by Dawn Atkins
“James Bond would never have gotten you in a scrape like that. You saved both of our lives. All in all, I’d say you’d make a pretty good Bond girl.”
ZOË FELT THE HEAT rise in her cheeks. If the edge of the sofa hadn’t been pressing into the backs of her legs, she would have retreated a step. For the past five minutes while he’d been on the phone, she’d been staring out the window so that she wouldn’t sit there gawking at him.
When he’d been cleaning his wound in the bathroom, he’d unbuttoned his shirt and torn the sleeve off, and the moment he’d stepped back into the living area of the suite, she’d caught herself staring at the exposed skin. And fantasizing. The strength of her desire to run her hands over that skin had shocked her.
Now he was standing only a few feet away, and she was staring again. At his throat. She didn’t just want to touch. She wanted to taste him, too.
“So you have a black belt in karate,” he said.
She moistened her lips and dragged her mind back to what she wanted to say. “I’ve never before tried any of the moves outside of class. And I wasn’t sure if I’d get the chance to use any of them. I…” she twisted her hands together. “It was that man and his dog who saved us. We were lucky.”
He reached out and stroked a lock of her hair with his fingers. “I was lucky.”
Zoë couldn’t feel her knees anymore. Every time he touched her, she melted. Jed Calhoun had been the only man who’d ever affected her that way. Now Ethan could do that to her, too. Was there a whole slew of other men out there who could make her feel this way? The thought made her shiver.
“You’re cold,” Jed said.
“Yes…no.” Before she could babble further, there was a knock at the door.
Jed glanced at his watch. “That was quick.” For a moment he looked as if he was as reluctant to walk away as she was for him do that. Then he turned and moved to the door of the suite.
Zoë drew in a deep breath, but she wasn’t sure whether what she was feeling was relief or disappointment. While he checked the peephole then handled the waiter, she tried to gather her thoughts. But she couldn’t seem to think straight as long as he was in the same room with her.
When he came back, he was carrying a small first aid kit and two snifters of brandy. He pressed one of them into her hands. “Take a sip,” he ordered. “I think we both need it.”
Zoë was only too willing to take a taste. She was sure she needed something, and for now, she welcomed the warmth that spread through her. She had to get a grip.
He took a seat on the other side of the coffee table. She watched as he opened the first aid kit and removed the towel from his arm. The mark that the bullet had left was angry looking, but it had stopped bleeding. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him as he swabbed the wound with antiseptic and pressed a gauze pad against it. Hunger built inside of her again.
When he fumbled with the tape, she set down her glass and moved around the table to sit next to him on the sofa. “Let me help.”
Taking the tape from him, she pressed it against the gauze and then smoothed it over his upper arm. His skin was warm beneath her fingers, and she felt the hardness of the muscles beneath. This close, she could smell him. The scent of the soap he’d used to clean the wound mixed with the pungent odor of the antiseptic and something else that she suspected was unique to him, yet somehow familiar. The hunger that had been building inside of her spiked.
Her hands trembled as she cut off another piece of tape and repeated the procedure. This time, her fingers lingered on his skin.
In just a minute she would move away, she promised herself. But as seconds ticked by, she couldn’t seem to get control of the battle going on inside of her.
Less than two days ago, she’d experienced these same feelings for another man. But Jed Calhoun was gone. Ethan Blair was here. And she didn’t want to take her hands off of him. She wanted to move her hands up and over his shoulders. No, more than that, she wanted to touch him everywhere.
Before she could follow through on her desire, Ethan took her hands in his and raised one of them to his lips. His mouth brushed her fingers, his breath whispered over her knuckles, and the intensity of the sensations made her tremble again.
“You’re so responsive,” he murmured as he lowered her hands.
Her gaze flew to his then, and the breath caught in her throat. His face was so close. She knew it was a mistake to stay this way even for a moment. She should pull her hands from his and stand up, go back to her seat on the other sofa.
But she didn’t move. She was aware of heat without being quite sure if it came from him or her. It was melting her bones. His eyes were so blue—the way she’d always imagined Lucifer’s to be. That was the last errant thought that tumbled into her mind before her brain simply shut down.
It was the most natural thing in the world to put her hand on the back of his neck and draw his mouth to hers. Instantly, she felt the same heat, the same rush of power, the same sharp needs she’d felt before. This was what she wanted, everything she wanted.
10
HE’D WANTED THIS, needed this. Dragging his mouth from hers, Ethan took it on a quick, desperate journey down her throat. Her scent swam in his head, her flavors flooded his mouth. And still greed built inside of him. He couldn’t get enough. He might never get enough.
Unable to stop himself, he brought his mouth back to hers and plundered. No other woman had ever made him feel this way. Weak, winded. He could feel his control draining as if someone had pulled a plug. He nipped her bottom lip and heard her quick, quiet moan. Images cartwheeled through his mind. The bed was only a few yards away. He could have her there, naked and beneath him, in a matter of seconds.
Then he heard his cell phone ring. It was barely more than an irritating buzz, like the sound of a mosquito circling near his ear. But it rang again. And again. One thought managed to penetrate the haze that had settled like a thick blanket over his brain.
Ryder had news about the SUV. Jed had called his buddy as he and Zoë had made their way to the hotel.
It took all his strength to draw away and set Zoë back against the cushions of the sofa. Fumbling for his cell in his pocket, he rose and moved away from her.
“Yeah?”
“You okay?” Ryder asked.
For the first time in his life, Jed realized that he wasn’t sure about that. “Fine,” he said.
“My men have been cruising around the streets in the vicinity of the Blue Pepper, but they didn’t spot the SUV. Those goons must have given up trying to find you.”
“It was a long shot,” Jed said.
“Been nice if it had paid off.”
The fact that it hadn’t meant they weren’t any closer to finding out who’d sent those two men. Probably Bailey Montgomery, but it would have been nice to be sure.
“I’ve got two of my men in the lobby of your hotel,” Ryder continued. “Try not to give them the slip, this time.”
“Yeah,” Jed said.
“And there are another two at Zoë’s apartment who’ll take over once she returns there.”
“I want them to stick close.”
“Like flypaper,” Ryder promised before he cut the connection.
Jed didn’t look at Zoë, not until he’d taken a seat on the sofa across from hers and indulged in a swallow of brandy. Then he met her eyes. “It would be better if we didn’t kiss again.”
She said nothing. But he saw something in those huge eyes of hers. Hurt?
“It’s not that I don’t want to. You must know that I do. But…it’s complicated. I never should have asked you to follow me tonight. I nearly got you killed.”
“You are some kind of a secret agent, aren’t you? And those men were after you?”
He’d evaded her implied question when she mentioned James Bond, but he was going to have to tell her something. “I’ve done some contract work for the government,” he said carefully.
“I knew it.” There was excitement
and curiosity in her eyes now.
“The important thing is that you may still be in danger,” he said. “That was the friend of mine that I called on the way to the hotel. He’s going to have two men watch you. Those thugs were after you.”
“I can’t understand why. But I was thinking while you were in the bathroom. A few days ago when I was driving out near the Chesapeake, getting lost, there was an SUV, very similar to that one tonight, and I thought it might be following me. But I’m sure it was just a coincidence. I can’t imagine why anyone would be interested in me.”
Jed studied her for a moment. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He recalled his gut feeling that someone had followed him the night of Sierra and Ryder’s engagement party. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the vehicle, but it could have been an SUV. When Zoë saw it, could it have been prowling the roads trying to find the location of Ryder’s houseboat? Or had it been following her?
“At any rate, you shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened tonight.” She paused, then added, “I might have followed you even if you hadn’t asked.”
Jed stared at her. She shouldn’t be able to thrill him by saying something like that. She shouldn’t be able to make him ache with need just by sitting there, looking at him. But he couldn’t prevent himself from asking, “Why would you have followed me? I’m a stranger.”
“I told you before. I felt this connection from the first minute our eyes met,” she said, looking slightly uncomfortable with her admission.
He forced himself to lean back against the sofa cushions. He willed his muscles to relax. “I felt the same thing.”
“Really?” She leaned forward. “Does it happen to you often?”
“No. There’s only been one woman who’s affected me this way. You.”
“Oh.” Her hand trembled again, and she set the snifter down on the table with an audible click. “I see.”
“How about you? Does this instant attraction happen to you often?” he asked.
Zoë folded her hands together in her lap. “Only twice. With you and that one other man.”
“The one you mentioned before, the one you were involved with?”
“Yes. But even with him, I didn’t ask him to kiss me the first time we met.”
Another thrill moved through him. She had to be talking about him. But he had to know. “What’s this other man like?”
She frowned a little in an expression he’d learned was habitual when she was thinking. “You’re very like him in height and weight. There’s even a strong resemblance in your facial features especially in the line of your jaw. Coloring and body language aside, you could probably pass for brothers. But beneath the surface, you’re very different.”
“Different how?” Jed asked. He was curious now and a little amused that he was quizzing her about his competition—which was himself.
“He’s very laid-back, but I think that’s partially a facade. He reminds me of a big jungle cat sleeping in the sun. He looks lazy and harmless enough, but I have a feeling he can be fast and lethal when he wants to. Do you know what I mean?”
He nodded. He knew exactly what she meant, and he was impressed that she’d seen him that clearly.
“He also tends to view life through a—” she paused to search for a word “—lens of irony. That makes him seem cynical at times.”
Jed Calhoun to a tee, he thought. “And how do you see me?”
“I haven’t known you as long. But I sense that you’re much more serious. You’re smoother, more sophisticated and very intense. One of my friends at the Blue Pepper thinks you’re a prime candidate to become the next James Bond.”
His smile was wry. “Hardly. And this other man, does he remind you of James Bond?”
After a moment, Zoë shook her head. “He’s a little harder to categorize.”
Jed wasn’t sure how he felt about that description.
“There’s a hint of danger there, but other than that he’s not really like you at all.”
“And yet you were very attracted to him?”
“Yes.”
An odd mix of pleasure and something else moved through him. Was it jealousy he was feeling because she’d been attracted to him both as himself and disguised as Ethan Blair? That was ridiculous.
But the words were out before he could prevent them. “Are you attracted to me just as much as you were to this other man?”
“Yes.”
One word. Just that one word had all of his earlier resolutions—not to kiss her again, to sleep on one of the sofas—disappearing like vapors. There would be a price to pay for this. But he’d gladly pay it.
He rose and went to her, took her hands and drew her up off the sofa. Jed had never given her much in the way of words. So this time he’d be the one to ask. “Zoë, would you let me make love to you?”
ZOË DIDN’T THINK she could have wanted him any more, but his words and even more, the look in his eyes, turned the desire she’d been feeling into a burning ache. Hadn’t she wanted him to say those words, willed him to say them, since they’d first kissed?
“There’s one thing you should understand. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again,” he said. “I’m almost certain that those men were after you because of me. In order to keep you safe, I won’t be able to have any further contact with you. Knowing that, will you make love with me just this once?”
Just this once. The words played themselves over in her mind. It had only been once with Jed Calhoun. It would only be once with Ethan Blair. But she wasn’t going to say no. Tomorrow there’d be time enough to analyze why she might be attracting men who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stick around. She’d leave that for the psychologist in her. Tonight she was just going to indulge in her wild side again.
She smiled at him. “I thought you’d never ask.”
JED TOOK HER HAND, raised it to his mouth and brushed his lips across her knuckles. Making love to her might not be wise, but the harm would be minimal, wouldn’t it? They’d spend one night together as Ethan Blair and Zoë McNamara. In the morning he’d get up before she woke, he’d take the envelope that she’d stuffed into her bag, and he’d leave her in the care of the two men who were down in the lobby.
Turning her hand over, he pressed a kiss into her palm and savored the way her eyes darkened. This time, both Jed Calhoun and Ethan Blair would stay the hell away from her until the danger was over. Then, because he could no longer prevent himself, he framed her face with his hands and covered her mouth with his.
Oh, yes, this was what it had felt like the last time he’d kissed her—this giant leap off a very steep cliff. Desire built at such a breakneck speed that he thought of dragging her to the floor and taking her there before either of them could change their minds. When he finally drew back to think, to breathe, she said his name, “Ethan…”
A series of little alarm bells went off in the back of his mind. He was making love to her as Ethan this time, and not Jed. He’d better remember that. If Jed had given her fun, Ethan, his more serious counterpart, would make an attempt at giving her romance. Taking her hand he drew her with him into the bedroom.
Moonlight streamed into the room, splashing across the bed. He purposely didn’t switch on the lights. Turning to her, he touched only her hair. He’d been wanting to over and over again since he’d noticed in the bar that she was wearing it down. When he rubbed it between his fingers, he caught the scent of vanilla.
Jed went with his instincts, so Ethan would have a plan. He drew a finger along the edge of the lace camisole that she was wearing, absorbing the softness of the fabric and the even softer skin that lay beneath it. He’d been wanting to do that all evening, too.
Jed had asked her to strip, so Ethan would undress her. After undoing the button, he slipped the jacket off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Jed had asked her to take a tumble with him in a hammock, so Ethan would make love to her slowly just as he’d been about to do in his fantasy.
He sl
ipped his fingers beneath the camisole and drew it slowly over her head. And that was when his plan began to fade. She wasn’t wearing a bra.
Surprise and delight shot through him. “Zoë,” he murmured as he slid his hands from her waist to just under her arms. Then he lightly brushed the pads of his thumbs over her nipples. They were already erect and hard.
So was he. Every muscle in his body had tightened in response. A pulse was beating at her throat, and his own blood had begun to pound in the same fast rhythm. He very nearly lost his train of thought when her eyelids lowered and her breath began to hitch.
Still watching her, he lowered his hands to her waist and unsnapped her jeans. The sound was erotic and his fingers fumbled as he pushed down the fabric. He’d gotten them to her knees when he saw something that made his own breath hitch. Beneath those very practical jeans, she was wearing red lace panties.
He dropped to his knees, and simply stared at them. Zoë McNamara was just one surprise after another. He had no idea how long he’d knelt there before her hands covered his to push at the jeans. Minutes? Hours?
Giving his head a little shake to clear it, he said, “No. Let me.” But his gaze remained fixed on the fire-engine red panties. They were a combination of lace and silk, and he was hard-pressed to remember that he was Ethan, and not Jed.
Somehow he managed to get her jeans off. But then he simply had to touch. He took his time, drawing his finger along the red lace where it rode high on her thigh. Fantasies were made of this. Jed would say that out loud. Ethan would only think it.
When he reached the apex of her thighs, he slid his fingers between them and touched the heat at her center.
“Ethan.” His name came out on a sigh and her fingers dug into his shoulders.
“Spread your legs a little,” he said.
She did what he asked, and sighed his name again.
This time, he drew a finger from the low waistband in the back down the crease between her cheeks until he once more reached that spot between her legs where the heat was so intense. The silk grew more wet, and he pressed against it.
