“When I heard you’d been killed in a car accident, I… I lost it completely,” he began. “I called Hellhound…”
I leaned back in the sofa and let him talk. If he’d decided to lie, he was smart enough to synchronize his story with Arnie beforehand.
But Arnie wouldn’t lie to me. Not even for Kane.
I hoped.
“…she invited me for dinner,” Kane was continuing his narrative. “I told her right away I was in a committed relationship, but she said she needed to talk to somebody with a top-level security clearance without Stemp knowing, and I was the most plausible candidate for a dinner invitation.”
He grimaced. “If Richardson had been in town, I’d have pointed her in his direction, but he was in Calgary and she swore it couldn’t wait. Hellhound and I decided it would work well to divert Stemp from thinking I was involved with you, so I went. I didn’t realize she had kids until I got there.”
Kane’s face softened. “Did you see how cute they are? Ivy’s such a little angel, and Brendan’s just full of mischief and energy.”
I swallowed a pang. Kane had once told me his ex-wife had been devastated by her inability to have children, but it seemed she hadn’t been the only one who’d mourned the loss.
“Anyway,” Kane went on, “I reassured Jack as much as I could. I wasn’t planning to see her again, but I’d told the kids some of my stories and they were begging for more. Her ex has them for the next couple of weeks, so I didn’t think it would hurt.”
Sadness briefly shadowed his expression. “By the time they’re back, they’ll have other things on their minds. I won’t see them again, and they won’t miss me. No harm done.”
My pang turned into a full-fledged stab of sympathy. “Why not see them again?” I asked. “I could tell they loved being with you. You loved being with them. I think Hon… uh, Jack really likes you. Why not give it a try?”
He frowned. “Are you finished trying to drive me away yet?”
“I wasn’t…” I closed my mouth on the lie and rephrased. “That wasn’t actually uppermost in my mind. I was thinking about your happiness.”
“I’ll take responsibility for my own happiness, thanks.” He spoke gently, but his tone indicated the discussion was closed. “Can we get back to the original question?”
Stall.
“You said you were telling some of your stories to the kids? What stories?”
“Ah.” His gaze shifted to the ceiling. “Some little stories I wrote.”
I sat up to study his sudden nonchalance. “You’re a writer?”
He met my eyes for a moment before standing to stir up the fire and add another log. “I’m working on a children’s book,” he said to the fireplace. “I pick away at it whenever I have some spare time. Which isn’t often.”
“That’s so cool. May I see what you’ve done?”
He turned back to face me. “If you want to. But I’d rather you answered that deferred question.”
Another surge of heat made me slightly breathless. Damn fireplace.
Stall, stall!
“May I see it now?” I blurted.
The mellow firelight accented the teasing smile curving onto his lips. “See what?” he rumbled.
“Your book! Your book,” I repeated, trying not to gabble.
“Only if you promise to be gentle with me.”
I drew in a shallow breath, and Kane chuckled. “We authors are very sensitive about our work-in-progress.”
“Right…” I said to his receding back.
Jesus, woman, get a grip.
My dirty mind immediately suggested a particularly satisfactory place to get a grip and I sucked in another breath, trying not to think about it. Kane in professional mode was hot enough. Kane actually flirting did a lot to explain the phenomenon of spontaneous human combustion.
Before my heart rate had a chance to stabilize, he returned carrying a sheaf of papers. When he sat beside me on the sofa, I realized my attempt at distraction had backfired. Inches away, his body radiated the same heat as the fireplace.
“It’s just a collection of little stories,” he said, handing me a few sheets. “Here’s the first one.”
I skimmed it, captivated by the simplicity and sweetness of the tale and the subtlety of the underlying message.
“This is wonderful!” I exclaimed as I looked up to meet his smile. “I can see why kids would love it, but it’s got enough in it to speak to the adults, too. And these illustrations are amazing. Did you do them?”
He nodded, and I turned back to the page to admire the way the bold ink strokes conveyed action and excitement. Their simplicity was deceptive, and like the stories themselves, a closer look revealed the delicacy of the details.
“Are you going to publish it?” I asked.
“Some day, maybe. It’s a tough market.” He retrieved the pages from me and smoothed them back onto the pile.
“I’m surprised you don’t write spy thrillers. You must have tons of stories to tell.”
He shrugged and rose. “Yes. But when I’m on my own time, I don’t really want to think about work.”
“I can certainly understand that,” I agreed with feeling, and he shot me a smile as he ducked back into his office. “Do you want another drink?” he asked when he emerged a few seconds later.
Jesus, never mind wanting a drink, I needed a drink. I still hadn’t figured out any workable way to escape the ensuing conversation.
“Yes, please. How about one of those beers you promised me?”
I racked my brain while he disappeared into the kitchen. Maybe I could call Arnie to come and rescue me. Except that being the good friend he was, the lousy bastard would probably refuse until Kane and I had finally hashed this out. And I couldn’t call him anyway, because according to my tracking device he and I were snuggled together in his hotel room. Calling him from my cell phone would cause awkward questions if anybody was watching the call record.
I twitched when Kane reappeared to hand me the icy bottle. Corona. My favourite.
“You seem nervous,” he said, and his provocative smile made my mouth go dry. Dryer.
I swallowed a large mouthful of beer and faked moderate concern. “Actually, I just realized I’m carrying my cell phone. Can’t Stemp track my location with it?”
Kane sobered. “Yes. This is a calculated risk. I don’t think he’ll bother when he’s tracking you through that implant.”
“Maybe I should go. I don’t want him to get suspicious.”
“Nice try.” He sat opposite me again, leaning elbows on knees and swirling the half-inch of amber liquid in his glass. Ice cubes clinked, and a whiff of scotch drifted over.
Kane’s eyes met mine. “We need to resolve this. Postponing it isn’t the answer. Friends with benefits?”
“I… really don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said faintly. I sent another generous portion of beer down my throat. “Friends with benefits requires a certain amount of…”
Dammit, why did he choose this moment to raise his glass for a sip of whiskey, giving me an eyeful of succulent bicep?
“…detachment,” I finished hoarsely, and took another drink. “You said yourself you get jealous easily, and I think if you have unresolved feelings…”
God, there was that edible bicep again. He slowly licked a drop of scotch off the rim of the glass, his gaze never leaving me.
“That’s not fair,” I croaked, clenching my bottle in both hands to prevent myself from guzzling its contents.
Kane placed his glass on the coffee table and leaned back in the chair to link his hands behind his head.
Sweet Jesus, a two-bicep assault. And that chest. And reclining like that, his T-shirt stretched across the hard ridges of his abs. And below that…
I jerked my eyes up to his face again when he spoke. “What’s not fair?” he inquired lazily.
“N… never mind.” I gulped another long swallow of beer before remembering I was going to slow down
my drinking. “What I meant was… I think it would make things difficult at work, and…”
“I think it might actually make things easier,” he observed. “We’ve both been edgy the last few months, trying to ignore the attraction. If I get reinstated to your project, we’ll have to keep up an outward appearance of indifference, but it’ll be a lot easier when we’re not trying to fight it in private, too.”
“It’s easier as long as it’s just friends on both sides, but we both know it’s more than that for you.”
“I’m very clear that it’s just friends with benefits, nothing more.”
I blew out a shaky breath. “If Stemp found out, you’d probably get canned. Or killed.”
He smiled, the naughty twinkle in his eyes framed by those irresistible laugh lines. My breathing suffered a momentary short-circuit at the sight of all that hotness lounging across from me, and I almost missed his next words.
“We’re spies,” he rumbled. “I’m sure we can keep a secret.”
I resumed breathing with an effort. “You’re a spy. I’m a dumb civilian, I’d mess up for sure, and I think the whole thing would be a really bad idea.”
My attempt at a decisive tone didn’t sound quite as final as I’d planned. I slugged back another swallow. “Dammit, I know it would be a really bad idea.”
“We’re only talking about friends with benefits,” he said. “I understand you don’t want commitment.”
I gulped. A no-strings-attached opportunity to fulfill my recurring fantasies. With crème brulée on top. Pure lust ignited the sofa beneath me while my head attempted to float away. I sucked in a breath and tried to summon up a grain of common sense.
Goddammit, no. Bad, bad idea!
Kane leaned forward to catch my unfocused gaze and spoke again. “Tell me you’re not interested, and I’ll drop it right now. Tell me you don’t wonder what it would be like to be with me when I’m not drugged to the eyeballs. What it would be like if I had a chance to make love to you for hours instead of taking you in a red-hot scramble while you scream for more and come your brains out…”
“Not fair! Really, really not fair,” I protested.
The beer bottle sloshed in my shaking hand as I swallowed another too-large mouthful. Goddamn, I could feel his heat from across the room.
He stood. Stretched his arms above his head, powerful muscles bunching and releasing. A sensuous twist of his spine reminded me all over again how flexible he was.
Like I needed to be thinking about that right now. I gasped like a beached fish in the too-warm air.
Kane smiled. “You said earlier I must have lots of stories to tell.” His black-velvet voice caressed my ears. “Here’s one that might interest you.” Again, that subtle, sexy twist of his body. “Did I mention…”
He paused and hooked his thumbs in his belt loops, making the waistband of his jeans gape enticingly over his taut abs. His outspread hands framed a luscious denim-wrapped package, and I was struggling to wrench my stare back up to his face when he finished his sentence.
“…that I once spent three months undercover as an exotic dancer?”
I made a convulsive grab at my beer bottle as it slipped from my nerveless hand.
“No… no, you didn’t happen to mention that.” My voice was a papery whisper, and I gave up and chugged the last of the beer. There wasn’t much left anyway.
“I could dance for you.”
Now his movements weren’t quite so subtle. God, the man moved like a jungle cat. None of the clumsy gyrating and thrusting I’d seen from cheesy male strippers. Every one of his movements was smooth sexy power, sizzling invitation.
“It’s not the kind of music I used to use.” He reached to turn up the stereo slightly, the long muscles of his torso undulating under his snug T-shirt. Bob Seger’s ‘We’ve Got Tonight’ swelled into the room. Kane gave me a devilish grin. “But you have to admit the message is appropriate.”
He was moving again, and I vaguely reflected that I wouldn’t have believed anybody could dance like that to this song.
Then I abandoned thought entirely.
Kane slowly pulled his T-shirt loose from his waistband, swaying to the music, his eyes hot on me. I caught the flash of a teasing smile before my gaze snapped down to watch his hands.
Big hands. Powerful, but with the sensitivity to create that wonderful pen-and-ink art. And speaking of art…
His hands slid against his midsection, pushing his shirt up to reveal abs ordered directly from my catalogue of ideal male body parts. Transfixed, I watched the muscles ripple with his sinuous movements, the arrow-straight strip of dark hair below his navel just begging me to follow it into his pants.
The shirt slid higher, then dropped abruptly. I repressed a whimper and dragged my eyes up to Kane’s wicked expression.
“More?” he rumbled, still moving, still seducing me with the promise of those circling hips.
“Y-yes… Please.” I sounded as if I’d swallowed my tongue.
Thank you, Lord, the shirt lifted a few more inches.
“You’re sure this is what you want?” he asked. There was melted chocolate mixed up with that black velvet voice now. Hot, dark, messy, lickable…
“God, yes, dammit…”
He peeled his shirt off entirely, and I thanked the merciful gods I was already sitting so I couldn’t fall down. Though sitting wasn’t all that comfortable. I squirmed, trying to ease the fierce wet heat.
His hands drifted down to the button of his jeans.
OhGodOhGodOhGod.
I swallowed with difficulty, remembering how it had felt to fumble that button open. Slide that zipper down. Reach in to free that magnificent…
“Stop.” My voice was nothing but a croak.
The zipper hovered at its halfway point, his jeans easing lower on his still-moving hips. A glimpse of black underwear made me shiver with overheated memory.
I rose shakily. There was no way this could turn out well. Getting into bed with Kane would be the dumbest thing I could possibly do. I’d only hurt him, and he’d end up hating me. I had to walk away now, before it was too late. Save everybody the pain.
I started to tell him, and some moron hijacked my mouth.
“I want to watch the rest of this show from your bed,” it said.
Chapter 16
“Is that a fact?” Now Kane was all tease.
Too late to back out now. He had me, and he knew it. And I didn’t give a shit about doing the right thing anymore.
“That’s a fact.” I stepped forward to run my hands over his chest, savouring all that hard muscle at last. I was leaning closer to chase his contours with my lips when he cupped my face in his hands.
“Slow down,” he said.
Jesus Christ on a cracker, now he wants to slow down?
“I don’t do slow,” I said, holding onto the last remnants of my patience.
“Maybe it’s time you learned. Slow can be amazing.”
“No, slow is frustrating as hell,” I snapped. “I tried slow once, and somebody…” I gave him a significant glare, “…phoned right at the critical moment with an emergency and I never did get that orgasm. I don’t do slow.”
Kane laughed. “Humour me for just a few minutes.” He sobered. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”
He leaned down to kiss me, still cupping my face. His lips were gentle, the kiss unhurried. He pulled away to look into my eyes.
“That one was to say I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I had to kill your husband.”
“You had orders,” I murmured. “You didn’t even know me at the time.”
His lips met mine again. A longer kiss. His hand slid behind my head, holding my lips where he wanted them. When he pulled away, we were both breathless.
“That was the one you should have gotten when I told you I lo…” He stopped. “When you made it back safely from Victoria,” he finished instead.
Before I could react, he pulled me close, his k
iss harder and hungrier.
“This one,” he whispered against my lips. “This is the one you should have gotten when you came in my door tonight. So beautiful. In my house for the first time.”
I was panting by the time he broke the kiss, my shaking hands rambling over the hot hard muscles of his back and shoulders.
Kane’s dilated eyes met mine. “And this one…” he said hoarsely. “This one… is to fulfill a promise. A promise I made to myself. That if I ever got another chance with you, I wouldn’t waste it.”
His hand knotted in my hair and he pulled me hard against him, devouring my mouth. His tongue sent liquid heat pulsing through me and I molded my body to his, barely able to breathe with the need to get him naked nowNowNOW, ohmigod, he was so big and hard against me…
He pulled away, making me moan and nibble my way up his neck, searching for his lips again.
“You’re right, dammit,” he gritted. “Slow is overrated.”
He scooped me up, his shoulders like steel under my hungry hands, and half-ran in what I desperately hoped was the direction of the bedroom.
It was. Thank God.
He lowered my feet to the floor beside the bed, and the heat of his kiss made me gasp under his lips and pull at his jeans with lust-clumsy hands.
Goddamn clothes, whose stupid idea was clothing anyway?
“Aydan, Aydan…” His hands imprisoned mine and he pulled away from my lips to look into my eyes. “I swore to myself I wouldn’t rush this time. I want this to be good for you…”
“John…” I could hardly catch my breath. My voice trembled with sheer need. “I appreciate the thought and we can slow things down for round two if it’s really that important to you but I swear to God I will never forgive you if-you-don’t-just-get-my-clothes-off-and-fuck-me-right-now!”
“Just… just a little slower…” His voice was a hoarse rasp. “Just… I’ll only get to do this for the first time once.”
“You already-”
He cut off my protest with his lips. “I know,” he whispered. “But that didn’t count. This is my first time with you.”
Then his lips were on mine again, his hands sliding under my T-shirt, burning against my back, pressing me close. “Just to touch you like this,” he mumbled against my lips.
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