The Impossible Alliance

by Candace Irvin

  He wasn’t asleep.

  She flushed as that hot amber gaze not only captured hers, but held it. “I’m sorry. I swear, I wasn’t trying to—”

  “I know.”

  He reached down and covered her hands with his, carefully removing them from the proximity of his still-prominent erection. To her surprise, he didn’t release her. Nor did he sever his heated stare. He cleared his throat. “I suppose my…interest…is rather obvious, isn’t it?”

  Her flush cooled, and another flame took its place. Desire.

  He really did want her. She was certain of it when his gaze dropped to her mouth. The fire in his eyes burned hotter, until the amber practically glowed. She pulled her fingers from his and reached out to slip them through the loose strands of his hair. She half expected him to reach out and stop her. He didn’t. But his gaze returned to hers. The glow in his eyes deepened as she slid the fingers of her right hand from that inky silk and dragged them across the late—evening whiskers that had sprouted along his jaw, not quite suppressing a shiver as the scruff rasped the pads of her fingers and then her entire palm. She was playing with fire and she knew it. Once more, she didn’t care.

  Dammit, she wanted to get burned.

  She’d waited long enough for this man. If Janice didn’t want him, she did.

  He didn’t have to know about the hearing aid. Until she’d told him, her ex-fiancé hadn’t. She pushed Don from her memory and focused on the present, instead. On Jared. She reached out again, this time boldly smoothing her fingers across his lips. She sucked in her breath as Jared finally reached up and did the same. He trailed his fingers down her cheek and hooked his thumb beneath the curve of her jaw to draw her closer. Within seconds they were inches apart, staring directly into each other’s eyes, breathing the same swirl of erotically charged air.

  She refused to rush it. She refused to rush him.

  Yes, she wanted him. More than she’d ever wanted another man. But she also needed Jared to be sure that he wanted her.

  That he wanted this.

  She waited until his fingers reached the center of her lips before she slipped the tip of her tongue out and slowly licked the pads of his fingers, telling him with her pace, her eyes and her smile just how far she wanted to go. Pleasure ignited within her as he groaned deeply. A split second later it exploded as he bit down on her fingers and sucked the tips.

  Her entire body quivered.

  That was all it took.

  Before her eyes the man’s iron control just snapped. One minute she was above him, slowly and deliberately teasing him, and the next she was trapped in a haze of scorching fire as he dragged her down to the bed, sealing the length of his body to hers as he rolled her beneath him in one smooth motion. He plowed his fingers into the curls at the base of her neck and used them to angle her mouth so he could finally delve deeply, completely, within.

  To her utter satisfaction, his kiss didn’t soothe.

  And it sure as hell didn’t sate.

  It raged, consumed. She shuddered as he pulled her even closer, plunged deeper, his teeth scraping hers as he swallowed her moan. But it still wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted him.

  Now.

  She protested as he tore his mouth from hers—until he razed his lips down the side of her neck and bit gently but firmly into the curve at the base. A second moan ripped through her as she arched into the erotic sucking, pulling kiss that followed. She wrapped the fingers of her left hand into the inky strands of his hair and raked her right down his back to anchor his rigid erection to the juncture of her thighs. He growled into her neck as she rubbed against him and sucked harder. He stopped just below the cusp of pain and blew lightly across her flesh, then his tongue followed as he soothed the spot where his teeth and rasping stubble had been.

  “Please. Don’t stop.”

  He lifted his head and stared into her eyes, the golden glow in his confirming her deepest, darkest wish. He was just getting started. She shivered in anticipation as he dragged his fingers and his gaze down between them, staring at her chest as he pulled her sweater snuggly across her breasts. He knew as well as she did that she still had no bra.

  The fact that she knew he knew made her hotter.

  Wetter.

  By the time he scraped the nubby sweater back and forth across her nipples, the flames had all but consumed her. Just when she thought she couldn’t stand the rasping sensation a moment longer, he stopped. But then he leaned down to nip the now tender tips right through the fabric. A fresh wave of moisture flooded her core as he worried her nipples gently with his teeth. Just when she was sure she was going to come, right there, right then, with every stitch of clothing she donned that morning still plastered to her body, he released her nipples and raised his head—and smiled. Damn him. He knew exactly what he was doing. He was deliberately taking her to the edge and then backing off. He was trying to drive her insane. He was succeeding.

  She returned his slow smile.

  And lowered her hands.

  Before he realized her intent, she’d slipped her fingers into the waist of his underwear and once again, began kneading his rear as she had earlier. But this time, she made no attempt to massage the muscles beneath his dusky skin. She stroked, soothed…and stoked.

  The ridge cradled between her thighs grew thicker.

  Harder.

  By the time he lowered his trembling hands to her waist and hooked his thumbs beneath the edge of her sweater, she knew he was done teasing. He tugged the hem up and lowered his head, the silky length of his hair brushing her upper belly as she met him halfway. She moaned as he bathed each breast in turn with slow, hungry strokes, gasping as he ended each lingering caress with a slick, greedy swirl around the base of each nub. He returned to her right breast and covered her nipple with his entire mouth. Within seconds she was suffocating in a maelstrom of sultry heat and steady erotic suckling—until he ripped his mouth away from her completely and cursed.

  In German.

  A split second later reality punched through the haze. Jared didn’t speak German. Not that well. Nor should that curse have come from behind him. Way behind him.

  They had company.

  Alex didn’t even bother yanking her sweater down as Jared rolled to the right, his hand automatically reaching for the backup piece in the holster at his ankle as she rolled to the left to grab her leather bag—and her pistol—from the edge of the mattress. They came up together, 9 mm and .32 drawn as they vaulted off the bed, leveling both barrels directly at the intruder’s chest.

  Orloff blinked.

  A second later the man swallowed firmly, dragging his dark gaze from Jared’s .32, to her 9 mm, before whipping it back to Jared as all three of them realized simultaneously that her sweater was still snagged somewhere up above her naked breasts. To her eternal gratitude, Orloff kept his stare focused solely on Jared as he cleared his throat.

  “I am sorry. I did not mean to…interrupt.”

  The apology hung between them. Hell, the piercing intimacy of what the man had just seen hung between them. All of them. Alex lifted her free hand and pulled her sweater down over her breasts as casually as she could.

  It didn’t help.

  Orloff was still staring at Jared and, while Jared had finally turned his head to look at her, from the lingering horror in his gaze she knew damned well he’d rather be looking at someone else. Anyone else. The man might have been interested moments ago, but he was definitely having second thoughts now. She slid her gaze across the stifling room, relieved when Orloff finally met hers—until she realized that not only had the doctor managed to get over his embarrassment first, but from the roguish glint in those dark-brown eyes, Roman had obviously decided to seek out the humor in the situation.

  Damned if she could find it.

  He held up a prescription vial in his hand, as well as a worn velvet box, as she slipped her pistol into her bag.

  “Is your fiancé allergic to tetracycline?”


  Orloff knew bloody well she and Jared were nothing more than partners. The moment he’d closed the door to his office, he’d cut straight to the chase, stunning her with his grasp of their situation. As well as the true nature of their job. She hadn’t been surprised. After all, Orloff knew better than even the man beside her, calmly leaning down in his sweater and underwear to reholster his weapon, how truly elaborate her disguise had been. The fact that the doctor had kept his mouth shut—twice—was enough for her. While Jared hadn’t been pleased to discover she’d confirmed Orloff’s conclusions without his prior input, he’d understood.

  Or so he’d said.

  Right about now she’d give anything for Jared to say something. He finally did.

  “The tet should work fine.” He held up his hand as Roman tossed the plastic vial across the room, cracking the remaining tension with a lopsided grin as he snagged the antibiotics in midair. “Her fiancé thanks you.”

  He and Orloff were right. They were all adults. They should be able to get past the awkwardness of the moment without any lingering fallout contaminating their professional relationship. She’d worry about the fallout between her and her fiancé later.

  Orloff stunned them both by shaking his head. “You are not engaged. Not any longer. Tonight, you marry.”

  Jared stiffened along with her.

  Orloff nodded. “I have thought about this the whole way home. If you are to stay with me, we must adjust your story. As you both have already noticed, I have but one guest room. I also have a maid. Though I cannot prove it, I have long suspected the woman of spying on me for DeBruzkya. I have toyed with the idea of firing her before now, but lately—” he used the velvet box to point to his battered, but healing face “—I have come to believe that might not prove wise.”

  A definite understatement.

  But still, what did their marital status have to do with some maid? Her confusion must have shown because Jared nodded.

  “You’re hoping she informs DeBruzkya of your guests.”

  Orloff smiled grimly. “Precisely. Should Herta do so, the general may become curious. Unfortunately in this country a wedding ring is one of the few protections a woman has left.” He captured her gaze. “You would be wise to submit to it.”

  Alex searched the determination in his gaze. She had the distinct feeling he was leaving something out.

  Orloff severed his stare and returned his attention to Jared. “DeBruzkya and his men have been known to frequent the hospital upon occasion. Despite my repeated assurances, I believe he fears I may abandon my countrymen and cross our border to set up practice within one of the refugee camps.”

  “Why don’t you?”

  Like Orloff’s earlier apology, Jared’s question hung between the men. They stared at each other for a good ten seconds. But while neither man moved nor spoke, she swore they were communicating. How, she had no idea.

  That was frustrating in and of itself. After all, she’d gained a pretty good handle on man-speak over the past six years. Evidently she’d missed something, because Orloff finally nodded beneath that sharp amber stare.

  The amber softened. “What was her name?”

  Orloff’s answering smile was bittersweet. “Galena. We met in your country while we were attending Stanford. Despite the upheaval in my country, she came here to visit me. Galena was German-American, very bright and very beautiful. She was also very stubborn. She preferred to remain…independent.”

  “DeBruzkya.”

  Orloff sighed heavily, the light fading from his eyes as he nodded. “As I said, she was very bright. Galena was able to escape. Despite her injuries, as well as the misplaced shame and disorientation they caused, she managed to return to my home. But she hemorrhaged during the night. There was nothing I could do.” His mouth opened again, but no sound came out. He finally closed it and settled on a terse shrug.

  That shallow motion said it all.

  The man turned, finally including Alex in his solemn stare. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes as he held up the scuffed, velvet box. She suspected the glitter in his own gaze was due to tears, too, as he studied the box. He finally broke his gaze and tossed the box to her. She caught it instinctively.

  She opened the box slowly and gasped.

  “They’re beautiful!”

  They truly were. Fashioned from white gold, the matching antique wedding rings were simple, yet elegant. A trio of slender vines had been intricately twisted and braided about each other until they formed a complete circle, stopping every few millimeters to sprout a tiny ruby. Though the gems weren’t large or terribly expensive, they were bloodred and perfectly cut. The rings captured the faint light from the single bulb on the ceiling, refracting it until the rubies sparkled.

  These rings were meant to be worn in love.

  “I can’t.”

  “You must. Please.” He pushed forth another shrug. “Do not worry. Should you meet, DeBruzkya will not recognize the rings. If anything, the stones may draw his attention in the way you wish if, as you say, he is not done collecting gems. As I mentioned in my office, DeBruzkya is wont to wander our halls once a week at least, ostensibly to visit his wounded soldiers.” His lips twisted bitterly. “Though everyone knows his real intent is to comb firsthand for spies and assure himself of my staff’s loyalty as well as my own. However, he has not been by in eight days. Hence, he should show soon. Perhaps tomorrow.”

  When she didn’t answer, he nodded toward the rings once more. “Please. I would be honored if you wore them. To know that in some small way they had protected you.” Orloff deliberately included Jared in his stiff nod before he turned to leave the room, gently closing the door behind him. Alex dropped her gaze to the rings as the latch clicked, nearly jumping out of her skin as Jared touched her arm. With his boots off, she hadn’t even heard him move. She had to get her hands on that new hearing aid. Soon.

  “Alex?” The muffled name grated across her deaf ear.

  She didn’t dare shift position. The mood she was in, it wouldn’t have been smooth. She kept her stare fused to the rings, instead, too tired and too raw to face his regret. She had enough regret of her own burning through her. Yes, Jared had finally been interested. But that didn’t mean he’d forgotten about Janice. Making love to a woman and loving her were two different things. Even if he was free to care about her, how long would his interest have lasted? Given the fierce and very tactile way Jared made love, if they hadn’t been interrupted, his hands would have run into reality and his desire would have done a complete and immediate about-face. Her stomach bottomed out at the thought.

  She shifted her grip on the box, determined to close the lid on the temptation within. Even if she was willing to risk it in the cold light of reason, Jared would never agree to the pretense of marriage. “It’s a nice gesture, but I don’t think we’ll need it.”

  To her surprise, his hand covered hers.

  “We might. You might.”

  She jerked her chin up, stunned when he nodded.

  He plucked the smaller of the two rings from the velvet bed and held it out. “At least see if it fits.”

  She studied the ring again. It did appear large enough. Scientifically, the rubies were fairly insignificant. Still, Orloff was right. From the robbery profile the first two ARIES agents had compiled, the gems weren’t so small that they’d automatically escape DeBruzkya’s voracious interest. The ring could be a plus.

  She nodded, allowing Jared to take the box from her left hand and place the ring into the palm of her right. The ring slid up her third finger easily…until the band reached her knuckle. She tugged firmly.

  Damn.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She cursed the flush heating her cheeks. “It’s stuck.” So much for Galena matching her proportions.

  “Let me—”

  “That’s okay.” She jerked away from those dangerous hands. Hands that had been all over her on that bed. On her lips, on her breasts, in her hair. She tugg
ed the ring again, this time adding a vicious twist. She nearly dislocated her knuckle, but the ring didn’t budge. Desperate, she licked the fingertips of her right hand and used them to moisten the skin surrounding the ring before she gave it a third yank.

  Nothing.

  Jared tucked the jewelry box in the front pocket of his jeans and snagged her hand. She clamped down on the catch in her breath as he lifted her hand and slipped her ring finger into his mouth. Her gaze bumped into his and froze as his mouth slid over the ring, as his tongue slid around her.

  Hot. Wet.

  Just like that, they were back on that bed in her mind, whirling toward the very edge of heaven on earth—together. She might not have been able to hear the catch in his own breath as he bit gently down behind the ring and slowly slid her damp, naked finger out of his mouth, but she damned sure felt it. She stood there, seared to the spot as he retrieved the velvet box and opened it. She watched him replace the first ring and retrieve the second. She was still seared into place, powerless to move as he slid the larger ring onto her finger.

  It fit.

  He fit.

  After the passion they’d just shared—hell, after the day and the week they’d just shared—couldn’t he see that?

  Or was she the one who couldn’t see clearly? The one who didn’t want to. Was she half-blind, as well as deaf? He wasn’t Don. Hadn’t she watched Jared give his own blood to save a mangled child? A child who might still die by morning? Maybe he could handle the truth. If she gave him a chance. God knew she wanted to. She even knew where to start. She took a deep breath and voiced the one question she should have voiced three months before.

  “Who’s Janice?”

  Chapter 8

  His heart stopped.

  For a split second, Jared was afraid—hell, he even hoped—he’d finally succumbed to the loss of blood. But when his heart restarted, when his lungs insisted on drawing the next blistering breath of air, when the deafening roar pounding through his head didn’t cease, he knew he hadn’t. He was still alive. And Alex was still standing six inches away from him, staring into his eyes, expecting an answer. An answer to the one question he’d have willingly shaved a year off his already numbered days not to answer. Not to her. Not after this past week.