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“How long have you worked with this bad-tempered one, Señorita Gabby?” Laremos asked.
“A little over two years,” she told him, glancing at J.D. “It’s been an education. I’ve learned that if you shout loudly enough, you can get most anything you want.”
“He shouts at you?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” J.D. murmured with a grin. “The first time I tried, she heaved a paperweight at my head.”
“I did not,” she protested. “I threw it at your door!”
“Which I opened at the wrong time,” he continued. “Fortunately, I have good reflexes.”
“You will need them tomorrow, I fear,” Laremos told him. “The terrorists will not make things easy for us.”
“True,” J.D. said as he finished his coffee. “But we have the element of surprise on our side.”
“That is so.”
“And now, we’d better go over the maps again. I want to be sure I know the terrain before we set out in the morning.”
Gabby went on to bed, feeling definitely in the way. She took a quick bath and settled in on one side of the big double bed, wearing the long, very modest nightgown she’d brought along. Unfortunately, the material was thin, but perhaps J.D. would be too busy with his thoughts to notice.
She lay there trying to stumble through a Guatemalan newspaper, but she couldn’t concentrate. She tingled all over, thinking of the long night ahead, of spending it lying in J.D.’s arms. Had he really meant that? Or had it just been something to tease her with? And what if he did hold her in his arms all night—would she be able to resist tempting him beyond his control?
She tossed the newspaper onto the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring apprehensively at the door. Her long hair hung softly around her shoulders, and she brushed strands of it away from her face. She wanted him. There was no use denying that she did. But if she gave in, if she tempted him too far, what would she have? One single night to remember, and it would be the end of her job. J.D. didn’t want any kind of permanent relationship with a woman, and she’d do well to keep her head. He was worried about his sister, justifiably nervous about tomorrow’s foray into the jungle, and he might do something insane if she pushed him.
But for just a moment she thought how it would be, to feel his hair-roughened skin against every inch of her, to let him touch her as he’d no doubt touched other women. She sighed huskily. He’d be gentle, she knew that, and patient. He’d make of it such a tender initiation that it would surpass her wildest dreams of belonging to a man. But it would cheapen what she was beginning to feel for him, and it would do no good for his opinion of her. She attracted him because she was a virgin, untouched. And if she gave herself to him, she wouldn’t be that anymore. It was even possible that he’d hold her in contempt for joining the ranks of his lovers.
With a weary moan, she turned out the light and burrowed under the covers. It was a lovely dream, anyway, she told herself, and closed her eyes.
She hadn’t meant to go to sleep so soon, but the first thing she knew the dawn light was streaming in through the windows, bringing her wide awake.
Sleepily she stretched, and became suddenly aware of where she was. She sat up, eyes wide, and looked around for J.D. It took only a second to find him. He was standing at the window, his profile to her, looking out. And he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on his body.
Her eyes were riveted on him. She’d seen men without clothes. These days, with all the explicit films, it was impossible to avoid nudity. But she’d never seen a nude man close up, like this. And she imagined that J.D. would please even the eyes of an experienced woman.
He was all powerful muscle, with dark shadows of hair feathering every inch of him. His legs were long and muscular, his hips narrow, his stomach flat. His chest was broad and bronzed and a wedge of thick black hair curled over it. She stared at him helplessly, unashamedly—until she happened to look up and saw him watching her.
Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t get anything out.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “If I’d found you in the same condition, I’d be staring just as hard. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.
“I don’t wear pajamas,” he murmured with an amused look. “I expected to be awake before you were. It was a hot night.”
“Yes,” she managed, choking.
He moved back toward the bed, and she sat there frozen, unable to make even the pretense of looking the other way. It didn’t seem to bother him at all. He bent down, catching her by the arms, and dragged her out of the bed and against his body.
He laughed deep in his throat, the sound of it predatory, primitive. “Touch me,” he dared her. His hands caught hers and ran them over his sleek hips, up his spine, and around to the matted tangle of hair over his warm chest.
Her breath was trapped somewhere beneath her ribs, and her fingers burrowed into the crisp hair over his heart.
“Yes, you like it, don’t you?” he asked in a voice like rough velvet, his eyes narrow and black and hot on her face. “But not half as much as I do. I’ve dreamed about this, night after endless night, about how your hands would feel touching me. What do I look like to those innocent eyes, Gabby? Do I frighten you…please you? Which?”
She was drunk with the feel of him, the smell of him. Her hands roamed over his chest, his rib cage. With a long sigh she leaned her forehead on his collarbone. “You please me,” she whispered. “Can’t you tell? Oh, Jacob…!” Her hands pressed harder, more urgently. “Jacob, I want to do such shameless things.”
“Such as?” he asked in a whisper. “Such as, Gabby?” He covered her hands with his own and she felt their faint tremor. “I won’t hurt you. Do whatever you want to do.”
It wasn’t fair that he should have such power over her, she thought dazedly. She was too intoxicated, too hungry, to listen to the cool voice of reason. Her hands smoothed over his chest, around his back, and with an instinct she didn’t even know she had, her mouth opened and pressed against the center of his chest.
He groaned harshly, shocking her. She lifted wide, curious eyes to his.
“I like it,” he whispered huskily. “Do it again.”
She moved closer, and his hands caught her head, guiding her mouth to the places he wanted it, while the silence lengthened and grew around them and J.D.’s breath came raggedly and in gasps. She learned so much about him all at once. That she drove him wild when she rubbed her cheek across his taut nipples, that he liked the curl of her tongue around the tangled hair. That she could nip him gently with her teeth and make him go rigid. That he wanted her badly enough to tremble.
“This isn’t fair, Jacob,” she whispered shakily, “I’m making you miserable, I’m…”
His thumb pressed across her mouth. His face looked strained, but his eyes were blazing. “I want it,” he whispered roughly.
“But I’m hurting you,” she said achingly.
“Such a sweet hurt,” he whispered, bending. “So sweet, so beautiful…let me make you ache like this, Gabby. I won’t seduce you, I promise I won’t, but let me touch you…”
His hand moved between them and lightly touched her breast. The gown was thin, and his fingers were warm, and the sudden intimacy was shocking and pleasurable, all at once.
She gasped and instinctively caught his fingers. He lifted his head and looked down, and he smiled.
“Habit?” he whispered.
Her fingers lingered on his hairy wrist. “I…I haven’t ever let…” she began.
“You’ll let me.” His face nuzzled hers, his cheek rubbed gently against hers and he found her mouth, cherishing it with a whispery soft pressure that was wildly exciting.
And all the while, his fingers were shaping, probing, lightly brushing until they caused a helpless reaction in her body. He drew the gown tightly around her breasts and lifted his head.
“Look,” he said softly, directing her eyes down to the rigid peaks outlined under the gown. “Do you know what it means, what your body tells me when that happens?”
Her lips opened as she tried to breathe. “It means…that I want you,” she whispered back.
“Yes.” He brushed her lips apart with his, tracing the line of them with his tongue. His teeth caught her upper lip and nibbled gently, tugging it, smiling as she reached up to do the same thing to his.
“Jacob,” she whispered. Her hands crept around his neck. “Jacob…” She arched and pressed herself to him, and froze, shocked at what his taut body was telling hers.
“Body language,” he whispered, coaxing her mouth open again. “Now listen. I’m going to strip you out of that gown and hold you to me, just for a second, and then I’m going to get the hell out of here before I go crazy. I don’t know what we’ll be walking into today. I want one perfect memory to take with me, you understand?”
She did. Because it was just dawning on her that she was in love with him. Why else would she be doing this?
She felt his hands unbuttoning the garment and she looked up because she wanted to see his face, she wanted to remember always the expression on it. In case anything happened…
He eased the gown off her shoulders and she felt it suddenly drop to the floor. She felt the whisper of the breeze against her bare skin. J.D.’s eyes blazed as he looked down at her body. And then he drew her to him, and she felt herself go rigid all over.
“I won’t live long enough to forget how this feels,” he whispered. “Now kiss me, one last time.”
And she did, with all her heart and soul, without a single inhibition. And her arms held him and they fused together in a silence gone mad with tangible hunger.
He groaned as if he were being tortured and his arms hurt her, his lips hurt, his tongue thrust into her mouth in a deliciously fierce invasion. Finally he drew back, shaking, and put her from him.
He bent, picked up the nightgown, and gently drew it back on her without a single word.
“Worth dying for,” he whispered, studying her luminous eyes, her swollen mouth, her flushed cheeks. “God, you’re sweet.”
“Jacob, don’t go out there,” she pleaded.
“I have to.” He bent and retrieved his clothes from a chair where he must have flung them the night before and began to dress.
“But you’re a lawyer,” she persisted. She wiped away a tear and sat down heavily on the side of the bed, her green eyes wide and frightened. “You aren’t a soldier.”
“But I was, honey,” he said as he tugged on his jungle fatigues. He turned, buttoning the shirt, his eyes dark and mysterious as they searched hers. “You still haven’t worked it out, have you, Gabby?”
“Worked what out?”
He tucked in the shirt. “I served only three years in the Special Forces. I joined when I was eighteen.”
She was trying to do mathematics with a mind still drugged by pleasure. “You were twenty-one when you got out.”
“Yes. But I didn’t start studying for my degree until I was twenty-five.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending. “That means…you did something else with those four years.”
“Yes.” He met her searching gaze levelly. “I was a mercenary. I led First Shirt and the others for the better part of four years, in some of the nastiest little uprisings in the civilized world.”
Chapter Five (#ulink_712fb24f-0bd6-59c3-9723-8700723ed31e)
Gabby stared at him as if she’d never seen him before. J.D., a mercenary? One of those men who hired out to fight wars, who risked their lives daily?
“Are you shocked, honey?” he asked, his eyes searching, his stance challenging.
Her lips parted. “I never realized…you said you served with them, but I never realized…I thought you meant in the Special Forces.”
“I was going to let you go on thinking that, too,” he said. “But maybe it’s better to get it out into the open.”
Her eyes went over him, looking for scars, for changes. She’d noticed the tiny white lines on his stomach and chest, partially hidden by the hair, but until now it hadn’t dawned on her what they were.
“You have scars,” she began hesitantly.
“A hell of a lot of them,” he said. “Do you want to hear it all, Gabby?”
“Yes.”
He rammed his hands into his pockets and went to stare out of the window, as if it was easier to talk when he didn’t look at her. “I stayed in the service because it meant I made enough to keep Martina in a boarding school. We had no relatives, you see. Mama was gone.” He shrugged. “But when I got out of the service, I couldn’t get a job that paid enough to get Martina through school. I wasn’t trained for much except combat.” He fumbled in his pocket for a cigarette and lit it. “I thought I’d given this up until the kidnapping,” he said absently, holding the cigarette to his lips. He drew in and blew out a cloud of smoke. “Well, Shirt was recruiting, and he knew I was in trouble. He offered me a job. I took it. I spent the next four years globe-trotting with my crossbow and a gun. I made money, and I put it in foreign banks. But I got too confident and too careless, and I got shot to pieces.”
She held her breath, waiting for him to continue.
“I spent weeks in a hospital. My lungs collapsed from shrapnel and they thought I was going to die. But I lived through it. When I got out, I realized that there was only one way I could go from there, and it was straight downhill. So I told Shirt I was quitting.” He laughed mirthlessly. “But first I went on one last mission, just to prove to myself that I still had the guts. And I came out of that one without a scratch. I came back to the States afterward. I figured that someday the guys I’d served with might need a lawyer, and I needed a profession. So I got a job and went to school at night.”
“You aren’t a fugitive?” she asked.
“No. In one or two countries, perhaps, if I were recognized. But not in the States.” He turned, studying her through narrowed eyes. “That’s why I guard my past so meticulously, Gabby. And it’s why I don’t like reporters. I’m not ashamed of the old life. But I don’t like being reminded of it too often.”
“Do you miss it?” she asked, probing gently.
He sighed. “Yes. Part of me does. Life is so precious when you’ve touched death, Gabby. You become alive in a way I can’t explain to you. Life is pretty damned tame afterward.”
“This is why you came after Martina, isn’t it, Jacob?” she asked, fitting the puzzle pieces together. “Because you knew that you and the group could succeed where a larger group might fail.”
“We’re the only chance she has, honey,” he said quietly. “In Italy I might have stayed out of it. But down here…the government has its hands full trying to keep up with crime and trafficking, not to mention corruption. Besides all that, damn it, she’s my sister. She’s all I’ve got.”
That hurt. He might want Gabby, but he didn’t care about her. He’d made that perfectly clear. She lowered her eyes to the skirt of her nightgown.
“Yes, I can understand that,” she said in a subdued tone.
“I had a long talk with Laremos last night,” he said. “I told him that if he touched you, I’d kill him. You’ll be safe here.”
Her head jerked up. “I’m not afraid for myself,” she said. “Only for you and the others.”
“We’re a good team,” he said. “The way you and I have been for the past two years. Do you want to quit now, Gabby? Are you disillusioned?”
He sounded coldly sarcastic. He lifted the cigarette to his lips with a short laugh.
“Are you firing me?” she threw back, angered by the unexpected and unwarranted attack.
“No. If you leave, it’s up to you.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said.
He crushed out his cigarette in an ashtray. “You’d better get dressed. I want to go over those codes with you one last time before we get under way.”
“Yes, of course,” she murmured. She got up and went to find her clothes. Before she could turn around, the door opened and he’d gone out.
She got dressed and sat down on the bed and cried. To go from dream to nightmare in such a short space of time was anguish. And the worst thing was that she didn’t even know what had happened.
It didn’t matter to her that he’d been a soldier of fortune, she thought miserably. How could it, when she loved him?
Loved him. Her eyes pictured him, dark and solemn and strong, and a surge of warmth swept over her like fire. She would have followed him through that jungle on her knees without a single complaint. But despite his obvious hunger for her, he didn’t want anything emotional between them. He’d pretty well spelled that out for her. Martina was the only person on earth he loved or would love, and he’d said so. What he felt for Gabby was purely physical, something he couldn’t help. She was a virgin and she excited him. He wanted her, but that was all. And he could have had her that morning, without a protest on her part. He must have known it, too. But he hadn’t taken her, because he was strong. He didn’t want her getting involved with him, so he’d told her all about his past.
That was the final blow, that he’d shared his past with her only to put a wall between them. She hid her face in her hands and tried to hold back the tears. How was she going to manage to work with him day after day now, when he couldn’t help but see how she felt?
But that wasn’t the worst of it. He was going out into the jungle after kidnappers who could kill him. Her heart froze in her chest. She couldn’t stop him. All she could do was sit there and pray for him.
