Her Millionaire Marine. Cathie Linz

discussing important topics, subjects that affected the livelihood and well-being of hundreds of people.

      What had they been talking about before she’d gone off the deep end? Oh, yes. Striker had asked her if there was a problem using the laptop computer.

      “No problem,” she belatedly replied. Which was a total lie of course. There were problems galore. Like her inability to keep her mind on business. Or the fact that Striker was getting more irritable by the minute.

      “Who was that sexy redhead?” he asked out of the blue.

      “Pardon me?” Kate blinked at him. Here she was having fantasies about Striker and he was interested in a redhead?

      “That sexy redhead who was seated at Tex’s desk earlier. Who is she?”

      “Tex’s granddaughter. I wouldn’t recommend messing with her. Tex is very protective of her family.”

      “What makes you think I’d do anything Tex wouldn’t approve of?”

      “Experience.”

      “You don’t have much experience with me.”

      True, but what experience she had had was definitely memorable. Except for her losing her clothing last night. That part was still hazy.

      “Did you undress me last night?” she demanded abruptly.

      “Define undress.”

      “Don’t dance around the question.”

      “Marines don’t dance around questions.”

      “Fine, then answer it. Was Consuela the one who put me to bed last night?”

      “I carried you upstairs to the bedroom, not Con-suela.”

      “But then Consuela came and took things from there, right?” Kate said hopefully.

      “No, ma’am. Consuela was in Corpus Christi last night visiting her mom. That left Tony and me.”

      “So you were the one who undressed me?”

      “What makes you think it wasn’t Tony?” Striker countered.

      “He’s too much of a gentleman.”

      “I thought I was being a gentleman by making you more comfortable.”

      “You thought wrong.”

      “Not a surprise. You always seem to think I’m doing the wrong thing. You’ve acted that way from the second you walked into my C.O.’s office in Quantico.”

      “Me? You’re the one who isn’t the happy camper, the one who made it clear that you didn’t want to leave the Marines to come down here, that you think this entire idea is worthless. And now you throw a hissy fit and won’t even work in your grandfather’s office.”

      “Marines do not have hissy fits!” Striker growled.

      “I wouldn’t have minded if being surrounded by your grandfather’s things was making you remember him too vividly and causing your grief to overwhelm you. But I doubt that was the case. You haven’t shown the least bit of emotion about Hank’s death. He was a good man.”

      “He was a dictatorial control freak calling all the shots.”

      “How dare you insult him now that he isn’t here to defend himself!”

      “Listen, you know nothing about me or how I feel so don’t go thinking you’re suddenly an expert on what I’m thinking. And don’t go singing his praises to me. He turned his back on my mother when she needed him most. She was struggling with kids to raise. Money was tight, Marines don’t make much, but Hank wouldn’t lift a finger to help her out. He made things rough for her when he could have made them easier.” There, the words were finally out.

      Instead of agreeing with him, Kate asked, “Did she ever ask him for help?”

      “Of course not.”

      “Well, then how could he know she’d need it?”

      Her answer infuriated him. She sat there so cool and calm, so distant on her pedestal where she remained untouched by worries about making a paycheck stretch. “There’s no talking to you!” He turned the swiveling conference chair to glare at her.

      She did the same, moving her chair to glare at him, not backing down one inch. “Me? I’m not the one with issues. You are.”

      “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Striker didn’t realize how close they were until he felt her sweet breath bouncing off his lips. He saw the emotion flaring in her eyes—anger followed by sudden awareness.

      It was too late to retreat, too late to think. Striker could only act, leaning forward just enough to capture her wayward mouth with his own.

      Chapter Four

      Kate hadn’t expected Striker to kiss her. She didn’t have time to prepare her defenses before he was already storming them.

      His approach was forceful but not in a frightening way. What was scary was the way he made her feel—all hot and shivery deep inside.

      The warm pressure of his mouth tantalized her, tempted her, overwhelmed her. The gentle brush of his fingertips against her jawline was at odds with the masterful way he consumed her, arousing a passion within her that had lain buried since Ted’s death.

      But even Ted had never created this kind of response in her.

      Striker claimed her mouth as if exploring for riches. Her lips parted willingly, allowing his tongue to slip inside and flick inquiringly with a sensuality that drove her wild.

      French kissing. She’d never understood the appeal before. Now she could. Oh yes, yes!

      Her lips opened even farther under his expert tutelage, following his lead, matching his demands.

      She felt the thud of his heart beneath her hand, could feel the softness of his denim shirt beneath her fingertips and the warmth of his skin beneath. She was on fire, passion throbbing through her entire body.

      Her knees went weak, making her melt against him. Sexual need pooled in all the feminine places in her body—her breasts, her pelvis—both of which were pressed tightly against his fully aroused hard body.

      Out of control. She was completely out of control. And out of her league. Ted may have been a risk taker but he’d never made her feel as if she’d stepped off a plane without a parachute. He’d never made her feel reckless.

      This had to stop. She had to stop. But it felt so good. Dangerously good.

      Remember what happens whenever you go after what you want.

      The thought shot through her mind, shattering the haze of pleasure like a hammer shattering glass.

      A second later the kiss was over—she and Striker breaking it off at the same time.

      Striker took several steps away from her. He hadn’t expected Kate to respond the way she had—to melt in his arms, to part her lips and grant him entry. Her passion threw him. Then he remembered the last time a ritzy female had kissed him as if she’d meant it…only to later inform him that it was all an act. Carolyn Sinclair. His nineteenth birthday.

      Sure, that had been a long time ago, but some things a guy didn’t forget.

      And yeah, he’d kissed plenty of women since then. But none of them born with a spoon in their mouth the way Kate had been. They tended not to have any interest in a Force Recon Marine. He’d seen the type in Washington, D.C. They had dollar signs in their eyes. The size of a guy’s bank account was the most important thing to them.

      So why would a wealthy lady lawyer like Kate go all hot on him?