Diana Palmer - Bound by Honor - Mercenary's Woman

“You’re older now,” he said, his voice steady and low. “You should know more about men than you did, even if you’ve had to learn it through books and television. I was fiercely aroused that day, it had been a long, dry spell, and you were seventeen years old. Get the picture?”

For the first time, she did. Her eyes searched his, warily, and nodded.

His hands contracted on her soft arms. “You might try it again,” he said softly.

“Try what?”

“What you did that afternoon,” he murmured, smiling tenderly. “Wearing sexy clothes and perfume and making a beeline for me. Anything could happen.”

Her eyes were sadder than she realized as she met his even gaze. “I’m not the same person I was then,” she told him. “But you still are.”

The light seemed to go out of him. His pale eyes narrowed, fastened to hers. “No,” he said after a minute. “I’ve changed, too. I lost my taste for commando work a long time ago. I teach tactics now. That’s all I do.”

“You’re not a family man,” she replied bravely.

Something changed in his face, in his eyes, as he studied her. “I’ve thought about that a lot recently,” he contradicted. “About a home and children. I might have to give up some of the contract work I do, once the kids came along. I won’t allow my children anywhere near weapons. But I can always write field manuals and train teachers in tactics and strategy and intelligence-gathering,” he added.

“You don’t know that you could settle for that,” she pointed out.

“Not until I try,” he agreed. His gaze fell to her soft mouth and lingered there. “But then, no man really wants to tie himself down. It takes a determined woman to make him want it.”

She felt as if he were trying to tell her something, but before she could ask him to clarify what he’d said, Stevie was back with an armful of soft drinks and the moment was lost.

JESS AND DALLAS WEREN’T SPEAKING at all when the others arrived. Dallas was toying with a cup of cold coffee, looking unapproachable. When Eb came in the door, Dallas went out it, without a word or a backward glance.

“I don’t need to ask how it went,” Eb murmured.

“It would be pretty pointless,” Jessica said dully.

“Mama, I learned to do breakfalls! I wish I could show you,” Stevie said, climbing into his mother’s lap and hugging her.

She fought tears as she cuddled him close and kissed his sweaty forehead. “Good for you! You listen when Eb tells you something. He’s very good.”

“Stevie’s a natural,” Eb chuckled. “In fact, so is your niece.” He gave Sally a slow going-over with his eyes.

“She’s a quick learner,” Jessica said. “Like I was, once.”

“I have to get back,” Eb said. “There’s nothing to worry about right now,” he added, careful not to speak too bluntly in front of the child. “I have everything in hand. But I have told Sally to let me know if she plans to go out alone at night, for any reason.”

“I will,” Sally promised. She didn’t want to risk her aunt’s life, or Stevie’s, by being too independent.

Eb nodded. “We’ll keep the lessons up at least three times a week,” he told Sally. “I want to move you into self-defense pretty quickly.”

She understood why and felt uneasy. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry,” he said gently. “Everything’s going to be fine. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

She managed a smile for him. “I know that.”

“Walk me to the door,” he coaxed. “See you, Jess.”

“Take care, Eb,” Jessie replied, her goodbye echoed by her son’s.

On the front porch, Eb closed the door and looked down into Sally’s wide gray eyes with concern and something more elusive.

“I’ll have the house watched,” he promised. “But you have to be careful about even normal things like opening the door when someone comes. Always keep the chain lock on until you know who’s out there. Another thing, you have to keep your doors and windows locked, curtains drawn and an escape route always in mind.”

She bit her lip worriedly. “I’ve never had to deal with anything like this.”

His big, warm hands closed over her shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry that you and Stevie have been put in the line of fire along with Jess. But you can handle this,” he said confidently. “You’re strong. You can do whatever you have to do.”

She searched his hard, lean face, saw the deep lines and scars that the violence of his life had carved into it, and knew that he would never lie to her. Her frown dissolved. His confidence in her made her feel capable of anything. She smiled.

He smiled back and traced a lazy line from her cheek down to her soft mouth. “If Stevie wasn’t so unpredictable, I’d kiss you,” he said quietly. “I like your mouth under mine.”

Her caught breath was audible. There had never been anyone who could do to her with words what he could.

He traced her lips, entranced. “I used to dream about that afternoon with you,” he said in a sensuous tone. “I woke up sweating, swearing, hating myself for what I’d done.” He laughed hollowly. “Hating you for what I’d done, too,” he added. “I blamed us both. But I couldn’t forget how it was.”

She colored delicately and lowered her eyes to his broad chest under the shirt he wore. The memories were so close to the surface of her mind that it was impossible not to glimpse them from time to time. Now, they were blatant and embarrassing.

His lean hands moved up to frame her face and force her eyes to meet his. He wasn’t smiling.

“No other man will ever have the taste of you that I did, that day,” he said roughly. “You were so deliciously innocent.”

Her lips parted at the intensity of his tone, at the faint glitter of his green eyes. “That isn’t what you said at the time!” she accused.

“At the time,” he murmured huskily, watching her mouth, “I was hurting so much that I didn’t take time to choose my words. I just wanted you out of the damned truck before I started stripping you out of those tight little shorts you were wearing.”

The flush in her cheeks got worse. The image of it was unbelievably shocking. Somehow, it had never occurred to her that at some point he might undress her, to gain access…

“What an expression,” he said, chuckling in spite of himself. “Hadn’t you considered what might happen when you came on to me that hard?”

She shook her head.

His fingers slid into the blond hair at her temples where the long braid pulled it away from her face. “Someone should have had a long talk with you.”

“You did,” she recalled nervously.

“Long and explicit, the day afterward,” he said, nodding. “You didn’t want to hear it, but I made you. I liked to think that it might have saved you from an even worse experience.”

“It wasn’t exactly a bad experience,” she said, staring at his shirt button. “That was part of the problem.”

There was a long, static silence. “Sally,” he breathed, and his mouth moved down slowly to cover hers in the silence of the porch.

She stood on tiptoe to coax him closer, lost in the memory of that long-ago afternoon. She felt his hands on her arms, guiding them up around his neck before they fell back to her hips and lifted her into the suddenly swollen contours of his muscular body.

She gasped, giving him the opening he wanted, so that he could deepen the kiss. She felt the warm hardness of his mouth against hers, the soft nip of his teeth, the deep exploration of his tongue. A warm flood of sensation rushed into her lower abdomen and she felt her whole body go tense with it. It was as if her body had become perfectly attuned to this man’s years ago, and could never belong to anyone else.