“Nothing special.”
“Anything’s special on you, honey.”
“Very slick.” She smiled, her eyes slanting down at him. “How about you come up here and French kiss me, sailor.”
“I’m sweating, Jess. I’m covered with grease and sweat and—”
“Aaaah, no more. You’re making me go all hot and tingly. I looooove a guy covered in grease.”
Hawk pulled a rag from his pocket and rubbed his hands, never taking his eyes from her face. “What kind of errand do you have in mind?”
“A drive up the coast to drop off a package for Dutch.” She lifted a basket. “Picnic halfway. The weather’s supposed to be gorgeous today. Blue skies and only a hint of clouds.”
Hawk finished cleaning his hands and stood up slowly. “I’m game.”
Jess ran a hand over his jaw. “Nice stubble, Mackenzie. Very sexy. So are the pants.”
His worn jeans were frayed and ragged, riding low at his hips, and he didn’t have a clue what she meant, but he liked the shimmer in her eyes just fine. “So this picnic thing—you cleared it with Doc Wilson?”
“A-OK with him. He says I’m good to go on all accounts. French kisses and . . . anything else we want.”
Hawk was perfectly aware that it had been four weeks since her near-miscarriage. But he still couldn’t seem to relax. “Your appointment wasn’t until tomorrow. Damn it, I wanted to go with you, Jess.”
“The receptionist called an hour ago and said there was a cancellation, so I went in earlier.” She crossed her arms. “I needed to go alone, Hawk. Can you understand that?”
“Because you’re tougher than I think you are. And because you think I need to back off, is that what you’re telling me?”
Jess’s eyes narrowed. “That about covers it.” One hand settled on the slight curve of her stomach. “As it happens, Doc Wilson gave me his full medical seal of approval, blood tests, physical exam and all. No conditions of any sort.” Her voice turned husky. “If you see my drift.”
Hawk saw the drift, all right. It was making his brain turn fevered. He’d been handling her with kid gloves ever since her near miscarriage and the awful hours that followed in the hospital. Over the last weeks he had done nothing more than kiss her—no matter how much he wanted to do more.
“So you mean. . . .” He slid his fingers into her hair. “We could go somewhere and fool around.”
“Forget fooling around. I’m planning on wet, delirious sex. I want you inside me, Lieutenant.” She moved into his arms, her hands sliding into his back pockets so that she could pull him suggestively against her thighs. “And barking would definitely be involved.”
Hawk slanted a look up to the sky.
Thank you, God, he thought.
The day he wouldn’t want this woman was the day he would be stone cold dead. But some instinct of worry still lingered, making him pull away gently. “Maybe today isn’t such a good time, honey. Summer and Dutch are waiting for you. Something about roses for the backyard, they said.”
Jess stood staring at him, a frown crossing her forehead. Then she turned and strode into the house, her face thunderous.
Hawk stabbed a hand through his hair and wondered what the heck he’d done wrong this time.
“Stop handling me.”
Jess glared at Summer and Dutch, who were bent over a gardening catalog on the back porch. “I won’t break. I won’t fall apart. I had a near-miss with the baby, but I’m fine.” She reached across the table and grabbed the catalog, flipping it shut. “You two are both dear and close to me, but you’re not my keepers, understand? And just so you heard me clearly, I’m disgustingly healthy, all systems go. Doc Wilson gave me the official news today.”
Summer cleared her throat.
Dutch whistled softly beneath his breath.
“I mean it, you two. Back off. And lay off Hawk, too. Stop warning him that he has to treat me like expensive crystal or I’ll shatter.”
“We never said—”
“Yes, you did. And just for the record, we’re getting married sooner than you expected. If you’re very good, you’ll both be invited to the wedding.”
“You are?” Summer sat up straighter.
“We will?” Dutch said.
Jess glared at Summer, said a rude word, and stormed out.
He couldn’t find her anywhere.
She wasn’t in the kitchen. She wasn’t in the backyard, dozing in the red hammock he’d bought for her.
She wasn’t even shmoozing with the guests out on the sunny patio.
Starting to get worried, Hawk sprinted up the stairs to the little apartment they shared at the back of the top floor, courtesy of Dutch.
They had finally agreed on a date for the wedding. They had even started to discuss the guest list. Jess wanted three people. Hawk had about two hundred Navy buddies and family friends that he couldn’t wait to introduce her to.
He grinned, wondering if he had lost his mind.
More than likely.
If so, it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.
He pushed open the door of their room. “Jess? Honey, are you—” His breath cut off in a harsh rush of surprise.
She was standing in the middle of the rug, smiling at him in a hot-pink thong and not a stitch else. “Yes?”
“I—” He cleared his throat. “That is, you weren’t—” He heard noises down the hall and kicked the door shut with his foot. “Damn it, Jess, you can’t stand there wearing a few pink ribbons.”
“Why not?” She bent down and picked up her sunhat, giving him a brain-scalding view of her perfect legs and nearly naked butt. “What’s wrong with being comfortable?” She stretched slowly, in the process presenting a spectacular display of full, round breasts.
Saliva backed up in Hawk’s throat and he made a manful effort not to look. “Because. . . .” He didn’t have a single sane answer to give.
“There was one funny thing I found out today. One of my scars from that day in the shed is completely gone. And Doc Wilson said my last ultrasound showed that my appendix might be starting to grow back. He said it happens sometimes, but that it was still kind of unusual.”
Hawk made a note to check with the medical geeks at the secret Walter Reed lab where he got his meds. The lab happened to be the same place where Princess was living the high life these days, well fed and lovingly tended by round-the-clock experts. Hawk wondered if Jess’s contact with the bear when she was wounded in the shed may have had some subtle physical effects. Blood or saliva mix, resulting in some kind of genetic transfer?
Hell if he knew. He was a SEAL, not an egghead. But the reason Princess was so valuable was her amazing ability to heal wounds and regrow all her major organs. Which meant that—
Hawk couldn’t focus on all the ramifications and possibilities now, not with Jess stretching, on the edge of being gloriously naked, a foot in front of him.
Still smiling, she picked up a bottle of her homemade moisturizer and rubbed some slowly over the beautiful curve of her stomach, then up over both taut coral nipples. Her body was changing week by week, and he was noting each detail with huge pride. Pretty soon she’d need to wear different clothes. Hawk couldn’t wait.
As she reached over her shoulder to stroke cream on her back he felt a heat wave tackle his brain. He was all too aware that he hadn’t touched her intimately since she’d come out of the hospital.
And now she was smiling at him, killing him brutally, and he realized he would be on his knees any second. But since he was a big, tough SEAL, retreat simply wasn’t an option. Instead, he calculated the terrain, estimated enemy reserves, and assessed his tactical options. “You want to have wet, noisy sex, is that it?”
“Could be. If you’re lucky.”
“You called me commando man. You said it that sexy way you have.” Hawk’s throat was dry, like it or not. Maybe he wasn’t such a big, tough SEAL where Jess was concerned.
“Sexy?” She ran her to
ngue slowly across her lips. “Who, me?”
He bit back a groan, but by God, two people could play this particular mating game. He locked the door, his eyes on her face. Slowly he pulled his damp T-shirt over his head.
Her cheeks filled with color. She watched his hands clench over straining denim.
As Hawk unsnapped the top button of his jeans, he decided that getting naked for a woman was a real kick—just as long as it was the right woman you were stripping for.
He unsnapped the next button on his jeans and heard her breath catch. She had just realized he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
“Hawk, you’re not wearing any underwear.”
“I was in a rush this morning. I thought I might go down to the beach at dawn for an early swim, but I didn’t have time.” He didn’t tell her that his icy morning plunges were the only way he could recover after long, restless nights with her soft legs wrapped around him in sleep.
Payback would be pleasant.
Smiling calmly, he opened one more button, feeling the denim go even tighter.
His hand froze as she shot toward him, knocked him back onto the bed and straddled him in her tiny pink thong until he thought he had died and gone to Navy SEAL fantasy heaven.
“By God, I love you, Jess.” He took a hoarse breath. “No more kid gloves either.” He pulled a field knife from his pocket, slid the blade beneath the pink silk, and cut off her thong in two neat strokes. His eyes were on hers as he tossed the closed knife to the floor and lifted their bodies while he stripped off his jeans.
He kissed her slowly, wet and long with lots of tongue until she moaned his name. She was slick against his palm, warm as sunlight, and his brain was on fire. He wanted to go slow, licking his way over hot skin until he found her silky center, aroused and ready for his mouth.
Yeah, he really, really wanted to taste her until she went crazy and drove her nails into his back. It was one of his fonder fantasies.
But he was caught between her thighs and she didn’t seem ready to let him go anywhere. He drove his body against hers, groaning when his erection nestled within her thighs, cradled high against her wet heat.
No icy swim today.
No more pale fantasies either. He was going for broke, for something they’d both never forget. There were all kinds of promises, he realized, and his body buried deep within hers had to be one of the best.
When she rose, arched her back, drove her hips down against him, Hawk felt sweat cover his brow. His hands opened on her hips, guiding her down to meet his powerful thrusts.
Decisive psychological advantage was necessary in urban combat situations, especially on complex terrain, he thought dimly.
She came in a rush, with a scream of surprise and pleasure that echoed through the room and out over the balcony.
He couldn’t fight a smile of dark, near-Neanderthal pride at his unconditional conquest of her body. When her quick, tight contractions stopped, he brought her up again, high and hard, until she dug her nails into his shoulders and screamed all over again.
When her eyes finally opened, she glared at him. Her mouth set in a mutinous line. “Proving something, Lieutenant? Like how hard and sexy you Navy guys are?”
“Could be.” The new medicine that the Navy was giving him had some seriously strange side effects, Hawk had discovered. In addition to promoting the healing of his ribs to the point where he rarely felt the pain anymore, he was starting to be able to control his body in ways that bordered on sheer voodoo.
But control had its advantages. He was enjoying every brain-jolting second of this erotic foreplay with Jess. He was still hard, pressed as far as he could go inside her when he moved his fingers, stroked her wet, silky skin, making her come all over again.
She clawed him, raising long red welts that made Hawk grin. That was his Jess, all fight and spunk.
“Now you’re starting to get me really mad.”
“Sorry to hear it, honey.”
“No you’re not.”
Hawk’s grin grew even wider. “You’re right, I’m not.” Not for one damned second. Seeing you naked, sated and happy is too amazing.
“I want you inside me. It’s been weeks,” she snapped. “I’m dying to feel you.” She reached down, her fingers wrapped around him. When they tightened, stroked his length, they squeezed most of the sanity out of his brain.
She was going to get her way any second.
“Ever notice how you’re astride my line of tactical communication?”
She licked her lips, her voice husky with desire. “Are you suggesting a large scale withdrawal, Lieutenant?”
“Like hell.” Hawk rolled over, gripped her hips, and nudged her wet folds. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said hoarsely.
When she did, Hawk groaned and drove her under him until the bed shook. Inch by inch with every thrust she crossed the silk quilt and then her hands were at the iron headboard, gripping tight. Her back arched, and their eyes met in reckless understanding.
“Do me now,” she whispered. “Do me hard, Hawk.” She gave a broken moan. “Love me. No more kid gloves—”
“I do, honey. Now and forever. As hard as I can make it, Princess. Because it looks like I’m going to be your damned captive forever, body and soul.”
He let his body drive home the final promise while their bodies met and strained, and the sex was wet and delirious, exactly like she’d said. Then he followed her home, pounding into a fathomless oblivion, as rich and dark and endless as the sea that broke just beyond their windows.
As sweat covered their flushed bodies, a fresh wind blew up from the beach, ruffling the curtains and curling around a shredded pair of hot pink thong underwear and frayed old jeans.
When their fingers linked and they began to laugh, the wind carried the sound out over the balcony, down through the sunny courtyard, all the way through the olive trees along forty miles of rugged coast beneath a turquoise sky dotted with perfect clouds.
It might as well have been forever.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thanks for joining me and Princess on a wild ride. Both Jess and Hawk were real fighters, but Princess was pretty amazing, too.
What unusual skills.
So unusual that she may be reappearing one of these days.
If you’d like to read more about the rugged Pacific Northwest, take a look at this informative guide: Lonely Planet Pacific Northwest by Daniel Schechter (Oakland: Lonely Planet Publications, 2002), which captures the grandeur and majesty of the region, along with its quirkier corners.
If you’re fascinated by service dogs the way I am, you can get a glimpse into the canine working life in the wonderfully informative book Dogs with Jobs by Merrily Weisbord and Kim Kachanoff (New York: Pocket Books, 2000). Princess would be proud to serve in this company.
And now to Izzy.
What am I going to do with this tough charmer? The man has insinuated his way into five of my books already, starting with The Perfect Gift, followed by Going Overboard, My Spy, Hot Pursuit, and Code Name: Nanny. Will Izzy be back again?
Count on it.
Will he get a book of his own one day?
All I can say is that he’s turning out to be very tough to pin down. Stay tuned to my web site (www.christinaskye.com) for breaking news on the Izzy front! All your letters keep telling me that you love this cool operator just as much as I do.
But before Izzy finds his match, I have a new Code Name book simmering.
A heroine who has come to the end of her rope.
A tough, lonely SEAL with skills he’s just beginning to understand.
Get ready to travel west to one of my favorite places, high in the rugged mountains of Sante Fe.
Watch my web site for more details. . . .
Until then, happy reading,
Look for
CHRISTINA SKYE’S
Code Name: Nanny
On sale now
Read on for a preview. . . .
Code Nam
e:
Nanny
On sale now
The house was bare, white wall to white wall. Naked windows opened onto cold, rain-swept hills. Noises echoed, jarring in the empty space.
A young girl with brown hair walked through the silent rooms, her back ramrod straight. There was no reason to cry, Summer Mulcahey told herself. It was just a house now, not their house. The new family would be here any minute, backing up the drive in a shiny red station wagon packed with noise and children and dogs.
No, she wouldn’t stay, not to watch strangers take over these rooms, trampling on her memories.
Shoulders rigid, Summer sat down on her battered suitcase, letting her mind touch the walls, searching through fifteen years of memories. She wanted the past carved into her mind, so she could always find it because the past would make her hard and strong.
She needed to be strong now.
There was a thump down the hall. Behind her the door swung open. “Aunt Sarah’s down in the car.” Her sister gestured impatiently, a brighter, rounder, more graceful version of Summer. “I want to go now.”
“In a minute.”
“You said you were ready.” Jess’s voice was strained. “You said you hated it here, Sum.”
There was no fooling her twin, Summer thought ruefully. They had always read each other too well. “I do. But before I go, I want to remember the good parts.” She took a deep breath. “Sneaking pancakes when Mom wasn’t looking. Dad building our tree house.” Her voice wavered. “You dancing in your red sneakers on that ugly picnic table that always rocked.”
“I remember.” Jess rubbed her cheeks sharply. “But they’re gone now. Mom was . . . strange for a long time, if you ask me.”
Both girls had suffered because of it, but neither mentioned that.
Summer’s eyes stung, but no tears fell. “She couldn’t forget Dad, Jess. She always called him her hero and said he would take care of her, no matter what.” Summer glared out at the lawn sloping down to the river. “No man is ever going to take care of me. It’s stupid to let anyone make you weak like that.”
Princess Page 22
