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  God help her.

  She rested her hands on her hips. "Besides, it's called being friendly. Getting one of the locals on our side. You know, making conversation, flashing a smile?"

  "I know what you were trying to do."

  The annoyance she heard in Marcus’s voice came as a surprise. She squinted across the room and studied him, trying to piece together what had put it there. He hadn't stopped playing with the camera and that meant he was thinking. Or avoiding. When he didn't want to talk, he kept his hands busy. Sela let out a quiet sigh as she picked her way through the obstacle course of equipment.

  And put her hand over the lens of the camera, blocking his view. "Out with it. What's going through your head?"

  Marcus straightened and studied her from behind his shades. The dark lenses in a sealed room were painfully out of place.

  "You can't even see." She plucked his glasses off without permission and folded the ear pieces down. She arched an eyebrow when he took a breath. He stopped, held it, and let it go. "That's better," she told him. "What's going on?"

  "Work," he told her. "This is an assignment, Sela. Not a game. Making friends, flashing smiles, old time reunions. That's not what we're here to do."

  "We're here to get information," she argued, tossing his shades toward the bed. "You do it your way, with high tech things. I do it my way. By talking."

  "Is that what you call it?"

  Sela frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  Marcus turned his head, muscle once more tensing at the edge of his jaw. "I'm not an idiot, Reeves. You can call it past tense or over and done with all you want, but he's still got a thing for you. If that was talking, I'm an Amish farmer. That buddy-buddy, being friendly arm through his? “‘Give us a tour,’” he mimicked. "Show us all your secrets."

  "I can ask politely or I can sneak around. I thought this way would be easier. Flies like honey, Hughes."

  "If he helps you, he'll be looking for honey, all right."

  Sela blinked and stared. That tone had never come out of Marcus Hughes's mouth before. She'd warned Tyler about his possessive streak. She meant overprotective, but with that thought, suddenly she understood. She grinned slowly and held out her arm. "Pinch me."

  "What?"

  "Pinch me, I said. I'm making sure I'm awake."

  Marcus peered at her for a long moment before he obliged her request, none too gently. "You gonna let me in on the masochism craze?"

  Sela grinned wider. "Maybe when I'm finished basking."

  "Reeves."

  "All right, all right." She tried to stifle her grin as she stepped around the remaining equipment and brushed past him, heading for the bed. "I'm just enjoying your jealous streak."

  "Jealous?" He snorted. "You've got things all mixed up."

  "Do I? You're awfully defensive for a guy who doesn't care. And what about all the protest over my cover story idea? You sure didn't wait to brag about your wife to Tyler."

  "Establishing," Marcus argued gruffly. "Establishing our relationship, not bragging. I don't brag."

  "But you do get grabby." Sela sat, still amused. "Not that I mind. You know I like your hands on me."

  Not exactly a fair tactic, she admitted to herself, but she meant it. The unplanned reunion with Tyler had shattered his usual stoic front. If she didn't act now, when he hadn't put it back together, she might not get another chance. They were both adults, consenting and unattached. Skirting around the attraction simmering between them just frustrated her. Distracted her, and with Tyler here, more than ever, she admired the view.

  Marcus liked things tidy. He liked to make an impression when he entered a room. He didn't want to be seen as just another thug who happened to leave the streets behind. He had to be proud of his body -- he'd turned it into to a powerful machine -- but he didn't rely on muscles. He didn't go for casual, jeans and t-shirts. He wore slacks with creases down the front and polo shirts, even when he relaxed. He could dress down, and did for jobs, but the real Marcus Hughes was a class act.

  God, she had it bad.

  "You're staring." He bent over the camera again.

  "I'm waiting for you to argue." Sela stretched out on her side, one hand propping up her head. "Tell me to stop or something."

  The corner of his mouth quirked up faintly. "Would you listen?"

  "That's not the point." She smoothed the other hand absently over the patterned bedspread. "You're changing up the rules if you don't argue with me."

  Now he looked at her. His gaze wandered, taking in every inch of her from head to painted toenails and back. He cocked an eyebrow. "I thought that was what you wanted. Changing things up. My hands on you."

  Marcus Hughes didn't tease. Sela wasn't sure he knew the meaning of the word. Moments like this, when he acknowledged what they felt and said, didn't come often. She pushed up on her elbow. "You know I do."

  It got hard to breathe when Marcus moved. Not away like normal, putting distance between them so he could build up his defenses again. Not this time. He moved toward her, crossing to the bed in three long strides. He put a knee down, making the mattress tilt, and Sela scrambled to keep her eyes on him. She rolled forward, catching her weight on her free hand. They were so close now. Her pulse hiccoughed in her throat.

  He reached over her, bracing his hands on either side. His shirt skimmed her shoulder, a feather-light caress that sent shivers racing down her spine. He'd undone the top couple of buttons on his shirt, revealing a dark patch of smooth skin. Her fingers itched to touch it.

  "We go here, there's no turning back," he rumbled. "Can't undo it. That's not who I am."

  Sela laughed, mostly breath and little sound. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

  "Nah. Just saying." Then he kissed her, and the technicalities between warning and statement didn't matter anymore.

  She didn't mean to make that soft, needy sound of relief when their lips touched. As with all of the kisses they'd shared, this one started gentle, testing, like somehow they might get it wrong. Caution faded before the heat that followed. Sela licked his bottom lip and Marcus took advantage of the opening, thrusting his tongue deep to claim her mouth. Owned. Possessed.

  She wound her arms around his neck and rolled to her back, not willing to let go, not wanting him to pull away. He moved with her, shifted his weight so that he ended up braced over her. His arms didn't tremble. He felt rock solid and steady while she thought she might fly apart.

  They'd been here before, though, and Sela wanted more. They'd gotten hot and heavy and caught up in one another. Every time, something managed to pull them apart. Not now, not this time. Do something, she willed him. Touch me.

  She might as well have spoken the command aloud. Their mouths parted and while Sela gasped for air, Marcus shifted his weight again. He worked one hand beneath the edge of her shirt and stroked his thumb against her ribs, then slid it to her breast, tracing the outer swell. His fingers left a memory trail of heat in their wake. Her nipples tightened in anticipation, and she caught her bottom lip in her teeth.

  But his hand stopped there, his thumb passing back and forth against the same swath of skin.

  "Please," she murmured, lifting a hand to brush her fingers in turn over the furrow between his brows. "Don't think, just feel. Let's just be us and see where it goes. You're here, I'm here. I want you and," she lifted her hips, bumping up against the obvious ridge of his erection, "you want me too. Please, Marcus. No turning back. It'll be so good."

  He laughed. "That's what I'm afraid of."

  Sela let her fingers drift to his mouth and traced the curve of his smile. "Don't be afraid." Her hands slid to the buttons of his shirt, and she twisted them open, gaze never leaving his. They could do this. She would, if he didn't stop her.

  Crisp white fabric pushed easily aside to reveal the undershirt he always wore, bright against the deep shadows of his skin. She let her fingers graze his shoulders as she pushed the shirt off. He moved, tugging his arms free of his
dress shirt and peeled the next layer away.

  She flattened her hands against his chest and curled up to kiss the hollow of his throat. She lingered there, tongue tracing swirling patterns against his hammering pulse. She closed her mouth on muscle, suckling against his skin. He groaned in response, hips rocking down to meet hers.

  "Move." She murmured the word against his neck.

  She felt him tense. He lifted his head and frowned down at her. "What?"

  "Move," she repeated, grinning. "Nothing's going to happen with all these clothes in the way."

  "Oh, yeah. Right." He rolled to one side, reaching for his belt. His shoes hit the floor with quiet thuds.

  And Sela slid off the bed, confident that she commanded his attention. She'd wanted this, so much for so long, that she knew exactly what to do. She kept her back to him when she stood, swaying her hips a little as she unbuttoned her own shirt, shrugged it off and let it flutter to the floor.

  If she'd had time to plan, there would have been mood music and low lighting to accompany her deliberate strip tease. In their line of work, though, improvisation was required. She slid her fingers inside the waistband of her slacks, following the way they wrapped her body until she got them open and could shimmy them down.

  She bent over, taking her time, and grinned at the sound of another groan.

  "You're gonna kill me," Marcus mumbled. His hand stroked down the curve of her ass. "Heart attack," he threatened. "It'll be on you for teasing me."

  Sela kicked her pants into a pile and turned to face him. She didn't cover herself, didn't cower. She wanted him to look. She wanted to know he appreciated what he saw. "Who said I was teasing?" She hooked her fingers under a bra strap and pushed it down, letting it dangle while she did the same on the other side. Unfastening the clasp wasn't graceful, with her arms twisted that way, but when she dangled the fabric from a finger tip then let it slip free, she saw Marcus’s eyes widen. Good enough for her.

  "C'mere," he said, holding out a hand. He curled his fingers over hers when she slid them against his palm. He tucked her against his chest, his lips warm on her throat as he laid her down. He skimmed his hand down her side, the rasp of the calluses on his fingers only adding to the heat that now pooled between her thighs.

  Marcus kissed a hot trail to her collarbone, then went further, sliding down her body until he reached her breasts. He murmured, "So damned beautiful," his breath fanning out warm and moist against her skin. He caught one nipple between his lips and sucked it deeper, rolling it against his tongue.

  Sela gasped and arched, offering him more as her fingers curled against his hair. He kept it short, close to the scalp, leaving nothing to grip. Most times, she approved. Now she wanted to hang on.

  He released the nipple and kissed his way to her other breast, giving it the same treatment as he worked his hand into her panties and slid a finger between her folds. He knew what he was doing and exactly what he wanted. He curled a finger, unerringly finding her clit. He circled once, dipped deeper to gather wetness, and came back to do it again.

  Sela spread her legs willingly. This wasn't the time for playing coy and being polite. "More," she demanded, fingers kneading his scalp. "More. Harder. God, Marcus, please."

  He moved again, this time without prompting, and curled his fingers in panty fabric on either side. Sela lifted her hips and he peeled it away, tossing the garment somewhere in the room.

  She watched with her bottom lip caught in her teeth, waiting for the moment when he'd push his pants down and come back to her. She needed to see him like she needed her next breath. That was the real point of no return.

  He put his knee on the bed again. He tugged his belt loose, unzipped his fly. Crisp linen whispered against his skin as his slacks slipped lower and stopped at his hips, held there by some invisible force that must have had a stake in driving Sela crazy.

  "Close your eyes," he murmured.

  She shook her head. "No way, I want to watch."

  He grinned slowly and sent another thrill fluttering through her. "Trust me, would you?" He bent over her to press a kiss against the inside of one thigh. He moved higher, brushing his cheek against her leg. The faint touch of stubble raised goose bumps on her skin. The warmth of breath washing over her as he hovered by her hip made her gasp. She closed her eyes despite herself.

  Marcus rumbled and lowered his mouth. The heat of his exhalation felt like a spring breeze compared to the blaze she felt when he stroked her with his tongue. She cried out at the first touch and lifted her hips toward him, a desperate demand for more. She reached for him, fingers curling low on her stomach, and he threaded his through them, giving her an anchor as he sent her reeling.

  He groaned again and the sound vibrated through her, into too sensitive flesh, echoed by the needful clench inside her. He parted her with his fingers and circled her clit with the tip of his tongue. He used his teeth against her, careful encouragement, and she arched again, tossing her head against the pillows.

  She spread her legs and he slipped a finger into her, dipped and curled and withdrew again to braid two together and push in again. He sucked in breaths that brought in cooler air and made her shiver then groan as he chased them again with warm, wet heat.

  She should have known a man who kissed like he did would be better between her thighs. She knew he noticed more than he let on, but she should have guessed that he would read her body as though he read her mind. That he'd know when to back off and when to press in deep, curling his fingers to find the sweet spot that threatened to leave her nothing more than a molten pool of pleasure.

  And that he wouldn't be satisfied with making her come once.

  She clenched around his fingers hard, shudders racing through her body, his name a breathless groan on her lips. Then he kissed her hungrily, tongue probing deep into her mouth, and she'd held onto his shoulders while he stayed above her.

  Not for long. He kissed a hot line down the center of her body, tongue dipping into her navel as he passed, then settled between her thighs again and drove her even higher. When she came this time, she screamed his name, then spiraled into sated darkness.

  * * * * *

  Marcus woke up with a woman in his arms. Not just any woman. Sela. His partner, his friend, the woman who'd been under his skin and in his dreams for a long damned time. Now that he'd tasted her, he knew within seconds of waking that once would never be enough.

  And that could be a problem, even without old flames turning up.

  Sex and work didn't belong in the same thought, much less on the same assignment. Whatever the cover story, he and Sela were still on a job. They needed to be impartial and unbiased and willing to do whatever it took to get the information they'd need. They couldn't afford to distract one another with kisses and touches and the urge to get horizontal.

  Not that his body objected, as evidenced by the way his cock stiffened again. If he let his wants control him, they'd never get out of bed.

  He made himself roll over and stand up. He needed a shower, preferably cold, and then they needed to take a better look around.

  She had that part right, Marcus admitted as he stepped beneath the showerhead. Talking to the staff would get them information. Employees, owners, anyone who'd been here more than once or twice and could give them some insight on the Lone Tree's personalities.

  Sela handled the interpersonal stuff. She had a knack for getting people to open up before they realized it. She asked the right questions, flashed that megawatt smile, and had them eating out of her hand.

  Marcus did his best work when he stuck to the technical or when they needed a little muscle to back up an interrogation. Charming and chatty weren't his style. He favored direct and to the point and no-nonsense.

  Which didn't explain why he couldn't keep Sela out of his mind.

  She was up and dressed -- clothed, at least -- when he stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. The way she smiled went straight to his groin. He ran through
a mental inventory of the equipment they'd brought with them to keep his body in check.

  "You should have woken me up," she told him. "I could use a shower, too. Could've been fun." She said it sing-song, playfully.

  "Could've been distracting."

  Sela frowned and slipped off the bed. She padded barefoot toward him, and he realized that she was wearing his shirt. She slid her arms around his waist and kissed his chest. He breathed in the scent of her hair and skin, and felt his hold on control slipping again.

  "We're not going to let this mess things up," she told him, her gaze gone serious. "Sex happens, the world doesn't end." Her smile crept back. "Might happen again, if we're lucky."

  Marcus took a breath. "I don't think --"

  "Good." She pressed her fingers against his mouth. "Don't." She replaced them with her lips and he kissed her back, following her suggestion. No thought, just action. Very dangerous.

  "My turn," she murmured and slipped away, headed for the bathroom. She dropped his shirt outside and left the door standing open. He could take it as invitation or he could get to work.

  Marcus went to his suitcase and got dressed.

  By the time Sela climbed out of the shower again, he had the laptop set up and humming. He sat at the desk scrolling through aerial photos of the resort property and taking notes.

  "So what's the plan, chief?" She braced a hip against the desk and folded her arms across her chest. "You think you're going to see something new in old pictures?"

  Marcus shook his head, but glanced up briefly. "I'm not looking for something new. I want to know where everything is."

  "Which is why I asked Tyler for the grand tour. You don't think if there's something funny going on they haven't figured out how to hide that from overhead? If you want the dirt, you have to get down on the ground." She grinned. "Don't worry. He probably doesn't bite."