Telepathic Cravings

by Melissa Schroeder

  He stepped up to the retina scan. The door slid open, and he stepped aside to let her walk through the doorway. She managed a weak smile and he grinned.

  “Wait until you see what I have in store for you.” He followed her through the doorway. A shiver ran down the length of her spine and then back up. “Marcus Carlyle, authorize secure lockdown.”

  She turned to face him. The fading December sun shone through the windows, caressing his face. She was struck once again by the strength, the integrity in him. Control freak that he was, he should drive her crazy. Honest to God, she had no idea why she was even attracted to him. He could sentence her entire family to a lifetime of experiments. There had to be a reason why she was thinking about jumping his bones again.

  Chapter 6

  Marcus stepped forward, worried Shana might faint. Every ounce of color had faded from her face.

  “Shana? Sweetheart, are you okay?”

  She swallowed and took a deep breath. “I’m…fine.”

  He studied her for a moment, knowing she was anything but fine. Her voice was barely a whisper, and she was rigid. He didn’t touch her, fearing she’d shatter. Whatever it was, he was positive it had something to do with him.

  “Why don’t I order up some dinner for us? Then we can discuss the problems at work. Just make yourself at home.”

  She nodded, and he headed off to the kitchen. He punched in an order for grilled salmon and thought about her as he waited. He hadn’t said or done anything since they left the office, but this was the second time he witnessed her acting strangely. As if she fearedhim.

  He shook his head. Shana Adams didn’t fear anyone or anything. The woman was a powerhouse terrorism analyst. Nothing rattled her nerves.

  Well, sex in the office did. A sliver of heat slipped through him, warming his blood and sending it straight to his cock. He shifted his feet, trying to relieve the inevitable erection he sprouted whenever Shana Adams invaded his thoughts.

  The microcooker hummed to a stop. Marcus retrieved the two plates piled high with steaming salmon, rice, and vegetables. He walked to the dining room, located just off the kitchen, and set their plates on his titanium-glass and silver dining table.

  After searching for her, he found her in his library. She’d changed into an oversized Mongolarian knit jersey and pair of leggings. Old-fashioned sneakers completed the outfit. She was looking over his assortment of print books. Bookshelves reaching from the floor to the ceiling covered the facing wall. It was one of the largest collections on the East Coast.

  He cleared his throat. She glanced over her shoulder and smiled nervously.

  “I hope you don’t mind?” she asked, motioning to the books. “I’ve never seen so many print books in one place. I never would have taken you for a collector.”

  “I do appreciate a good book, but a lot of these are family heirlooms.”

  She smiled. “That’s nice. Not many people think preserving the past is important.”

  Irritated at the warmth curling in his chest, he frowned. He didn’t like the fact her approval meant so much to him. “Are you hungry? I powered up some salmon.”

  Her smile faltered at his harsh tone, but she nodded. As she walked past him and down the hall, he resisted the urge to grab her, throw her over his shoulder, and head straight for his bedroom. He needed control. His palms were sweaty. He’d never allowed a woman to become so important. There was no way he would now.

  What the hell was he thinking about, telling her those books were family heirlooms? He always told people he collected them because they were a good investment, but for some reason, he’d wanted to impress Shana. Women liked when you did warm fuzzy things like hold onto memories through objects.

  Right there. That was an example of his irritating behavior. Trying to please a woman by telling her the truth. Somehow, he did things like that around Shana. He went out of his way to impress her, like some eighteen-year-old with a crush. It left him feeling…vulnerable. He didn’t like that one damn bit.

  As he followed her, thinking his morose thoughts, her swaying hips drew him like a lodestone. Instantly, all the blood he’d been using to think drained from his brain. Rock-hard and ready to go again. What the hell is going on?

  It didn’t help one bit that she was strutting around his apartment, dressed like a college co-ed. She seated herself to the left of the head chair at the table. Okay, so the shirt was so big, he couldn’t see her breasts and it covered her ass. She didn’t need to bounce around trying to entice him.

  He pushed those thoughts aside and sat down.

  “So, do you have any suspects?” she asked.

  The overwhelming sense of betrayal swamped him again. He’d trained almost everyone who had access to the information. “I really can’t think of who would have a reason to do it.”

  She took a bite of salmon and hummed. It was close to the same sound she made while he made love to her that afternoon. He took a sip of water and drew in a deep breath.

  “I haven’t had real salmon in a while. Too expensive for my tastes.” She smiled, then took another bite. “So, you have no idea who might have a grudge against you? Or someone who might have a grudge against the Federation?”

  He shook his head, trying to banish the image of her lips wrapped around his cock while she hummed. She dropped her fork on her plate.

  “It…” He cleared his throat and shifted to ease the tightness of his trousers. “It isn’t always because of a cause. You know that. What is the main reason people tend to trade secrets about their employers?”

  “Money? But who is really hurting? We’re paid well, especially with the global recession.”

  He smiled. “You just mentioned fresh salmon was too rich for your tastes.”

  She snorted, and then her face flooded with color. “You know fresh fish is very hard to come by because of overfishing earlier this century. I make a good living, but not a fortune.”

  He chuckled. He couldn’t help but be amused by her embarrassment. With her face flushed and the way she was biting her lip, she looked like some freshman caught drinking out in the Borgion Sector of Venus.

  “I was kidding, but yes, someone might be in financial trouble. A lot of people have secrets. I’m sure you have a few of your own.”

  Her gaze dropped to her plate and she seemingly concentrated on her meal. An uneasy silence filled the air.

  “Shana.” She looked up. “I’m sure whatever secrets you have, have nothing to do with this. I’d have never asked for your help otherwise. I trust you.” She nodded and swallowed. “I was only joking.”

  She smiled, although not her usual warm smile. “So, other than money, there is your family history. Fredrick Carlyle is considered a hero by some, and an evil genius by others.”

  A ball of fury tightened his stomach. “Yeah. Just like the history revisionists during the late part of the twentieth, there are people who paint my grandfather as a mercenary. The only mistake my grandfather made was trusting a para. Ripley Johnson was as evil as they come.”

  Her eyes widened, and he regretted his harsh tone. “You’re right, though. That is an avenue we might want to explore. We need to check out Johnson’s background and find out if he had any living relatives the Federation doesn’t know about.”

  She nodded, but said nothing. They continued eating as Marcus thought about her reaction. There was something in her past she didn’t want him to know. Something she worried about that made her look guilty. He knew, without a doubt, she had nothing to do with the leaks. It wasn’t in her makeup to be disloyal. But anything that made her wary bothered him.

  He thought back to her security check. There was nothing. Upper-middle class, her parents were professors who taught on Mars for a while before settling back down on Earth after the kids were born.

  Mentally, he shrugged. If there was something there, he’d ferret it out. He always did.

  * * * *

  After dinner, Shana followed Marcus down the hall again.
She glanced around at his furnishings. They walked past the sunken living room, and the choice of furniture and colors surprised her. Marcus was known for his efficient designs, his practical choices in their offices. She would have never guessed the man went for Retro-Twentieth.

  An overstuffed, red sofa dominated the room. Wooden tables sat on each end. Oak, she imagined, and antique. Furniture made from real wood had all but disappeared. In one corner, a comfy chair, with a matching design, sat beside another table. The picture it created reminded her of movies she’d seen made in that time period, toward the end of the twentieth. In her opinion, completely out of character for Marcus.

  He turned into the library where he’d found her earlier. Another surprise. She’d never have guessed he would be sentimental about books. The ice she’d tried to wrap around her heart was slowly melting. He was strong, dependable, and he saved things from his family’s past. She sighed.

  She couldn’t keep her distance, not with his thoughts blazing across her mind. Oral sex while she was eating. How was she supposed to concentrate on her meal while he was thinking about that?

  Straight-as-an-arrow Marcus Carlyle had a one-track mind. She’d been close to crawling over the table and teaching him a thing or two when he’d made the comment about secrets.

  She couldn’t let her guard down. He had no idea of her powers, but with each transfer from Marcus, she was worried she would give away her skill. Their lovemaking was so intense that she was concerned she’d respond to something he’d thought and not said to her. If Marcus found out about her family, he’d have her quarantined, her brother picked up, and her parents brought back from Venus. She shivered. No matter how attracted he was to her, Marcus would never stand to have a telepath working for the department. And he could never forgive telepaths for what they did to his grandfather.

  He stood behind his desk, sorting through a micropad file. He’d rid himself of his jacket and rolled his shirtsleeves up. His tie hung loosely around his neck. She realized this was the most undressed she’d ever seen him. Even though she’d had sex with him twice. She swallowed, trying to push the thoughts aside. The flood of memories from that afternoon—his thoughts, his mouth on her skin—sent a rush of heat tingling along her nerve endings.

  Her nipples hardened, and all the moisture in her mouth dried up. Jesus, what was she doing? She was mooning over him like some kind of a schoolgirl, that’s what she was doing. Idiot.

  “Shana.” Marcus stared at her, a look of confusion in his eyes. “Everything all right?”

  “Sure. Why do you ask?”

  “You were talking to yourself.”

  Heat flooded her face. Lord. She didn’t know she’d said that out loud. “Just thinking about the investigation.”

  He gave her a disbelieving look, but walked around the desk and handed her the file without comment.

  “I’m going to change. Why don’t you go over the file, see what you think, and we’ll discuss it when I get back? I’ve made some notations about things I worked on today, posted them beside some of the information.”

  She nodded, and he leaned down and brushed her lips with his. Heat pulsed through her.

  “I need to jump in the shower.” His voice, deep and husky, hinted at the thoughts blazing through his mind.

  Her mouth on his cock, licking, sucking, drawing his seed from him.

  She cleared her throat as he straightened. A smile curved his lips, and he sauntered out of the room like he owned the world.

  * * * *

  November 15th 12:15 a.m.—security breach, Deros Sector operative file.

  Shana massaged her temple. She’d been reading over the files for a little more than half an hour, looking for something to give her a hint of who the perpetrator was. There was something niggling at the back of her mind, something that would pinpoint the person responsible. If she could grab that thought, she would catch the bastard doing this. Some trademark. Either the time, or the way it was done. She gritted her teeth and continued reading.

  December 2nd 6:45 p.m.—attempted security breach, Deros Sector operative file.

  “You’ll get a headache if you keep frowning.”

  She started at the sound of Marcus’ voice. He grinned down at her; his green eyes sparkling with mischief. He’d changed into a soft gray pullover that deepened the color of his eyes, and jeans. Real jeans. She hadn’t seen a pair of them in years. They were worn and molded to his body perfectly, especially the outline of his cock. Immediately, her body warmed.

  “I just keep thinking there is something about these breaches. I’m sure if I study it long enough, something will jump out at me.”

  He nodded, his smiled dimmed. “I know. That’s why I thought you might pick up on something. It’s almost like there is an MO, but I just can’t figure out what it is.” He sighed. “I worry that we won’t have time to stop whatever they’re planning.”

  “What I don’t understand is, if they are planning something against the Federation, why worry about the Deros Sector operatives? What’s so special about them?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck in a weary gesture. “I’m not really sure. There must be some breakdown in communications.”

  “Since they seemed to be looking for operatives, do you think that maybe one of our operatives knows about the attack?”

  He sat down beside her on the sofa. The warmth of his body reached out to her, beckoned her to lean into him and accept comfort. She shifted an inch away from him. He rested his arm on the back of the sofa. His fingers played with the ends of her hair.

  “Yes. I think there might be someone, or was someone, who found out about the attack. Their problem would be pinning down who knew. They might have known the sector where the operative was, but just not who it was.”

  She shifted, trying to create some space between the two of them. The heat of his body, the light touch of his fingers against her skin, was driving her insane. “If they know the operative is in that sector, it points to someone who has access to the file transmissions.”

  He sighed and nodded. “And that someone has intercepted any messages from the agent who has the information. I haven’t heard a peep from that sector in a few weeks.”

  She worked through the information in her mind, trying to grasp what was bothering her. “So, the person behind the attack could be from that area?”

  “Not necessarily. Could be that something happened there. Maybe they did some business there, hired some mercs. If they thought someone in that sector knew, they would want to get to that agent.”

  “If they knew it was in that sector, then they should know exactly who it was.”

  His fingers stilled and then started toying with her hair again. “No. When I suspected something was going on, I encrypted some of the messages. Remember a few weeks ago when I started having all the reports come through me first, then I filtered them out to the analysts?”

  Amusement threaded his voice. Of course she remembered. They’d had a heated discussion about it. She’d been pretty pissed about his directive. In fact, she remembered arguing that the order went overboard. After losing the argument, she’d bitched to David about it.

  “They must have worked out where the information came from, just not exactly who,” she said. “Who else knows about the encryption?”

  “No one. I thought it best to keep it to myself for now.”

  The second he finished his statement, his words sank in. He’d placed her above everyone, including John Marrow. A strange sort of warmth filled her chest and spread throughout her body.

  “You told me. Why?”

  “I told you why before.”

  She swallowed hard, then looked him directly in the eye. “I know what you said before, but you held onto it this long without telling anyone else.”

  She held her breath as a tangle of emotions—fear, pride, and something different, something much deeper—swept through her. His eyes warmed as he looked down at her.

  “Who else c
ould I trust, Shana? You would never sell secrets. The preservation of the Federation is as important to you as it is to me.”

  Oh, God. This was not good. Neither the fact that a man who despised paras, for good reason, now trusted her completely, nor that her heart did a little dance at the revelation.

  “We can put our heads together and work on this some more. But not tonight. You look tired.”

  She glanced at him, surprised he had noticed. “I had to do some work last night for my boss. He’s a pain in the ass.”

  He smiled. “That’s what I’ve heard. Why don’t we call it a night?”

  Disappointment swelled, but she pushed it back down. There was no need for her to feel as if she’d been left out in a snowstorm in a bikini. She needed a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. She turned off the microfile and handed it to him.

  “Yes, well, I do need to get home.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He set the file on the side table, and sat back waiting for her answer.

  “You said we would call it a night. I assumed—”

  “You assumed wrong. I’m ready for bed, not sleep.”

  Chapter 7

  Marcus chuckled. He’d never seen Shana without a retort in the eighteen months he’d known her. Her eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed twice, apparently speechless after his announcement. Taking advantage of her bewilderment, he grabbed her hand, pulled her up from the couch, and led her from the library.

  “Library lights, off.” The lights dimmed as he stepped into the hallway, Shana’s slender hand in his. Every time he touched her, a feeling of complete and absolute contentment swept through him.

  “I need to go home. I need clothes for tomorrow.”

  He didn’t break his stride. Anticipation hummed through him. Having her in his bed, under his control…