An Officer and a Gentleman

by Rachel Lee

  There was more she needed to ask, but for the moment she was overwhelmed by the need to show him her love. Pushing him gently backward, she rose above him beneath the tent of the blankets. On hands and knees she straddled him, then lowered her head to take hungry possession of his mouth.

  At first Dare was content to let her lead, but before long the hunger she always evoked in him began to pulse through him, and he reached for her, wanting her closer, much closer.

  Andrea caught his hands, lacing her fingers with his. “No,” she whispered huskily, smiling almost drowsily down at him. “Let me. This time, let me.”

  This was the first time he had ever taken the passive role in lovemaking, and he found the experience at once gratifying and torturous. In relinquishing control, he began to learn the awesome dimensions of the need this woman could arouse in him.

  Because Dare had always taken charge of their lovemaking, Andrea knew very little of what he liked for himself. Aware of her lack of experience, she moved slowly, listening attentively to his breathing, heeding the responsive movements of his muscles. She found a sensitive spot behind his jaw, a cord in his neck where a nip could make him groan. She already knew that his nipples were as sensitive as hers, but when she found one hard little button in the soft fur, she set about discovering just what pleased him best.

  “Oh! Andrea…”

  She wriggled away from his hands and sought lower, as excited by his responses as she had ever been excited by his touches and kisses. She loved everything about this man, she realized. Everything. His rough-soft contrasts, his hardness and smoothness. The hair on his chest and legs, and in his groin. The way his muscles bunched beneath her hands, the way his hands grasped her and held her and guided her…

  The way he groaned and caught her hips, this time refusing to let her escape. The way he showed her how to lower herself onto him, the way he reached out and touched her most secret place, depriving her of any will at all except the will to be his.

  The way he made her his woman. The way he completed her and filled her and let her know she was all this man would ever need.

  The way he held her to his chest with trembling arms afterward. The way he kissed her and stroked her hair back from her damp face, the way he pulled the comforter over them but wouldn’t let her move away. The way he fell asleep with her, their bodies still joined, his arms snug around her, her weight a reassurance on his chest.

  “Wake up, darlin’,” a husky male voice growled in her ear. “It’s noon, and I’ve run out of patience.”

  Andrea was smiling even before she pried open her eyelids. A gentle kiss on the lips broadened the smile even more.

  “Tell me I didn’t dream last night,” she murmured, fully opening her sleepy eyes.

  “I was going to ask you to tell me the same thing, sweetheart.” His face just inches from hers, he ran a finger along her cheek and smiled into her eyes. “Did you really say you love me?”

  “I love you.” She said it positively, in a soft, sleepy voice. “With my whole heart.”

  “Enough to discuss marriage?”

  Her breath caught, and the sleepiness vanished from her eyes. When she didn’t say anything immediately, tension began to grow in Dare. He honestly didn’t know if he had the patience to wait her out again.

  “Okay,” he said. “Too heavy before coffee.”

  He rolled out of bed, and Andrea saw that he was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He grabbed his blue terry robe from the back of the closet door and tossed it to her.

  “The coffee’s ready. I’ll make some eggs for you.”

  “Dare—”

  But he’d already left the room, closing the door behind him.

  “Damn!” Andrea said in frustration. “Double damn!” He’d caught her by surprise, and now she’d hurt him. Disappointed him.

  By the time he heard Andrea come into the kitchen behind him, Dare was feeling pretty annoyed with himself. Just because proposing to her had him all uptight was no reason to be short with her. He knew how hard all of this was for her.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, turning as soon as he heard her step. “I shouldn’t have—”

  She covered his mouth with her fingertips. “Shh,” she said softly. “Shh. You just took me by surprise.” For a long moment she stood and simply looked up at him, her expression growing softer.

  “I wanted to tell you something about my career goals,” she said finally, running her index finger back and forth across his lower lip in a way that made it difficult for him to concentrate on her words.

  “You keep touching me like this,” he said huskily, “and we’re going to wind up in bed pursuing a few physical goals.”

  A breathless laugh escaped her, and she dropped her hand. “Sorry.”

  “Never apologize for that, honey.” Catching her hand, he astonished her by pressing a kiss into her palm. “What’s this about your career goals?”

  “Well…” She looked down and to the side, and then stole a look at him from the corner of her eye, as if worrying what his reaction would be.

  “Go on,” he prompted.

  “Well, I decided that I don’t really want to be Colonel Andrea Burke after all.”

  He thought his heart was going to stop right there. She couldn’t give up her career. He wouldn’t let her. Choosing his words carefully, he asked, “What do you want to be, then?”

  The corners of her mouth twitched upward. “How does Colonel Andrea MacLendon sound?”

  Understanding crashed through him, overwhelming him. “Are you proposing to me?” he asked, hardly daring to believe it.

  Andrea bit her lower lip and looked up at him, shaking her head slowly. “No, sir. I thought about it, but then I decided you should propose to me.”

  He was beginning to believe. “Why?”

  A smile quirked the corners of her mouth. “I imagine I’ll never again have a chance to bring a general to his knees.”

  A snort of laughter escaped him. “I’m not a general yet,” he reminded her, struggling to restrain the urge to crush her to him.

  “Close enough,” she argued with apparent satisfaction. “Well?”

  “On my knees?”

  She nodded. There was a wicked sparkle in her eyes that quickly gave way to something much softer, much warmer, when, without the least hesitation, he dropped to one knee and took her hands in his.

  Tilting back his head, Dare looked up at her, and now there was a teasing glint in his blue eyes. “I always wondered what would happen if I double-dared you.”

  Andrea smiled. “Try me.”

  “Captain Burke, I love you with my whole heart and soul. Will you marry me?”

  She blinked rapidly as tears welled unexpectedly to her eyes. “Yes, sir, I will,” she said and dropped to her own knees to throw her arms around his neck and hold him close. “I love you, Dare,” she whispered fiercely. “I love you more than I can possibly say.”

  He kissed her thirstily, then lifted his head to look down at her. “It doesn’t scare you anymore?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I was afraid that I’d wind up being like my mother, totally dependent. And then I realized that I had the strength to walk away from you when I needed you most. I’m not weak. I’ll never be like my mother.”

  “I can guarantee that, love,” he said, cradling her cheek in his palm. “And what about the rest of it?”

  “My problems with being a cop and a soldier, you mean?”

  Dare nodded, his gaze skimming her features as if he didn’t want to miss a single nuance of her expression.

  “I figure I’ll always have a problem with that,” Andrea said frankly. “There would be something wrong with me if I didn’t have a problem with guns. It hasn’t kept me from doing my job yet, and I don’t see any reason why it should. You were right about why I didn’t shoot Halliday, and since I didn’t have to shoot to protect someone, that’s not something I should have to apologize for.”

  “Thank God!”
he sighed with heartfelt relief.

  Much later, in the intimacy of his big bed, Dare tilted her face up to his. “Have you ever refused a dare?”

  Andrea shook her head. “Never. You said you were going to double-dare me. You forgot.”

  “Uh-uh, I didn’t forget. I saved it up.”

  Andrea’s eyes sparkled. “Well then? I’m waiting.”

  Under the blanket, he crossed his fingers. “What would you say if I double-dared you to start a family?”

  Andrea stared at him solemnly for a long time, so long that he began to think he’d really blown it bad. Finally she spoke.

  “I’d better warn you that twins run in my family.”

  He started breathing again.

  “Do you still want to dare me?” she asked.

  He never answered. He just held her so close and so tight that she got the definite impression she’d made him a happy man.

  “I love you,” he said a long time later. “I’ll love you with my dying breath.”

  Andrea had no doubt that she would love him just as long.

  NIGHT OF THE JAGUAR

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author

  Merline Lovelace

  MERLINE LOVELACE

  A retired U.S. Air Force colonel, Merline Lovelace served at bases all over the world, including Taiwan, Vietnam and at the Pentagon. When she hung up her uniform for the last time, she decided to combine her love of adventure with a flair for storytelling, basing many of her tales on her experiences in the service.

  Since then, she’s produced more than seventy-five action-packed novels, many of which have made USA TODAY and Waldenbooks bestseller lists. Over ten million copies of her works are in print in thirty-one countries. Named Oklahoma’s Writer of the Year and the Oklahoma Female Veteran of the Year, Merline is also a recipient of a Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA® Award.

  When she’s not glued to her keyboard, she and her husband enjoy traveling and chasing little white balls around the fairways of Oklahoma. Check out her Web site at www.merlinelovelace.com for news, contests and information about upcoming releases.

  To the man who has always been my dark, handsome hero—the one, the only, the wonderful Al.

  Acknowledgments

  With special thanks to my super “technical advisors”: Dr. Larry Lovelace, whose medical expertise is exceeded only by his great sense of humor; Colonel Bob Sander, U.S. Army (Ret.), who spent far more days in the jungle than he cares to remember; and Lieutenant Bill Price, Oklahoma City Police Dept. (Ret.), friend, security expert and a Jaguar at heart!

  Prologue

  Cartoza, Central America

  Oh, God, please don’t let them find us!

  The terrified woman squeezed her eyes shut, as if that might block out the horror that had shattered the night.

  A rattle of machine-gun fire assaulted her ears. Hoarse voices shouted. Someone screamed—a long, agonized cry for help. A pig squealed horribly.

  The woman hunched lower behind the screen of spiky palmettos, her arms wrapped around the small, trembling bodies she was trying to shield, and prayed as she’d never prayed before.

  The gunfire stuttered to a halt. Low, guttural voices called in the village. Then nothing. Heavy, dark, suffocating silence, unbroken except for a small whimper from one of the children cowering against her. A silence that lengthened, causing hope to claw at her chest. Maybe they were gone! Maybe the attackers would melt back into the jungle they’d crept out of. She drew in a ragged breath and tried to shush the child pressed against her side.

  She flinched at the muted thud of footsteps nearby. A low voice. More footsteps, only a little way from their hiding place. Men trudged past. For a few moments, a few heart-stopping, desperate moments, she thought she and the children were safe. But then, a parrot screamed a protest at the passing men, startling a frightened cry out of little Teresa.

  The footsteps slowed, then stopped. Stillness descended, heavy and waiting.

  She pressed Teresa into her side, against the thick, sweltering folds of the robe she’d thrown on in the desperate hope it would give her and the children some protection. The little girl’s terror infected the others. Ricci, only three, sobbed.

  The palmetto fronds rattled, parted. Moonlight glinted on the evil-looking gun barrel that pointed right at her heart, and cast the lean face above it into sharp, shadowed angles.

  They stared at each other, her eyes wide with terror, his narrowed and deadly.

  Another face appeared at his shoulder. “What is it, gringo? Who’s there? More of these peasants who resist our cause? Kill them!”

  The man holding her in his line of fire drew in a deep breath. “It’s a nun. For God’s sake, it’s a nun.”

  Chapter 1

  On a quiet side street just off Massachusetts Avenue, in the heart of Washington’s embassy district, an elegant, Federal-style town house stood dark and silent in the pre-dawn April chill.

  A discreet bronze plaque beside the front door caught the dim, fading glow of the streetlamps. Anyone brave enough or foolish enough to be wandering the capital’s streets that early might have peered curiously at the plaque and learned that the structure housed the offices of the president’s special envoy.

  Those in the know—political correspondents, foreign diplomats, cabdrivers, and the people who slept on the subway grate on the corner—could have told the curious wanderer that the position of special envoy was another of those meaningless ones created several administrations ago to give some wealthy campaign contributor a fancy Washington office and an important-sounding title.

  Only a handful of government officials with the highest compartmentalized security clearances knew that the offices of the president’s special envoy occupied just the first two floors of the town house.

  Still fewer were aware that the third floor served as headquarters for a covert agency. An agency whose initials comprised the last letter of the Greek alphabet—OMEGA. An agency that, as its name implied, was activated as a last resort when other, more established organizations, such as the CIA or the State Department or the military, couldn’t respond for legal or practical reasons.

  And only the president himself knew that the special envoy also acted as the director of OMEGA. The director alone had the authority to send its agents into the field.

  One of those agents—code name Jaguar—was in the field now.

  His controller paced OMEGA’s high-tech communications center on the third floor of the town house. Her pale gray linen slacks showed the effects of a long day and an even longer night, as did her wrinkled red silk tunic, with its military-style tabs at the shoulders and pockets. Tension radiated from every inch of her tall, slender body as she took another turn, then stopped abruptly in front of the command console

  Dammit, why didn’t Jake report in?

  Maggie Sinclair shoved a hand through her thick sweep of shoulder-length brown hair and glared at the unwavering amber light on the satellite receiver. “Are you sure there hasn’t been any interference with our signals?”

  The communications specialist seated at the side console sent her a pained look. “No, ma’am,” he drawled in his soft Texas twang. “Not unless somebody’s got something a whole lot more sophisticated than Baby here.”

  He patted the steel gray console tenderly. “And no one does. If one of our agents in Saudi Arabia or Afghanistan or anywhere else on the planet so much as sneezes into his transmitter, I’ll pull it down for you. No one, not even the U-nited States Air Force, can interfere with my signals.”

  Warming to his subject, Joe Samuels began to describe in loving, excruciating detail the power and frequency spectrums he could call up at will. Maggie listened with half an ear, having shared the small hours of the night with him and “Baby” many times before. She stared at the amber light, her thoughts on the man she was waiting to hear from.

  Where was Jake? What was happening in Cartoza?

  After more than two years as a specia
l agent for OMEGA, Maggie had spent enough time in the field to develop keen instincts about an operation. Every one of her instincts was screaming that something had gone wrong with this one.

  She should have heard from Jake hours ago. She was his control, his only contact at headquarters, and he hadn’t missed a prearranged signal yet. The last transmission he’d sent had indicated that the big arms shipment would be tonight.

  They were close, so close, to breaking up the international consortium that specialized in selling stolen U.S. military arms to unfriendly governments and revolutionary forces. Posing as an expatriate mercenary, Jake had infiltrated one of the rebel bands some weeks ago. The information he’d sent in so far had detailed how the weapons were being smuggled from various military arsenals across the U.S. He’d even pinpointed the isolated airstrips where the arms were being delivered.

  But until tonight he hadn’t been able to identify the middlemen, the Americans who arranged the shipments and took payment in drug dollars. Tonight, Jake had learned, the big money men were flying in with a special shipment. Tonight, he’d planned to be part of the group that met them. Tonight, OMEGA would take the middlemen down.

  Maggie had placed surveillance aircraft on orbit and put a strike force on full alert, waiting for his signal. It hadn’t come.

  Resuming her seat in front of the command console, she reached for a foam cup with a neat pattern of teeth marks around its rim. She took a sip of cold coffee, then grimaced and set the cup aside. With a last, frowning glance at the amber light, she tugged a black three-ring notebook toward her. She flipped through the tabbed sections until she found the parameters for mission termination.