All from the barest touch of her lips to his?
Maybe there was something to this Eastern control stuff after all.
Kat stepped back. “There,” she murmured. “That’s a proper beginning between us.”
Chapter 10
Shangri-La and its tempting Turner landscape were about a mile from the Valliard place on the same stretch of mansion-strewn beach. In daylight, the house-almost a parody of island architecture-would be a tacky flamingo color, with white plantation shutters galore. Tonight it was faintly peach in the moonlight. Kat studied the gaudy architecture and had to shake her head that anyone would build, let alone live in, something so garish.
She and Jeff had chosen to approach the mansion from the beach in extreme stealth, on the off chance that the Ghost was lurking nearby, casing the place. Hence, the two of them were crammed side by side in a hollow beneath a cluster of sharp-leaved palmettos, incidentally exchanging more information about their anatomies than she’d ever imagined possible completely clothed. Who’d have guessed a guy’s deltoids flexed like that when he propped a pair of binoculars in front of his nose? Or that a man’s thigh went quite that hard when a girl had to drape her leg over it while reaching into her waist pouch to retrieve a lens attachment for her surveillance camera.
“Having fun yet?” Jeff murmured.
Fun? This was like having a root canal without painkillers. It was so much easier to be out in the field with a bunch of women. None of these errant thoughts and sensations distracted her from the job at hand. Except she’d worked with men before, and this had never been a problem. It was definitely Jeff who messed her up like this.
Was he right? Was her life out of balance because it lacked real emotion?
Belatedly, she responded to his question in an undertone that wouldn’t carry more than a few feet. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call this fun. I feel naked without my sniper rig.”
He laughed under his breath. “Now there’s a line I’ve never heard on a date before. What’s the longest shot you’ve ever made?”
“Confirmed kill?”
“Yeah.”
“About thirteen hundred yards. But I mostly do short-range work.”
“Who’s the most famous person you’ve taken out?”
She looked over at him askance. “You keep score of such things?”
He grinned. “I’ve never been out on a date with a sniper. I’m not exactly sure how to engage in small talk with you.”
“Well, what do you talk about with the other women you date?”
“Ahh, darlin’. We don’t usually get around to doing much talking.”
If he’d had his night-vision goggles on at that moment, her face would have lit up bright white with embarrassed heat. And it obviously amused him. The cad.
He asked, “Don’t you ever feel like blowing off steam after a mission? A little hot, meaningless sex for the hell of it?”
Sex? Her? Not so much. It was too overwhelming. Too personal. Okay, fine. Too emotional. She replied dryly, “I go to the dojo and get in a hard workout if I need to burn off adrenaline. But usually I go someplace peaceful and green to meditate for a while.”
He tsked. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on. Adrenaline-pumped sex is incredible. You should try it sometime.”
She just shook her head. She could not believe she was out on a stakeout and having this conversation.
He continued, “When I come off a tough mission, I want to do something mindless and physical to remind myself that I’m still alive. I don’t know any guy who doesn’t want sex right after he came off a rough op. Maybe it’s a guy-girl difference.” He paused, then added, “Do all the Medusas meditate after missions?”
Kat suppressed a startled sound of laughter. “Not hardly. They go out and party. Or nowadays, they go home to their guys. I’m the only bachelor left in the bunch.”
“Why do you meditate instead of partying?”
“After I make a kill, I usually feel a need to re-center myself.”
Sounding mildly alarmed, he asked, “You don’t take kills personally, do you?”
“Not at all. If I didn’t do it, someone else would. I’m just the tool that carries out a decision made way above my pay grade.”
“What about when a mission goes to hell and you end up unexpectedly having to shoot your way out? Or hasn’t that happened to the Medusas?”
She answered wryly, “It’s happened more than once. Then it’s even simpler. In that scenario, it’s kill or be killed. You pull the trigger and you don’t think twice. I never look back from those kills.”
“I’ve got to say, I never thought a woman could take such a broad view of killing. I always assumed women wouldn’t get it.”
“You think we’re all wilting lilies who wring our hands over squishing a bug and have to ask a man to do it for us?”
He laughed under his breath. “Are you kidding? I’ve read my history. Some of the most violent soldiers in history have been women. Did you ever hear what Russian women did to German prisoners of war in World War II? It’s no wonder the Germans always saved one bullet for themselves.”
Kat was familiar with the Russian women’s practice of tying enemy soldiers to trees and whipping them until their innards wrapped around the trunk. Although after what the Nazis had done to the Soviet Union, she couldn’t blame the women for their rage.
She murmured, “Surely you talk with women a little bit about something besides killing when you’re out on a date with one. You know, normal stuff.”
She hoped she didn’t sound like she was fishing to find out what normal was. Even if that was exactly what she was doing. Jeff countered with, “What did you talk about on dates with boys when you were in high school or college?”
“I didn’t date in high school. Hidoshi-san didn’t pass away until I was seventeen. When I came to the States to go to college, I was so busy trying to bring my English up to speed and keep my grades up and adjust to the culture shock that I didn’t have much time for a social life.” And the few relationships she’d had with college boys had left her unimpressed with dating in general. The guys she’d gone out with didn’t have a fraction of her focus or drive, and she’d found them…frivolous.
“Why didn’t Hidoshi-san let you date?”
“Oh, he’d have let me date. But I was too busy training to spare the time for such silliness.”
“Wow. You must have been one mega-serious teenager.” He grinned over at her self-deprecatingly. “The same could not have been said about me. My high school teachers always harped at me about applying myself more. About all I applied myself to back then were sports and girls. And not necessarily in that order.”
She didn’t find that hard to believe. And yet, when the two of them had talked through possible plans for catching the Ghost, he was as focused as any operator she’d ever worked with. He seemed to subscribe to the theory of working hard and playing hard in about equal measure.
He asked, “Were you always so committed to your martial arts, even at a young age?”
“I started training when I could barely walk. I’ve done it hard-core my entire life. It’s who I am.”
“That’s a strong statement.”
“If you’re so determined to pursue a relationship with me, you need to believe me. My training runs bone deep. The physical aspects, the mental aspects, the ancient code of honor-all of it.”
“Why did you choose the martial arts as your framework for self-definition?”
She turned her head to stare at him.
He shrugged. “So, sue me. I was a psychology minor in college.”
Great. She’d fallen for an amateur shrink. She sure could pick ’em. His question was insightful, though. She
