Soldier of Fortune

The question shocked her. She struggled for an answer, but he’d already opened the door of the rental car and was helping her in.

The rest of the day went by in a haze. She went back to the hotel with him, her eyes full of ruins and Romans and maddening traffic. She had a bouquet of flowers that J.D. had bought from an old woman near the Fountain of Trevi. She couldn’t wait to get into her room and press one of the flowers, to keep forever. She buried her nose in them lovingly.

Across the room, J.D. was speaking fluent Italian with someone on the phone. He hung up and turned back to her.

“I have to go out for a little while,” he said. “Lock the door and let no one in, not even room service, until I get back. Okay?”

She studied him quietly. “You won’t go getting into trouble while I’m not around to rescue you, will you?” she said, teasing him.

He shook his head. “Not a chance. Watch yourself.”

“You, too. Oh, Jacob!”

He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “What?”

“Thank you for the flowers.”

“They suit you.” He studied her face and smiled. “You look like one of them. Ciao, Gabby.”

And he was gone. She stared at the door for a long time before she went to put her flowers in some water.

Chapter Three

J.D. didn’t come back until late that afternoon, and he was strangely taciturn. He shared a silent supper with Gabby and then went out again, telling her tersely to get some sleep. She knew he’d found out something, but whatever it was, he wasn’t sharing it. Apparently his trust in her had limits. And that was disappointing. She climbed into bed and slept soundly and without interruption. Part of her had hoped for a nightmare or an earthquake that would bring him running into her room. All her wild fantasies ended with him running into her room and catching her up in his hard arms. She sighed. This was certainly not the trip she’d envisioned. It was turning into a wild tangle of new emotions. A week before, she couldn’t have imagined that he would tell her he wanted her.

* * *

They flew to Mexico the following morning. Several hours into the flight Gabby shot a worried glance at J.D. He’d hardly moved in his seat since takeoff, and she’d busied herself looking at clouds and reading the emergency instructions and even the label on her jacket out of desperation.

He seemed to sense her searching gaze and turned his head to look down at her. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

She made an odd little gesture. “I don’t know,” she said inadequately.

His eyebrows lifted. “I’ll take care of you.”

“I know that.” She let her eyes fall to the vest of his gray suit. “Will we stay in Mexico City?”

“Probably not. We’re supposed to be met at the airport.” He reached over and took her slender hand in his big one. The contact was warm and wildly disturbing, especially when she felt his thumb moving slowly, sensuously, against her moist palm. “Nervous?” he taunted.

“Oh, no. I always go running off into the dark unafraid,” she replied with a grimace. She glanced up. “I come from a long line of idiots.”

He smiled at her. It was a shock to realize that he’d smiled more at her in these two days than he had in two months back at the office. Her eyes searched the deep brown of his, and the airplane seemed to disappear. He returned the look, his smile fading. His nostrils flared and the hand holding hers began to move slowly, his fingers probing, easing between hers. It was so sensuous she felt herself tremble. His hand was pressed against hers, palm to palm, fingers tightly interlocked, and when it contracted it was almost an act of possession.

Her lips parted in a soft gasp, and his eyes narrowed.

“Bodies do that,” he whispered under his breath, watching her reactions intently. “Just as slowly, just as easily.”

“Don’t,” she protested brokenly, averting her face.

“Gabby,” he chided gently, “don’t be afraid.”

She ground her teeth together and struggled for composure. It wasn’t easy, because he wouldn’t let go of her hand despite her token protest.

“You’re out of my league, Mr. Brettman,” she said unsteadily, “as I’m sure you know. Don’t…don’t amuse yourself with me, please.”

“I’m not.” He sighed and turned sideways so that his head rested against the back of the seat. Then he coaxed her face around to his. “You’ve never known the kind of men you’ll meet when we get where we’re going. I thought,” he continued, smiling at her stunned look, “that it might be easier for you if we got in a little practice along the way.”

“What do you mean? What will we have to do…?” she began nervously.

“I mean, as I told you in Rome, that we’ll have to be inseparable for the most part. We have to look as if we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

She stopped breathing, she knew she did. Her eyes wandered quietly over his face. “Is that why, at the Forum…?”

He hesitated for an instant. “Yes,” he said deliberately. “You were far too jumpy with me to be taken for my lover. It has to look convincing to do us any good.”

“I see,” she said, fighting to keep her disappointment from showing.

He studied her eyes, her cheeks, and then her mouth. “You have the softest lips, Gabby,” he murmured absently. “So full and tempting; and I like the taste of them all too much…” He caught himself and lifted his eyes. “You’d better remind me at intervals that you’re off-limits.”

She was so aware of him that she tingled, and the thought that he might kiss her again made her go hot all over. She smiled strangely and looked away.

“What was that about, that tiny little smile?” he asked curiously.

“I never used to think of you that way,” she confessed without thinking.

“How? As a lover?” he probed.

She lowered her eyes quickly. “Yes,” she said shyly.

She felt his long fingers brush her cheek and then her neck, where the pulse was beating wildly.

“Oddly enough, I’ve hardly thought of you any other way,” he said in a deep, gruff whisper.

Her lips opened as she drew a sharp breath, and she looked straight into his eyes. “J.D….?” she whispered uncertainly.

His thumb brushed across her mouth, a tiny whisper of sensation that made her ache in the oddest places. His own breath wasn’t quite steady, and he frowned, as if what was happening wasn’t something he’d counted on or expected.

His eyes dropped to her parted lips and she heard him catch his breath. In a burst of nervousness, her tongue probed moistly at her dry upper lip and he made a rough sound in his throat. “Gabby, don’t do that,” he ground out. His thumb pressed hard against her mouth, and his head bent. “Let me…”

In a starburst of sensation, she felt the first tentative brush of his hard lips against her own.

And just as it began, it was suddenly over. The speakers blared out a warning for passengers to fasten their seat belts, and the delicate spell was broken.

J.D. lifted his head reluctantly, his eyes almost black with frustration, his face pale. “The next time,” he whispered gruffly, “I’ll kiss the breath out of you, the way I wanted to at the Forum.”

She couldn’t answer him. She was swimming in deep waters, hungry for him in an unexpectedly desperate way. Her hands fumbled with her seat belt and she couldn’t look at him. What was happening to them? she wondered, shaken. Just the morning before, they’d been employer and employee. And in a flash, they were something else, something frightening.

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