by Donna Fasano
Leif glanced over at the table where she was sitting with his traitor cousin and that CIA asshole. He definitely should have told Pelle to get out the whips and chains.
Håkan leaned back in his chair. "She doesn't seem very happy with you. I think you've hurt her feelings.”
Leif spun a chair around and straddled it. "I doubt she's even noticed I'm here.”
He took a long swig of his beer. Satans djävlar. He must have been even more out of his mind when he'd picked that outfit for her. He'd dressed her for his own pleasure, completely forgetting he'd be sending her straight into the arms of another man.
Hell, the bastard’s eyes were all over her like a bear on wild strawberries.
"You're a damn fool, boss,” Ingvar said.
Håkan nodded slowly in agreement.
Leif glared at the pair of them. "It's none of your damned business.”
"Whatever you say.”
Leif drank in silence for a few minutes watching her, clamping his fingers painfully around his mug when McAndrew reached over and put his hand on the small of her back. One inch lower, and the bastard would be needing a new manicure.
Ingvar shook his head in disgust. "I don't see how you can just ignore her, the way she looks tonight. The only reason she isn't being besieged by admirers is because word has gotten around that she belongs to you.”
“She doesn’t belong to me,” Leif forced himself to say. He had to keep up the appearance of indifference. If McAndrew suspected they were playing him, he’d clam up and Joanne wouldn’t get a word out of him. But it was just about killing Leif not to stalk over there and punch the bastard’s lights out.
Again, Håkan nodded slowly. "Okay. So, then you won't mind if I ask her to dance, right?”
Leif tipped the last of his beer into his mouth, got up, and flipped the chair around. He rested his hands deliberately on the back of it and leaned down close to Håkan's ear. "Touch her, and you're a fucking dead man."
Chapter 44
Joanne had scarcely noticed that Vanja was asked to dance by a different man with each new song, while so far, only Bill had asked her. She was too busy not noticing Leif dancing with a sexy new partner every time she looked up.
Vanja was right. He was a dream on the dance floor. And judging by the attention he was getting, he was also the dream of every single woman within a hundred miles. Who could blame them? He was by far the handsomest man there tonight, devastatingly sexy in his stark black and white, his vest and boots lending him a gypsy-like air of erotic mystery.
She was surprised they weren't swooning at his feet.
"You're a million miles away," Bill said, startling her.
"Sorry," she said, grateful for the interruption. She didn’t want to agonize over Leif. He was just playing his part in the ruse.
Bill shook his head. "Anyway. I was thinking about those strange accidents you mentioned.”
“Oh?” Earlier, when she’d described them, she’d studied his reactions carefully. Either he was a consummate actor—which wasn't entirely out of the question considering his occupation—or he was genuinely concerned and outraged. She preferred to believe the latter.
"Why didn't you tell me about them before? Or contact the U.S. embassy?”
She shrugged. "Leif was assigned by the Swedish government to assist in my search. I thought contacting the embassy would make it look like I don't trust him.”
Bill's eyes narrowed. "Maybe you shouldn't trust him. Seems to me, he's not working very hard at keeping you safe.”
She opened her mouth to protest, but realized this was the opening she had been waiting for. "Maybe. What do you think, Bill? Could these accidents have something to do with my grandfather?”
Bill gave her a searching look. She kept her expression carefully innocent.
"I think they might be related," he finally said, glancing around. "Come on. Let's get some air.”
The crush of people outside on the deck was nearly as bad as inside, but the air was cool and clear. They found an open spot at the rail and leaned against it.
Bill turned to her. "How much do you know about the mission Robert Grant was returning from?”
She gripped the wooden rail with nervous hands. "Not much. He was flying back from Russia. He'd brought out a KGB defector.”
“Did the files say what the defector was bringing with him?”
She frowned. “Bringing?”
Bill nodded. "My specialty’s the Cold War, remember? The U.S. government always required defectors to bring something with them, to prove they were legit. Not double agents.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, top-secret documents. Military plans. Rocket fuel formulas. Lists of operatives. That sort of thing.”
“I had no idea,” she said, studying him closely. What did he know that he wasn’t saying? “Unfortunately, a lot of the files they gave us were heavily redacted. The information might have been in there, but was blacked out.”
He nodded thoughtfully. After a moment, he said, “Didn’t you say the men you suspect of causing your accidents are from Hungary?”
“Yes.” She raised a brow, excitement beginning to stir. “Is that significant?”
He stared out over the river valley, but she could tell he wasn’t really looking at the landscape. “Maybe. Your grandfather’s plane went down in October of ‘56. That was the month of the Hungarian Uprising. Thirty-thousand Hungarian freedom fighters were killed trying to win the country’s independence from the Soviet Union.”
He turned and met her gaze. Possibilities flooded through her. He was trying to tell her something. She knew he was.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “So, you think the defector may have been carrying some top-secret papers about the revolt? Something like that?”
He returned his gaze to the view over the valley. “I don’t know. But the whole Hungary thing seems like more than a coincidence to me."
Her mind spun. "But why would anyone be interested in any of that today?”
“Who knows. Just an idea.” He glanced down at his watch. "Anyway. I hate to leave you—" He let his gaze run the length of her body. "Especially when you've gone to so much trouble." A knowing grin curved his lips. "But I have a really early morning tomorrow. Big fishing trip upriver.”
She returned his knowing smile. "To be honest, I have an early morning, too. After what you suggested, I think the sooner Leif and I get to Kauti's, the better.”
He caught the name like an eagle's talon clutches its prey. "Kauti?”
Too late, she realized her blunder. Damn! "The man who may have information on the plane crash," she said evasively.
Clearly, she'd gotten far too comfortable with Bill. She couldn't believe she'd let her guard down and trusted him with that.
"Just be careful, okay?”
With that final warning, he was gone.
She watched him stride away, praying she hadn't just made a terrible mistake.
Chapter 45
Joanne threaded her way through the crowd and slipped back inside, squinting against the dim lighting and wincing at the too-loud disco tune blasting from the band onstage.
She had to talk to Leif.
But first, she needed the ladies' room.
Within the security of a small cubicle, she tried to mentally sort through what Bill had told her.
It was no use. She needed Leif to bounce it all off. Maybe together they could figure out what the CIA man had been hinting at.
She cringed as she heard the giggles and laughing voices of several young women entering the lounge. They were speaking English. She’d learned that many Swedes and Finns refused to learn the other's language, even here at the border, but English served as sort of a linguistic DMZ.
"I don't know what changed his mind," one voice said, "but I plan on taking advantage of it.”
"Don't bother," said another. "Did you see the way he danced with me?”
"I thought he was supposed to have it bad for s
ome American chick," a third voice called out.
Joanne’s stomach twisted when she realized it was Leif they were talking about. And her.
"Apparently she doesn't want him," someone said with a snicker. "Can you imagine?”
Joanne fumed. She was tempted to go out there and set them straight.
"Forget the American," purred a deep, sultry voice. "He's going home with me tonight.”
Like hell.
Straightening her shoulders, Joanne stepped out of the stall and gave them all a pitying smile. “I wouldn’t count on that,” she said with just the right touch of acerbity. Gratified at their shocked expressions, she strode out of the lounge.
And ran straight into Leif.
His towering form stepped solidly into her path. "Thought you'd fallen in.”
"What are you doing lurking out here?" she muttered. “Waiting for your fan club?"
"Waiting for you." He gazed at her stonily. "Where is he waiting? Out in the parking lot?”
"Who?”
Leif gave a derisive snort. "Who do you think?”
She rolled her eyes. "Seriously? I'm surprised you noticed, you've been so busy dancing with every woman in the place.”
"I noticed.”
"Well, so did I." She glared at him.
His fierce expression cracked, and his lips curved. “Good. I didn’t want to be the only one miserable tonight.”
She pressed her lips together, trying to hold back a smile. “Next time you have a brilliant plan, remind me to tell you to stuff it.”
“Deal.”
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.”
He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the main room. "Not on your life. We haven't danced yet.”
Chapter 46
The light rock tune the band had been playing came to an end, and a moment later, the unmistakable violin strains of the prelude to a tango pierced the air.
“Can you tango?” Leif asked Joanne doubtfully.
“A bit,” she said, though he thought he detected a shade of smugness in her modesty.
This should be interesting.
He schooled his features into an appropriately macho expression for the dance, and lifted his hand to her. After a brief hesitation, she slid into character, as well. Her chin went up and her shoulders back as she placed her hand in his. Then a sexy little smile curved her lips, and her eyes went dark and inviting.
The sensuality of her movements had his cock already twitching.
Damn. The woman knew exactly what she was doing.
He pushed her away, then twirled her back against his chest just as the prelude ended and the song began. He propelled her backward, forcing her into the hot-tempered rhythm. He pursued her through the sinuous dance, pushing and snapping her in ever more complicated spins and grinds. At each approach, she repelled him and whirled from his advances.
She was perfect.
Flames of raw desire surged through him. God, he wanted her.
But did she still want him...?
At the mid-dance transition, he took two strides backward, turned from her on his heel, crossed his arms defiantly, and planted his boots squarely on the wooden floor.
Waiting...
He saw they had cleared the dance floor, and a crowd had gathered in a wide circle, watching them. If she didn’t come for him, he’d be thoroughly humiliated.
She did.
In the eyes of the onlookers, he saw her approach.
Slowly, sinuously, she ran her fingers down his back, his arms.
He shook her off.
She slid one leg between his and crooked it around his knee, then draped her arms about his neck and glided around to his chest. Gently, she put her hands on his stomach and slipped them up under his tightly crossed arms, easing them apart and around her.
His cock throbbed with need. He didn’t know if he could wait to get her home to his bed. He wanted to take her right here on the dance floor.
Instead, she took possession of him, pushing him back, forcing him to follow her lead.
He allowed himself to be courted by her seductive steps, her sensual expression, her amazing body, until it was all he could do to finish the dance.
Except, he couldn’t.
He lost it.
Groaning, he grasped her by the hair. Pins went flying, and tresses fell around her face in disarray. He took possession of her, towering over her in a furious sequence of twisting footwork. He led, and she followed his lead flawlessly. Their bodies melded, moving as one.
She was his. And everyone in the place knew it.
His flesh burned for her. His desire blocked out everything except the soft, yielding woman who responded lightning fast to his every guiding touch. He wanted this woman naked, beneath him, yielding and responding as he guided her to ecstasy.
The song was ending, the band on the final crescendo. He crushed her to him and she melted into his arms. Just as the music stopped, he met her beckoning mouth with a kiss.
The crowd roared.
He held her tight, and for a few moments they struggled to catch their breath and regain their composure.
"I’ll remember this dance until my dying day," she murmured softly.
"That makes two of us."
"Now, can we please go?" she whispered.
Chapter 47
Unbridled desire filled Joanne as she and Leif hurried to the Landcruiser. She felt herself spiraling out of control, and leaned against the cold metal for support while he unlocked her door. Her breasts were still heaving from the dance, their hard tips betraying her need.
Erotic anticipation stirred in his midnight blue eyes as he watched her slowly come unglued. His heated gaze licked at her body like a tongue, lighting fires on her skin with its lingering caress. A bold, satisfied curve settled on his lips.
Seeing his unrestrained desire aroused her even more. Every secret place on her body throbbed with want for him.
"God, Leif," she said, her voice hoarse, her limbs unable to move for fear of dissolving completely. “What are we going to do?”
He leaned into her, pressing his hard length firmly against her, and whispered, “Everything we want.”
She squeezed her eyes shut against the shock of need his low declaration sent through her body.
When she opened them again, his eyes were smoldering embers, burning into her very being. "Nervous?"
She licked her dry lips. "More like terrified," she admitted.
He lifted her into the Landcruiser, and gave her a wicked smile. “Good.”
Chapter 48
Leif gathered Joanne in his arms and carried her into his house. In the living room, he set her down and unbuttoned her sexy little Cub Scout shirt. He slid it over her arms and let it fall to the floor.
“Are you sure?" he asked softly, giving her one last chance to change her mind. Because once he got her naked, there’d be no stopping him.
"I've never been so sure of anything in my life," she murmured. Her nipples strained against the fabric of her almost-transparent muscle shirt as she lifted up for a kiss.
Screw naked—there was no stopping him now.
He kissed her long and hard while peeling off her undershirt and flinging it aside.
“You, too,” she said breathlessly, working at his buttons.
He backed up and shrugged off his boots as she stepped out of her pumps. Then he kissed her all the way to his bedroom. When they reached the bed, he gently stroked his face against hers, listening to her heart pounding, breathing in their mingled scents.
The rest of the world fell away, leaving him conscious of only the dizzying need to possess her.
“You’re mine,” he whispered, and lifted her onto the bed. “Mine.”
Then he lowered his lips to hers.
~*~
Joanne had never felt a more tender kiss. Leif poured his whole soul into it, and she accepted it gladly. Every cell in her body whispered to her, this was the man she want
ed to spend eternity with.
She surrendered. She opened herself to him completely, moaning as his weight came down on her body, her mouth yielding to his in slow, trembling response.
Every dip and thrust of his tongue sent waves of heat spilling through her body. He probed, teased, coaxed. His long, thorough kiss brought her right up to the edge.
Forced to come up for air, he tore his lips from hers. "Damn, woman. After that kiss, I could die and `go to heaven a happy man.”
She smiled up at him. "Don't you dare. Think what you'll miss.”
He let out a low, masculine laugh, and pulled her hard against him. "Convince me.”
Slowly, she pulled his shirt out of his trousers. “All right.” And in a swift move, she rolled them so he was under her.
She sketched down his jaw with her tongue and lips, then down his neck and shoulders. She kissed the damp, sandy curls on his broad chest, intoxicated by the dusky smell of desire on his skin.
He groaned, and wrapped his hand around the back of her head when she paused to lap and nip at his flat, hard nipples. Lower and lower she feasted on the treasures of his torso, feeling his muscles jump like steel springs beneath her lips, and gooseflesh ripple the sweat-sheened skin below her fingertips.
She reached for the button of his waistband.
He caught her hand with a determined grip. "No. My turn.”
In the blink of an eye, their positions were reversed. For a moment, he held himself above her, worshipping her naked breasts with hungry eyes.
Then slowly, slowly, the hard wall of his powerful body descended. His lips met hers in a soul-wrenching kiss, his strong hands spreading liquid flames where they touched.
His mouth moved lower.
Her body arched as he devoured her breasts, his thumbs teasing the budded nipples. The hot, almost painful edge of her desire throbbed between her legs.
He lifted his head when she cried out in passion.
“Please,” she cried, and he tore at her skirt and stockings, tossing them to the floor, then sat back on his haunches, watching her, as if trying to memorize every inch of her trembling nakedness.
