Eve’s Wedding Knight

muscles and from somewhere found the words, and the sanity, to whisper, “It’s okay…it’s okay.”

Then it was he who gasped, and with one hand supporting her head and the other pressing her lower body hard against him, took her mouth and plunged his tongue deep, while at the same time he surged into her with all power and passion unleashed.

She lost all sense of time and space. She knew only wave after wave of unimaginable pleasure alternating with mindless panic…tension that seemed to build and build, higher and higher until she wanted to scream with it. And finally… the deliciously terrifying, heart-stopping plunge from the highest point of the roller coaster, a cry torn from the depths of her soul, the absolute certainty that she could not survive this…

And then the trembling, pulsating quiet. The wondering joy at finding herself alive. The overwhelming sense of awe, humility, and…love? Oh, yes! That’s surely what it was. Love…

She was laughing, shaking with laughter while tears ran down from the corners of her eyes and into her hair. And Jake was kissing her mouth, her wet cheeks, her eyes, framing her face with his hands and rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. She could feel his body shaking. Staring up into his face, she blinked away the tear shimmer…and suddenly her heart was swelling, bursting inside her. She lifted her hands and touched his face, holding it as if it were something rare and wondrous-as indeed it was.

“Well,” she said in a voice soft with laughter and awe, “I guess I know now what it takes to make you laugh…”

Chapter 13

Unable to find the words, Jake gave up and kissed her.

Eve whispered, “I guess we’ll have to do this more often,” as she traced the curve of his mouth with a fingertip.

He heard her words, and his heart leapt beneath his ribs-a primitive cognizance of danger. What had they done?

He lay back with a careful exhalation, bringing her with him, wrapped in his arms. Even now, with the return of full awareness and, he hoped, a measure of sanity, he still couldn’t bear to separate from her. But, oh, what had he done?

He couldn’t imagine what had possessed him to do such a thing. It was against all his training, his professional ethics, not to mention common sense. And yet…and yet. The tousled head tucked under his chin felt so good there. Her body, thinner than he remembered, seemed to fit the planes and hollows of his own as if it were meant to be a part of it-like the yin to his yang, or the missing piece of a puzzle he’d been looking for all his life. Had he ever felt like this before? If he had, he’d surely have remembered it. What did it mean?

That question he had no answer to.

One thing he did know: the thought of sending this woman back to Cisneros made him sick to his stomach.

“Jake?” Eve raised herself on one elbow to look down at him. Her eyes had a misty, worried look, and he remembered belatedly the postcoital vulnerability of women. “You’re already regretting this, aren’t you?”

He reached up to touch her face with what he hoped was reassurance. “Yes…and no.” He looked at her for a long time, thinking how complicated it was, wondering if he’d ever be able to explain so she’d understand. He was filled with regrets, he ached with regrets…about all the years he’d spent without knowing her, what his life might have been like if he’d met her twenty years ago, the fact that he couldn’t wrap her up and take her home with him and keep her safe, make love with her every night and wake to her laughter every morning. How lonely that apartment of his was going to seem, how empty his bed, after this.

He sighed and closed his eyes, and wrapping his arms around her, pulled her down onto his chest. “I’m still having trouble believing I actually let it happen.”

She tensed in protest. “What do you mean, you let it happen? I kissed you first.”

“I met you halfway.” He let several beats go by before he said quietly, “We took no precautions.”

He felt the quick intake of her breath, the shivery tickle of her fingers stirring in the hair on his torso, then the warm flow of an exhalation. “I know. But I thought…since you’re in the FBI you probably have to be tested regularly, and I just had blood tests for the marriage license…” Her voice trailed off.

Jake lifted his head and pulled in his chin so he could look at her. “You thought of all that, did you?”

Her eyes danced up to meet his. “Well, no… It was maybe more like… instinct.”

“Instinct…” He lay back, jerking with silent laughter. A few more seconds ticked by, and then he said, “You know, that’s not the only consideration. I did tell you it was my wife who couldn’t have children.” He paused, surprised by the rasp of emotion in his voice, then added wryly, “I’ve been thoroughly tested, believe me, so I know. There’s nothing wrong with me.”

For a long moment she said nothing. Then she cleared her throat and murmured, “It’s okay, I’m on the Pill.”

She pulled away from him and sat up, keeping her back turned toward him as she searched awkwardly for her clothes. He could see only the curve of a flushed cheek, the sweep of lowered lashes, the childlike nape of her neck, but something about her seemed fragile, suddenly, and off-limits to him, as if she’d put away an essential part of herself behind glass walls.

“I have to get back,” she said huskily, hurrying. “They must be wondering where in the world I am.”

“Eve…” He reached out his hand and unable to resist touching her one more time, brushed his fingers lightly downward over the delicate bumps of her spine, the twin indentations just above the place where her buttocks began. He felt her breathing catch, and a shiver ripple through her body. Felt her hesitate… Then she stabbed her arms through the straps of her bra and pulled it around her and into position. The tiny click of the front catch was like a punctuation mark. A period. A closing.

Jake sat up and reached for his pants. He was suddenly thinking what he wouldn’t give for a shower, some cologne, a wet washcloth-at the very least, some of those little moist towelettes they give you at fried chicken places. As it was, he was going to have to crawl back into that damn van with Birdie Poole and Agent Franco, reeking of sex. And Eve…my God. He was sending her back to a houseful of people and a murderous fiance, with his scent and the scarlet burn of his beard on her skin!

As if she’d heard his thoughts, she pressed her hands to her cheeks. “My face feels so hot,” she murmured, turning to him. “I have a whisker burn, don’t I?”

He took her by the shoulders, touched her chin and turned her face to the light. “Yeah,” he said gruffly., “you sure do. How are you going to explain it?”

Her eyes clung to his, jewel bright. “I went for a walk. A long one. I was trying to work off the calories. I got flushed…sunburned…poison ivy. I’ll explain it, okay? Don’t worry about me.” Breathless, she picked up her collar and thrust it at him. “Help me with this, will you? Please?”

He took it from her and held it for a moment in his hands while he gazed at her. Then he lifted it slowly and settled the two halves into place, one in front, one in back, once again entombing her neck-that lovely neck, with its vulnerable nape and elegant throat, vibrant pulses and petal-soft skin-in cushioned plastic. He felt as if he were strapping her in irons, or the guillotine.

“I don’t want you to go back,” he heard himself say. It was his voice, but not his voice. When had his voice scored his throat like shards of ground-up glass?

She was wriggling into her panties-not a dignified moment-but she froze and stared at him in confusion. “What are you talking about? Of course I have to go back. Considering what happened the last time I disappeared, they’d probably call the cops. Maybe have already.”

“No.” And his voice was firmer now-more his normal, confident, federal agent’s tone. “I mean, I don’t want you going back with Cisneros. It’s too dangerous. I’m pulling you out. Bringing you in. Whatever you want to call it. You’re no longer working for the Bureau-undercover or otherwise.”

At his first words her jaw dropped and her mouth opened. Unable to break in with her protest, she held it until