by Ana Barrons
It was several seconds before Gabe realized he’d been staring at her, examining her face, marveling at the length of her thick lashes and the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose. The fullness of her lips. Her breath warm against his skin.
Her breast pressed against his upper arm...
He wasn’t sure exactly when her breathing changed or when her heart started pounding, only that suddenly their closeness had less to do with comfort and much, much more to do with need. Fierce, hot need that spiked his pulse and drove all thought from his mind. There was only this moment. Only Kate.
Her lips parted slowly. Gabe rolled toward her and touched his nose to hers, and she expelled a soft breath that set flame to something deep and primitive inside him. He brushed her cheek with his, nuzzled his face into her silky hair and lowered his lips to the tender skin of her neck. She let out a long, ragged breath and he pulled her to him, gripping her hip. A voice inside him screamed to stop, but he placated it. Just a kiss, that’s all. One tiny kiss. To thank her.
He lifted his head and cupped her face in his hand, then leaned in and brushed his lips across hers, once, twice, then kissed her gently. She opened her eyes and he waited for permission, then got it when she eased back on the pillow and ran her hands through his hair. His cock hardened painfully.
“Gabe,” she whispered.
He let out a long breath and wrapped her tightly in his arms, then took her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. Her lips were everything he’d tried not to imagine they would be—lush and sweet and hot. She opened for him and welcomed his tongue deep inside, sucking, tangling, exploring as though she, too, were starved. For this. For him.
He rolled on top of her, claiming her, then slid his hands down her sides, letting his thumbs graze the sides of her breasts. She gasped and arched her back. Oh, God, he couldn’t stop. He shifted so his erection was wedged between her thighs and felt her answering response.
“Kate,” he rasped against her lips before he angled his head and plundered her mouth again. Hard nipples pressed into his chest, driving him insane with desire. He ran his hands under her tank top, cupping her breasts while he kissed her. Kate groaned as he kneaded them, running his thumbs over their swollen peaks.
He pulled her tank top over her head and took one nipple into his mouth. She gasped, her hands moving over his shoulders, through his hair, repeating his name in a strangled whisper. He suckled hard, loving the taste of her, while sliding one hand down her back to her rounded bottom and into her shorts. Oh, God, she wasn’t wearing panties. The discovery made his cock so hard it throbbed. He pushed one slim leg aside with his foot and slid his hand down the front of her shorts. He encountered damp curls, then reached lower and ran his fingers through her slippery flesh. Good God, she was hot and wet and he wanted to be inside her more than he wanted his next breath.
Kate arched into his hand, whimpering and begging. “Oh, God... Please, Gabe... Please...”
Something snapped inside him, and there was no thought, no will when he pulled off his gym shorts and shirt and yanked her shorts down her legs, then spread her thighs wide and pushed his cock into her tight, wet heat. He wanted to cry at how perfect, how right it felt inside her. Finally. Finally.
She dug her heels into his back, scraped the skin of his ass with her nails, begging him to go faster, deeper, harder. He lifted her hips and pounded into her with a mindless, primitive need he’d never known before. Though nearly blind with passion, he couldn’t take his eyes off the face he knew so well, transformed by ecstasy.
She cried his name when she began to contract around him, and he came violently, throbbing inside her as she wrapped herself around him like she wanted to climb inside his skin. They rolled to one side, holding on to each other until their breathing slowed.
Reality slammed into his gut in a single, devastating blow. This was Kate. She wasn’t his. She belonged to Steve. To Steve. The brother he’d protected his whole life.
“Fuck!” He reared up, disentangling from her. “What the hell am I doing?”
She reached for him as he backed off the bed. “No! Don’t do this.”
“Holy shit,” he said, palms squeezing the sides of his head. He’d really done it. He’d made love to his brother’s girlfriend. “Holy fucking shit.”
Kate climbed off the bed and clutched at his arms. “Stop. It wasn’t your fault, it was—”
He pulled away and held up a hand. “No. Don’t say it. Don’t say anything. Just get dressed and I’ll call you a cab.”
Her brows furrowed, but it was hurt, not anger he saw in those hazel eyes. “Listen to me,” she said. “I know this wasn’t fair to Steve, but there’s a lot you don’t—”
“We’re not talking about this,” he said. He snatched his gym shorts off the floor and pulled them on, covering the partial erection he still had. “I’m going to call you a cab. Be dressed and ready when it gets here.” He left the bedroom quickly and punched in the numbers for a cab company, hands shaking. Then he stood by the kitchen window and waited for it to show up, cursing himself for giving into his desire for her. He’d worked at pushing Kate out of his mind for years, trained himself not to watch her move, or laugh too hard at her jokes, or lean in when she spoke. Or find reasons to touch her just...to touch her.
What kind of fucking Pandora’s box had he opened?
He heard her behind him but didn’t turn around.
“We needed each other tonight,” she said quietly.
He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “I said we’re not—”
“—talking about it. I know. So shut up and listen.”
“Christ,” he murmured.
“Steve didn’t leave because he had important work to do.”
Gabe had no doubt that was exactly why Steve had gone home and left Kate in his bed. Trusting, of course, that his older brother would behave himself. “It doesn’t matter.”
“He called Ben for a ride so he could go home and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Is that supposed to be some kind of crime?”
“He prefers to sleep alone,” she said.
Gabe went still. “You live together.”
“Most nights he sleeps on the futon in the living room.”
Gabe turned toward her slowly. She was wearing jeans, thank God, but her hair was tangled and her lips were swollen from his kisses. He swallowed and tried not to stare at the hard nipples so clearly outlined through her flimsy tank top. The one he’d pulled off her. When he dared to speak he asked, “Why?”
She hugged herself. “I like to snuggle in bed, and he doesn’t. So if he’s in bed with me either I feel shut out or he feels smothered, so he goes off and crashes on the couch.”
What was this, The Twilight Zone? Steve didn’t want to wrap his body around hers during the night? Did his brother ever pull his eyes away from his computer long enough to take a good long look at the unbelievably sexy woman he lived with? He wanted to ask whether Steve ever made love to her, but that was a no-brainer. His brother might be an obsessive-compulsive geek but he wasn’t a moron.
Gabe turned back to the window. “It’s none of my business what goes on between you and Steve,” he said. “All I know is you’re practically engaged, so things can’t be so bad.”
“I’m his best friend,” she said. “I take care of him.”
“You love him.”
“Of course I love him.”
An unexpected pain stabbed through Gabe’s chest. “Great,” he said, more savagely than he’d intended. “In that case, I would advise you to stay out of other men’s beds.”
“Oh my God, you’re twisting this whole thing!”
No shit. A flash of orange on the street caught his eye. “Cab’s outside.”
“My car is here,” she said, and he couldn’t miss the misery in her voice.
He picked up his wallet off the table, plucked a ten and held it out to her. “Give this to the guy and send him away.”
When she didn’t take it he was forced to look at her.
Tears glistened on her cheeks. “Give it to him yourself,” she said. “And how do think you’re going to deal with Jeremy today, huh? Just tell me that.”
“I’m a big boy. I can go without sleep for a night.”
“Fine,” she said, then took a deep, shaky breath. “I know you’re upset now and you don’t want to talk, but you know you can call me to come and stay with him later if—”
“I won’t need you to babysit anymore,” he said.
Her mouth hung open, eyes wide with hurt. “That’s not fair. I love Jeremy, and he loves me.”
Gabe shrugged, even though the thought of taking her away from Jeremy made his chest ache. “I’m not a fair kind of guy. I think I proved that tonight.”
She stepped closer. “Don’t take this out on your son, damn it. You’re pissed at yourself, and at me, that’s fine. But Jeremy didn’t do anything.”
He heard two sounds at once. His phone buzzed and Jeremy called out, “Keke?” He grabbed the phone and Kate rushed into Jeremy’s room. He told the cabbie to come upstairs and he’d give him ten bucks for his trouble, but the guy told him to fuck off and hung up.
When he stepped into the room, Jeremy was already in Kate’s arms, curly head tucked against her shoulder, sucking his thumb while she cooed and rocked him in the overstuffed recliner. Above her hung a framed pen-and-ink drawing she’d done of Jeremy lying on Gabe’s chest at six months. Like all of her work, it captured the tiniest details. His wispy baby hair, the curve of his chubby cheek and Gabe’s big hand on his bare back. As always when he looked at it, Gabe was awed by her talent.
She held a finger up to her lips so Gabe wouldn’t speak. He hesitated for a moment before he backed out of the room. Then he sat at the kitchen table with his head on his folded arms and listened to her humming a lullaby. Eventually, he slept.
The next time he heard Jeremy’s voice he jerked awake, disoriented. The sun had come up. On the table lay a note in Kate’s rounded printing.
No matter what happens, I will never regret making love with you.
Chapter One
Eight Years Later
“It’s done.” Congressman Drew Franklin settled back into the leather seat of the Learjet, cell phone to his ear. In front of him and across the aisle, two other congressmen chatted while assorted aides pounded away on their laptops. One of the congressmen raised a glass of scotch in a toast and Drew gave him a thumbs-up. To the person on the other end of the phone he added, “We’ll have all the votes we need.”
“We’ll find out in a few days,” the voice said.
Drew sighed, but he was too elated even to be annoyed. “Oh ye of little faith,” he said. How could someone so intimately involved with his plan possibly doubt it would work? It was brilliant, and going off without a hitch, as though the bill’s passage were preordained. “So, will I see you tonight?”
“Well, no... That won’t be possible.”
“Oh, too bad.” He said it with just the right amount of sincerity that no one would ever suspect how relieved he was. “I guess we can wait to celebrate after the bill passes the chamber.”
“You deserve everything that’s coming to you, Drew.”
“We deserve it,” Drew said, loosening his tie. “This will be our victory.”
The copilot stepped into the cabin and announced that it was time for the passengers to turn off their cell phones. Drew nodded and held up a finger. “Gotta go. We’re taking off.”
“Okay, but Drew?”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t forget to say cheese.”
Drew frowned and clicked off his phone, then leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes while they taxied down the runway and lifted off. Hartford was overcast and 81 degrees, so it was probably in the high 80s in Washington. In a couple of hours he’d be home, and all of his hard work, his planning, his genius would finally be rewarded.
And yes, there would be dozens of cameras...
Say cheese. Of course.
He considered having a scotch. Lord knew, he’d earned it. It was the risks a man took that showed what he was made of. This had been a risky venture, no question, one that most men would never even imagine, never mind actually consider doing. For him, though, the degree of risk simply reflected the depth of his imagination.
He turned to the window and smiled down at the tops of trees, roofs, swimming pools... Neighborhoods full of families whose futures he would ultimately hold in his hands. Life would be so much more rewarding when he was in charge of everything. No more frustrating committee meetings with intellectual inferiors, no tiresome rewrites of bills, finding himself at the mercy of idiots whose idea of how to set policy was to filibuster. When his bill passed both houses of Congress and the president signed it, he—the Honorable Andrew Franklin—would have the power to rewrite the rules.
More power, ultimately, than the president.
The Director of Global Intelligence and Security. He loved the sound of that title almost as much as he loved what would come with it. In an international crisis he would be charged with guarding the country—the world, when it came down to it—against political stalemate and those moronic decisions so often made at the highest levels. There he would be, standing before the president, the National Security Council, the Secretary of Defense and Joint Chiefs of Staff, telling them what needed to be done. It would sound like advice—persuasion, even—based on intelligence from every other spook agency in this country and around the world. Information no one else would be privy to.
Information on every U.S. citizen, anywhere on the globe—and any foreigner he considered a potential threat. Obtained through whatever means he deemed necessary.
That was the part he liked best.
And if for some reason the powers-that-be were unmoved, or managed to turn the president against him... Well, he wasn’t one to tolerate obstacles. He had a strategy for dealing with the naysayers while carrying through with his agenda. While they were busy doing battle with one another, he would be busy using his authority to collect dirt on every single one of them, even if he had to invent it. Including the president.
Especially the president.
He chuckled to himself. The Patriot Act was a joke compared the Global Intel bill.
There would be questions—that was inevitable. When pressed he would play the responsive public servant, open to compromise. Behind the scenes was another story—he would take whatever covert actions were necessary to get the job done. The world needed his direction, and it was time he took his place at the helm.
He felt an erection building, so he grabbed his coat jacket and laid it across his lap. A good fuck was most definitely in order, but he’d have to play it safe for the time being. He certainly had no interest in any relationship that didn’t further his goals. Kate had become a liability over time, but all things considered, marrying her had been the perfect move.
He opened his briefcase on his lap, too wired to just sit there. His digital camera sat on top of a messy pile of paper. What the hell was it doing in there? The last time he saw his camera it was at home, in its leather case. Had he packed it after all? He rifled through the compartments in his briefcase. No leather case. Kate was the one who was so bad about keeping her camera in the case, no matter how many times he reminded her.
The camera’s sudden high-pitched whine startled him. He stared at the thing, unable to look away—and broke into a cold sweat.
Don’t forget to say cheese.
He began to scream.
* * *
Kate flicked a glance at the little girl sitting on her father’s lap across the aisle. Had she finally gotten the nose right? Pretty close, but the slope wasn’t perfect. She moved her pencil back to the nose and altered the shape ever so slightly. Another surreptitious glance told her she’d captured it this time. Good. She used her ring finger to add shading and then leaned back to gauge how that pert nose fit with the rest
of the face.
She closed her eyes. The sketch was good, and it had occupied her for most of the flight from Hartford, but it hadn’t helped erase the image of Drew’s scornful expression when he parted from her at the gate. She’d asked if he planned to be home for dinner and he’d given her that strange smile, if you could even call it that. He’d never smiled that way before, so phony and...ugly. Really, his expression had been ugly, as though he’d smelled something disgusting.
When had he come to despise her so?
“Mrs. Franklin?” the flight attendant said over the roar of the engines.
Kate looked up at the middle-aged woman leaning toward her. “Yes?”
“The captain has asked that you deplane before the other passengers.”
Kate glanced around the full business class cabin. The plane was still taxiing to the gate. “We’re the first ones off anyway, aren’t we?”
“Yes, but...there are some people waiting for you on the Jetway.”
Kate noted the tension around the woman’s mouth and the stiff way she was holding herself. Tendrils of fear slithered through her gut. “Is something wrong?” she asked.
“Please, Mrs. Franklin.”
The woman straightened and walked away, leaving Kate with her overactive imagination.
Buck up, Kate. Whatever it is, you’ll handle it. You always do.
A minute or so later they arrived at the gate. Kate stood. The attendant opened the overhead compartment and pulled out Kate’s bag, then led her past the curious passengers toward the door of the plane. The captain and flight attendants stood there with somber expressions on their faces. What in God’s name was going on?
The flight had been unremarkable, except that halfway through the captain made everyone turn off their electronic devices and wouldn’t let anyone use the onboard phones. None of this had affected Kate one way or the other, since she’d been busy sketching. She did hear some of the other business passengers gripe about the inconvenience, but the attendants brought them fresh drinks and snacks and everyone seemed to get over it.
