight into what had shaped him. No matter what Jake said, he was a hero with heart.

  The true meaning of a hero was not his willingness to fight, but his unwavering determination to defend good against evil, weak against strong, right against wrong, no matter how unpopular his choices might be. A heartless man couldn't be all that.

  He shifted restlessly, and she gave him space, moving to lie beside him. A shadow flickered across his suddenly taut features. He was sorry he'd revealed so much; Marnie could tell.

  She wanted to comfort him, to tell him everything would be alright. But she couldn't do so with either knowledge or truth. She had no idea what demons drove him. And the chances of her ever knowing were slim to none.

  The best she could do was to make her presence here easier for him.

  "Thank you for telling me about your Musketeers. They must have been special men. And they were lucky to have you as their friend."

  "Yeah, right."

  With studied casualness, Marnie rolled off his body to sit on the edge of the bed. "I'm going to take a quick shower." She tried for a friendly glance over her shoulder. "Unless you want one before you leave?"

  His eyes darkened and his lips became a hard line. He rolled to the other side of the bed and stood. She got her first good look at him in all his naked glory.

  He felt incredible, and he looked spectacular. Jake was a big man, and everything was magnificently proportioned. She could attest to that, but seeing him…

  Marnie resisted clutching her heart or fanning herself. Gorgeous legs, a fabulous chest… Her eyes skimmed down. And other stupendous parts. Even in repose.

  It wasn't easy to hold a casual smile, but she did it. It never occurred to her to cover her body. The body he'd loved, licked, and fondled for the past hour. His eyes took a leisurely journey from her nose to her toes and back again. Her nipples peaked.

  She knew he'd seen her response by the flare in his eyes before he carefully hooded his expression.

  "That's it?" Jake asked, voice flat. "You sure you don't want to roll over and take a nap?"

  Uh-oh. Another wrong choice.

  Keep it light. Keep it casual. "We had mind-blowing sex. You're an incredible lover. Is it politically incorrect to want to shower?"

  A muscle ticked in his cheek. "Perhaps we could have showered together."

  She didn't miss the past tense of that. "If you weren't in such a hurry to get outside. Right?"

  His lips tightened. "Yeah, right."

  On an impulse Marnie rose and walked around the bed. She took Jake's face in her hands. His jaw was tight and bristly with five o'clock shadow. She didn't want the best afternoon of her life to deteriorate into one of the worst. She had to give him a graceful and easy way out.

  "I thoroughly enjoyed our lovemaking, Jake. I've never experienced anything like it, and I probably won't again." Her throat burned, but she dredged up a bright smile. She'd rather he thought her flaky than know she was halfway in love with him. "We didn't make a lifetime commitment, you know. It was only sex."

  "Was it?" he snarled, eyes dark and flinty. "Had a lot of experience, have you?"

  "Actually, no." Are you jealous? She looked at him. Nah! "There was only the time Tommy Bishop rented a hotel room when we were nineteen. Quite frankly, it wasn't so hot then. One of those insert-tab-A-into-slot-B sort of things. Not terribly romantic, but we were both tired of being virgins, so we decided to see what the fuss was about. It turned out it was no big whoop after all."

  "And how was it with the fiancés?"

  "Oh, I didn't sleep with them," she said honestly, then cocked her head. "Are you going to tell me about all your lovers? Or would that take too long?"

  "We're not talking about me."

  "Ah."

  He scrunched his eyes shut, then opened them to glare at her. "I hate when you make those noises."

  The same noises he'd wanted to bottle not two minutes ago? Marnie stood on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. "We had great sex, Jake," she murmured against his lips. "I hope we can do it again soon."

  "How about right now?" he said flatly,
holding her upper arms. "We're both naked, and the mood's still right. How about I just screw you out of my system? Bury myself deep inside you again until you scream and I pass out?"

  "Uh, sure," she whispered uncertainly, incapable of reading the lightning fast emotions flashing through his eyes. Tension radiated from him as he searched her face.

  Damn, Marnie thought, panicked. Now what? She thought it was only women who had morning-after syndrome.

  He backed her up to the bed. "A little recreational sex to relieve the tension, is that what you think, Marnie?" He was practically snarling now as he tipped her over onto the rumpled, sex-scented sheets.

  A gurgle of laughter bloomed. She nipped it in the bud and grabbed two handfuls of his hair, tugging him down on top of her. "You find me resistible, remember?"

  Jake's smile was raw and humorless as he dug both hands under her hips and jerked her toward him. "You might have noticed I'm not immune. You're beautiful and soft, and I'd have given up a lung to make love to you the second I saw you."

  "Then isn't it lucky," Marnie said, feet braced firmly on the floor as she opened her thighs for him to slide home, "that you can have me without giving up any of your stupendous parts?"

  Their open mouths met, as hungry now as they had been an hour ago. She sucked his tongue. He surged into her. She bit his shoulder. He nipped her hard on the side of her neck, his arms extended beside her head, fingers laced with hers on the mattress, tendons and muscles taut, bulging as he pumped his hips.

  This was primitive and basic, with none of the finesse and gentleness he'd used before.

  Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine, Marnie thought with each piston stroke. Feet braced on the floor, she met him thrust for thrust.

  She took savage delight in hearing his inarticulate groans, seeing sweat sheen his face and chest, watching his muscles flex and strain. She brought her arms down and her short nails dug into the clenched muscles of his butt, urging him to a faster pace. He hammered into her, teeth bared, holding her gaze with a fierce wildness in his eyes.

  War. Oh, Jake.

  Marnie couldn't help the smile tugging at her mouth as the pressure inside her built. She wrapped her arms around him and held on tightly.

  Jake scowled, then nipped the smile from her lips with his teeth.

  Her smile widened into a grin.

  She felt laughter bubble alongside her climax. Every nerve and pore shimmered with delight as Jake staked his claim.

  "Crazy," Jake breathed hard, "woman."

  For you.

  She wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing down with her heels, driving him insane, and knowing it.

  He took no prisoners.

  But then neither did she.

  "Okay, tell me what they took out of your backpack."

  "My backpack?" Marnie yawned, stalling for time.

  Jake, braced on his elbow, traced a path with his finger from the damp nest of curls at the apex of her thighs to her throat.

  "That tickles."

  He cupped her chin and turned her to face him. He looked far too serious for a man who'd just had fabulous sex. Sweat glued them at the hip. It felt wonderful.

  "Did they take your medication, Marnie? What're you on? A blood thinner?"

  "Coumadin." She sighed. "I'll be okay without it for a few da—for a while. Don't worry, Jake. I've forgotten to take it a couple of times," she lied. "I'll be fine."

  "Until the blood clot hits."

  "It won't. Sheesh, did you have to talk about it? Here, feel this." She pressed his open hand over her breast. "Ninety-nine percent of the time I forget I even have that little piece of metal in there."

  His fingers flexed on her breast. He bent his head and touched his mouth to her skin in a gentle tribute. The kiss he pressed to her heart made that organ speed up and do somersaults.

  He lifted his head, looking grim. "I have to get you over that damn river."

  Marnie ran her fingers through his long dark hair. "Until you do, I'll be fine."

  Jake swung his legs off the bed and looked down at her. "I'll make sure you are."

  Marnie leaned over the back of the couch. She'd slept for a couple of hours and felt refreshed and full of energy and high spirits. By the time she'd blinked awake, Jake had showered without her. She was sorry to have missed the show. But she planned a little audience participation for next time.

  She'd showered and dressed in another pair of his boxers and one of his flannel shirts while he sat at the computer. She'd watched him. He hadn't turned around once. Darn him.

  She'd finished several drawings of him, his feet, his hands, and secretly some of his more interesting body parts. Now she was bored, bored, bored.

  "Can I go with you when you take Duchess out? I'm going stir crazy in here. I need fresh air and light."

  "It's starting to get dark out, the air in here is fresh, and there's plenty of light. Hang tough—you'll have your freedom the second the river subsides. Read a book or something to keep yourself occupied."

  "Got any good romances?" she asked dryly as Jake leaned over the console to manipulate a camera. He had great buns. Very nicely displayed in those worn jeans.

  "All those books have romance in them," Jake told her, opening a closet to pull out a handful of black fabric.

  "I didn't mean a cowboy kissing his horse, Jake."

  He walked away from the console and started stripping off his shirt. He pulled a scrap of skin-tight black spandex or something over his head and tugged it down to cover his chest. It accentuated every contour of his shoulders and chest and covered him from neck to wrist. He looked exactly like the assassins. A chill of foreboding raced down her spine. She tamped it down. This was Jake Dolan.

  He undid the top button on his jeans. Her eyes followed the movement avidly.

  Jake shot her an amused look. "You're staring."

  Without taking her focus away, she grinned. "It's a good show."

  Jake shook his head and finished undoing the zipper on his jeans.

  Storming down the mine shaft tunnel, boots crunching on the gravel, he rechecked his weapons as he walked and swore silently under his breath. The woman muddied his thinking.

  "Only sex." Jake repeated out loud what he'd been churning over since they'd made love. Only sex? Judas Priest. For some inexplicable reason he felt cheated.

  He didn't know what or how, but he felt gypped nevertheless. It didn't matter how many times he had her, he was insatiable around her.

  Only sex. Judas.

  He was a man who liked things neat. Compartmentalized.

  It was only sex. Of course it was. They were two healthy animals with a damn good chemical thing going. Why deny it?

  He felt slightly mollified. He'd only been ticked because she'd taken the words right out of his mouth and said them first.

  He'd made her a promise. The only kind of promise a man like him made to a woman like her. And he would keep that promise if it killed him. If he had to swim across the swollen river with Marnie strapped to his back, that's what he'd do. He swore again. He'd thought he had all the goddamn time in the world to play with these goons topside.

  Marnie had upped the ante with her need for medication.

  He was no doctor, but he knew that putting a patient on a blood thinner for life was done for good reason. A blood clot would kill her.

  How long did he have? Hours? Days? Jake didn't know. But he could hear the ticking clock, like a time bomb, resonate inside his head with each step he took.

  It was Sunday night. She'd been without her medication since sometime on Friday. How much longer?

  One bridge was washed out. The other, as he'd seen on the monitor, still flooded.

  Fury and frustration seethed in Jake's gut.

  Who the hell could he trust?

  Who could he call to medevac her out? Who in their right mind would chance landing in this terrain and in this kind of weather?

  There was a clearing a couple of miles upstream. He'd used it several
times airlifting stuff in for the lair. A good chopper pilot could navigate the mountains, trees, and weather to land and take off in relative safety.

  And he'd have to be satisfied with "relative." He didn't have a choice. He thought of Skully with a pang. His daredevil friend would have flown in despite the odds.

  He didn't know who the assassins were. But he had to find out, and fast. Playtime had run out, he thought grimly. Not for the first time in the past several years, he missed his three friends fiercely.

  Now he preferred to work alone, although he had been on assignments involving a full nine-man T-FLAC team. At those times, while scrupulously backing up anyone he worked with, he found it almost impossible to trust his life to someone else.

  It was a matter of trust. And there was no one left to trust.

  He wished to hell the assassins were tangos. But by every indication they were T-FLAC. Which meant he couldn't risk calling in the cavalry to extract Marnie.

  He wondered if these were men who'd worked side by side with him. Men whose butts he'd covered in some war-torn armpit of the world. Men who'd faced him, and called him friend, while they sold him out.

  For what?

  He shook his head. Did the logic matter?

  Whoever these guys were, they'd been exposed to the elements and he hadn't. Jake emerged from the mine shaft opening and started climbing through the canyon of rocks blocking the entrance. Icy snow pelted him from a charcoal sky, the clouds so low, so dark and heavy, they felt oppressive.

  He'd been on countless missions where he and his team had had to make do with what they could carry. It was doable but not comfortable.

  He counted on his enemy's inactivity and frustration to make them careless. Throughout last night and the better part of today, he'd watched their progress as they'd crisscrossed this section of the mountain.

  Jake lightly jumped down from the rocks, scanned the area, and slipped silently into the trees. He slid from shadow to shadow, boots barely making a sound on the soft, wet, pine-needle-strewn ground. The storm front had fulfilled its promise, dumping inches of rain onto the already sodden landscape. Jake could feel the turbulence of the storm on his head and shoulders even as he walked beneath the sheltering trees.