Hot Intent. Cindy Dees

of Alex’s gut like he’d been punched. How on earth did his father know exactly where in Cuba he was going? Alex himself didn’t know where he was being sent yet.

      Did Peter’s mole at D.U. figure it out, or worse, did the information come from the Cuban government? Either way, it was a stunning display of intelligence power. Russia might be a fading empire, but its legendary spy service wasn’t dead yet.

      Not that it mattered at the end of the day. He and Katie would go where they were sent, treat the sick and injured until the two of them dropped from exhaustion, discover what was being smuggled and go home. He would do the job they’d asked of him, but that was it. He was damned well keeping his nose out of any other CIA or FSB business while he was in Cuba. He ended the call abruptly and jammed his phone in his pocket.

      To hell with them all. He closed the distance between him and Katie.

      * * *

      KATIE STOOD BACK from the steamy mirror to inspect herself. Nobody would know she’d just screwed the living daylights out of her boyfriend...she hoped. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyes sparkling, but that could be put down to good health and excitement over the trip to come, right?

      The water cut off in the shower. “Could you pass me a towel?” Alex asked.

      She handed a dry towel into his outstretched hand with its long, strong fingers and dark tan. She would have expected a surgeon of his skill to have more...feminine...hands. Softer. His were anything but. They were more what she would expect of a trained killer. He even had the telltale callus at the base of his right thumb to indicate that he shot handguns. A lot. He’d developed that in the past year.

      Her dad and brothers had the same shooting callus. She certainly knew how to handle a pistol—it was impossible to grow up in the McCloud house without knowing how—but she kept meaning to ask Alex to show her how to use a rifle one of these days. More specifically, a sniper rifle.

      She tugged her sexy little T-shirt down to the top of her snug jeans. She might not be a doctor, but she knew how to fill out a pair of designer denims. And she could handle herself in a crisis. Compliments of more of her McCloud upbringing.

      She took a quick look at the TV. The hurricane was wrapping tighter, intensifying its energy into a tight knot of monstrous strength. Its outer bands were lashing the east tip of Cuba now. By tomorrow morning, the island would be ground zero for the core of the storm. It was morbidly fascinating to wonder just how powerful the winds would get and how bad the damage would turn out to be.

      “Ready?” Alex asked from behind her.

      “Yup. I’m starving.”

      “Vigorous sex has that effect on me, too. Although I have to say you didn’t do all that much work. Next time, you can do the heavy lifting and pleasure me while I sit back and relax.”

      She stuck her tongue out at him and he dropped a kiss on the end of her nose. “And she thinks I’m kidding,” he murmured.

      “I don’t for a second think you’re kidding. I look forward to having you at my mercy.”

      That sent his right eyebrow into an arch and a speculative gleam into his silver gaze. Hah. She dared him to taste his supper now. Not that she was going taste any of hers, either.

      His hand landed in the small of her back in the protective, possessive way that never failed to turn her on. Oh, so that’s how tonight was going to be, huh?

      She leaned into him in the elevator, pressing her breast lightly against his arm as another couple entered the small space. He didn’t glance down at her, but a faint smirk curved his lips.

      He asked for a corner table in the darkest part of the hotel’s restaurant. Pleased to see the long linen tablecloths, she immediately kicked off her heels and planted her bare foot in his lap. While she massaged his groin with her toes, he massaged her calf under the table until she was all but groaning in pleasure.

      He murmured over their entrées, “So tell me, Katie. What naughty fantasy is rattling around in your head wishing to become real?”

      Her steak knife fell to her plate with a loud crash as it slipped out of her fingers. Embarrassed, she picked it up and risked a peek at Alex. The smirk was firmly in place again.

      Her gaze narrowed. “I rather like the idea of you on your knees. Maybe even with your hands tied behind your back.”

      “And then what?” His eyes glittered like shards of broken mirror.

      “I would...present...various body parts for you to...”

      “Make love to with my mouth?”

      “Exactly.”

      “And if I do this for you? What will you do for me in return? Sex is, at its core, a trade, after all.”

      She leaned back against the banquette. “That’s where you and I differ. For me, sex is a gift. Something I give freely to you. I don’t necessarily expect anything back in return. Of course, I generally do get plenty back. But it’s not like I think to myself, ‘Okay, if I give Alex x amount of pleasure, then he owes me y amount back.’”

      He asked, amused, “Are you implying that I’m a selfish male?”

      “I’m just saying your mind-set is different than mine. I don’t know if all men treat sex the same way you do or not.” She shrugged. “Frankly, you treat everything as a bargain, not just sex.”

      “Do I, now?”

      Interestingly enough, he didn’t seem offended. Thoughtful, maybe, but not angry. They finished the meal, and Alex ordered chocolate mousse for her without having to ask if she wanted any or not. The creamy dessert was, bar none, her favorite food on earth.

      He let her get well into the mousse before he commented, “Sex has always been a transaction for me. I pay a prostitute, she gives me what I want.”

      Katie waved her spoon at him. “You don’t want them to like it, do you? You go out of your way to make sure they don’t enjoy themselves.” Alex arched an eyebrow at her in mild warning that she was treading on dangerous ground. But she’d had one glass of wine too many to heed his eyebrow. “I think you’re taking out your anger over your mother’s abandonment on those prostitutes.”

      Whoops. Predator Alex went still. Alert. Ready to attack. The scale of her mistake finally cut through the wine buzz to register on her.

      “Are you finished?” he asked. His voice was cold. Precise. Controlled.

      Crap. She trailed after him in silence to their room when he didn’t slow down to wait for her. He grabbed a couple minibottles of whiskey out of the refrigerator and moved over to the big plateglass window-wall, where he sprawled in one of the armchairs there.

      Was their uneasy truce over, then? She knew how much Alex hated the idea of her going with him on this trip. Almost as much as she hated the idea of him going. He’d been mature and quit fighting about it when it became clear he was going to lose the argument. But she by no means thought he’d made peace with the idea.

      God knew what else was rattling around in his head and messing with his mind after the past year. She’d read enough spy novels and seen enough spy movies to have an inkling of what he’d been through.

      She waited until he’d downed the whiskey and the tension had left his shoulders somewhat to go stand behind him. “I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

      Nothing.

      She might as well not have been in the room with him. Okay, she could deal with him being mad at her for saying something to him he really didn’t want to hear, but she would not stand for him ignoring her. That was just rude. She marched around in front of his chair, wedging herself between his knees and the cold glass at her back.

      She put on her best kindergarten teacher lecture voice. “Alex Peters, that is quite enough sulking out of you. It’s not nice to ignore people when they speak to you. So