Diana Palmer Collected 1-6. Diana Palmer

of his lips.

      She could barely breathe, and it was heaven as his arms came around her, as his mouth spoke to her in a wild, nonverbal way. The opening of the door was a shattering disappointment.

      “Excuse me—” Laremos chuckled “—but you were so long, I thought you might be having trouble.”

      “I am,” J.D. said in a voice husky with emotion, “but not the kind you thought.”

      “As I see. Here, let me go over the sequence with you and discuss the frequencies—they are different from the ones you are familiar with, no doubt,” he said, sitting down in front of the equipment.

      Gabby brushed back her hair and tried not to look at J.D. She tried not to think about the long night ahead, when she’d lie in his arms in that big bed and have to keep from begging him to do what they both wanted.

      The radio wasn’t difficult at all. It took only minutes to learn the routine. It was the code words that took longest. She made a list and walked around the house memorizing it while the men talked in the spacious living room. At the dinner table, she was still going over it.

      Only Laremos, J.D., and Gabby ate together at the table. The others carried their plates away.

      “They’re still antisocial, I see,” J.D. murmured over his food.

      “Old habits.” Laremos glanced at Gabby. “And I think they do not want to disillusion this one, who looks at them with such soft eyes.”

      “I didn’t embarrass them, did I?” she asked, contrite.

      “No,” J.D. said. “I think you flattered them. They aren’t used to all that rapt attention.” He chuckled.

      “How did they come to be mercenaries?” she asked softly. “If you can tell me, I mean. I don’t want to invade anyone’s privacy.”

      “Well, Shirt was in the Special Forces, like I was,” J.D. said, pausing over the sentence, as if he was choosing his words carefully. “After he got out of the service, he couldn’t find anything he liked to do except police work, and he wasn’t making enough to pay the bills. He had a contact in the mercenary network and he asked some questions. He was good with the standard underworld weapons and something of a small-arms expert. He found work.”

      “And Apollo?”

      “Apollo started out as an M.P. He was accused of a crime he didn’t commit, and there were some racial overtones.” J.D. shrugged. “He wasn’t getting any justice, so he ran for it and wound up in Central America. He’s been down here ever since.”

      “He can’t clear himself?” she asked.

      “I expect I’ll end up defending him one of these days,” he told her with a quiet smile. “In fact, I can almost guarantee it. I’ll win, too.”

      “I wouldn’t doubt that,” she murmured, tongue in cheek.

      “How long have you worked with this bad-tempered one, Señorita Gabby?” Laremos asked.

      “A little over two years,” she told him, glancing at J.D. “It’s been an education. I’ve learned that if you shout loudly enough, you can get most anything you want.”

      “He shouts at you?”

      “I wouldn’t dare,” J.D. murmured with a grin. “The first time I tried, she heaved a paperweight at my head.”

      “I did not,” she protested. “I threw it at your door!”

      “Which I opened at the wrong time,” he continued. “Fortunately, I have good reflexes.”

      “You will need them tomorrow, I fear,” Laremos told him. “The terrorists will not make things easy for us.”

      “True,” J.D. said as he finished his coffee. “But we have the element of surprise on our side.”

      “That is so.”

      “And now, we’d better go over the maps again. I want to be sure I know the terrain before we set out in the morning.”

      Gabby went on to bed, feeling definitely in the way. She took a quick bath and settled in on one side of the big double bed, wearing the long, very modest nightgown she’d brought along. Unfortunately, the material was thin, but perhaps J.D. would be too busy with his thoughts to notice.

      She lay there trying to stumble through a Guatemalan newspaper, but she couldn’t concentrate. She tingled all over, thinking of the long night ahead, of spending it lying in J.D.’s arms. Had he really meant that? Or had it just been something to tease her with? And what if he did hold her in his arms all night—would she be able to resist tempting him beyond his control?

      She tossed the newspaper onto the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees, staring apprehensively at the door. Her long hair hung softly around her shoulders, and she brushed strands of it away from her face. She wanted him. There was no use denying that she did. But if she gave in, if she tempted him too far, what would she have? One single night to remember, and it would be the end of her job. J.D. didn’t want any kind of permanent relationship with a woman, and she’d do well to keep her head. He was worried about his sister, justifiably nervous about tomorrow’s foray into the jungle, and he might do something insane if she pushed him.

      But for just a moment she thought how it would be, to feel his hair-roughened skin against every inch of her, to let him touch her as he’d no doubt touched other women. She sighed huskily. He’d be gentle, she knew that, and patient. He’d make of it such a tender initiation that it would surpass her wildest dreams of belonging to a man. But it would cheapen what she was beginning to feel for him, and it would do no good for his opinion of her. She attracted him because she was a virgin, untouched. And if she gave herself to him, she wouldn’t be that anymore. It was even possible that he’d hold her in contempt for joining the ranks of his lovers.

      With a weary moan, she turned out the light and burrowed under the covers. It was a lovely dream, anyway, she told herself, and closed her eyes.

      She hadn’t meant to go to sleep so soon, but the first thing she knew the dawn light was streaming in through the windows, bringing her wide awake.

      Sleepily she stretched, and became suddenly aware of where she was. She sat up, eyes wide, and looked around for J.D. It took only a second to find him. He was standing at the window, his profile to her, looking out. And he didn’t have a stitch of clothing on his body.

      Her eyes were riveted on him. She’d seen men without clothes. These days, with all the explicit films, it was impossible to avoid nudity. But she’d never seen a nude man close up, like this. And she imagined that J.D. would please even the eyes of an experienced woman.

      He was all powerful muscle, with dark shadows of hair feathering every inch of him. His legs were long and muscular, his hips narrow, his stomach flat. His chest was broad and bronzed and a wedge of thick black hair curled over it. She stared at him helplessly, unashamedly—until she happened to look up and saw him watching her.

      Her lips trembled as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t get anything out.

      “It’s all right,” he said quietly. “If I’d found you in the same condition, I’d be staring just as hard. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

      “I don’t wear pajamas,” he murmured with an amused look. “I expected to be awake before you were. It was a hot night.”

      “Yes,” she managed, choking.

      He moved back toward the bed, and she sat there frozen, unable to make even the pretense of looking the other way. It didn’t seem to bother him at all. He bent down, catching her by the arms, and dragged her out of the bed and against his body.

      He laughed deep in his throat, the sound of it predatory, primitive. “Touch me,” he dared her. His hands caught hers and ran them over his sleek hips, up his spine, and around to the matted tangle of hair over his warm chest.

      Her