Can't Fight This Feeling. Christie Ridgway

      He lifted his mouth away from hers, his face so close that she couldn’t see anything but his lips. “Who taught you that it was impolite to open your mouth when a man kissed it?” he whispered softly.

      Her eyes went dazedly up to his dark ones. “Is it?” she whispered back, her voice sounding high-pitched and shaky.

      “No,” he breathed. His thumb gently tugged on her lower lip, coaxing her mouth open. “I want to taste you, Gabby. I want to touch you…inside…”

      She started to tremble at the sensuality of the words and of his touch. His mouth eased hers open and slowly increased its hungry pressure. She felt the tiny bristle of a half day’s growth of beard around his mouth and felt the hardness of his tongue slowly, delicately, penetrating her lips.

      A tiny moan trembled in her throat.

      “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered, his own voice oddly strained. “It won’t hurt.”

      She did moan then, as the implied intimacy and the penetration all washed over her at once, and she drowned in the sensation of being possessed by him. Her nails dug into his shoulders. She pressed her body into the hard curve of his and heard him groan.

      “No,” he said suddenly, pushing her away. He turned, walked off and lit a cigarette.

      Gabby clutched her purse to her and stood staring helplessly after him, trembling all over. She’d never dreamed that it would feel like that!

      Around them, a group of tourists was just entering the end of the Forum, which they’d had momentarily to themselves. Gabby got a glimpse of colorful clothing and heard murmuring voices as J.D. smoked his cigarette for several long moments before he turned and rejoined her.

      “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

      She was struggling for composure, and it was hard-won. “It’s all right,” she said. “I know you’re worried about Martina…”

      “Was I looking for comfort, Gabby?” He laughed mirthlessly. His dark eyes swept up and down her slender body.

      “I’d rather it was that,” she murmured, “than you needing a woman and having me get in the way.”

      “It wasn’t that impersonal, I’m afraid,” he said, falling into step beside her. He towered over her. “Gabby, I’ll tell you something. I’ve done it in every conceivable way, with a hell of a lot of women. But up until now, I’ve never wanted a virgin.”

      She stopped and looked up at him, puzzled.

      He glanced down at her. “That’s right,” he said. “I want you.”

      Her face flushed.

      “You’ll have to remind me at odd intervals that you’re a virgin,” he continued, smiling faintly. “Because I’m not really out of the habit of taking what I want.”

      He was angry and frustrated and probably trying to warn her off, she thought. But she wasn’t afraid of him. “If you seduce me,” she told him, “I’ll get pregnant and haunt you.”

      He stared at her as if he didn’t believe his ears. And then he threw back his dark head and laughed like a boy, his white teeth flashing in his dark face.

      “Then I’ll have to be sure I don’t seduce you, won’t I?” he teased.

      She smiled up at him, feeling oddly secure. “Please.”

      He drew in a long breath as they walked. “I thought this was all going to be straightforward and simple,” he murmured. “Maybe I’d better put you on a plane back to Chicago, little one.”

      “Cold feet?” she muttered.

      “Not me, lady. But you might wish you’d stayed home. I don’t know where my mind was when I dragged you over here.”

      “You said you trusted me.”

      “I do. Totally. That’s why I wanted you with me. The way things are turning out, I’m going to need you more than ever. When we get to my friend’s finca,” he said quietly, “someone has to stay behind to handle communications. We’ll have powerful radios and we’ll need updated information. The finca we’ll be staying at is only miles from the one where Martina is being held.”

      She felt uneasy as she studied his hard face. “You’re not going in there alone?”

      “No—with those old friends I was telling you about.”

      “Couldn’t you stay behind at your friend’s finca?”

      “Worried about me?” He laughed. “Gabby, I’ve dodged a lot of bullets in my time. I was in the Special Forces.”

      “Yes, you told me,” she grumbled. “But that was a long time ago. You’re a lawyer now, you sit behind a desk…”

      “Not all the time,” he said, correcting her. His eyes studied her quietly. “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me. About my private life.”

      “You could get yourself killed.”

      “A car could hit me while I’m standing here,” he countered.

      She glared at him. “I’d be without work. One of the unemployed. Everything I’d do for the rest of my life would be horribly boring.”

      “I’d miss you, too, I guess,” he agreed, laughing. “Don’t worry about me, Gabby. I can take it as it comes.”

      “Do I even get to meet this man you call Dutch?”

      He shook his head. “You’ll meet enough odd characters in Central America. And Dutch hates women.”

      “You aren’t Mr. Playboy yourself,” she muttered.

      “Aren’t you glad?” he asked, turning to look at her. “Would you like a man who had a different woman every night?”

      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.