Kiss and Tell (18 page)

Jake glowered at her.

He wished she'd stop telling him to be careful. Acting like she gave a damn.

She had hot pants, that was all. But she embodied a lethal siren song of uninhibited sexuality and genuine naïveté he found hard to resist.

The woman even had a pet name for his body parts. Judas, he got an erection every time he so much as looked at her. Biological. Nothing more. That didn't mean he had to act on it.

Especially now.

He glanced away from her sleeping face to check the flat-screen monitors.
Knock yourselves out
, he thought as the gray early morning light showed four men skulking through the trees near camera nine, a good half mile away.

He could easily remain where he was, twenty feet under the earth and undetectable. He had enough supplies to last through the coming winter and beyond. After a few weeks the men topside would leave, convinced they'd been fed disinformation or that he'd died when they'd opened the dam.

The woman beside him made the idea of staying put dangerously appealing. Tempting as it was, he wasn't going to do it.

For one thing, he needed to know who the hell had instigated the hit. There was no doubt it was the same person, or persons, who had been doing a fine job framing him as a T-FLAC mole for the past several months.

For another, while infinitely patient, he was damned if he'd remain hidden while a bunch of goons ruined his reputation and tromped over his mountain trying to find and kill him.

He had the home field advantage. They were on his turf now.

There was no rush. Time was on his side.

With uncanny perception, Marnie had mocked him last night about waiting for the other shoe to drop. As it always did when he thought of it, the scar at the base of his neck began to itch.

Of course, he was no longer gullible enough to be blind-sided by a woman, even one as clear-eyed and innocent as Marnie. For the first time in years a woman mentally entertained him. She was unique.

He'd been content living by himself and worrying about nothing but his own hide. The thought of being stuck down here with her for weeks on end was dangerously appealing.

Hell, what am I thinking?
He had to get her off the mountain so he could concentrate on the job at hand.

It had been years since he'd needed to concern himself with someone else's welfare. After Soledad, he'd relished the deadening effect of having no emotion. It simplified life. He didn't give a shit if he came out at the end of an assignment in one piece or in a body bag. It was all the same to him.

He'd been a damn good operative before Soledad. A.S., after Soledad, he'd become one of T-FLAC's most feared operatives. Immune to emotion, he'd become lethal.

Good for him. Bad for the tangos.

He took pride knowing he was called a cold, heartless bastard.

He didn't need emotion, didn't want the trouble and baggage that went with it.

He was happy with his life. Happy with himself. And perfectly content to maintain the status quo.

He had no desire to get all het up about a woman. And since Soledad, he'd never been tempted.

He glared at the woman sleeping beside him.

Her eyelashes made intriguing fringed shadows on her creamy cheeks as she slept the sleep of the innocent. A good night's rest had brought a flush to her cheeks, and her lips were slightly parted, making her look sensual and vulnerable at the same time. He put a tentative handout and moved a spiraled curl off her cheek. Fingering the silky filaments, Jake experienced a bemusing wash of emotion. It was an odd and vastly annoying sensation.

He had to look away from her for a moment to control the hunger that exploded through him.

He'd forgotten what it was like to want a woman this badly. He wanted to trail his tongue over her warm, ripe breasts. He wanted to explore her with his hands, his mouth, and his teeth. He wanted to taste her, test her, and tease her. He wanted to evoke those same responses in her.
Damn it all to hell.

He felt eyes on him and looked up to see the dog watching with brown-eyed reproach from the other side of the bed.

"Wanna go outside, girl?" he asked softly, grateful for the diversion.

"Not particularly," Marnie said around a yawn, her eyes twinkling. "But Duchess does." She stretched luxuriously. "Wow, I feel terrific. How about you?"

Hell, yes, you feel terrific
, Jake thought as she dragged the silky smoothness of her bare leg across his. It was like being stroked by a satin-covered live wire. He came to immediate attention. Her voice, morning-husky, sexy as hell, did strange things to his entire nervous system.

"I'll take the dog out," he said shortly, not moving.

She looked breathlessly irresistible with her hair tangled, her pretty eyes bright, her body warm from sleep.

From sleeping nestled against
him
all night.

Her eyes glowed. "You know what would be fabulous?"

God, yes.

"Pancakes."

Pancakes?

The only pancake he could imagine was her, flattened between his body and the mattress while he pumped into her again and again.

She rolled onto her side, as if they'd shared a bed their entire lives, and braced herself on an elbow to gaze down at him. Totally discounting the fact that her leg had slithered over both of his. That her hair tickled his face as she shifted. That a week ago she hadn't known he existed.

"Yep, pancakes. With lots of syrup. What do you say?"

"Sure. Pancakes." He flung the silk throw aside. "I'll take the dog outside now." Duchess, butt wagging, came around the bed to escort him.

"Oh, wow. You have gorgeous legs."

Jake, in the process of pulling his jeans up over his boxers, stiffened. He felt the tips of his ears get hot, and he glared at her over his shoulder. "I have what?"

She propped herself up on both elbows – which then threw her unfettered breasts into relief under the tank top. "Gorgeous legs. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

They'd told him he was a son of a bitch. They'd told him he had no heart. They'd told him his eyes alone could scare the crap out of a person from twenty paces. They'd never mentioned his legs. "No."

The dog nudged him not so subtly with her head. He dragged his gaze away from the adorable fruitcake in his bed to her horse of a dog, then back again. "I'll be back."

"Can I go with you?"

"No."

Marnie flopped onto her back. "I'll be here."

*

"Tell me about these guys you were engaged to."

"You need a dishwasher, you know that?" Marnie grumbled, washing the few dishes they'd used.

"I have one. You." Jake stacked his hands behind his head as he stretched out on the couch. He wore jeans, a black-and-red flannel shirt, and no shoes. While he and Duchess had gone for a walk, she'd commandeered another pair of his boxers and changed into her own flannel shirt. She could feel the heat of Jake's gaze on her bare legs.

"Your fiancés?"

She picked up a plate, dunked it in the sink, and swished the dishrag around.

She would have bet good money that Jake would have slept on the couch last night. Instead she'd woken briefly sometime during the night to find her nose mashed on his chest, his fingers tangled in her hair, his legs twined with hers.

Too bad she had merely surfaced, then slipped back deep into sleep. She would have enjoyed having Jake's arms around her when they were both not only horizontal but conscious. She wondered what he'd do if she went over there right now and stretched out over his body like a blanket. She bit back a smile.

Problem was, she was starting to get stir crazy, and when that happened she tended to get into trouble. Add that tendency to being fatally attracted to him, and she was already in big,
big
trouble.

She had to admire his self-control.

Was that why she found Jake so intriguing? Because he blatantly
didn't
want her?

Marnie had been giving that some serious consideration for the past twenty-four hours. Yes, she admitted with her usual self-honesty, that was part of it. But not the biggest part.

Fascination and curiosity were to be expected, considering their circumstances. But it wasn't simple proximity.

Jake Dolan intrigued her, fascinated her.

She liked the way he moved. For such a large man he was very graceful. He did everything with quiet efficiency and assurance. He didn't accept help, because he was obviously used to being alone.

The constant shadow in his eyes reminded Marnie of a wildlife documentary she'd seen once. A jaguar had been found in a trap, its paw mangled by the cruel metal jaws. Its yellow eyes acknowledged impending death. It had almost ripped out the throat of one of its rescuers before it was tranquilized and the light of battle had died.

Marnie had never forgotten that jaguar's eyes.

Jake had that same look: a man betrayed. A man who wouldn't trust easily, if at all.

She liked the way he talked tough yet was gentle when he touched her. She liked the way he'd protected her back when they'd been running, and the way he cared for Duchess. She liked the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, indicating amusement, even when his stern mouth refused to smile.

She liked the way he fought himself.

It made her more determined.

She thought of the hundreds of cowboy books filling his shelves. The code of the West. Jake Dolan had a white-hat, superhero attitude that was sexy as hell.

He was a man with ethics. A man with integrity.

He wouldn't be an easy man to love.

But if she wasn't careful, he was a man she could easily fall in love with.

"I never realized washing a few dishes by hand took so much concentration," Jake said from his reclining position. "Or are you avoiding the subject?"

She sighed. "It's a long story."

"Can't wait to hear it."

"Don't you have to go chase baddies or something?"

"There's a storm warning. It's still snowing. The bridge is impassable."

Jake propped his large bare feet on the opposite arm of the couch, then reached for his mug, which he balanced on his flat stomach. "While those guys are running themselves ragged in the freezing cold looking for me, I'm down here, full of pancakes, syrup, and hot coffee. Let's hear your story."

Marnie folded the towel and left it to dry next to the small sink. There was only so much a woman could do in a one-room lair.

She gave Jake's long body, taking up the entire couch, an assessing look, then searched for a pencil, grabbed a small stack of paper from the printer, and wheeled the desk chair closer. She sat with her bare feet propped on the trunk and started doodling, the papers balanced on her lap.

"Do you have any siblings?" she asked absently. She'd never drawn a man's feet before.

"No."

"How about parents?"

"Yeah, I have a set of those."

She glanced up. "Where are they?"

"Last I knew, Chicago."

"I take it you weren't close?"

"We weren't. We were talking about you, and your family, and your lack of commitment."

"Hey! I can too commit. It's no big whoop. The relationships didn't work. End of story." She shaded in his big toe.

"That's a short story. Let's hear the unabridged version."

"Jaaake."

"Got something better to do?"

"We could bake the frozen cookie dough in the freezer."

Duchess's ears perked eagerly.

"We just ate breakfast," Jake said to both of them. Duchess subsided on the area rug, head on her paws, eyes reproachful.

Marnie didn't particularly want to be the entertainment for the morning. Having all of Jake Dolan's attention focused exclusively on her was a little overwhelming. She reached over, plucked the mug out of his hand, and gulped the last two inches of coffee.

"There was nothing wrong with the men I was engaged to. I liked them just fine. The thing is..." She dragged the chair forward until she could wrap her arms around her bent knees, and stared at his toes. She wished she had her favorite pencils.

Jake had sexy feet. Actually, she decided, letting her eyes do a nice slow perusal,
all
of him was sexy. And there was a lot of him. She wondered how she could wangle a kiss out of him. He looked so damn tempting lying there...

"You were in the middle of a sentence," Jake prodded. "Mind completing the thought?"

"My brothers thought I'd be better off with someone...someone..."

"Someone what? Like a lion tamer?"

"Low-key," she said sweetly. "And for sure, someone that at least one of them knew. The boys wanted to protect me from men who might want me for my money."
And my life insurance policy
, she added silently.

"Not," Marnie told him wryly, resting her chin on the rather good sketch of half his left foot, "that I'm incapable of taking care of myself, but
they
needed to do it. And to tell the truth, I have a bad habit of taking the route that's the least hassle. It was easy to let them do my looking for me. Lord," she said wryly. "What a twit I was.

"Nevertheless, I do trust my brothers, and I'd always liked their friends. And at the time I wanted to get married – shoot, I thought I was
supposed
to be married. Happily ever after, you know?

"There was nothing wrong with any of them. My brothers know me – they wouldn't drag some dork to the altar by the hair just to prove a point. Well, Michael might. Be that as it may, neither of the engagements worked out."

Her legs itched. "Got any lotion?"

"No. What were they trying to do? Get rid of you?" Jake didn't have the usual edge of exasperation in his tone. In fact, he was starting to look... She had no idea how to interpret his expression. Sort of a combination of resignation and fear, which was obviously a misinterpretation.

"Nope. They love me.
Too
much, sometimes, but my brothers do love me. I guess it was because I was such a late bloomer, and they were trying to help in their own way. It's pretty funny." She rubbed her hands up her calf, then noticed, and was fascinated by, the way Jake's eyes followed the movement.