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  In the sanctuary of the bathroom, she thought over her situation. A woman with a failed relationship, obviously considering crawling all over her partner, for Christ's sake! Maybe Peter's family hadn't been too wrong about her. She'd fallen apart at the seams from the moment Jake Claypool walked into her line of vision.

  There's nothing going on. Talk to him. Act normal if you still have the capability.

  "Where are your running clothes?” She hoped he didn't want to stop at his place.

  "I have a locker in the clubhouse at the track."

  She wasn't sure, but his voice seemed to be edged with some impatience. “I'm ready. Almost."

  Dressed and ready to leave, Jessica walked back to the sitting area.

  He looked around the room as if he were planning on making some changes before his penetrating gaze swept over her. “I never rush a lady."

  His total ease around her posed some problems to the plan to make him jump hoops. He wasn't going to be easy. Somehow, she found that damned exciting.

  She picked up her weapon and holster. “Think I can park my Glock in your locker?"

  He calmly observed her clipping the lethal weapon to the waist of her pants. “Sure. Always room for one more gunner."

  After belting a matching fanny pack low over her hips, she was ready and nodded. “Lets go."

  The hunters gleam in his eyes matched his next comment.

  "I'm on your tail."

  * * * *

  Jake secured Fontana's Glock 21 next to his Glock 17 in the locker. Just a couple of shots less than his gun. He closed the door, locked it, and pulled on a gray T-shirt. After tightening the string in his jog pants, he was ready to challenge Fontana.

  For an instant, he wondered why he cared about besting her. Hell, what if she kicked his ass? Naw, never happen.

  After watching Fontana stretch for several minutes, he wanted to sound confident and nonchalant when he spoke to her. “When you're limber enough, we'll run the track once to warm up.” He'd come off sounding ignorant as hell if he read her reaction correctly. The sensation of being touched moved over his body when she straightened and smiled at him.

  She moved her hips from side to side and put on a phony pout. “Just once?"

  Hell. She was going after his nut, and he was going to enjoy it. “I've got plenty of juice in me if you want to go for more."

  "I'll let you know."

  At last, she was ready for the run. They walked down a grassy slope and through a gate to the track. She waited until he stood next to her to lay out her rules.

  "No pushing, no shoving, and no grabbing my hair when I blow by you."

  The woman had the gonads of a Marine battalion. He was quickly warming up to her. “Whatever you say, Ma'am."

  They lined up, her small foot planted against his size twelve and a half wide. He glanced at her, seeing her jaw set in determination. He couldn't help teasing her. “Time for Dick to spank Jane."

  He was left to stare after Fontana as chat flew back in her breakaway. She was off like a shot, halfway around the track before he got up any steam. Was it his imagination or was there really a turquoise blur trailing in her wake? Hell fire.

  Jake sprinted after her, beginning to close the distance with her fine ass uppermost in his thoughts. What was he doing? She was an agent, not a weekend pickup at a bar.

  He should let it go and get his damned mind on the business of firming up their assignment plans. Bull shit! Both were doable, and he sure as hell wasn't going to let her win this race. Catching up with Fontana wasn't hard, but he let her stay a few steps ahead of him until she looked over her shoulder.

  "One side, woman. I'm coming through."

  "Kiss my ass, Claypool. You haven't done it yet."

  He made his move and ran up onto the grass center of the track. She fell back a half step then reached out to grab for his shirt. Holy shit! She hooked her fingers in the waist of his pants and fell, bringing him down with her.

  They rolled across the damp grass and came to a groaning halt.

  "Are you nuts, lady?"

  She lay back laughing and looking so damned sexy his groin spasmed with craving. He wanted to look away when she met his gaze, but he didn't. She smart mouthed him as he expected.

  "You didn't really think I was going to let you get by with that, silly man."

  Jake laughed and eased some of the tension in his crotch. “Come on. You still haven't beaten me.” He got to his feet and pulled her up. She didn't seem to notice how low her pants had fallen. He licked his lips, taking in the firm definition of her belly and the sculpted lines of her ass. She was saying something to him, and he jerked to attention.

  "Claypool, let's try running together this time. Okay?"

  "Suits me.” He worked his shoulder and scowled playfully at her. “You hurt me."

  "Oh, grow up."

  The way she grabbed her pants and pulled them up was done with real authority and no pretense at being coy or dainty. He nearly swallowed his tongue when she reached back to pull them out of her crack and then walked away.

  Lord, love that thin material. He didn't doubt for a second Fontana would be the best thing he'd ever had in the sack.

  * * * *

  Jessica had enjoyed throwing Claypool on his ass and his good-natured way of accepting defeat. He'd been hard while they were in physical contact and hadn't been shy scooping her out. Will you listen to yourself? Focus on being his mission partner. That's it!

  Jake emerged from the men's locker room dressed in slacks and a sport coat, acting cocky as usual.

  "Shake a leg, and I'll drive you home."

  She took her weapon he held out to her and clipped it onto her waistband. “What time do we fire weapons?"

  His crooked grin and easy talk was quickly growing on her. “Still wanting to take me on?"

  The crooked grin on his firm mouth drew her gaze completely. Yes, he could smell the pheromone and hormones having a war in her panties. Her erotic juices ran wild as Jake casually rubbed her lower back. My God! Go call home before you get in too deep.

  Chapter Five

  Jessica was relived to be a passenger while Jake drove her to the hotel. She was free to plot out the conversation she would have with her fiancé. Talking to him had become increasingly difficult lately. He had become ever more distant and judgmental.

  Worry and guilt over her ridiculous feeling for Jake ate at her. Peter must be hiding some illness from her. Sure, that must be it.

  The feeling of being stared at forced her to put Peter on the back burner for the time being.

  Jake looked away, obviously wondering about her pensive mood. He finally broke the silence.

  "You didn't get hurt in that fall, did you?"

  A show of concern from him was unexpected and cute.

  "Just a bruise or two."

  He attempted a sympathetic smile. “Want me to rub something on those bruises?"

  She sat up straight and patted the weapon on her belt. “Rub this."

  "Gotcha."

  He nodded and drove the rest of the way to the hotel, a grin on his sexy mouth.

  Jake pulled up under the portico at the hotel's front entrance and leaned across her to open the door.

  She got out and started to go inside when he called her name.

  "Fontana. Want to have dinner?” He inclined his head toward the Italian restaurant down the street. “I hear that place serves great food."

  She shook her head. “Thanks, but no.” Her every fiber wanted to say yes, but her mission was clear. “Maybe another time."

  He shrugged. His voice was teasing, but his words hit home. “Gotta check in, huh?"

  Jessica couldn't believe how embarrassed she was. He had seen through her. “Goodnight, Claypool."

  There was no way to conceal her stiff back and stomping off toward the hotel entrance.

  She didn't look back, not until that could be done with no chance he could see her. Claypool seemed to take a hell of a lo
ng time leaving. The second he drove away, she hurried to the elevators.

  Dread of being alone in that fancy, formal suite gave her a headache. She couldn't help thinking about the day that had been full and fun. Yeah. She had enjoyed being with Claypool and looked forward to their mission. If her phone call went as well, she would be able to sleep.

  She went inside her suite and locked the door. The thought of hearing a familiar voice lightened her mood. She dropped onto the down cushioned, white brocade couch and took her cell phone from her fanny pack to punch in Peter's number. She let it ring a dozen times.

  Laying back and kicking off her shoes, she let the phone ring another dozen times before losing patience. Where was he and why was he taking so long to pick up? Six more rings and she snapped her phone shut.

  The emotion she experienced was not worry, jealousy, self-doubt, or concern. She was angry. He'd been adamant about her calling him that evening.

  Adamant! The hell with that. Now she was thinking in his stiff neck language. If he wanted to hear from her, he'd have to make the call.

  Grabbing a nightgown and panties, she closed herself off from her problems in the white and ocean-blue bathroom. The shower sprayed hard and hot on her aching head and shoulders, lulling her into a temporary peace. That was short lived as they went on a rampage and tripped over one another.

  She had willingly tried for three years to fit into Peter's world, attempted to gain his family's approval, and damn well screwed that up.

  None of that mattered now. Peter and she could have made a go of it. She was sure of that. Wasn't she? Hell no! She wasn't.

  The outcome was up to Peter now. He'd have to convince her to try again. The thought almost made her laugh with a touch of hysteria. He would never beg, and she would never bend. She wasn't in love.

  * * * *

  Jake leaned against the window sill, casually drinking his coffee and looking down at the traffic on the street. He was a little early, so Fontana would be coming in soon. He no longer berated himself for thinking about her. It happened so often, he figured it to be a waste of time.

  The click of high heels on the tile floor outside the office made him turn to face the open door. Fontana stood there, looking like a runway model in a bad mood.

  He held his cup up. “Want coffee?"

  "I'll take the largest cup you have."

  "You got it.” He was curious about her mood. He grabbed a large styrofoam cup and filled it with the strong coffee. “Cream? Sugar?"

  "Both. Double on both."

  Jake stirred in the cream and sugar then put the cup in her hand. “Careful. Hot."

  She didn't pull back when he held his hand over hers to steady the cup.

  Fontana had looked sizzling hot yesterday. Today, she was distant seduction, unapproachable, all hard-ass Special Ops.

  He cooled his randy gaze when she leveled her dark gaze on him.

  "Claypool. I believe you mentioned firing weapons.” Her voice had a cutting edge to it.

  "You and me. Anytime you're ready.” He carefully placed the cup on his desk.

  Fontana was incredible, dressed in navy slacks and a white cotton shirt unbuttoned to mid-chest, topped off with a long black vest. It seemed so right that she had fastened a narrow leopard belt around her waist.

  Several bangles clinked on her wrist when she lifted the cup to take a drink. “Let's go."

  After checking out the duty board, they left the office. Fontana kept a distance between them, and he carefully stayed out of her space.

  She'd done something with her hair, pulled it away from her face and secured it with a large Tortoise shell clip. Sexy as hell.

  At the end of the hall, he touched her shoulder. “This way."

  He liked the way she could change directions and not appear confused by the sudden switch.

  The firing area was located in the sub-basement, two and a half floors beneath them. “Want to take the elevator? But, it's quicker to use the stairs."

  "I'll manage. Lead the way."

  Okay. She didn't want small talk or any talk apparently. Jake took the stairs in his usual double time, and she was right behind him. He was impressed.

  "How many rounds you want to fire?” Aw, shit. That look said he might get the first round. “I'll sign for mine, then.” Man, she was making him feel pretty damned useless.

  He didn't wait on her but began firing at the target in front of him. He was on his second quick load when she took her place in the spot next to him. Holy crap! She bent her knees and went for the kill shots, slamming fourteen slugs in the targets head, chest, and emptied the rest of her ammo in the gut area.

  She glared at the torn up target and squeezed off the last shell into the unfortunate guys groin. He gave her thumbs up when she finally glanced his way.

  He waited while she took her brass to the ammo control desk. He no longer could question her ability to fire a weapon, so what did that leave? Oh yeah, the prep flight. He looked forward to putting Fontana in her place. There never was a female that could match his skills as a pilot.

  Chapter Six

  Jessica worked through the morning without Jake mentioning the firing range. He'd obviously gotten the message she was in no mood for sexist remarks and was too smart to ask questions.

  She was grateful when the time came to work with the Federal Aviation agents, setting up a schedule and flight plan. Jessica had flown to South America before. The prospect of going again was no problem. The time of the flight did cause her some concern.

  Jake eyed the time schedule and gave her a sidelong glance. She leaned over the maps to point to the northern coast of Nicaragua.

  "This might be a little tricky at night. I'm not expecting LaGuardia, but are they putting out runway lights?"

  Frank pointed to the ridiculously narrow and short landing strip. “They'll have adequate lamps out for you."

  "Good enough.” Hell! She was worried about plowing into a mountain more than the landing.

  Her partner seemed to be concerned about the flight plan. He checked it over several times, then went back to look at it again. She stared at him when he finally looked her way.

  He questioned the plan.

  "Seems like we're taking a hell of a long way around to get there."

  Frank nodded and then held up a thick volume with the word Regulations printed across the cover. “We have to gain consent to access the shorter route and that wasn't available at the time we put the flight time and route together.” He looked a little pissed off. “We take what we can get. We want that bastard in a net. The plan is firm."

  Jessica took the book from Frank when he held it out to her. “If we conserve fuel and have a tailwind, we should be fine."

  "If and should.” Jake stood and looked closely at the map on the wall size screen. “We had better figure in the fact, the wind falls off considerably at night."

  Now that Jake sounded as if he was on board, Frank announced his next plan. “The plane is ready for a test run. Claypool and Fontana will take it up and let us know what needs to be done."

  Jessica was relieved to hear the mission plans were almost finalized. “Frank, are we flying today?"

  The group leader had already started to leave the room but stopped to answer her question. “Affirmative. Be prepared to take the test run.” He smiled at her. Bad sign. “Claypool is senior agent on this job."

  "Yes, sir."

  That meant she was to be his co-pilot. Just like all the male agents she'd worked with, Frank had doubt in her ability to keep up with the guys.

  Whatever disappointment she felt, Jessica rose above it and went back to perfecting the plans.

  As the day wore on, her facade of strength thinned. The disappointment and confusing thoughts of the night before returned to mess with her concentration. Her calm reserve went south when Jake questioned her intelligence.

  "Fontana ... see that line? It leads to nowhere but the Atlantic Ocean. Are you sure you've flown the South
American route before?"

  She bit the tip of her tongue to stop the choice dirty words she wanted to hurl at his head. Bastard. “Excuse me. That line leads to our landing strip. You'd see it if your fat thumb wasn't in the way.” She stood, her chair scraping noisily on the tile floor. “I'm stepping out for a minute."

  Jessica found temporary quiet in the small side garden just outside the male dominated conference room. The area was far too neat to be used much. A couple of benches under a rose arbor were the only amenities. The place was a perfect spot with ample privacy to do something foolish.

  Looking over her shoulder, she took her cell phone from her slacks pocket and punched in Peter's phone number. She called herself lots of dirty names, hating the fact she was acting like one of those weak women that couldn't let go of a bad relationship.

  That couldn't be her heart hammering like that, too loud for her to hear if he did answer. His voice was thin, and his words were edged with hostility.

  "Jess, I would have called you tonight.” He actually huffed. “What do you want?"

  The question burned in her brain. Why had she ever thought she loved this lousy tempered loser? “I only wanted to speak with you, Peter. To let you know I arrived.” She gave it a final try. “How are you feeling? Is your back shaping up?"

  She had to be mistaken, but had he groaned and not discreetly?

  "Jess, we need to talk."

  "That's why I called, Peter."

  "About us."

  Funny. Her stomach didn't clutch into a painful knot, and her eyes remained cool and clear. No damned way was she going to cry. She knew what he was going to say. “Go ahead, Peter. You have the floor."

  She heard the clink of glass in the background before he covered the mouthpiece and spoke to someone with him. He was in a restaurant.

  "Jess, I'll call you tonight. Right now isn't good for me."

  "Peter?"

  He'd hung up.

  With careful deliberation, she closed the phone and put it back in her trouser pocket. Jessica wasn't accustomed to feeling shame in her relationships with men. But, right now, her heart weighed like bricks in her chest and thudded like a frozen lump as the rush of humiliation settled down on her.