Soldier of Fortune

by Diana Palmer

  She gasped as his hard, moist lips began to merge with her own. She tasted him, actually tasted the essence of him, as he built the intensity of the kiss. His hands moved down her back, bringing her torso against his and

  letting her soft breasts crush against the hardness of his chest. His teeth nipped roughly at her mouth as he drew slowly away. His eyes were blazing—fierce and passionate and hungry.

  "I like it hard," he said under his breath. "Will I frighten you?"

  She barely managed to shake her head before he bent again. This time it was a tempest, not the slight breeze of before. He lifted her in his hard arms and she felt the heat in him as his mouth opened wide. She felt his tongue go inside her mouth in a fencing motion that made her feel hot all over and dragged a smothered moan from her throat.

  She was trembling, and her body couldn't seem to get close enough to his. She clung to him, trying to weld herself to him, but before she could move, he was putting her on her feet. His eyes blazed wildly in his pale face.

  "No more of that," he said heavily. He freed her abruptly, and the blood rushed back into her upper arms, making her aware of the pressure of his unconscious hold on her. "My God, you were trembling all over."

  She felt naked under his glittering gaze. She'd never been vulnerable like that with anyone, but to have it happen with J.D. was terrifying.

  "I feel funny," she said with a shaky laugh.

  "Do you?" He took a deep breath and drew her head to his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Gabby. I'm not used to virgins."

  "That never happened to me before." She hadn't meant to confess it, but the words came tumbling out involuntarily.

  "Yes, I felt that," he murmured. His hands, tangled

  in her hair, gently drew her closer to him so that her cheek rested against his chest. "Gabby, do you know what I'd like to do? I'd like to take off my shirt and feel your cheek against my skin, your lips on my body..." He groaned and suddenly pushed her away, turning on his heel. He seemed to go rigid, and his hands reached blindly for a cigarette while Gabby stood behind him and ached for what he'd just described.

  "How long have we worked together...two years?" he asked in an odd tone. "And we spend two days posing as lovers and this happens. Maybe bringing you along wasn't such a good idea."

  "You said you needed me," she reminded him.

  He pulled out another cigarette and lit it, handing it to her with an oddly apologetic look. "It will steady you," he said gently. "Gabby, just don't tempt me, all right?"

  "Do what?" she asked blankly, looking up at him with dazed eyes.

  "Damn!" he growled and then sighed. "Gabby, what I'm trying to say is, let's not get emotional."

  "You're the one who's cursing, counselor, not me," she reminded him coldly. "And I didn't start kissing you!"

  "You helped," he reminded her, his eyes narrow. "You'd be a joy to initiate."

  "I am not sleeping with you!"

  His knuckles brushed her mouth, silencing her. "I was teasing. I won't do anything to you that you'll regret, Gabby, that's a promise. No sex."

  She swallowed. "You scare me."

  "Why?"

  "Because of the way you make me feel," she confessed. "I didn't expect it."

  "Neither did I. You're a heady wine, honey. One I don't dare drink much of." He lifted his hand to her hair. "You could be habit-forming to a man like me, who's been alone too long."

  "Maybe I'd better resign when we get back..." she began, shaken as much by what she was feeling as by what he was telling her.

  "No!" he said curtly. His fingers caught the nape of her neck and held on. "No. This is all just a moment out of time, Gabby. It's no reason to start getting panicky. Besides," he added heavily, "there's still Martina. And God only knows how this will turn out."

  She went icy cold. "Jacob, please don't go with the others."

  "I have to," he said simply.

  "You could get killed," she said.

  He nodded. "That could happen. But Martina is all I have in the world, the only person I've ever loved. I can't turn my back on her, not now. I could never call myself a man again."

  What could she say to that? He touched her cheek lightly and left her alone in the room. She watched the door close with a sense of utter disaster. It didn't help that she was beginning to understand why she trembled so violently at his touch.

  J.D. had always disturbed her, from the very first. But she'd assumed that it was because of the kind of man he was. Now, she didn't know. Just looking at him made her ache. And he'd kissed her.. .how he'd kissed her! As if he were hungry for her, for her alone.

  She shook herself. Probably he just needed a woman and she was handy. He'd said not to get herself involved,

  and she wasn't going to. Just because she was all excited at the prospect of being part of a covert operation, that was no reason to go overboard for J.D.

  She wondered at the way he'd reacted when she'd asked if he had been one of the group before. Didn't he remember that he'd told her he'd served in the Special Forces?

  It was fifteen minutes before she rejoined the men, wearing jeans and a loose pullover top and boots. J.D. studied her long and hard, his eyes clearly approving the modest gear.

  She stared back at him. He seemed like a different man, sitting there in jungle fatigues and holding some small weapon in his big hands.

  "The Uzi," he told her when she approached and stared at the miniature machine gun curiously. "It holds a thirty-shot magazine."

  "And what's that?" she asked, nodding toward a nasty-looking oversize rifle with a long torpedo-like thing on a stick near it.

  "An RPG-7 rocket launcher."

  "Is that Gabby?" a short black man asked, grinning at her.

  "That's Gabby." J.D. chuckled. "Honey, this is Drago, one of the best explosives men this side of nuclear war. And over in the corner, being antisocial, is Apollo. He's the scrounger. What we need, he gets."

  She nodded toward the corner, where a second black man stood. That one was tall and slender, whereas Drago was chunky.

  "Hey, Gabby," Apollo said without looking up.

  "Does everybody know my name?" she burst out, exasperated.

  "Afraid so," First Shirt volunteered, laughing. "Didn't you know Archer was a blabbermouth?"

  She stared at her boss. "Well, I sure do now," she exclaimed.

  "Come here, Gabby, and let me show you how to work the radio," Laremos offered, starting to rise.

  "My job," J.D. said in a tone of voice that made Laremos sit back down.

  "But of course." Laremos grinned, not offended at all.

  Gabby followed the big man out of the room to the communications room, where Laremos had a computer and several radios.

  "J.D...." she began.

  He closed the door and glared down at her. "He hurt a woman once. Badly. Can you read between the lines, or are you naive enough that I have to spell it out in words of one syllable?"

  She drew in a steadying breath. "I'm sorry, J.D. You'll just have to make allowances for my stupidity. I'm a small-town Texas girl. Where I come from, men are different."

  "Yes, I know. You aren't used to this kind of group."

  She looked up. "No. But they seem to be nice people. J.D., it just dawned on me that you must trust me a lot to bring me here," she murmured.

  "There isn't anyone I trust more," he said in a deep, rough tone. "Didn't you know?"

  He stared into her eyes until she felt the trembling come back, and something wild darkened his own before he turned away and got it under control.

  "We'd better get to it," he said tautly. "And when we go back out there, for God's sake, don't say or do anything

  to encourage Laremos, you understand? He's a friend of mine, but I'd kill him in a second if he touched you."

  The violence in him made her eyes widen with shock. He glanced at her, his face hard, and she knew she was seeing the man without the mask for the first time. He looked as ruthless as any one of those m
en in the other room and she realized with a start that he was.

  "I'm territorial," he said gruffly. "What I have, I hold, and for the duration of this trip, you belong to me. Enough said?"

  "Enough said, Jacob," she replied, her voice unconsciously soft.

  His face tautened. "I'd like to hear you say my name in bed, Gabby," he breathed, moving close. "I'd like to hear you scream it..."

  "Jacob!" she gasped as he bent and took her mouth.

  She moaned helplessly as he folded her into his tall, powerful form, letting her feel for the first time the involuntary rigidity of his body in desire.

  He lifted his lips from hers and looked into her wide eyes, and he nodded. "Yes, it happens to me just as it happens to other men," he said in a rough tone. "Are you shocked? Haven't you ever been this close to a hungry man?"

  "No, Jacob, I haven't," she managed unsteadily.

  That seemed to calm him a little, but his eyes were still stormy. He let her move away, just enough to satisfy her modesty.

  "Are you frightened?" he asked.

  "You're very strong," she said, searching his face. "I know you wouldn't force me, but what if...?"

  "I've had a lot of practice at curbing my appetites,

  Gabby," he murmured. He brushed the hair away from her cheeks. "I won't lose my head, even with you.

  "Let me show you," he whispered, and she felt his mouth beside hers, touching, moving away, teasing, until she turned her head just a fraction of an inch and opened it to the slow, sweet possession of his lips.

  She could barely breathe, and it was heaven as his arms came around her, as his mouth spoke to her in a wild, nonverbal way. The opening of the door was a shattering disappointment.

  "Excuse me—" Laremos chuckled "—but you were so long, I thought you might be having trouble."

  "I am," J.D. said in a voice husky with emotion, "but not the kind you thought."

  "As I see. Here, let me go over the sequence with you and discuss the frequencies—they are different from the ones you are familiar with, no doubt," he said, sitting down in front of the equipment.

  Gabby brushed back her hair and tried not to look at J.D. She tried not to think about the long night ahead, when she'd lie in his arms in that big bed and have to keep from begging him to do what they both wanted.

  The radio wasn't difficult at all. It took only minutes to learn the routine. It was the code words that took longest. She made a list and walked around the house memorizing it while the men talked in the spacious living room. At the dinner table, she was still going over it.

  Only Laremos, J.D., and Gabby ate together at the table. The others carried their plates away.

  "They're still antisocial, I see," J.D. murmured over his food.

  "Old habits." Laremos glanced at Gabby. "And I

  think they do not want to disillusion this one, who looks at them with such soft eyes."

  "I didn't embarrass them, did I?" she asked, contrite.

  "No," J.D. said. "I think you flattered them. They aren't used to all that rapt attention." He chuckled.

  "How did they come to be mercenaries?" she asked softly. "If you can tell me, I mean. I don't want to invade anyone's privacy."

  "Well, Shirt was in the Special Forces, like I was," J.D. said, pausing over the sentence, as if he was choosing his words carefully. "After he got out of the service, he couldn't find anything he liked to do except police work, and he wasn't making enough to pay the bills. He had a contact in the mercenary network and he asked some questions. He was good with the standard underworld weapons and something of a small-arms expert. He found work."

  "And Apollo?"

  "Apollo started out as an M.P. He was accused of a crime he didn't commit, and there were some racial overtones." J.D. shrugged. "He wasn't getting any justice, so he ran for it and wound up in Central America. He's been down here ever since."

  "He can't clear himself?" she asked.

  "I expect I'll end up defending him one of these days," he told her with a quiet smile. "In fact, I can almost guarantee it. I'll win, too."

  "I wouldn't doubt that," she murmured, tongue in cheek.

  "How long have you worked with this bad-tempered one, Senorita Gabby?" Laremos asked.

  "A little over two years," she told him, glancing at J.D.

  "It's been an education. I've learned that if you shout loudly enough, you can get most anything you want"

  "He shouts at you?"

  "I wouldn't dare," J.D. murmured with a grin. "The first time I tried, she heaved a paperweight at my head."

  "I did not," she protested. "I threw it at your door!"

  "Which I opened at the wrong time," he continued. "Fortunately, I have good reflexes."

  "You will need them tomorrow, I fear," Laremos told him. "The terrorists will not make things easy for us."

  "True," J.D. said as he finished his coffee. "But we have the element of surprise on our side."

  "That is so."

  "And now, we'd better go over the maps again. I want to be sure I know the terrain before we set out in the morning."

  Gabby went on to bed, feeling definitely in the way. She took a quick bath and settled in on one side of the big double bed, wearing the long, very modest nightgown she'd brought along. Unfortunately, the material was thin, but perhaps J.D. would be too busy with his thoughts to notice.

  She lay there trying to stumble through a Guatemalan newspaper, but she couldn't concentrate. She tingled all over, thinking of the long night ahead, of spending it lying in J.D.'s arms. Had he really meant that? Or had it just been something to tease her with? And what if he did hold her in his arms all night—would she be able to resist tempting him beyond his control?

  She tossed the newspaper onto the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring apprehensively at the door. Her long hair hung softly around her shoulders,

  and she brushed strands of it away from her face. She wanted him. There was no use denying mat she did. But if she gave in, if she tempted him too far, what would she have? One single night to remember, and it would be the end of her job. J.D. didn't want any kind of permanent relationship with a woman, and she'd do well to keep her head. He was worried about his sister, justifiably nervous about tomorrow's foray into the jungle, and he might do something insane if she pushed him.

  But for just a moment she thought how it would be, to feel bis hair-roughened skin against every inch of her, to let him touch her as he'd no doubt touched other women. She sighed huskily. He'd be gentle, she knew that, and patient. He'd make of it such a tender initiation that it would surpass her wildest dreams of belonging to a man. But it would cheapen what she was beginning to feel for him, and it would do no good for his opinion of her. She attracted him because she was a virgin, untouched. And if she gave herself to him, she wouldn't be that anymore. It was even possible that he'd hold her in contempt for joining the ranks of his lovers.

  With a weary moan, she turned out the light and burrowed under the covers. It was a lovely dream, anyway, she told herself, and closed her eyes.

  She hadn't meant to go to sleep so soon, but the first thing she knew the dawn light was streaming in through the windows, bringing her wide awake.

  Sleepily she stretched, and became suddenly aware of where she was. She sat up, eyes wide, and looked around for J.D. It took only a second to find him. He was standing at the window, his profile to her, looking out. And he didn't have a stitch of clothing on his body.

  Her eyes were riveted on him. She'd seen men without clothes. These days, with all the explicit films, it was impossible to avoid nudity. But she'd never seen a nude man close up, like this. And she imagined that J.D. would please even the eyes of an experienced woman. He was all powerful muscle, with dark shadows of hair feathering every inch of him. His legs were long and muscular, his hips narrow, his stomach flat. His chest was broad and bronzed and a wedge of thick black hair curled over it. She stared at him helplessly, unashamedly—until she happened
to look up and saw him watching her.

  Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn't get anything out.

  "It's all right," he said quietly. "If I'd found you in the same condition, I'd be staring just as hard. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.

  "I don't wear pajamas," he murmured with an amused look. "I expected to be awake before you were. It was a hot night."

  "Yes," she managed, choking. He moved back toward the bed, and she sat there frozen, unable to make even the pretense of looking the other way. It didn't seem to bother him at all. He bent down, catching her by the arms, and dragged her out of the bed and against his body.

  He laughed deep in his throat, the sound of it predatory, primitive. 'Touch me," he dared her. His hands caught hers and ran them over his sleek hips, up his spine, and around to the matted tangle of hair over his warm chest. Her breath was trapped somewhere beneath her ribs, and her fingers burrowed into the crisp hair over his heart.

  "Yes, you like it, don't you?" he asked in a voice like rough velvet, his eyes narrow and black and hot on her face. "But not half as much as I do. I've dreamed about this, night after endless night, about how your hands would feel touching me. What do I look like to those innocent eyes, Gabby? Do I frighten you...please you?

  Which?"

  She was drunk with the feel of him, the smell of him. Her hands roamed over his chest, his rib cage. With a long sigh she leaned her forehead on his collarbone. "You please me," she whispered. "Can't you tell? Oh, Jacob...!" Her hands pressed harder, more urgently. "Jacob, I want to do such shameless things."

  "Such as?" he asked in a whisper. "Such as, Gabby?" He covered her hands with his own and she felt their faint tremor. "I won't hurt you. Do whatever you want

  to do."

  It wasn't fair that he should have such power over her, she thought dazedly. She was too intoxicated, too hungry, to listen to the cool voice of reason. Her hands smoothed over his chest, around his back, and with an instinct she didn't even know she had, her mouth opened and pressed against the center of his chest.