ONE Tuesday at six fifteen. That's when Gabe MacIntosh's patience officially expired. He'd been listening to Natalie Udall argue her case for over an hour. The woman sure could talk. She sat in the office chair and swiveled the seat back and forth. Tapped her fingernails against the conference room table. Ignored the water bottle he put in front of her more than thirty minutes ago while she battled every point he made. Treated him to her whole I'm-a-pissed-off-woman routine while repeatedly making it clear she thought she was in charge. Smart and sexy but so wrong. "Are you almost done?" he asked, hoping to wrap up the discussion and move on to the protection part of the program. He had to get to work. Much more non-bodyguard time alone with her and it would be a race to see which one exploded first, his brain or his dick. The whole mind-wandering thing was new to him. He'd never had trouble concentrating or staying focused during an operation. He'd been trained by the best. An untold amount of government money had been spent, years consumed, honing his skills and turning him into an ace sniper. He could hunker down in a field for hours with hostiles lurking nearby, almost stepping on him, and never make a sound. Not until he was ready. Not until he decided to unleash a rash of fury and fire. With her, something shifted. He noticed too much. Thought about her when he should have been concentrating only on her safety. Everything about her reeled him in. The straight long blond hair he dreamed about wrapping around his hand while he entered her. The way her slight southern accent slipped in when she rushed her words or got really pissed off. The first time they met she wore a suit. The skirt had hit just above her knees and had his brain misfiring as he dreamed about running his palms up those pale thighs. Wrapping those lean legs around his waist. Today, weeks later, she wore pants, but the impact on him didn't lessen one bit. No question the strong female type appealed to him. So did that body, fit yet curvy. Hips that would fit his hands. Every other part of her perfect for licking and tasting. He never fucked on a job. He viewed an assignment as just that, a file he memorized and a body he watched over. Emotionless and straightforward. But with her he saw a woman, smart-mouthed, determined not to be a victim, competent and hard to scare. So fucking hot. But he'd been hired to protect her and that put her on the off-limits list . . . no matter what his dick thought. She'd left her black-ops position with the CIA after a lengthy negotiation through her attorney, and an extraction agreement stored in a vault somewhere proved it. The pages of legalese spelled out her rights and responsibilities, and acted as a supposed guarantee that she would not be harmed. They both knew better. A pile of papers wouldn't stop some ticked-off asshole in power from taking her out. From deciding she knew too much or made a wrong move. Back when she had a job she'd been brave and determined. Refused to take a seat when the idiot men in her office had insisted she be quiet and blend in. That kind of shit made enemies. Which was why she needed him right now. Just for a short time. His presence as bodyguard added some assurance no one could get to her. That was the theory anyway. Now he just had to convince her of his value. He would watch her while his brother Andy and the rest of his team looked for signs of an impending attack against her. Once they were convinced the extraction agreement would hold and she'd remain safe, she could go lead whatever life she wanted and he'd go back to the office and his next assignment. Simple and efficient. He'd played this game many times. Unfortunately, Natalie didn't appear all that excited about her role as potential target. As if she read his mind, she started talking again. "I don't need your protection." She'd been saying the same thing for what felt like hours. So many times that the refrain ran through his brain even when she wasn't talking. "I heard you." "Then unlock the door, let me out and point me in the direction of my house." Thanks to all her time at The Farm, the CIA's top secret training facility in Virginia, and who knew where else, Gabe guessed she'd get along just fine with so little direction. She'd somehow find her way back from their undisclosed location to wherever she intended to hide. Then she'd probably get shot in the head. Yeah, not on his watch. "You're staying with me." "You don't get to decide." "I actually do." He had a work contract in his office back at his company, Tosh Industries, that trumped her denials. She might not like the protection but her friends, concerned friends who were players among the Washington, D.C., power elite, had arranged it for her, paid for it, and she agreed in front of them. Now she was stuck. Gabe intended to see the operation through even if he had to lock her in a closet and sit in front of the door to keep her there and safe. She continued to tap those fingers against the tabletop. "I'm a grown woman." "Believe me, I know." He'd eyed every inch of her. Watched her walk and studied her file. He hadn't seen her naked, but he could guess. That confidence, the swish of those hips. It all played in his mind on an endless loop until he ached with the need to strip that proper navy suit off her. She froze in her chair. "I make my own decisions." "Not right now." He did. He was in charge. He meant for work, but the idea of taking control in every other way appealed to him, too. Way more than it should. "What is that supposed to mean?" He suddenly needed to say the words, to clue her in that she had him on edge. "Your body belongs to me." Tension flooded the room. Quick and without warning. Heat surged through him. Her big blue eyes blinked. She didn't say anything, which should have been a relief, but Gabe felt anything but calm. His skin drew tight, felt stretched, his stomach hollow. The need to fuck her gripped him. She leaned forward, not a big change in position. No, very subtle, almost imperceptible. "Excuse me?" He cleared his throat. "For now. Until we know you're out of danger. I decide what happens with you." Adding the context didn't help to settle the energy pinging around the room. He shifted in his seat across from her and tried to rein in the thoughts bombarding him. She was a job, and an annoying one. When the first mental reminder failed, he tried again. Most people appreciated his protection once they got over the shock of the cost. He didn't do everyday shit. His business focused on covert, need-to-know cases. He didn't advertise or go looking for work. Jobs came to him by reputation and through people who knew all the dirty little secrets. And the never-ending flood of those in Washington, D.C., kept him very busy. He eyed the water bottle in front of her, thinking she'd have to take a breath or a drink soon. "I can name three members of your old team at the agency--the team you ran for the CIA--who are now dead." She shrugged. "Things happen." Like a fireball written off as a gas explosion. A murder-by-vehicle explained away as a fluke car accident. Accidental shootings, random robberies gone wrong. Gabe had seen it all, and so had she, which was why she needed to stop fighting and let him help. "I'm not in the mood for games." He needed to stand up, pace around. He forced his body to stay still. "Which means what?" "Give me some credit and don't pretend I don't know how your business works." She finally grabbed the water bottle. Held it. Tapped the bottom against the desk. "My old business. I'm unemployed. I followed my instincts, protected my team, and my boss pulled my security clearance. I couldn't even get the okay to take a public tour of the building these days." He'd picked this office building as a neutral stop before they took off because it sat miles away from her condo in Washington, D.C., and her office at Langley. Outside the metro area. He'd hustled her out and kept her under wraps. But they needed to keep moving. They actually had a plane to catch. Not that she knew that, but it meant they were on a timetable and if she didn't work with him soon he'd have to take drastic steps. Just thinking about what that meant started a countdown ticking in his head. "You have five minutes." "Then what?" She rolled the water bottle between her palms. "You shoot me?" This woman never stopped. He pushed, she pushed back. He just wished he knew why he found the back and forth so fucking hot. "Tempting." "Keep in mind I'm an expert with weapons." If he were the eye roll type, now would be the time. Since he wasn't, he stood up instead. If he needed to implement Plan B he wanted to be on his feet. "I'm better." Her gaze followed him around the small conference room. "Are you trying to intimidate me?" "Do I?" "I'll ignore that." She stopped playing with the bottle and unscrewed the cap. A ripping sound cut through the room as she broke the seal. Thanks to that death grip he half expected the plastic bottle to explode in her hand. "You now have four minutes." "It doesn't matter, because in three minutes I'm going to get up and walk out of here." She took a long drink then refastened the lid. "Without you following at my heels." She managed to make something so mundane look sexy but at least she finally drank from the damn bottle. Gabe mentally switched back to Plan A. "If you look around you'll see a lack of windows and one door." "So?" "You have to get through me before you can get out, and I think you're too smart to pick that option." But suddenly he wanted like hell for her to try. She stood up and her balance faltered. Slightly and just for a second. With a hand against the table, she righted her body again. Then she came straight at him. Stopped right in front of him and in her high spiky heels almost met him eye to eye. Their bodies didn't touch but the thin layer of air between them didn't act as much of a deterrent. She leaned in until her mouth hovered next to his. "You think I'm that easy to take?" Son of a bitch. "I don't know, Natalie. Do you want me to take you?" She pulled back. "You assume because I'm a woman I'd be submissive during sex." Jesus, she went there. "Who said anything about sex?" She snorted. "Oh, please." Just as he thought. They were finally on the same page, and it was the wrong damn page. Sure as hell the wrong time. "I know what I like." "I can guess." She tipped a bit to the side and grabbed on to his shirt in a rough hold to stand upright again. "You demand complete dominance." "Mutual pleasure." Her body began to list to the side and she blinked a few times. "What did you . . ." She visibly swallowed as she shook her head. "What's happening to me?" "I think you know." He slipped his hands around her elbows in a gentle touch. The room was going to sway for her and he needed to be ready. "I don't . . ." Her knees buckled as her grip on his shirt tightened. A second later her gaze flew to his. "You--" "Drugged you." He nodded as his gaze searched hers, trying to figure out how far gone she was at this point. "Yes." Before she could answer, her head tipped back and her body went limp. That hand dropped from his shirt and her body fell as if her bones had disintegrated. He caught her before she hit the floor. Scooped her right up in his arms and stared down at her. Enjoyed the feel of her in his arms far too much. But he didn't mind the sudden quiet. "Now you'll follow my directions." The lock clicked and the door opened. In walked Gabe's younger brother, Andy. "Talking to unconscious women." Andy shook his head. "Is that your thing now?" Gabe refused to get diverted by bullshit talk. "Our scheduled transport should be here. We need to get moving." Andy glanced at Natalie then back to his brother. "I thought she'd never drink the water." That made two of them. The rush of relief stole some of the stiffness from Gabe's shoulders. Since the alternate plan involved knocking her out, he'd been pretty damn grateful she got thirsty or nervous or whatever caused her to reach for that bottle. "She's careful." He admired that. Admired so much about her. "Really worried there for a few minutes that I'd have to listen to a lengthy discussion of the type of sex you preferred." Andy shivered. "Not interested in that, by the way." At thirty-six, Gabe was six years older than Andy but sometimes felt like the grandfather of the company. He kept them on task. So, treating his brother to a front-row seat of the attraction kicking his ass was not Gabe's idea of a good time. "She was testing boundaries. A smart strategy, actually." Andy smiled. "Boundaries?" Enough standing around and talking nonsense. That wasn't Gabe's style anyway. "Do you want to die today?" "Are you tough all of a sudden?" Andy pressed in the code and unlocked the door again. Opened it to the private area leading to the emergency stairs and the helicopter waiting on the roof. "To be honest, I was more concerned she'd get the drop on you, then I'd get stuck trying to get her out of town." "You're hysterical." Gabe followed his brother out the door and down the long hall. "I'm not sure why you think I'm kidding." He held her close with her head tucked under his chin. The smell of her shampoo, something floral, filled his senses. "I can handle her." "Uh-huh." Unable to reach out and punch in the code, Gabe stopped at the door to the exit. Looked down at her face and that mouth. "Meaning?" Silence pounded around them. Andy didn't make a move for the door or say anything. The quiet had Gabe's head snapping up. He looked at Andy, shorter with more of a runner's build. He worked with a quiet confidence, but this time something else moved in his eyes. Concern, maybe? They didn't have time for this. The helicopter would take them to a private airstrip, then they needed to get on a jet and disappear. Gabe was about to bark out orders when Andy piped up. "You're looking at weeks alone with her in a snowed-in cabin." A fact that gnawed at Gabe. The close proximity would test the limits of his control, but he could not admit that. "I'll refrain from strangling her." Andy's eyes narrowed. "Maybe, but will you be able to keep your other body parts away from her?" Good fucking question. "She's a job." Andy typed in the code and the emergency door opened. "You keep telling yourself that." That was the plan. Gabe just hoped he could stick to it. TWO Natalie stood at the window and watched the snow come down. More snow. Buckets of it fell every minute, or so it seemed. She knew because she'd been watching since she woke up fifteen minutes ago. Exhaustion still pulled at her muscles and clouded her head. She didn't panic or wonder what happened. She knew the answer--Gabe. He'd drugged her to get his way. Not that she blamed him for using whatever means necessary to get a job done. She'd been in his position in the past and used the same knockout tactic. Back then if she couldn't extract someone from the field with permission, she did it the hard way. Well, the hard way for them, not her. Still, being on the receiving end ticked her off. Being dragged to who the hell knew where didn't sit well either. From the topography and weather, she knew she'd been asleep for some time. She now saw towering trees and snowcapped mountains in the distance. No other houses were visible for miles. She had the eerie sense he'd stolen her away to the wilderness, leaving her dehydrated and woozy. And that meant being out of it and unable to fight back for a long time. Yeah, he'd given her something that jacked up her system. It could take her some time--she had no idea how much--to regain her equilibrium. Until then she'd be vulnerable to all sorts of dangers. The type she normally handled with ease, from assassin attack to the simple task of regulating her own body temperature. That's what she got for leaving the CIA on bad terms. A farewell gift that included having her life flipped inside out while she waited for the fallout in the middle of nowhere. First step: find her so-called bodyguard and set down some ground rules that included no drugs unless she was the one administering them. And if she found the opportunity to punch him, she just might grab it. Paybacks were a bitch and he should know that. Nothing moved in the towering trees weighed down with thick white powder. Every now and then she'd hear a whoosh and snow would tumble, adding to the piles already covering the ground. The place didn't work for her. It was too quiet, too isolated. Someone could approach through the makeshift forest around the small cabin. That meant she needed to move. Make a plan, probably find viable transportation. Not that she was dressed for tracking and running. She stood in jeans and hiking boots. Gabe would have to explain that part since the last time she remembered she'd been wearing a suit. Blue, most likely. Probably had her hair pinned up, which she did for work. Now it rested on her shoulders and spread down her back. Forget about the rest of it. The man was going to get his ass kicked for stripping her. She glanced down at the gun in her hand. Maybe more than an ass-kicking, but at least he left her a weapon. She'd just need to be clear that didn't exactly make up for the rest. She looked out over the bright white landscape and squinted, searching the ground for footprints. The gray sky, so thick with clouds and cutting off any natural light, made it hard to judge the actual time of day. But she could guess, because over the years and through numerous assignments she'd developed an innate sense about this sort of thing. She'd spent months at The Farm and later been dropped in the middle of Germany for survivalist training. Spent time in the desert and Arctic. She'd seen it all, which made the idea that she needed a bodyguard to watch over her so strange. Early in her career she had played that role. Once she came out of the field and took an administrative job at the CIA, she watched over her team. From a distance, but she still thought of them as her responsibility and did anything to keep them safe, which was how she ended up getting fired. With all that time acting as the protector it was difficult to switch roles and accept being the protected. Not that she could see her supposed bodyguard right now. His ability to blend in surprised and impressed her. He wasn't exactly small. He had the big, burly, bearded thing down. Not her usual type. Not even a little, which made her wonder why the look worked for her now. Or did before he drugged her . . . the jackass. Blocking out the mental image she'd stored of Gabe and the fogginess in her brain, she wrapped the oversized flannel shirt around her and reached for the doorknob. It turned in her hand, which both stunned her and didn't. Leave it to Gabe to keep her guessing. To act as if she were free to go but trap her in a place that made leaving nearly impossible . . . or so he thought. Looked like he underestimated her. Good. She hoped he kept doing that. The snow now bordered on sleet and made a clicking sound as it fell to the ground. Ice crackled in the trees. People who loved winter would appreciate this scene. She didn't. She grew up in the south and craved heat. After years in D.C.'s humidity, venturing out in several feet of snow just added to how much she hated what her life had become. She stepped out on the small porch. The frigid air blew around her, whipping through her clothes and chilling her skin. It took only seconds for her to know that the drugs really had dropped her body's defenses, ratcheting up the shock against her skin. A thought tugged at her, that she should stay inside, but she blocked the tiny voice in her head. She'd been in deep-freeze shooting situations. Owned special gloves. She didn't have them on her now, but she had skills. The bitter cold cut through her as she moved around, going down one step then the next, from the porch to what probably constituted a lawn in non-snow season. Her boots crunched against the layer of ice covering mounds of white. Snow pelted her face. She glanced around, checking for any sign of her protector, the former sniper turned bodyguard she didn't want. Only the quiet sounds of the forest echoed back to her. She took a few more careful steps and rounded the cabin to peer into the wall of trees crowding around the side of the building and stretching out as far as she could see. Her hand tightened around the Glock. Numbness settled in her fingers. She flexed them to keep the blood running, careful not to touch the trigger. She'd seen more than one blood-soaked accident caused by fingers contracting, poor gloves or a bad grip. The cold brought death. The eerie quiet had her on edge, waiting. A wave of tension crashed over her. She'd insisted the CIA wouldn't come after her now that she retired, but she never believed it. She only shared those denials to keep from getting stuck with a bodyguard. That didn't work out so well. But on her own she'd be faster. In charge. Not beholden to a six-foot-two mountain man. She ignored the biting cold and took a few more steps. Then froze. The slide of footsteps echoed back to her. She heard . . . something. Faint. Almost like a scratching. Her body snapped to attention and her brain switched to analysis mode. If they were coming, if people wanted to take her out, they'd go down with her. A heavy thump sounded behind her and she spun around. She tried to lift the gun but her muscles suddenly weighed too much. A hit knocked her wrist and the weapon flew. Her instincts kicked in and she switched to autopilot. The world blurred around her. She concentrated on the figure moving into her view, not focusing on a face but, instead, seeing a target. Adrenaline pumped through her, making her forget about the chill and the drugs still slowing her mind and her movements. She landed a roundhouse kick then pulled back and slammed her foot into a hard stomach. A heavy grunt registered but she didn't let up. Fighting off the lethargy weighing her down, she struck out with the heel of her hand, aiming for a chin. Knowing she suffered from a height and weight disadvantage, she readied to launch a quick third attack. Before she could raise her head and size up her attacker, he crashed into her. Strong arms wrapped around her in a crushing hold. The band tightened across her chest as her body took flight. A blanket of white whizzed by her and she saw the ground coming. Knowing didn't lessen the hit. Her body slammed into the packed snow. Actually bounced. The air left her lungs as hundreds of pounds of furious male pressed her deeper into the cold snow. Determination fueled her muscles. She thrashed and hit and kicked. Hands tightened around her wrists and trapped them against the ground. "Natalie, enough." The rough voice stopped her, and the haze cleared. She looked up into the dark eyes of Gabe MacIntosh, the man charged with protecting her. His broad shoulders blocked the view of the world around her. Black hair, slightly too long with a bit of curl at the edges. The brooding expression and quiet dignity that matched the mystery winding around him. Retired military, current owner of a security company. Right now with the rich scruff around his mouth he looked more lumberjack than professional rescuer. And she hated that she noticed any of it. "What's wrong with you?" She spit out the question over the rage building inside her. His intense glare didn't let up. "You pointed the gun at me." He had to be kidding. She tried to lift her hand and punch him, but he had her arms pinned to the ground on either side of her head. The landscape came into focus as the killing frenzy pulsing through her eased. But the anger still simmered. "Because you snuck up on me ." Those dark eyes narrowed. "Are we really doing this?" Sometimes he used too few words and she had no idea what he was saying. "What?" "Fighting about nothing." The minutes ticked by and she became aware of the hard body balancing against her and the scent of the outdoors on his skin. She stood five eight in bare feet and up until recently held a position that required her to stay fit and battle-ready at all times. Not exactly petite and certainly not weak. Still, he overwhelmed her. Being this close to him set off a battle between her brain and her body. He was a distraction. He tried to be helpful, but deep down she still believed heading out on her own and going into hiding without any contact with her old life was the only way to survive. She struggled to remember what she was saying. "You are the one who--" "You wouldn't have heard me if I wanted to sneak up on you." His frown eased. "I let you know I was coming." "A normal person would have called out my name in warning." "Never said I was normal." "No argument there." She'd known him for about five weeks, and he'd been anything but. At first, he followed her around as her lawyer, Sebastian Jameson, negotiated her extraction agreement with the CIA. Gabe never said a word back then. He slid into the background and watched until she could sense him. Until his presence made her jumpy. But Bast had insisted on the extra layer of protection. Those days passed with each one stretching longer than the one before. The more Gabe hovered, the more she'd fought her awareness of him. The towering frame. The rough exterior. That face and those eyes that followed her everywhere. She'd pretended she wasn't aware of him. All through the negotiations as he stood by the door, she'd tried to mentally block him. When Bast finished the deal, Gabe took over and started planning. He switched from quiet but determined watchdog to drill sergeant, issuing orders and making decisions as if she didn't get a vote. She'd been planning to put an end to his dictatorial reign when he drugged her water bottle, scooped her up and brought her here . . . wherever "here" was. He shook his head. "You even wake up arguing and difficult." Not the first time she'd been called either. Still . . . "Excuse me?" "Makes me sorry the drugs wore off so soon." The idea of nailing him in the gut tempted her. Lower would work even better. "Since you knocked me out against my will, changed my clothes and dragged me out here, you shouldn't try taking the high road." "Had to be done." Typical. He thought he knew what she needed. She decided to remind him of a very basic fact: "I am trained." "True, but I'm better." When it came to stalking his prey, he likely was. Snipers excelled at shooting, but the real skill came with the ability to move in and around without anyone knowing where they were. Not that she was ready to concede anything to this guy. "Get off me." "No." The bruising cold of the ground contrasted with the warmth of his body. He wore an outfit similar to hers, jeans and a flannel shirt, but heat poured off him. Forget the dropping temperatures and never-ending fall of snow. None of it appeared to affect him. She shifted her hips and felt the bulge in his pants and the way it pressed against her. Not erect, but the man was not small and seemed to have an issue with personal boundaries. That only made her more determined to impose a few. "Are you so hard up for sex that you tackle random women?" "No." "I can feel you." He didn't bother to lift up or move. Didn't spend one second hesitating or looking guilty. "I would think so, since I'm basically on top of you." It was hard to argue that point. She started to buck her hips with the idea of knocking him off balance but changed her mind. The friction could take them in the wrong direction, and she needed every ounce of concentration right now. The icy cold of the ground seeped into her bones. The combination of the drugs and the dropping temperature had her body in freefall. She'd start losing feeling soon, much faster than she normally would, and if she didn't get inside and dry, she could be in huge trouble. The weather appeared to have no impact on him. He stayed warm, got hard. Never even shivered. Of course, no one had messed with his body or brain to get him out here. She decided to go with the obvious problem. "Your dick is against my thigh." She could feel all of him everywhere. The muscles across his chest and his flat stomach. For a big guy he didn't have an ounce of fat on him. "Where should it be?" The way he acted, like it was no big deal and not a threat in any way, had her thinking he might have even fewer people skills than she did. "Not on me." "Sorry about that." Nothing more. Not even a shift to the side. "That's your response?" "Yes." The whole he-man thing should have pissed her off. Instead, confusion had her brain cells sputtering. He didn't take any crap but didn't flinch when she fought back. She couldn't intimidate him. He didn't resort to stupid insults like the ones she used to hear whispered behind her back at the office. She couldn't put the pieces together in her head, but she could fall back on the denial that served her so well in the past. "I don't want your protection." "So you keep saying." His exasperated exhale blew over her, but she ignored his frustration. "You should listen then. I'm not great with repetition." "Fine, I heard what you want." "And?" "Tough." He sat up and moved back. Still straddling her thighs, he pulled her up and got her back off the ground. Her instincts told her to take a shot. Knock him back and run. But she didn't. She sat there and waited to see his next move. Might have had something to do with the very real sense that Gabe was not a guy many people got away from easily. Her gaze wandered down his chest to the bulge at the front of his jeans. "You think we're going to sit up here, have sex and wait for bad guys to come snooping around?" The corner of his mouth kicked up, not in a full smile but close. "You seem obsessed with sex." "I wonder why." She rubbed her hands over her arms as her teeth started to tap together. His gaze fell to her lips then traveled back to her eyes. "Let's make a deal." "No." The knee-jerk response came out before she could stop it. "So prickly." "Do you blame me?" She'd been run out of her job and made the fall guy for a rogue CIA operation that eventually uncovered a spy within the agency. Never mind that she resolved everything or that her team pushed through, with some of them losing their lives, and found the mole despite claims from agency higher-ups that none existed. He nodded. "You've had more than a fair share of bullshit thrown your way." "Understatement." Her crime had been simple in the eyes of her superiors. She'd exposed blind spots in the agency. She'd refused to take no for an answer when she knew she was right. She'd stuck up for the sole surviving members of her team and made a deal to spare their lives in exchange for her leaving her job and not exposing systematic flaws within the agency. In return, she got manhandled, drugged, and now had to hide just in case someone at the CIA decided she might not keep her mouth shut and needed to be eliminated. Gabe exhaled. "I can't fix what you've been through, but I can give you some peace of mind." For some reason that made her more skeptical, not less. "If you say so." "I won't touch you without your permission." He lowered his head until he leveled that intense stare right at her eyes. "Ever." "You're touching me now." He held up his hands. "My job is to protect you. Nothing else will happen." "Damn right." "Kick me in the balls if I try." He stood up, pretty much jumped to his feet without making a sound, and held out a hand, letting it hover in front of her face. "You hold the power over what happens between us." "I agree." " Us , not how I protect you." He still didn't get the churning inside her, that drive to run and not depend on someone else. She'd been trained for this, damn it. The idea of having a full-time bodyguard made her twitchy. Made it more likely that she'd end up looking to protect him than to keep herself safe. "I need to leave." He exhaled as he shot her one of those you're-working-on-my-nerves frowns he excelled at throwing her way. "And go where?" Seeing no reason to play the martyr, she grabbed his hand and struggled to her feet as numbness threatened to overtake her. "Hell if I know." This time he did smile. Shot her a wide and sexy grin. "That's what I like about you, Natalie." That look had her spinning. Whatever was dancing around in her stomach better be the flu. "What?" "You're not stupid." Smart of him to notice. "I guess that's a good thing." "And sexy as hell." Now that was a problem. If she let her mind wander for one second she thought about climbing all over him. The need pounding through her could not be mutual. She could fight off her own attraction, but not his as well. Sex on the run, in the midst of gunfire and danger, sounded dumb. Like a one-way ticket to checking out of this world for good. "Imagine me shooting you. That should kill the mood." She glanced around, trying to believe she lost touch with her weapon for even a second, or that she only had one. He slipped the gun out of where he had it tucked into his belt and handed it to her. "You'd think, but no." "You're a sick man." And by that she meant hot enough to have her common sense blinking out. "Probably." He nodded toward the cabin. "Let's go." Her defenses rose. "That sounds like an order." He shifted his weight and leaned in closer. "You can either get in there, strip off your wet clothes and shower, or I'll do it for you." Something hard clunked to a halt inside her. Her heart . . . lungs. Likely something she needed to keep moving. But she couldn't deny the shocking cold or how her mind moved a click or two slower than usual. How instead of talking and standing around, she should be running, but her muscles betrayed her. "And now threats." She forced the words out over the rush of blood whooshing in her ears and the sudden shaking in her knees. Those dark eyes gleamed. "Consider it a promise of things to come." For a second she thought about taking her chances in the cold and snow. Seemed safer. "Be careful what you wish for." That smile of his came whipping back. "Challenge accepted." THREE Gabe got her back inside without strangling her. He had to win some sort of prize for that restraint. That and for not kissing her, because he sure as hell wanted to, almost did. Now came the ultimate test . . . keeping his mind on the job and off her. He reset the trap that guaranteed he'd know if someone ventured past his outer line of defense to the porch. Then he locked the door. Spinning around, he came face-to-face with Natalie. This close, he could see shivers race through her and hear her teeth click together. Her eyes clouded with a telltale haze and she headed for the wood-burning stove along the far wall. All that did was give him a front row seat to that ass. Not that he could take any time to enjoy the view. Not with her in this condition. She looked ten seconds away from a hypothermic coma. Which was weird since his skin was on fire. Just trying to breathe made the walls of the tiny cabin close in. Other than a threadbare love seat to his right and a small kitchenette running along the wall to his left, there wasn't much else in the cabin. Except her. She was right there in the middle of the room, which put her about six feet away from him. Six short fucking feet. He drew in a deep breath and fought for the well of control he normally took for granted. "Take your clothes off." She turned around nice and slow. The move had her flannel shirt gaping open to show off a peek of skin and the thin white T-shirt underneath. "If that's your line, it needs work." "The order has more to do with not wanting you to freeze to death." The way her nipples pressed against the tee had his gaze bouncing up and down her impressive body, but he forced his expression to stay blank. She scoffed. "Nice of you to care." "I doubt I'd get paid if you died because you got cold." And she was not dying on his watch. He forbid it. To help make that happen, he scooped a blanket off the love seat, thinking to wrap her in it after. "Aren't you practical?" "To the bone." She glanced at the doorway to the bathroom. Doorway, no door. Not enough room for those in the small space. The person who built the place had the good sense to tuck the toilet around the corner for at least a shred of privacy, but the shower was right there . Right in the line of sight from the doorway. No curtain. No wall. Nothing. She looked back at him. "You can wait outside." Tempting. If he didn't worry she'd pass out and drown herself, he would. Maybe the fresh air would kick-start his common sense, but that would have to wait. "I'll stay here." She crossed her arms in front of her. "I'm not going to run." "You're right." He doubted she'd take that risk. They shared some skills, and she had to know running meant jumping into one of the traps he'd set for the people who might come after her. "I wouldn't let you." Her eyes narrowed. "Is this some sort of play for control? Like you're trying to break me or something? Because you can't. Others have tried and failed." Interesting . The assessing gaze. The stiff body stance, which said she'd closed the door on listening to reason. He suddenly knew what it must have felt like to work for her. She didn't take any shit. A good philosophy and one he shared, but now he needed her to just obey and make his life easier. "Stop with the modesty. This is about getting you into a shower and warm again." She glanced over her shoulder at the open doorway then back again. "You think I'm embarrassed to get naked in front of you?" "I don't know why you would be." He assumed she'd had sex before. A woman didn't look like that, go through life with that confidence, without enjoying some pretty hot and heavy hours in the sack. At least he hoped so for her sake. She deserved good sex. Hell, everyone did as far as he was concerned. He didn't buy into the whole idea of a strong woman automatically being cold in bed. That struck him as television bullshit nonsense. Weak didn't interest him. She did, and he hoped like hell she liked it dirty because he did, and they would get there . . . eventually. Before he could say anything else, she dropped her arms. Those long fingers went to the remaining buttons on the flannel shirt. In less than a second, she had the shirt open and off her shoulders. Dropping it on the floor, she reached for the hem of the tee and that slipped over her head next. "There." She stood with her arms out, wearing only a bra. Full, high breasts. A collarbone he ached to kiss. He blocked it all even as his insides started to tighten in anticipation. "Your skin is red." "What?" She glanced down as a shiver overtook her. The longer she stood there, the more her words slurred. What started as a slight hesitation in her voice outside and a haze over her eyes turned scary as she grew more disoriented now. The unusually brutal temperatures for this early in the winter, dipping well below freezing, the harsh wind and the thin layer of wet clothes combined to steal her body heat. Normally, she'd be fine. She had the training and her time in the elements had been limited. But the drugs he'd used on her turned everything upside down. Robbed her of the ability to adjust. She'd been on a downhill slide from the second she stepped outside. He should have hustled her back inside sooner. That was on him. His fuck-up. Enough talking. "Damn it, get in there before you pass out on me." Giving her a choice hadn't worked so far, so he didn't try now. With a hand under her elbow, he half guided and half pushed her toward the bathroom. Thanks to the homemade off-the-grid water heater in there, she had a chance. He turned the handle so the shower came on and the water started to warm. "Everything off." When she just stood there with a dazed look on her face, he dropped the blanket on the corner of the makeshift sink and took over. "Lean on me." Dropping to a knee on the floor, he got her boots untied and off. Her hand landed on his shoulder as she struggled for balance. When he felt the chill pouring off her and seeping into him, he moved even faster. His hands brushed over her and his fingers flew. Tugged on the button at the top of her jeans and skimmed the material and her practical cotton briefs down her legs, revealing inch after inch of pinkish-red flesh. He tested the water one more time before slipping the straps of her bra off her shoulders. The fact that she didn't fight or insist she could handle it told him how bad off she was. She glanced up at him with eyes clouded with a deadly haze. "That won't--" "In." One hand at the base of her back, he shoved, not even trying to be gentle. He needed her under the water. "Argh--" Her shout cut off and her mouth dropped open as the spray hit her skin. She tried to turn away, to shift back, but he held her there. "Yeah, it's going to sting." "This isn't frostbite." "No." Probably not even frostnip, but now wasn't the time to talk technical terms. She started shaking hard enough for her heels to thump against the floor of the old tub. "I'm still freezing." He could barely hear her as her jaw rattled and knew he'd fucked up this timing. Ignoring the cold and her body and every other signal that this had been a piss-poor idea, he stepped in next to her. The second his shoe hit the tub bottom, she turned. Her fingers curled into his wet shirt as she buried her face in his neck. "There you go." The position let him maneuver her closer to the spray. With his arms wrapped around her, he pushed her back, submerging them both in the spray. He rubbed his palms over her. Whispered into her hair. He didn't even know what he said, but the mumbling had her clenched muscles relaxing and her body falling deeper against his. Another few seconds and her body warmed. Then he hit the tipping point. When the touching went from saving to savoring. When he stopped worrying about her breathing and struggled to control his own. Her body, all lean muscles and sexy curves, fit against him as he knew it would. The slow, sensual torture as she blew soft puffs of air against his throat confirmed one thing he knew before the private plane had taken off to bring them here--he was fucked. That was the only explanation for breaking into a sweat in these temperatures. He cleared his throat and inched back so he could look into her eyes. "Better?" "Yeah." The haze had gone, and something else replaced it. Something he couldn't think about for more than two seconds or he'd be rationalizing how fucking her could warm her right up. He waited until she nodded to drop his hands and reached around her to shut off the water. The brush of his arm across her ass was pure accident but pretty damn great. "Good to hear it." Her fingers relaxed against his shirt, but she didn't let go as she glanced down between their bodies. Focused on the bulge in his wet and confining jeans. "Is that still nothing but harmless reaction?" "Depends on how you define 'harmless,' but yeah." The bigger worry was that he'd be in this state until he delivered her back to civilization. What qualified as worse than being fucked? He was that. • • • She tried to swallow as he moved away from her. She'd been cold, too cold, and every action he took made sense. Brought her back to sanity faster. Even now her mind clicked into gear. Reality crashed into her right after. Big, sturdy, commanding and so rough around the edges--she wanted it all. They'd met back before she left the CIA. Him hovering at the fringes of her life. The limited space between them had taken a toll. Blame the adrenaline rush or the blanket of danger she'd been under for so long, but she wanted this--him. For her. Not pretty, not a commitment, not even a date. Just hot, out-of-control sex. Abandon her hang-ups and forget everything sex. Get-lost-in-him sex. But it couldn't happen, or so she kept repeating in her head, hoping her body would catch up to her brain. Not if they were stuck out here, always on watch. Not if he saw her as a job. She had to rein in the need pumping through her and find a kick of self-preservation or she'd be crawling all over him. She was about to point out that the whole cold, wet clothes thing had been his fault when he started to strip. Stood right in front of the sink and peeled the wet shirt off. Dropped it to the floor and let it slap against the hardwood. Then he reached for the Henley underneath and pulled it up, revealing miles of broad back with muscles carved into every inch. Like everything else about him, his back, all that skin, wasn't perfect and pretty. Faint white scars marked his upper back as if he'd been lashed. A jagged line stretched along the right side of his back and disappeared around to his front. Likely from a knife. The wounds of a warrior. Of the man who went in first, took on the most dangerous jobs. The ripping sound of a zipper cut through the room and her mental inventory. He shifted his hips, then the wet jeans dropped, taking a tight pair of gray boxer briefs with them. Her gaze slipped from the dip in the small of his back, down his ass cheeks, so round and firm. No fat, just perfectly formed and muscled. His shoulders stiffened for a second then fell again. "I don't care if you look." That comment had her fumbling as she reached for the closest towels, and not from the cold this time. She wrapped one around her chest and folded the end against her skin for a snug fit. Tucked her wet hair up in the other. Somewhat dressed and feeling a bit more sturdy on her feet, she tackled the bigger issue. "This isn't going to work." The door to the cabinet under the sink slammed as he reached for a towel. They'd somehow managed to use three of the total four available in a five-minute span. Still, him with a towel balanced on those hips, turned away from her, showing off that broad back and the outline of every muscle, proved potent enough. Naked and facing her might cause her to make a humiliating scene. Which brought her right back to the topic he seemed to be ignoring. "We are never going to last a week." He rubbed a hand through his hair, smoothing down the stray strands. "We get along fine." She meant without having sex, but she took the easy out. "You know I'm trained. We both know sitting here waiting to get shot at or blown up is stupid." "Neither of those things is going to happen." She had no intention of letting either of them get injured, but that wasn't really the point. It was one of tactics and strategy. "I should be moving every day or two as I zigzag my way from here to nowhere in particular." Still he didn't face her. "We're done with this argument." "So if someone fires a grenade launcher--" He spun around, those dark eyes snapping with fury. "I'll know before they try. If for some reason I don't, I will push you to safety." Anger zipped through him. She could see it in every stiff line of his body. In the tiny lines at the corners of his mouth where his lips had thinned into a grim slash. No question about it. He would sacrifice his life for hers without even blinking. She got that but she didn't like it. Excerpted from Mine by HelenKay Dimon All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
