Forged in Fire

by Trish McCallan

  Wasn’t that just icing on the fucking cake?

  “I need to warn you about… something. But they’re watching.”

  He was so focused on her tender, trembling mouth it took a moment for her announcement to register.

  She needed to warn them? Someone was watching?

  “What’s going on?” He tried for calm, but some of his frustration leaked into his voice and sharpened the question.

  She bit her lip. “We shouldn’t talk here. Maybe if we flirt, they’ll think that’s why I came over. After a while we could leave and it won’t look so suspicious.”

  They? As in more than one threat?

  “Who are they?” His gaze dropped to the plump bottom lip her teeth were mauling.

  “I don’t know their names, just their faces. I’ll tell you everything. But not here.” A frown knit her forehead.

  If she didn’t know their names, she must not be directly involved. Maybe she’d overheard something. But that didn’t explain why she’d approached him. Frowning, he searched her eyes. They were worried and wide, but held his squarely and without guilt.

  Cosky shifted until his back faced the crowd. “You can identify them?”

  Zane shot him a quick glance. Yeah, they needed answers. Avoiding her was no longer an option. His best bet was to stick to her like a flak jacket.

  She was right, though. They couldn’t talk here. Too many eyes. Too many ears.

  While flirting would give them an excuse to leave the terminal, it would take too long to accelerate to that point. With boarding in ninety minutes, time was at a premium. What they needed was a different cover. One that gave them instant intimacy. Lovers came to mind.

  Plus, there were side benefits to that cover. It would keep her close, safe. And give him a chance to cement something between them. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but that didn’t mean much. Possessiveness grabbed him by the throat.

  Too damn bad if she was involved with someone.

  “Flirting will take too long,” he told her. “We need to move now. We’ll pretend we’re a couple.”

  He ignored Cosky’s snort as well as her frown, his attention locked on those lavender eyes. Whatever she saw in his expression brought sudden caution. Her pupils dilated. She took a step back. His arm snaked out, wrapped around her waist, and dragged her closer.

  “Where are they?” he asked, reminding her of the reason she’d come over.

  “I don’t know. If I look it might tip them off.”

  Zane grunted, his gaze dropping to her tender, full mouth. That bottom lip was driving him insane. “The fastest way to convince everyone we’re involved is with a kiss.”

  Rawls laughed.

  Awareness flooded those purple depths. Her eyes widened, liquid with a different kind of alarm. “They’ll wonder why I didn’t come over right away.”

  “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been watching me. They’ll think we had a lovers’ quarrel and now we’re making up.” He pulled her closer.

  With a startled gasp, she started to pull back, but caught herself and relaxed against him.

  He took another long sweep of the terminal. Loverboy glared at him from across the room. Zane tightened his arm around her waist and snarled back. Time to show the little prick just who had the right-of-way.

  “Put your arms around my neck.”

  Her eyes were huge, cheeks flooded with pink, but she lifted her arms and slid them around his neck. They burned like a collar of fire.

  Jesus… she was so soft against him. Perfect.

  He could feel her nipples poking against his chest.

  Satisfaction speared him—finally, she was reacting to him. He could build on that, fan the chemistry into something stronger, something enduring. Women were wired differently than men. They equated sex with love. He could use that. Drown her in sensuality, leapfrog a couple of steps, and tie her to him.

  Threading his fingers through the soft cloud of hair at the base of her skull, he cupped the back of her head and tilted her face up. As he bent, he got his first whiff of her. She smelled like strawberries. He froze, drawing that fresh, sweet scent into his lungs.

  His gut clenched. And with a muffled groan, he took her mouth.

  Chapter Two

  Good Lord.

  The man had an erection.

  His rock-hard chest and thighs burned through her clothes too. His heat and the press of his muscles against hers had started a chain reaction. Her flesh was melting, her breasts swelling, her nipples pebbling. She was losing herself in tingles and chills, in his musky male scent. And he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

  Beth braced herself as his head came down. She’d been kissed before. Plenty of times. A kiss didn’t mean anything.

  He froze just before his mouth touched hers and took a deep breath. One that expanded his lungs and pressed his chest even harder against her swollen breasts.

  Good Lord, was he… smelling her?

  Then his mouth touched down and her brain turned to sludge.

  Holy Moly, the man could kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft and supple, sensual even. They feathered across her mouth, only to come back for more, a little harder, more demanding. With each caress the friction deepened until chills raged down her spine. Until she craved more. A lot more. Like open mouths and a tangle of tongues.

  His mouth hardened, opened over hers. The tip of his tongue teased the seam of her lips—a silent insistence that she let him in.

  She wanted to. Oh Lord, did she ever want to. She wanted to taste him, drown in the rich headiness of him. But the very strength of her hunger brought a whisper of unease.

  These kisses were dangerous, consuming, distracting her from what was important, and why she’d come over. This kiss was meant to be cover, not a prelude to something carnal. Time to stop this madness.

  Clamping her mouth shut, she set every muscle to resisting.

  A low growl rumbled up his throat and throbbed against her lips like a threat. But he broke contact and eased back.

  Beth relaxed. Clearly he’d gotten the message. Except he leaned down and nipped her bottom lip. Not enough to sting, just enough to send his own message—along with a rush of blood to her head—just enough to let her know that… yeah… he had no intention of playing by her rules.

  When he pulled back, it was clear that he did so on his terms, not hers.

  That wasn’t to say he remained unaffected by that scorching kiss. Red highlighted the bold slashes of his cheekbones, his green eyes glowed with liquid fire and a thick bulge pressed against her belly. Still, the hand he raised to her cheek was surprisingly tender.

  Dragging her arms from around his neck, she shoved against his chest, praying her brain would start functioning again now that she wasn’t being mobbed by his smoky scent, or wallowing in the heat he radiated.

  Shame curled through her. She’d forgotten about the hijackers, forgotten about the dreams, forgotten everything during those charged moments in his arms.

  To make matters worse, he’d obviously misunderstood the reason behind her foray into testosterone land. His reaction was that of a man who wanted a woman. Something her body recognized and responded to instinctively. Even now her thighs quivered, the soft flesh between them swollen with heat and moisture.

  Just as she’d suspected, he thought she was hitting on him.

  But then she hadn’t had a chance to explain, had she? She’d just warned him they were being watched. He hadn’t seemed surprised, which in retrospect seemed suspicious. Wouldn’t the normal person want to know why they were being watched?

  He probably thought she’d made up the threat as an excuse to set things in motion for a steamy vacation fling. From the erection he’d been pressing against her belly, he was in the mood to oblige.

  Before Beth had a chance to put any distance between them, Zane caught her elbow.

  “We’re going to leave now, arms around each other like we’re looking for some privacy,” he spoke in a low voice, lips
barely moving, as though he didn’t want anyone overhearing.

  Beth blinked. Okay… that sounded like he thought someone was watching them. Maybe he had believed her.

  He didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he turned toward his friends, and addressed them in the same low tone. “Rawls? Stick around long enough to see if anyone follows us. Then head to the in-gate. We’ll meet up by the restrooms. Cosky? Watch our six.”

  Pulling Beth closer, he slipped his arm around her waist, anchoring her to his side. Then he bent to her ear, his breath warm and moist against her neck. “Put your arm around my hip. We need to sell this.”

  Tingles swept down from where his breath fanned her neck and released a cloud of butterflies in her belly. Swallowing hard, she slipped her arm around his lean waist, trying to ignore his scent and how his warmth radiated up and down her side.

  He didn’t say another word as he guided her through the terminal, steering her around clusters of passengers and scattered luggage. To the right, a brood of shrieking children climbed a pair of benches like they were playing on a jungle gym. She caught a glimpse of her Good Samaritan as he headed toward a bench in gate C20. When they reached the tile corridor that ran the length of the airport, Zane turned toward the inbound security gate.

  Beth frowned as she kept pace with him. “You believed me?”

  “That something’s about to go down? Yeah.” His eyes were constantly on the move, scanning the faces they passed, inspecting the kiosks and fast food alcoves that ran the length of the corridor.

  Okay, so he had believed her. But that kiss… that kiss hadn’t been about making things appear real. Or had she misunderstood that too? She bit her bottom lip and debated asking.

  What the heck. “So, the kiss was about making us look real? As a couple, I mean?”

  He didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Partly. But I wanted a taste of you, too.”

  Her insides melted. Crap, she didn’t need this complication.

  “I’m not interested in getting involved with anyone.” She winced at the primness in her tone.

  “That’s too bad.”

  No doubt his interest in her was based on convenience and availability. He was obviously horny. Likely, any woman would do in a pinch.

  “Look, I don’t do vacation flings.” Which made it sound like she was on vacation, which she wasn’t. She backed up and started again. “I mean, I’m not even on that plane.” Although, since she was listed on stand-by, technically she was booked as a passenger. “What I mean is I have no intention of actually taking that flight.” Her voice stumbled to a flustered halt.

  Good Lord, could she be any less clear? She blamed her uncustomary discomposure on the chills and goose bumps plaguing her right side, the side he rubbed against with each step.

  They were far enough from the terminal it should be safe to put some distance between them. Dropping her arm, she stepped off to the side until a good six inches separated them. Immediately, her composure returned.

  “What I meant,” she said very carefully, pleased to hear the words emerge with perfect clarity, “is that we need to focus on what’s important here, which is what’s going to happen on that plane.”

  He glanced down with a frown and shook his head, clearly warning her not to bring the subject up yet.

  “I’m good at multitasking.” His gaze lingered on her face like a caress, and then his arm tightened around her waist, dragging her back against him.

  Beth tried to force some distance between them, but his arm felt like a steel band around her waist. “Nobody’s watching now. There’s no need to be plastered against each other like this.”

  “Sure there is. I like the way you feel against me.”

  Just like that her brain went woozy, her stomach fluttered, her composure vanished and she reverted to kindergarten comebacks. “Well, I don’t.”

  His lips quirked. “Liar.” His gaze dropped to her chest. “Your nipples are hard.”

  Beth flushed; heat swept through her from head to toe. Unfortunately, he was right. Her nipples were hard, while various other parts of her anatomy were dissolving.

  Her body was in an epic battle with her brain. It craved everything he offered, wanted to press against those hard, hot muscles someplace cool and quiet. Her brain, however, knew the danger of such intimacy. Sizzling heat burned out as quickly as it flared, leaving nothing but ashes and regrets in its wake. She wasn’t cut out for a fleeting, albeit raging, affair. She wanted the slow, steady, lifelong burn. The kind that started as friendship, morphed into love and lasted forever. A true partnership.

  Nothing but chemistry fed these sparks, and sooner or later chemistry fizzled. In their case, the attraction flaring between them was bound to vanish quickly. Probably as soon as she told him what had brought her down to the airport and into his life. Zane Winters wasn’t the type of man to buy into premonitions or dreams. There was no way he’d believe her.

  * * *

  Across the terminal’s main passageway and two gates down, Russ Branson watched Zane Winters—Lieutenant Commander Zane Winters, SEAL Team 7, according to the bosses’ intel— escort Beth Brown down the tile corridor.

  Interesting. The lady’s name hadn’t appeared on the passenger manifest.

  While he’d been more interested in the first class passengers and the three SEALs booked on the flight, he’d pored over the coach listings as well. He would have remembered a Beth Brown. Add in her reaction to Zane Winters and the fact the pair had hooked up immediately, and his instincts were humming.

  Trouble, with a capital ‘T’ had just reared its ugly head. And unlike that fucking musical his sister Jilly insisted on playing over and over again—in this case the ‘T’ did not rhyme with ‘P’ and had nothing to do with pool.

  It had to do with Special Operators.

  He would have recognized the three even without the heads-up. He’d spent four years eating, shitting and sleeping with such a team. He damn well recognized the vibe.

  Just as he recognized a team rendezvous when he saw one—and not one of the romantic variety. Any minute the other two bastards would take off and the four of them would meet up someplace free of unwelcome eyes and ears. He could have sent someone after them, but why bother? Those SEALs were pros. They’d recognize a tail in an instant, and he’d lose the advantage of surprise.

  He turned from the couple disappearing down the corridor before his interest became noticeable. One never knew who might be watching.

  Sitting on a blue bench directly across from him was a child somewhere around the age of Jilly’s youngest, maybe four or five. She was a cute little thing, all big brown eyes and rich mocha skin. Her frizzy hair was the color of dark chocolate. Russ winked at her, grinning as those velvety eyes widened even more.

  But his smile quickly faded. The child was too frail. Pointy little elbows and knees.

  His attention shifted to the fat cow in the sweatsuit slumped beside the youngster. They shared the same shade of hair and eyes, but the resemblance ended there. The mother obviously consumed all the calories between the pair. Maybe if the bitch dragged her attention from the trashy novel she was reading, she’d remember that the child needed to eat.

  He turned back to the little tyke. She’d been staring at him with those huge, solemn eyes since he’d sat down. Children, in general, were amazingly perceptive, but even more so at her age. What exactly did she sense in him that brought such wariness to her eyes?

  Which reminded him….

  Russ dug into the pocket of his laptop case and retrieved his cell phone. As he waited for the call to ring through, he winked at the little girl again and raised his eyebrows, waggling them. The gesture had the opposite effect than he’d intended. The little one shrank back and reached for her mother’s hand.

  With a shrug, Russ turned his attention back to the phone.

  “How are our guests?” he asked the moment the call was picked up. “Did the packages arrive for the children? Good. Good.
Are the toys keeping them occupied? Excellent.”

  Shifting on the bench, he glanced back down the corridor. One of the SEALs—the dark-haired one—had left his post and fallen in behind his lieutenant commander. According to intel, the black hair marked him as Marcus Simcosky. Seth Rawlings had the blond hair. He glanced toward C18’s ticket counter, but the wall opposite stood empty. Rawlings was in the wind now too.

  “It’s time to send a memo to our new employees. Remind them that following company policy is a requirement,” Russ said into the phone. Settling back, he crossed his ankles and slouched down until he could lean his head against the bench’s backrest. As casually as possible, he shot another glance down the terminal corridor. Simcosky’s brisk strides were quickly carrying him from sight.

  “How goes the company retreat? I imagine the kids are getting bored? Yes, well, I have just the thing to lift young spirits. The carnival’s in town. At the Puyallup fairgrounds. I’m sure the kids would love a morning of fun. Three of you accompany our young guests, while the rest entertain their mothers. Make sure you take plenty of video. I want our new associates to appreciate how much effort we’ve put into entertaining their families during their stay with us.”He ended the call by flipping the phone shut, but he kept it in hand. He needed to update the bosses. But what exactly to tell them?

  Winters, Simcosky and Rawlings were obviously in full combat mode. The question was why.

  What the hell where they picking up on?

  He’d taken every precaution. He’d instructed his D-Day crew to arrive at the last possible moment. Other than his short flirtation while checking out Beth Brown, he had been sticking close to gate C20, keeping an eye on Flight 2077’s passengers from his bench next door. He knew damn well how to watch people without giving the appearance of watching. The guns were already on board. There was nothing happening in the terminal that should have tickled those bastards’ finely conditioned instincts and brought down ST7’s hammer.