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  “I must be the queen of déjà vu,” she mumbled against his chest. “I promise I don’t make a habit of crying on men’s shoulders. Crying, period.”

  Her wry reference to their first meeting curved Spence’s lips and he chuckled. She was as emotionally strong as Anna. And they both had the same infuriating stubbornness.

  Kelly looked up and smiled shyly, her warm breath drifting against his face.

  Spence’s heartbeat stuttered. Her mouth was close. So close that he could lower his head just a fraction and touch her lips with his. Taste her. Like he’d wanted to for months, he realized with a jolt. The sudden dilation of her pupils, the oh-so-slight parting of her lips told him she wanted it, too.

  No. His muscles locked instantly against the idea.

  But she, with a sense of wonder on her face that knotted Spence’s gut, reached up and touched his lips. Her finger teased softly. Her breath mingled with his.

  He closed his eyes, savoring her touch, yet hurting over it. He loved his wife; they’d had a great marriage. It had been three years since he’d felt anything for any woman. Still, he wasn’t going to kiss Kelly. He was going to pull back and—

  Her lips brushed his.

  Spence’s arms reflexively tightened around her, pulling her into the V of his thighs. Fierce, savage need slashed through him, incinerating what little rational thought he had left.

  She’d started this, but he quickly took control. Starving, aching. Cupping her bottom in his hands, he pressed her hard into him. His tongue dipped into her mouth, dark and rich like wine.

  Hunger hooked into him with shattering force. He wanted to bury himself in her mouth, her body, to feel the cool glide of her skin against his. She wound her arms around his neck, matching him kiss for ravenous kiss.

  Driving and desperate, he could not make himself release her. Until somehow a little needle of awareness pricked the bubble of sensation surrounding him. It hit Spence with the force of a body slam what he was doing.

  “No.” He dragged his lips from her, regret searing him. But was it regret for the kiss or for pulling away? He didn’t know. “This isn’t…” His voice was rough with need.

  She drew back, the hurt in her eyes quickly masked by horrified realization. She touched her lips, moist and swollen from his and the gesture spurred another surge of desire through him. She nodded and stepped away.

  He wanted to pull her back to him and his muscles tensed in reaction, but he let her go.

  She walked to the door and opened it, her words low and wobbly. “I’ll be in my room.”

  “Yes. Try to get some rest.” He wasn’t even sure that was his voice, but she nodded and disappeared into the hall.

  Spence sat on the table, staring blindly out the window at the shadowed debris littering the tornado-damaged airfield. Flat-out lust seared him from the inside out. His hands shook. So much for distance.

  What in the hell was going on? Spence had no idea how long he sat there—minutes, maybe an hour—before he heard the click of the door. He turned as Mason Taggart walked into the interview room.

  Rattled, his thoughts still scattered, Spence pushed up off the table. The hungry slide of Kelly’s lips against his, the total surrender in her body still raked through him. He tried to shove the sensations away, focus on the weary-eyed FBI agent in front of him.

  Taggart was a walking wrinkle even though he’d discarded his crumpled brown jacket. The sleeves of his limp white shirt were rolled nearly to his elbows. His pants were as crinkled as his face, but those brown eyes were sharp. Alert, despite the weariness dragging at his rounded features.

  “Zajak briefed me on his interview with Miss Jackson. Do you agree she’s told us all she knows?”

  “Yeah.” Spence ran a hand over the knotted muscles in his neck. He was glad to hear Zajak didn’t want to lambaste Kelly again. “Zajak told us about Hart’s accomplice. A cousin named Post.”

  “Yeah. Buchanan found the connection.” The older man lowered himself into a chair, dipping into his ever-present paper bag of macadamia nuts. “Thought I’d bring you up to date. Hart’s released eight more hostages in exchange for hot food. With the five he released to get the runway cleared, that brings us to thirteen. Only ninety-five to go. He’s still demanding to see his ex by noon tomorrow.”

  “No.” Spence planted his hands on his hips, trying to think around the tantalizing memory of Kelly in his arms. He didn’t know if Taggart would fight him on this, but he was prepared to go to the line if he had to. “I don’t care if Hart promises to release the whole damn plane full of hostages. I don’t want her near him.”

  Taggart stopped munching and squinted at him.

  Spence hastily corrected, “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Too much of a threat. Do you know what this guy did to her?”

  The other man nodded solemnly. “Bastard.”

  “On a good day,” Spence snarled, wishing he could erase the feel of her body against his, the subtle scent of wildflowers that had invaded his lungs. “I promised she wouldn’t have to get within a hundred yards of him.”

  “I think I can get some more hostages off the plane. I’ve got three snipers in place, but Hart has the window covers down. They can’t even see inside. Agreeing to let him see Kelly might bring him into the open.”

  “No.”

  “Just let him see her. Not talk to her.”

  “No. Stall him. Tell him we’re still trying to locate her vacation spot.”

  Taggart wadded the brown bag shut, a knowing look in his eyes. “Look, Cantrell, I appreciate the position you’re in here. You gave your word. You’ve established trust with this woman.”

  And contact, Spence thought wryly.

  “But we’ve got to get to this guy. The hostage negotiator is working Hart, but the man wants to see his ex-wife. That’s the only reason he’s agreeing to anything.”

  “The negotiator knows what to do. Tell him Kelly isn’t an option.”

  “You know it doesn’t work like that,” Taggart said sadly. “Hart wants the runway cleared. We did that. Cleared a portion of the taxiway, too. No sense just letting him drive out of here.”

  “That’s good.”

  “But we can only stall so long. Hart keeps volunteering to give up hostages. The negotiator is probably going to agree to let Hart see his ex-wife—”

  “You better make it so he doesn’t. I promised her.”

  “Hart’s threatened to start killing marshals,” Taggart said quietly.

  Frustration clawed through Spence. He paced the length of the long conference table, then back, wanting to hit something, someone. Hart. “You should’ve seen her face when she looked at a picture of the guy. A picture, dammit! I thought she was going to pass out.”

  “I’m sorry about that, but she’s got maximum protection. He can’t do anything to her.”

  Spence hesitated, torn between his co-workers and the woman he’d started to care too much about. “We both know things don’t always go as planned.”

  “They have so far,” Taggart said tightly. “I appreciate where you’re coming from, Cantrell, but we might have to play this out.”

  “Find a way that we don’t have to.”

  Taggart’s shoulders went rigid at being told how to do his job and Spence reined in his vehement determination. He shoved a hand through his hair. He was tired, frustrated. Damnably aroused. Still. “Please, Taggart. Try to keep Kelly out of it.”

  If Taggart thought anything about Spence calling Kelly by her first name or actually pleading her case, he didn’t make any smart remarks like Zajak’s. “If my snipers can’t get a shot at him, I’ve got to send someone on board.”

  “How?” Spence rubbed his neck. “The only place Hart can’t see anyone is down by the cargo hold and there’s no way to get from there to the passenger area.”

  A huge grin split Taggart’s face. “I’ve got a crackerjack FAA Instructor pilot waiting in the wings who says different. Suzanne Delachek has logged more
air miles than a flock of Canadian geese and she knows your 727 inside out. She can get a man on board.”

  Spence froze, adrenaline zipping through his veins. “Let me do it.”

  “One of the Hostage Rescue Team can do it.”

  “I’ll go. Those are my men, my friends on that plane. And I’m the one who promised Kelly Jackson she wouldn’t have to deal with this piece of scum.”

  It was suddenly worth life and death to keep his promise to Kelly. One woman had died because of his job. He wasn’t going to lose another. He didn’t know where the thought had come from. Kelly Jackson wasn’t his. Still, he couldn’t deny the sense of possession burning through him. “Hart doesn’t know me. I can sneak on board that plane and take him out.”

  “We know he had an accomplice on the ground, but it appears he’s working alone on the plane, keeping complete control.”

  Spence nodded. “I’ll be careful.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come on, Taggart. Think how good it’ll look if our two agencies actually work together instead of both of us marking our territory.”

  Taggart grinned. “I’ve always thought cross-departmental politics were BS. All I care about is getting that SOB off the plane without killing anyone.”

  Spence nodded. He cared about that, too, but he was starting to care more about the woman whose courage still warmed a spot in his heart, the woman whose lips had branded his. The woman who awakened feelings in him he’d long ago tried to force out of his heart.

  Taggart pushed out of the chair. “If we send you on board, we’ll still need to distract him.”

  “Surely there’s a way we can do that without using her.”

  The other man paused, then said quietly, “Maybe we should let her decide.”

  No way in hell. But Spence kept his mouth shut. He had no right to make that call, no rights to Kelly at all.

  Taggart stared expectantly and finally Spence nodded. “I’ll tell her,” he said through clenched teeth.

  The FBI agent nodded and walked out. Spence pinched the bridge of his nose, his body humming with need, frustration, resentment. He needed to tell Kelly about Hart’s deadline, ask if she’d be willing to see Carl, but he knew she wouldn’t. He didn’t want to apply the slightest bit of pressure about it either.

  His need to see her, to reassure her was more than just to comfort, more than lust. It was something he didn’t want to define. Kelly Jackson got to him in ways no woman had since Anna. He didn’t expect to find such love again, but he still ached, physically and emotionally, from that kiss with Kelly.

  He couldn’t keep her safe if he became emotionally involved with her. But he was afraid it was already too late.

  Kelly stood in the middle of her hotel room, her legs still weak from that devastating kiss with Spence. Wow. The man was lethal. It wasn’t just the way he kissed the breath out of her, but his gentle ferocity literally made her toes curl just thinking about it.

  She closed her eyes, her belly quivering as she replayed the hot seduction of his lips. It had been so long since she’d trusted a man to hold her. So long since a man had held her with tenderness, wanted her with such fierceness. If one ever had.

  Kelly could tell herself all she wanted that she’d learned her lesson about trusting people so quickly, so blindly, but that didn’t change the fact that she trusted Spence Cantrell. His support against Agent Zajak had sealed that bond for her. No man had ever ridden to her rescue like that.

  He was different than Carl. Kelly sensed it, felt it with everything in her, rotten instincts and all. She wished she’d met Spence under different circumstances, wished she knew what put the shadows in his sexy blue eyes.

  If only she could forget why she was really here, forget why she’d seen him again, but she couldn’t. Walking to the window, she pulled back the curtain and stared out into the settling night. Even in the darkness, the landscape looked as battered as she felt.

  Carl was out there, closer than he’d been in years. Waiting for her. Wanting to see her.

  A shudder ripped through Kelly and she dropped the curtain, moved back into the room. Why? What did Carl want with her? Why in the world would he hijack a plane, then demand to see her? She had no idea, but she knew it was for nothing good. A queasy lump of dread settled in her stomach.

  Exhaustion peeled through her body. Her muscles felt soggy and lax; her eyes burned with fatigue, but she didn’t want to go to sleep. For the first couple of months after she’d left Carl, she’d dreamed of his abuse. In her dreams, she ran and ran toward the door, but she could never reach it.

  Apprehension and the knowledge that Carl was so near crumpled the shield she’d been able to maintain while awake. But asleep she knew she couldn’t guard against the terror, the fear that waited below the surface to swallow her.

  She washed her face and brushed her teeth. Watched television for a moment, but the only thing she could find besides the adult movie channel was nonstop coverage of the hijacking. She turned the set off.

  Slipping off her shoes, she sank down on the small couch against one window and laid her head back. Staring at the white textured ceiling, she pushed away memories of Carl, tried to blank her mind. But the memory of that kiss with Spence taunted her. So what if she allowed herself to enjoy it? Earlier, fear, exhaustion and stress had toppled her carefully erected defenses like a charred fence. She couldn’t allow that to happen again.

  Her eyes fluttered shut as she let herself float through the memory of being in Spence’s arms. Again she savored the solid strength in those arms, the gentleness in his hands. And his kiss. Hot and hungry, coaxing all resistance out of her…

  Kelly succumbed to sleep.

  Carl reached for her, his hands biting into her upper arms, bruising.

  Never again. No one was ever going to hurt her again. She managed to get one of her arms free and she swung out. It took him by surprise and she pushed at his chest, panic bubbling to the surface. If he pinned her down, he would win.

  Frantically, she slapped at him, trying to move off the couch where he had her trapped. Kicking out, she bucked beneath the heavy, masculine weight leaning over her.

  “Kelly? Kelly, honey.”

  The deep voice startled her. It wasn’t Carl’s.

  “Kelly, wake up.”

  She came awake with a start, twisting violently, trying to escape the arms now locked around her upper body. “Stop it! Stop! I—”

  “It’s all right. It’s Spence. I’ve got you.”

  Spence? It all rushed back—where she was, why, who was with her. Choking back a sob, she turned into his chest. “Sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you. I thought—”

  “I’m sorry I startled you. I was only trying to wake you.”

  “Is it over?” She could barely keep a rein on the fear that scraped along her nerves, leaving them raw and cold and numb. “Has Carl surrendered?”

  “No, not yet.”

  She sagged against him. His arms tightened around her. As he settled more fully on the couch, he shifted her onto his lap. For a long moment, he simply held her. His breath teased the hair at her temple.

  She knew she should stand up, put some distance between them, but that message was not getting to her legs. She snuggled into his broad powerful chest that at the moment seemed as if it could shelter her from anything.

  “Thank you,” she whispered.

  He nodded, his lips brushing her temple, her cheek. She shifted, and became aware that he suddenly tensed. The muscles in his thighs, the oak-hard belly, his shoulders—all went rigid. And so did something else against her hip.

  Her stomach hollowed. Fighting the instincts she’d worked so hard to ignore, she looked up. The hard glitter of desire and uncertainty in his blue eyes started a warmth between her legs. Ignited a longing that had been deeply buried.

  “Kelly?”

  In that hoarse muttering of her name, she heard everything he didn’t say, everything he feared. Knew this was dangerous
, unprofessional, incredible. She also knew she needed him in a way she’d never needed anyone before.

  His lips brushed hers and his gentle invitation destroyed any distance she’d managed. With a tiny cry, she crushed her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. Strong, warm, virile male pulsed beneath her hands. She melted into him, loving the feel of his solid chest against her breasts, his taut thighs beneath her bottom, his growing arousal against her hip.

  Her whole life she’d wanted a man like this. A man whose touch ignited passion, not fear or disgust. A man who wanted her, but who didn’t control her. A man like Spence.

  She’d learned the hard way to listen to her head, not her heart, but his tongue stroked the resistance right out of her. She didn’t want to stop. No matter how much she’d regret it later.

  Chapter 3

  Spence pulled back, breathing hard. Knocked off-balance by the desire that slammed through him, he shook his head, cupped her shoulders to push her away.

  “Spence?”

  When she said his name, he felt things he couldn’t explain.

  “Please tell me you’re not married.”

  “Not married.” The invitation in her dusky blue eyes incinerated every bit of common sense he had. Something big and unexpected was happening here and he couldn’t walk away.

  He hooked an arm around her waist and took her lips again. Fiercely, hungrily, an unfamiliar desperation raking through him.

  “This is crazy,” he groaned.

  “Yes.” She kissed him back.

  “And unprofessional.”

  “Yes.”

  “We should probably stop.” He rained kisses on her cheeks, her nose, her forehead before coming back to her mouth.

  “Yes,” she breathed when they broke apart. “We should stop. We can. Can’t we?”

  Her fingers tunneled through his hair. Just the thought of walking away from her filled Spence with regret, but he needed to remember why he was here. “Kelly—”

  “I know.” Her hand grazed his hair as she stood. “You’re right.”