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  She held her hand out, and each man gently touched her fingers. The devil only smiled while she moistened her lips. “Gentlemen. Are you enjoying yourselves?”

  If he had been surprised at all, Gun recovered smoothly, nodding like the playboy he was reputed to be. “Very much, Miss ...?”

  “Sophie Petori.”

  “Miss Petori.”

  The man was a chameleon, blending perfectly in the glitter of his present surroundings or the muddy jungle floor of Bogotá. As luck would have it, Ali heard one of Frankie’s men ask him to step into the private office area. The moment Frankie excused himself to take care of the problem, Gun pushed himself onto her goodwill.

  “Miss Petori. Would you mind showing me the view from the terrace?” He took her arm and walked her through the crowd toward the open doors. “Show me the way to the casino.”

  He was smooth, all right. He talked and smiled like a guy with nothing on his mind but getting in her pants and partying. Never mind that her heart beat against her ribs at the very thought of letting him do just that. The bureau couldn’t do this to her. She cursed her luck, but maintained her brilliant smile.

  As Gun led her along, Ali glanced over her shoulder several times to keep tabs on Frankie. Gun easily moved her through the open terrace doors and out into the semi-darkness. His voice was rough as he questioned Ali, and her nipples pebbled instantly.

  “We are on the same side, aren’t we?”

  Couldn’t he have forced her to kiss him, to have rough, fast sex, and then question her? “Keep your voice down, mister. The couple kissing in the corner could be watching and listening.”

  Gun glanced at the pair and laughed sardonically. “I don’t think they know we’re out here.” He braced his hand on the rail, effectively fencing her in. His smile was sexy as ever. “So. Sophie. How have you been?”

  “Shopping. Frankie is extremely generous.” Ali took the cigarette he lit for her and took a deep drag. “I’m leaving for Paris Saturday morning.”

  “What a coincidence. Me, too.” He dragged his fingertip down the row of tiny jet buttons on the bodice of her dress. “We’re going together, it seems.”

  “I don’t see how that can be.” She lied, but it felt so good to put him down. “My contact is sophisticated, elegant, and educated.”

  Gun chuckled. “That’s me, baby. That, and a hell of a lot more.”

  “Could there be a mix-up?” She knew there was no mistake and would follow the plan to the letter. She would fly to Paris with Gun, set a guy up to buy his dirty bomb, and be back home before the guy was cold in the morgue.

  Her sexual awareness of him bloomed when he leaned down to murmur in her ear. “Where do you live, beautiful Sophie?”

  My God, hadn’t they just acted out this scene a few weeks ago? Different names, same actors. She couldn’t change the script too much. “A few blocks from here.”

  He inhaled roughly. “Want to show it to me?”

  His lips brushed hers in a feather stroke, and her mouth quivered. “I don’t know. Last time I let you look at my place, you took your pants off.”

  “I was young. Inexperienced.”

  Inexperienced, hell. His hands were an encyclopedia of ways to touch, stroke, hold, and squeeze. Just like those traitorous lips.

  “You’ll have to okay it with Frankie.” Crap. Why had she laid out such a hard ultimatum? But, maybe a feigned headache would get them out of his place and into hers. Please God, just an hour.

  “You make it hard, baby, and I’m not just talking about my cock.” Gun’s smile was an all-out dare.

  “How bad do you want me?”

  He eyed her from head to toe and nodded. “Pretty damned bad.”

  She opened her mouth to tell him she might be coaxed into helping, but he walked away too quickly.

  “Wait, damn it,” she rasped out. He ignored her and went straight to Frankie.

  Frankie looked her way and smiled. Headache. Yes. He believes you suffer migraines. She furrowed her forehead and touched her temple. Hellfire, Gun was looking her way and gesturing to his stomach. Frankie looked sympathetic, and Gun turned to walk back to her.

  “We can go screw all night.”

  “Who said anything about screwing?”

  Gun hugged her waist as he led her out to the elevator. “Your eyes told me.”

  Okay, so he could read her mind and her body language.

  “Gun, just out of curiosity, what did you tell him?”

  “I told him you needed a meal, hadn’t eaten all day.” He nuzzled her hair. “That okay?”

  “Fine.” Somehow she didn’t believe a word Gun had said.

  Ali didn’t want to think about Frankie for the next few hours. Gun. That’s all she would allow into her world, and time was ticking away.

  In the elevator, the operator watched them from the corner of his eye and used the mirror skillfully while Gun played with her breast. Movement under the fox wrap was a dead giveaway that his hands were roaming around under it.

  Ali slapped his hands and hurried through the lobby and outside, where the doorman hailed them a cab. She managed to keep her clothes on until he opened the door of her hotel suite.

  “Donavon, did you miss me?” He shut the door behind them and locked it.

  “Hell, no.” She looked into his eyes and couldn’t play hard to get any longer. She flung her arms around his neck and hugged him, spilling her guarded admission. “Hell, yes, I missed you, you devil.”

  He caught her face in his hands and kissed her, holding her so close she couldn’t breathe. His mouth was sweet and tasted of good liquor and mint, his tongue sliding against hers, sucking on her lips as if he were starving. Gun pressed against her, warming her to the bone; the sheer luxury of feeling his large frame moved over her nerves like a vapor of smoky, forbidden aphrodisiac.

  No time to undress, no time for foreplay. None needed. She was wet and pulsing, ready for him. The fancy lace-top stockings she wore required no garter, leaving her free for his pleasure, free for him to slip two fingers under her panty leg and inside her as he covered her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. She sobbed with emotion. This was no wet dream. Gun really was holding her up and bringing her to orgasm, once, then twice. “Gun, please don’t make me wait. I want you, damn it!” Her breath was stilted and painful.

  Gun still had it, the strength and will to get the job done and take care of her. She rocked against his fingers while he unzipped, nearly jumping out of his socks as she helped herself to pulling his cock from his shorts.

  “Oh, hell, yes, Donavon.” His voice was rough as a rock on a cheese grater, and she loved it. She had Gun back, and he filled her with hot lead that swelled inside her, begging for her slick pussy to work him free of his suffocating need.

  Ali clung to his hip with her thigh and rode his shaft until her lungs threatened to burst. She had lost the ability to reason by the time she reached a tumultuous orgasm. She heard his rough intake of breath and groan when he came immediately after. His heart pounded just like hers as he slowed his breathing.

  She rested against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. The tranquility lasted such a short time, assaulted by the ringing of his cell phone. The thing rang several times before he eased her down and punched the talk button. He seemed a little perturbed with Supervisor Hamm for interrupting.

  “Yeah. All set ...” He kissed her head and finished his conversation. “Yeah, I know I’m gasping for air, damn it. Had to run to answer the phone, Hamm.”

  Gun tossed the phone onto a chair next to the door and picked her up to carry her to the bathroom. She combed his hair with her fingers and kissed his chin as he walked. The moment was theirs to savor, and she couldn’t touch him enough. But she had to know.

  “Are you spending the night with me, or expected somewhere else?” Did she sound as needy as she felt? Oh, God, she hoped not.

  “I’m good for all night. Hamm knows we’re together.” Gun’s kiss was so gentle. Ali was shaken
by the touch of sweet tenderness.

  “How did he know?”

  “While we were talking, I told him we had met up and were spending our free time together.”

  What was he trying to tell her? Oh, hell, she knew. He was not offering anything more than the last day she had seen him. God help her, she would play by his rules.

  “Oh, that’s nice.” Ali smiled and nodded toward the floor. “Want to put me down?”

  “Not really.” He rocked her a couple times before letting her down. “I suppose you have plans to go find that son-of-a-bitch in Charleston and make a fresh start.”

  Damn it. Why did he have to be so wonderful to be with, yet so damned hateful at the same time? He was subtly telling her she should make up with what’s-his-name. Okay, you invited him in, so live with it.

  “Shut up, Gun. Get in the shower. We only have a few hours.” He undressed slowly, smiling at her like one of those hunks that please women in ways they only dreamed of. “I missed you, Gun. You’re so entertaining.”

  She stood still while he slipped her dress off her body and removed her stockings, then her bra. The slow lovemaking with him was new and thrilling, yet it nearly shattered her heart. Why did she allow him to completely own her? Her sob caught his attention, and he gazed at her with a half-smile.

  “Donavon, am I wrong to think you want me to stay?”

  Ali couldn’t believe he asked the dumb question. Don’t cry, for God’s sake. He thinks you like things the way they are. He likes the way things are.

  “Don’t be silly, Gun. You’re not going anywhere until that alarm clock goes off.”

  Chapter 27

  The alarm had gone off on schedule, and Gun had been forced to stop in the middle of a body lick he’d been giving Donavon. They hadn’t slept at all last night. Sleep? Who needed sleep when the most inventive sex partner he’d ever had was in bed with him. Ah, Donavon. Leaving her had been a real kick in the balls, but duty called, and he had an appointment with that scrawny crook Frankie.

  An hour after he left Donavon, he was getting last-minute instructions and a sealed letter of intent to the owner of a Goddamn dirty bomb. Good morning, America. What a life.

  “Are you clear on all this, Martin?”

  Gun nodded, solemnly. “Perfectly clear, Frankie.”

  He slipped the sealed letter into his inside jacket pocket. Donavon was in charge of the authorization of a money transfer to the bomb owner’s Swiss bank account. The scrawny little bastard trusted Donavon completely.

  Frankie eyed Gun for a silent moment. “Did you get Sophie home safely?”

  “Safe as a baby in her cradle.” What the hell was on this guy’s mind? “She felt better when I left her.”

  Frankie smiled and checked out Gun’s tailored, dove-gray sport coat. “The two of you make a beautiful couple. Perhaps we can arrange a party one evening.”

  “Party?” Gun didn’t grin, but he was dying to. This guy couldn’t be serious.

  “Of course. Just the three of us.” Frankie smoothed his perfectly groomed hair. “My bedroom is spacious and terribly comfortable.”

  Gun couldn’t wait to drop this invitation on Donavon. “We’d better talk this over with Sophie. Maybe when we get back. Make it a celebration kind of thing.”

  Frankie’s smile widened. “Yes, that will be wonderful.” He gestured toward the bar across the room. “Care for a coffee before you leave?”

  Gun shook the soft, perfectly manicured hand Frankie held out to him. “Sophie will wait, but the plane won’t.”

  A chortle similar to that of a half-drunk woman came from Frankie. “Such a sharp wit, you have.”

  Gun tried to look embarrassed. “You’re too nice.” Looking at his watch, he prompted Frankie. “Time’s wasting.”

  He couldn’t believe the guy was trotting after him to the door, waving goodbye.

  “Contact me as soon as the agreement is reached.”

  “You bet.”

  At last, out of the confining hotel suite, Gun could breathe like a man with a pair of balls. While the doorman whistled for a cab, Gun contacted FBI headquarters to inform Hamm the mission was on track.

  He stopped at his hotel to pick up only his luggage and personal items. He happily left the outlandish styles in the closet. He wouldn’t need them anymore. The cab was waiting, and he left the room behind with no regret.

  * * * *

  Ali reluctantly got out of bed and slipped back into her role as Sophie. Sophie didn’t like sex or have Gun for a lover. But Ali did. Thinking about Gun made her worry about the outcome of this last togetherness. If he thought she would always be waiting with open arms and legs every time he went off to some foreign country to do whatever he’d be doing, well ... he was wrong. She wanted someone who would be there when she needed him.

  She stood in the shower and thought over the whole situation. What did she really want? Hearth and home, or footloose and fancy free? Maybe a combination of the two. The image of Gun and her in a cozy home with a fireplace was nice, but the wind in her hair as she chased down a loser made her blood rush hot and sweet. There were too many places and missions she wanted to go on before chaining a biscuit pan to her ankle.

  And would the department assign her to the White House with a baby on her hip? No. She thought about being true to one man. Yes, she’d always been true-blue to every man in her life. She also had some horrible photographic memories of catching boyfriends with other women, stealing from her purse, using her telephone to call their mommas for money. Oh, yes, she had a knack for picking bad apples, as her mother had so aptly said.

  Forget it, Ali. You can’t have Gun. He doesn’t want that condo with a couple squalling little Gunnisons. Neither do you. Resigned to simply living life as it came, Ali finished her shower and dried herself and her hair. Getting into all that sophisticated gear was a pain in the ass.

  Brushing her hair smooth as glass was a chore, and working it up into a sleek twist was painful. After the look was achieved, she applied her makeup and then slipped into an ice-blue long-sleeved dress. The material shimmered, glinting softly as she put on her powder-blue suede pumps.

  Time flew by, and she rushed to gather the items she wanted to carry on board the flight. This would be a turnaround trip, and she wouldn’t need much. Her handbag, the letter of authorization from Frankie, credit card, and her weapon. She slipped the PPK into her handbag. Thank God they wouldn’t be hassled at the airport after getting clearance from the FBI.

  She looked around the suite one last time. Taking a white mink walking-coat from the closet, she left the room and closed the door. There was a definite spring in her step. Fool. He didn’t even have the decency to come by for you. Grimacing, she lifted her one suitcase and took the elevator down to the lobby.

  Gun held his gait down to a fast trot through the crowded airport terminal. The place was packed. Lots of people on winter vacation. Vacation his ass. He’d had three weeks off in three years and only because of a banged-up shoulder and leg.

  Right now, he didn’t really care. There was a new adventure on the horizon, and Donavon to share it with. Hell, he had a new life, and it felt good to be alive, for the first time in years. Gun didn’t fight the surge of pleasure that bombarded his midsection when he thought of her. Only natural. She was a big part of his life now, and they would be simpatico forever.

  He looked over the crowd, not seeing her at first. She would be hard to miss, with that beautiful face and great legs. Then, he saw her.

  The guy in the suit talking to her had to be security. She laughed at something the masher said, and he shuffled his feet. Did he do that around her? Probably. No wonder she looked at him as if he was an idiot sometimes. But he didn’t care. He had a natural weakness for Southern ladies.

  She glanced up and found him in the crowd. A soft smile curved her lips up, and she moved a step toward him. Gun maneuvered around baby carriages and luggage, clearing the distance like a speed racer.

  Sh
e waved and held her hand up. “Over here.”

  When the truth hit him, it might as well have been a ton of rocks. She was so important to him that he’d chosen to take hot lead for her. He wasn’t the unfeeling fool he’d wanted her to see. Had he pushed that image too hard?

  But did he want to commit himself to never doing anything without checking with the little woman first? They wouldn’t last three weeks in a domicile for two. She wouldn’t hesitate to throw his clothes out the window if she got mad. Besides, she wanted the White House. She deserved it. He wouldn’t try to be a detour for her.

  “Hey, Sophie.”

  She smiled so pretty and held her arms out to hug him.

  “Hello, Martin.” He thought he saw real affection in her eyes. “Shall we go?”

  “All cleared to board and ready to get underway.” He hugged her and kissed her, looking forward to being in her company again.

  Damn it, his phone was ringing. He hadn’t been fast enough turning it off. “Yeah. You’re sure?” He pulled Donavon close while he talked with Hamm. “All right. Hell, no, I’m not happy about this. Right.” He folded the phone and clipped it back on his belt.

  “Martin.” She gazed at him with some trepidation. “What’s happened?”

  That ton of rocks he’d felt earlier was sitting on his chest now. “Got to delay the flight to Paris. I’ve been called back to Tampa. Some screw-up in the arrest of a major gunrunner. I set that sting up last summer.”

  “Will you attend this party? I’ll have to contact my benefactor to keep him calm.” She looked unhappy, then smiled. “Go ahead; I’ll take care of things.”

  “Sorry, baby.” He hugged her close and murmured in her ear. “You’ll be fine without me.”

  “Take care, Gun.”

  He turned to leave, walking fast, not because he was late for anything, but hurried to get away from the pressure building in his blood. He was going to explode if he didn’t say it to her. Fuck it.