by Lora Leigh
“What?” he asked quietly, not sure what was wrong. Then suddenly he realized that he hadn’t grabbed a T-shirt in his haste. “Oh, wow— uh, my apologies,” he said, grabbing his duffel, and turning away from her to ransack it for a clean shirt.
“No complaints,” she said quietly.
He heard her sit down but that only made him rush all the more and yank a shirt over his head backward, then only have to pull it off to fumble with it to get it back on again.
“You know, it’s been a really long day . . . and maybe we should get some shut-eye early tonight, you know?” he said, his words coming out in fits and starts.
“All right,” she said calmly, with a smile, looking at the duffel bag he held in front of him. “But can I ask you a question?”
“Yeah,” he said with a resigned sigh but didn’t move.
“Do you find me attractive?”
“What kind of question is that?”
She shrugged and sipped her tea. “Figured you had opinions about me, maybe things you’d read . . . or have seen in my show and decided that maybe I’m just a little too over-the-top for you, so . . . I don’t know.”
“It’s not like that at all,” he said, slightly lowering the bag. “I know you’re none of the things they’ve said to sell magazines, and we’ve talked about too much stuff for me to think you’re only the performer . . . but I’m trying to do what I was sent here to do, without taking advantage in any way or . . .”
“You’re not taking advantage,” she said, releasing a long sigh. “And I’m not on the rebound, if that’s what you’re worried about . . . or trying to play you.” She patted the sofa next to her. “Can we just talk and be real? Nothing has to happen, but there is chemistry, okay, and I don’t wanna go back to the States and never hear from you again, unless that’s what you want.”
“That’s not what I want, but it’s probably what’ll happen,” he said in a low murmur. “It’s bound to. I’ll get deployment orders, you’ll be traveling and doing things where you’ll need an escort, and I won’t be there.”
“So, you’re not trying to get caught up,” she said in a sad, faraway tone. “That’s about the most real thing we’ve said to one another.” Her sad brown eyes studied him. “I just didn’t understand what I had done to turn you off so badly.”
He shook his head no and dropped the duffel bag. “Does it look like you’ve turned me off?” He briefly closed his eyes. “Anita, I’m just trying my best to be respectful, because I know this has a very short shelf life given our careers.”
“Thank you for at least letting me know that you feel the same way,” she murmured, “and that I haven’t been the only one tossing and turning all night.”
“No, you haven’t,” he said thickly.
“Timing isn’t always perfect,” she said, standing up. She opened the sash of her white terry robe and allowed it to fall open. “Sometimes you have to invest in what you want to work out.” She stepped around the coffee table and held his gaze. “But I know what it’s like to be on the road and be betrayed. There are some things I’m willing to wait for. That’s my pocket change for the rest of this trip.”
He couldn’t move as she walked up to him, kissed his cheek, turned away, and murmured, “Good night.” He listened to the bedroom door click shut and the sound rocketed through his spinal column, the vibration imploding in his groin. One more day and there’d be hours on the plane that would stretch nearly two days. Zach turned off the lights and then sat down on the sofa and leaned his head back. There were so many things he wanted to say to her, and this time if he waited, time was going to run out on him.
Somehow he found himself at the bedroom door, knocking on it lightly. He heard her sniff, but didn’t hear her invite him to open it.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” he said, talking through the wood frame.
“Yeah . . .” a small voice replied and he cracked the door, surprised to see her blotting her face with a tissue.
At a momentary loss, he moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at him, twisting the tissue in her hands, and it simply made him cover them with his own.
“You are so beautiful it’s frightening,” he said. “Everywhere we’ve stopped, there have probably been a thousand guys who would kill to have you . . . but I’m not interested in bragging rights.” He hung his head and spoke to the floor while grasping her hands and then finally looked into her eyes. “Sounds so foolish, but over the last few days, I’ve laughed more than I have in so long, ’Nita . . . I’ve reconnected with my past, felt what it was like to come in from a long day and just sit with somebody who gave a damn about me. I got to know the real Anita Brown, who is just as gorgeous on the inside as she is on the outside— someone who is real, caring, giving, loving . . . the stuff you did for your family, man . . .”
Zach shook his head and released her hands, pushing wet strands of hair behind her ear. “If I go this next step, this soldier is going to be in too deep to get out. Black Hawk down, do you understand? We shouldn’t start this if we’re not going to finish it. I don’t want a fling.”
She touched his hand covering it where it cradled her cheek. “I’ve never had a man tell me no for such a beautiful reason.” She closed her eyes and two big tears ran down the bridge of her nose. “Nobody has ever taken the time to get to know who I am, to talk to me, to try to protect me, to think about the future with me . . . and to rack their brains to figure out how that might all work in their life. I was always their eye candy, a trophy, or a toy.”
Zach softly kissed away the tears that had slid down her nose and then landed a soft kiss on each of her eyelids. “’Nita . . . when I was a child, I played with toys . . . and spoke like a child and thought like a child,” he said quietly, tracing her cheek in the dark with trembling fingers. “But when I became a man, I put away childish things.”
“Corinthians,” she said, resting her palm against his chest. “You knew the quote, and it’s my favorite.”
“Mine, too,” he murmured, coming to lie beside her, “because when you really care about somebody, really love them, you’ll put away childish things . . . and I’ve been watching you try to take care of me while I’m supposed to be taking care of you.” He shook his head, drawing her into his arms. “I can’t remember when somebody cared enough to try to take care of me.”
He found her mouth, brushing it with gentle sweeps, and then testing for deeper acceptance with his tongue probing hers until she consumed him. What began as slow exploration against satiny skin with gentle caresses became a struggle to remove clothing.
Impatient, she pulled at his T-shirt, her hands splaying across his bare chest as she suckled his nipples. Every place her mouth landed drew a moan up from his depths . . . it had been so long, his desire for her had been so repressed that as she tongued his navel he almost wept.
Her robe hung off her shoulders, his hands reveling in her damp, tangled hair to slide down her arms, shedding the terry obstruction so that her breasts could finally be freed. For a moment, he allowed his gaze to drink her in and then gently pulled her closer. She didn’t understand that he needed to pay homage to her beauty, and right now the only way he knew how to do that was with his mouth, nuzzling her breasts, drawing in the taut nipples between his lips to flick against his tongue until she arched and cried out.
Giving never felt so good. He wanted to give her so much pleasure that his shaft throbbed in agony. Their foreplay had become feral, tenderness ebbing as she yanked his sweat-pants down over his hips; she clearly had the same idea and it buckled his body the moment she held him, her palm slicked by his need. Someone had to yield and he was glad that she was gracious enough to do so, rolling over on her back so that he could continue his trail of kisses to the place that would make her call his name.
Sweet sticky essence of woman covered his face as she writhed beneath his attention. There was no extraction from this once he’d entered, there was no way to wa
lk away from her or make something this profound casual. He felt her shudder as her thighs clamped against his skull, her hand stroking his hair, and her sighs a melodic refrain, “I need you inside me.”
“Not yet,” he murmured against her bud, and then kept time to her thrusts with the tip of his tongue.
He wanted her wild, crazy, out of control. Needed to feel her arch and release until her knuckles turned white holding the sheets. One finger entered her in a lazy stroke that made her strain against his hand, demanding a second. She tasted so good, was so wet that he was losing his mind. Her body spilled pleasure into his mouth as she bucked her hips, need and frustration making her moans more insistent. Then suddenly she gasped hard and thrust hard against him, beginning to convulse. That was what he’d been waiting for . . . for her voice to become a series of pure gasps, high-pitched moans, her rhythm lost to violent shudders. He wanted her to feel the way he was going to feel: head back, insane the moment he entered her . . . and she rewarded his patience by begging him, “Put it in.”
Yes, ma’am, anything the lady wanted. A condom was the last thing on his mind. But as he lifted his head to plant deep kisses against her belly, she murmured a truth that almost made him slide against her.
“In the drawer,” she said quietly scooting up to reach across the king-sized bed. “Every night I was hoping you’d come in and stay like this.”
He remained paralyzed on his hands and knees as she reached over and tore open a foil package. Too close to the edge, he couldn’t even help her as she put it in her mouth and slid down the bed to sheath him. Warm, soft hands, her mouth made him drop his head back and bottomed out his voice, “Oh, ’Nita . . .”
Female wisdom, female mercy guided him with shapely calves wrapped around his hips, then his waist, bringing him deeper, sinking him into a place he could never leave— a point of no return. She’d gone there, too, had fallen, slipped into the abyss of passion, her hands scrabbling at his back as her voice rent the air. His chasing her soprano like a sonic boom, bottoming out on “Oh, baby,” creating music on the fly, riffs, and solos, the applause a standing O of feminine convulsions.
Every thrust sent beads of perspiration rolling down his back, his temples, and his chest. A phalanx of contractions jolted his sac so brutally that he cried out and lifted her under her waist. One hand against the headboard, one tightly gripping her back, a year and a half of denial, the near miss, the long flight, and five days of agony all became one thunderous release.
Breathing hard, they both rolled over on their backs, and then slowly came back together, him pulling her against him.
“Wow . . .” she murmured.
He was still catching his breath and could only nod with his eyes closed.
She kissed him, petting his erection. “Now I know why you said we shouldn’t start this if we weren’t prepared to finish it.”
He opened his eyes and smirked. “Oh, I’m hardly finished, ma’am.”
CHAPTER 9
THE HARDEST THING now was to get the genie back in the bottle. He didn’t want her to end up in the tabloids for doing her bodyguard, or for him to wind up in trouble for moonlighting— and then exhibiting conduct unbecoming an officer on leave. But after two nights of insane lovemaking, it was physically painful to sit apart from her and act aloof for nearly two days’ worth of flights.
There was a chemical difference that anyone around them with half an ounce of common sense picked up on. Sly looks, raised eyebrows, inquiring minds wanted to know. The fact that they were both dog-tired was a dead giveaway, but his lips were sealed. The main thing was to get her back to her pent house, make sure she was secured, and then get to Lowell and Anne Marie.
Zachary stretched and casually walked over to Anita— as nonchalantly as he could make it seem at this point. She beamed up at him and turned so she could face him when he sat down.
“We’ve created a scandal, I’m afraid,” she said, laughing behind her hand.
He wasn’t amused but still found himself chuckling. “Yeah, I think it was that last go ‘round that woke the neighbors.
“Uhmmm-hmmmm.” She leaned over and kissed him. “And I don’t care.” She lowered her voice to a sexy decibel. “Meet me in the bathroom . . . I need more of what you gave me last night.”
He could feel the muscle in his jaw pulse; the temptation was so great that he almost lost his game face. “Stop messing with me.”
“I’m not messing with you,” she said, growing completely serious. “I’m so turned on right now that I’m about to slide out of this chair.”
Her comment made him swallow hard, hang his head with his eyes squeezed shut, and then speak to her in a low, pleading murmur. “Baby, you’ve gotta stop.”
“I can’t help it,” she whispered in a near moan. “I might have to go in there and get started without you.”
The image of her graceful fingers sliding into her slick opening, one hand on her breast, kneading a taut nipple, almost made him grab her by the elbow and drag her down the aisle. Anita’s naked, caramel-hued skin started a flash fire in his mind, all the way from her gorgeous eyes to her clean-shaven nether lips . . . she had the prettiest . . .
“So you wanna?” she murmured, touching his leg and making his entire shaft contract.
It was only after she’d touched him there that he realized his leg had been slightly bouncing. “Of course,” he said, breathing out the words. “But we have to pass everybody, you know . . . and have to maybe wait until they go to sleep.”
“I don’t know if I can wait that long,” she said in a quiet rush and then sat back and closed her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose as she traced her collarbone.
Impulse would have made him just take her mouth right then and there, just pick her up and carry her to the restroom, and kick the frickin’ door down. But this wasn’t his contract; it was Lowell’s. It wasn’t his reputation; it was hers. It wasn’t his staff; wasn’t people he’d have to work with day and night. Discipline took over, just like the stabbing pain had in his scrotum.
She opened her eyes and leaned forward. “Baby, please . . .”
He held up one finger discreetly to stop her words. “’Nita, you’re killing me.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he motioned toward the aisle with a swift nod, then let out his breath when he saw Megan do a little jig in the aisle and slap a stylist high five. “When we get back—”
“I know, I know, we’re going to have to talk . . . but I was hoping that wouldn’t be all.”
“Yeah, me too,” he said quietly. “I miss you already.”
“You do?” She hugged herself and bit her bottom lip and then glanced toward the bathroom again.
“No,” he said, laughing to keep from crying.
“All right . . . dang.”
“Not with Lowell’s guys here, you know.” He studied the bathroom and then shook the thought. “No.”
“Be honest, thinking about the mile-high possibilities are wearing you out.” She laughed and poked him with a bare foot.
He shook his head, chuckling. “I admit it— but I want to talk seriously for a minute.”
Her smile faded with his. “Okay . . . guess this is where you dump me, right?”
“Wrong,” he said, taking up her hands, no longer caring who saw. “This is where I tell you that I want to check out your pent house and make sure you’re okay.”
“Oh,” she said stroking his cheek.
He turned his mouth into her palm and covered her hand with his own, kissing it hard. “They still haven’t figured out who’s stalking you or who put pesticide in Lowell’s food. We don’t even know exactly what happened.” Zach held her hands within his, trying to get her to listen. “You met with Lowell little more than a month ago, right?”
“Right,” Anita said, leaning closer and lowering her voice. “I had been looking around because my brothers were getting on my nerves, and I casually asked Ron Epps— the guy I was arguing with the day we met, and—�
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“Epps?” Zach said, now almost whispering. “You never said his last name before.”
“Well, I never really thought about it. He works for Jonathan . . . is his everything man— walks his dogs, runs his errands, they go way back to when they grew up.” Anita looked at Zachary. “Why?”
“So, this guy gave you the name of SWAT International?”
“Yeah . . .”
“But when I came back from sweeping the route to the limo, he was really trying to talk you out of using Lowell’s firm, right?”
Anita nodded. “I guess he thought I’d never go through with it.”
“Not to get into your past business . . . but did you ever discuss any of this directly with Jonathan?”
This time she stared at him without blinking.
“No,” she said, quietly, “by the time this all went down, we were on the outs.”
“Okay, then I need you to do me a favor and lay low for a couple of days when we get back to the city. I want to make sure your place is secure and get you tucked in there, then I have to do a couple of things. Something about this doesn’t smell right.”
EXTRICATING HIMSELF FROM Anita and allowing another bodyguard to stand in for him was a challenge, not just because she wanted him to stay, but it was such a core need of his too right now. However, he had to get to the hospital. Lowell was up and talking. The only person he’d met from the client side was Anita, and she definitely hadn’t poisoned the man.
Zachary passed through the minimal hospital security and found Lowell’s floor, reading the numbers until he found his room. Anne Marie was sitting in the chair watching television with him, and she jumped up with a squeal as soon as Zachary poked his head into the door.
“You are a sight for sore eyes!” she exclaimed, hugging him and pulling him into the room.
“Hey, man, how’d it go?” Lowell said, his voice still a little weak.
