Medusa’s Master

Nothing that won’t recover. Except maybe my ego. Sometime I want to go one-on-one with you on a mat…when I’m prepared for you to jump me.”

She grinned impishly. “It won’t help. I’ll still win.”

He laughed. “Oh, really? Care to place a small wager on that?”

Finally. A natural response to her that he might give to one of his male counterparts. She smiled. “Anytime, any place, big guy. Name your bet.”

Chapter 4

When the check came, Kat reached for her purse.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jeff growled. “My mother would tan my hide if she caught me inviting a woman out and then not paying for the date.”

Kat started. This hadn’t been a date-had it? Sure, there’d been romantic candlelight and the ocean and the sexy guy, of course. But a date? She didn’t do dates. She had no time for them.

Wary, she watched as he stood up and came around behind her chair to hold it for her. His fingertips trailed lightly along her bare shoulder, sending shivers shooting through her. Oh, God. He’d given her goose bumps. She silently prayed he wouldn’t notice her reaction to his touch.

“Can I tempt you into a walk along the beach?”

She hesitated to accept the offer. Whatever was happening between them was moving far too fast, slipping out of her control. Caution and control-those had been her mantras her whole life, and they’d never let her down so far.

Jeff coaxed, “I’m pretty sure it’s a felony to visit a tropical paradise and not walk on the beach by moonlight.”

Caution, indeed. This guy was a runaway freight train! “Jeff-” she started.

He effectively cut off her protest by pulling her seat back and cupping her elbow lightly. Caution and control fluttered away on a warm breeze that smelled of salt air and mystery. One touch from this guy and so much for a lifetime of training. She mentally shook her head in disgust at herself since Hidoshi wasn’t there to do it for her.

“Why so quiet all of a sudden?” Jeff asked as they headed toward the water.

She glanced over at him, surprised. “I’m always quiet.”

“You don’t say much, but I can hear you thinking most of the time.”

Startled, she stopped in the act of bending down to kick off her high-heeled sandals. “How?”

“I suppose I’m reading body language. Your eyes are always moving, you’re always assessing everything and everyone around you.”

“Like you’re not? All special operators do that as a matter of habit.”

He shrugged. “It’s more than a habit with you. It’s like you’re always waiting for the next attack. You don’t always have to be on duty, you know.”

She stopped. Turned to face him. The moonlight sculpted his features in pale relief. The man had definitely hit the jackpot in the genetic lottery of looks. “It’s not about being on duty or off. This is who I am.”

If it was possible for a marble statue to convey skepticism, he did so then, staring down at her for a long time in silence. Finally, he said, “You mean to tell me you have no feelings? No desires? No personal life? Just the job?”

Frustration roiled through her. Of course she had those things. But they were private. To be kept to oneself. Never on display for others to see. “I am not, at heart, American. I am Asian. Old school.”

“What does that mean?”

“I was taught not to wear my emotions on my sleeve as you Americans do. I was taught to be…” She didn’t know what word to use next. Refined? That would insult him by implying that Americans were coarse. Restrained? That sounded like she hog-tied her feelings and totally denied them. Repressed? Probably accurate, but not exactly something she liked owning up to.

“Kiss me,” he ordered abruptly.

Rattled to her core, she sputtered, “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. I’m not convinced you actually have any emotions at all. Prove it.”

“By kissing you?”

“By kissing me.” He braced his feet in the sand, his expression implacable as he stared down at her.

“This is ridiculous. I’m not letting you double-dare me into kissing you like a couple of kids in the schoolyard.”

“Ahh. So you’re a coward, too,” he commented blandly. “I wouldn’t have guessed it. I pegged you for more courage than that.”

Courage? He dared to question her courage? “Is this the part where I fling myself at you and kiss your lights out to prove how brave and emotional I am?” she retorted scornfully.

“It would help. I’m beginning to have serious doubts over whether or not a heart beats inside your chest or if there’s only a robot ticking in there. Which is it?”

Hurt streaked through her. After all his talk of Cupid’s Bolt and destiny, how could he say something like that? She whispered, mostly to herself, “Sometimes I ask myself the same question.”

He stepped forward so quickly she had no time to evade him. Or maybe something deep inside her didn’t want to evade him. Either way, his arms came around her gently, wrapping her in the warmth and shelter of his body. “Ahh, baby, I’ve looked into your soul. You’re all woman in there. You just have to learn to let her out.”

Easier said than done. A lifetime of teaching said to do otherwise.

Jeff murmured, “It’s not hard. Watch. Like this.”

And before she knew what was happening, he’d put his finger under her chin and lifted her mouth to meet his. Shock ripped through her, followed by a melting warmth that all but buckled her legs out from under her. It was an innocent enough kiss, just his lips, warm and firm and gentle on hers. No demands, no invasions, no assertion of macho dominance. And it was all the more seductive for the lack of aggression.

His hair was silky beneath her fingers-how in bloody hell did her hands get around his neck and into his hair? As quickly as the question exploded in her brain, the answer followed, a soft sigh of surrender deep in her soul. Who cared how they got there? The fact was her arms were twined around his neck, her breasts pressed intimately against his chest, his belt buckle jabbing her belly, his muscular thigh rubbing the junction of her thighs as his right arm drew her up more tightly against him.

Oh, my. He felt so…right.

His left hand slid under the weight of her hair at her neck, cupping her head as he sipped at her, kissing and nibbling until a foreign irritation built low in her gut, a driving need for more-more of his touch, more of his mouth and hands upon her, more skin on skin, more everything.

She raised up on tiptoe, her mouth opening beneath his, her kisses abruptly-and wholly independent of her will-eager and demanding. Something wild within her wanted more than a hint of this unleashed man. She wanted his passion, his body; heck, his soul.

Jeff broke off the kiss, thankfully panting as hard as she was. It was with extreme reluctance that she let him go. Only the threat of seeming obsessive and clingy unwound her arms from around his neck. But damn if her palms didn’t land on his chest, measuring the bulge of his pectorals. A whole lot of push-ups had gone into those.

“See, Kat? There’s a passionate woman in there, waiting to get out.” He spoke lightly, but she guessed at the effort that carefree tone took.

His arms fell away and she stumbled back in the deep sand, appalled. She’d just kissed her boss. With tongue. While squirming against him like a cat in heat.

She swore long and hard at herself in every language she knew.

They stood there an embarrassingly long time, both catching their breath and staring at one another in varying degrees of shock. He looked as shaken by what had just happened as she was. Her thoughts spun frantically. Was that a good sign or a bad sign? Had she been a terrible kisser? Was he having second thoughts about his Cupid’s