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  Actual tears sparkled in her eyes, tugging at his heart. "Of course not, angel face."

  "You're such a liar, Jess." She shoved at the solid wall of his chest again. "Let go of me. I mean it. Right now."

  "Not like this, Saber. We've never had a fight before and I don't want to start now."

  For a moment she stayed stiff, holding herself away from him, but she couldn't stay angry with Jess. With a small sigh, Saber lay back against him, the tension draining out of her. His arms were the only place she ever felt safe. The darkness was everywhere, waiting, watching. She could almost hear it breathing, waiting for her to climb the stairs and go to her lonely room.

  She couldn't remember clearly the first time Jess had pulled her onto his lap, probably after one of his outrageous races, but it had always been the same. The moment his arms closed around her, she felt as if she never wanted to leave. Maybe that was why she'd allowed their relationship to go so far. It was why she'd stayed too long and taken too many chances. She couldn't bear the thought of walking away from him, and that made her just plain stupid.

  "So, are you going to hide from me or are you going to accept my apology?" His chin rubbed the top of her hair.

  "If that's the way you apologize," she sniffed indignantly, "I'm not sure I will ever forgive you. I don't like what you think of me."

  "I think the world of you, and you know it." He tugged at a particularly intriguing curl. "Is, 'I'm sorry,' good enough?"

  "I hope we never get into a really serious fight." Saber slapped at his hand, but she was more irritated at herself than him. She could stay right where she was forever, just inhaling him, feeling the muscles of his body and the warmth of him spreading through her with a luxurious heat she'd never known before.

  He laughed softly, the sound feathering down her spine like the cool touch of fingers.

  Instantly Saber lifted her head, horrified at the disturbing sensations in her body. "I'd better go upstairs, Jesse, and let you get some sleep." Because if she didn't get away from him, she might make a fool of herself and give in to the urge to feather kisses up and down his throat and over his jaw and find his oh-so-disturbing mouth...She jumped up, her heart pounding.

  Reluctantly he allowed her to escape. "I know you better than that, baby; you'll go upstairs and keep me up all night with your ridiculous pacing. Go get your bathing suit on, we can go swimming."

  Her face lit up. "You mean it?"

  "Go," he ordered.

  She walked across the hardwood floor to the bottom of the stairs and paused to look back at him. In the dim light he could see her perfect profile, breasts thrusting invitingly against the thin material of her pale blouse. His body tightened even more, hardened into a painful, familiar ache that wasn't going to go away anytime soon. Jess cursed beneath his breath, knowing he would spend another endless night, like so many others, craving the feel of her soft skin and haunting blue eyes. He'd never had a reaction to a woman the way he did to Saber. He couldn't keep her out of his mind, and if she was anywhere near, his body hit overdrive in seconds.

  Hell, she didn't even have to be near to him. The sound of her voice over the radio, her scent lingering in the air, her laughter, and God help him, just the thought of her turned his body into one painful ache.

  "Thanks, Jesse, I knew you wouldn't let me down. I don't know what I'd do without you."

  He watched her walk up the stairs, thinking about her words. It was the second time she had made that statement to him tonight. And there had been a new note in her voice. Wondering? Was she finally noticing he was more than a man in a wheelchair? That wasn't fair; half the time she didn't seem to notice the wheelchair, but she didn't seem to notice the man either.

  He ached for her, fantasized about her, dreamed about her. Sooner or later he was going to have to claim her. Ten months was long enough to know she was wrapped inextricably around his heart. He might be in a wheelchair, his legs useless below the knees, but everything above was in top working order, demanding satisfaction, demanding Saber Wynter.

  He sighed aloud. She had no idea she had knocked at the devil's door and he'd invited her in. He had no intention of giving her up.

  Saber turned on every lamp on her way through her sitting room to her bedroom. She stood at the window, staring up at the stars. What was happening to her? Jess had taken her in--against his better judgment, she was certain. They had become best friends almost immediately. They liked the same movies, the same music, they talked for hours about everything, anything. She laughed with Jess. She could be the real Saber Winter with Jess. Outrageous, sad, happy, it never seemed to matter to him what she said or did--he simply accepted her.

  Lately she had been so restless, lying in bed thinking of him, of his smile, the sound of his laughter, the width of his shoulders. He was a handsome, athletic man, wheelchair or not. And living in such close proximity to him often made her forget the wheelchair completely. He was totally self-sufficient, cooking for himself, dressing himself, driving himself all over town. He bowled, played Ping-Pong, and every day without fail, he lifted weights and went swimming. She had seen his body. It was that of a top athlete. His arm muscles were so developed he could barely touch his fingertips to his shoulders; his biceps kept bumping. Jess had told her the nerves below his knees had been damaged severely, and were irreparable.

  He disappeared for hours into his office, the one room she never went into, and he kept it locked up tight. She'd caught glimpses of high-end computer equipment, and she knew he liked gadgets, that he had been in the Navy--a SEAL team--and still received countless calls from his friends, but he kept that part of his life away from her and it was just as well.

  Did he think of women? They certainly thought of him. She had seen dozens of women flirting with him. And why not? Good looking, wealthy, talented, the sweetest man in Wyoming, Jess was a great catch for anyone. He owned the local radio station where she worked, and he did other things as well, things he wasn't so forthcoming about, but it mattered little to her. She just wanted to be close to him.

  Her fist closed over her lacy curtain, bunching material in her fist. Why was she thinking these stupid thoughts about a man she could never have? She didn't deserve to be with a man like Jess Calhoun. He never complained, never talked down to her. He was arrogant, used to being obeyed, no question about it, but he always made her feel special. He was exceptional, extraordinary, and she was...she was going to have to leave soon.

  Idly, she let her gaze stray to the road. For a moment her heart stopped. A car was parked in the trees just beyond the security gates. A tiny red circle glowed brightly as the occupant inhaled on a cigarette. Everything in her froze, became utterly still, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart began to race and her fingers twisted the material of the curtains until her knuckles turned white.

  Then she could see the couple necking, the man struggling to hang on to his girl and the lit cigarette. Most of the tension slipped from her body. Of course. This was a perfect parking place, a dead-end road.

  Ten months ago, Saber had turned down that same road thinking she would avoid people. She had actually camped on Jess's property for a few days before it got so cold she was certain she would freeze to death. That was before he had installed the security gates and the high, fancy fence.

  Had he done that for her, because she was almost always nervous those first two months, before Jess had made her feel as if he could keep her safe from the entire world? Or was there some reason he felt the need for security?

  Saber sighed as she dropped the curtain back in place. Did Jess see far more than he should? Was he aware that for all her crazy antics and bravado, she was really afraid all the time?

  Thoughtfully, she peeled off her black denim jeans and pale lime blouse, perfect attire for one of Larry's favorite dining holes. "A hundred and fifty dollars," she sniffed indignantly, aloud. "He's such a liar. The meal didn't cost more than a can of dog food. Who does he think he's kidding?"

 
; She pulled on her one-piece charcoal gray and salmon bathing suit. It hugged her breasts, emphasizing her narrow rib cage and small waist, rode high in a French cut over her small hips. Saber raked a hand through the thick mass of raven curls, yet carefully avoided the sight in the mirror. Hastily she donned a T-shirt, caught up a towel, and hurried down the stairs to join Jess.

  Subject Winter. Put in a situation where dispatching the problem would solve it, subject chose to call for aid. In the few short months she has been with Subject Calhoun, she has lost her edge. She spotted me, yet was fooled because she wanted to be fooled. She grows weaker as time passes, her training forgotten as she is lulled into a false sense of security. A few more weeks and we should be able to reacquire her without much trouble or risk. I was able to introduce the virus into her system and it should begin to work almost immediately. At that time I may gain entry to Subject Calhoun's premises. He is much more difficult, alert all the time.

  "What are you muttering about?" The woman sitting beside him had been applying her lipstick in the rearview mirror as he dictated.

  He glanced once more up at the empty window before turning to look at her with a cold smile. "You aren't finished yet." He unzipped his pants and dragged them down, catching her by the nape of her neck. "Let's see if you can earn all that money you're charging me."

  He turned up the music and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes as she went to work on him. He blew a circle of smoke and crushed out his cigarette, allowing the rush to overcome him. It was an amazingly powerful feeling to sit back and enjoy her, knowing it would be the last thing she ever did. Knowing she worked and worked to please him, thinking she would be getting such a lovely tip, and instead...

  He moaned and forced himself deeper, holding her head even when she tried to struggle, forcing her to accept all of him, forcing her to clean him up before he took her head into his hands and, smiling, broke her neck.

  CHAPTER 2

  The indoor pool was warm and inviting, lights dim, casting intriguing shadows on the tiled walls. A mosaic of trees with shimmering silver leaves crept up to the ceiling, woven into the pattern of the cool mint tiles. From the doorway, Saber waved to Jess and watched him slide silently into the water, the muscles in his arms bulging with strength. His skin gleamed a deep bronze, dark hair tangling over the heavy muscles of his chest and angling down his ridged abdomen to disappear into blue swimming trunks.

  He definitely had a body on him. She stared at him often, although she tried not to, and she knew every defined muscle. When he moved, it was with total grace. He was always alert and ready, yet still when he was at rest, unlike her. She fidgeted, always moving, always wary of standing in one spot.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she watched him glide through the water. He reminded her of a sleek, powerful predator, silent, deadly, moving with deceptive laziness as he cut through the water.

  Saber couldn't take her eyes from him, watching the power in him. He'd never told her what had happened to his legs, but the scars were still red and raw and the doctors visited him often. She knew he'd had numerous operations, but it wasn't something he ever discussed. He worked out and he went to a physical therapist daily. He excelled at swimming. Once, he'd stayed under so long, she'd dived in, terrified he'd drowned, only to have him scare her by grabbing her around the waist and tossing her to the surface. No wonder he'd been a Navy SEAL; he was more at home in the water than out of it.

  When Jess halted, using powerful arms to tread water, Saber dropped her towel on the deck and dove in, not wanting him to catch her staring at him.

  Jess dove right after her and met her beneath the water. His hands spanned her waist and shot her to the surface. She erupted from the water laughing, came down, eluding his outstretched hands, and dove beneath him. They played an energetic game of tag and football. Saber was the football. They raced, tried a strange form of water ballet, and finally ended up clinging to the bars that ran the full length of the pool.

  Breathless, her eyes dancing, Saber wiped droplets of water from her face. "This was a great idea, Jess."

  He hooked one arm around the metal bar and lay lazily floating, buoyed by the water. "I always have great ideas. You should know that by now." He sounded impossibly arrogant.

  She sent a jet of water at his smug, grinning face, squealed, and dove to the center of the pool when he retaliated. By the time she had surfaced he was sitting at the water's edge striving for innocence.

  Her heart jumped just looking at him. His smile. His laughter. The way his eyes lit up. How could she have ever gotten so lucky as to find him? She sent another column of water shooting toward him, then turned and swam away. She spent several minutes doing hard, fast laps, driving herself, trying to push her body into fatigue.

  Jess settled into the hot tub and turned on the jets, allowing the water to massage his damaged legs. He sat in silence and watched her small body cut efficiently through the water. Strangely, when she swam, his body always went on alert, every sense flaring into self-preservation mode. She was a beautiful swimmer. She moved with the rhythm of a ballerina, silently and gracefully. He knew she had fast reflexes. He'd even tested them a time or two, simply because of this--the way she swam.

  When she allowed herself to forget he was near, she swam fast like a racer, but when he'd asked if she'd ever competed, she'd flicked him a glance of such utter disdain that when one second later she'd laughed and said of course, he knew she was lying to him.

  He should have used that--added it to the things he knew about her and continued to search for her true identity. She had a valid driver's license, but her prints didn't match the prints in the system. Not even close. He wiped his face with the towel and continued to watch her perfect form. It was mesmerizing to see the way she shot beneath the water as she made the turn, gliding half the distance to the other side before surfacing to stroke. Not a single sound gave her presence away, even as she surfaced, and that was more than fascinating to him. He practically lived in water, and just how could she be so completely silent?

  Saber. He played with her name in his mind. A sword--for justice? She'd taken the name, obviously. And where did Wynter fit in? Things just didn't add up with his roommate, yet he couldn't bring himself to put his team on it. He sighed as he watched her surface again, looking first at the shimmering leaves on the tiles and then up at the ceiling.

  She looked so exotic, yet innocent. She was thin, but there was muscle beneath that smooth skin. She turned her head and found him--and smiled. God. It hit him like a punch in the gut. His body immediately heated, blood rushing, centering in his groin, until he thought he might burst with need. The wariness was ingrained in her--those violet-blue eyes, so unusual, so haunted, were always restless, searching for an enemy.

  He knew part of the reason she relaxed with him was because he was in a wheelchair and she didn't perceive him as a threat. It wasn't that she didn't see--or recognize--the predator in him; she simply didn't believe the threat existed any longer.

  "Are you going to swim all night?"

  "I'm thinking about it," she conceded. "It's this or the hot tub."

  "I feel compelled to point out the hot tub is much warmer and that you're turning blue. The color looks good on you though, it goes with your eyes."

  She laughed, the way he knew she would. He loved that he could make her laugh--really laugh. Genuine and happy. It had taken months of patience, but she had finally let him in, just a little bit. She trusted him. But maybe she shouldn't. She had a false impression of who and what he was, but he wasn't about to scare her off by showing her the real Jess Calhoun. She could believe this life, the radio station, the songwriting. The man who treated her gently.

  Saber climbed the ladder, shivered, and hurried to the hot tub, taking a seat opposite him. "I didn't realize I was so cold."

  That was another thing he'd noticed about Saber--she ignored her comfort level, even pain, as if she could block sensation for long periods of ti
me.

  "Where'd you meet Larry?" Because he was going to have a few words with the man. "What's his last name and where does he work?"

  She made a face. "He's a bartender, and believe me, Jesse, he's not worth the trouble, so back it on down and forget the whole thing. It was my own fault anyway." She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. "I don't know why I do half the things I do. Going out with Larry was a bad idea and entirely my fault."

  "Why did you go out with him?"

  She looked relaxed, something Saber rarely did. She was in constant motion, like a hummingbird. Her hands were always restless. She skipped or danced across a room rather than walked. Sometimes she'd leap over the furniture--she'd even cleared the couch one day, and it was longer and wider than most. She was a puzzle he couldn't quite figure out.

  Saber opened her eyes to look at him through the rising steam.

  Because of you. She went out with utterly rotten cads because she didn't dare fall in love with Jesse. That was so lame--so stupid. She couldn't have someone decent, so she went out with men knowing she couldn't hurt them--ever. She would never hurt an innocent.

  She didn't have time to censor her thoughts. Not even to herself had she ever admitted that she couldn't look at him anymore without wanting him. She wanted to trace every line in his face, memorize the shape and texture of his mouth, slide her fingers through that wealth of beautiful hair that fell haphazardly in all directions. She couldn't close her eyes and not have him in her mind. She smelled him in every room. When she inhaled, he was there, drawn so deeply into her lungs that she felt possessed by him.

  Afraid he might read too much on her face, she looked away from him, studying the tiled mural. "Who knows why I do anything I do, Jesse."

  He didn't have the ability to read minds. She had spoken telepathically to him. Every cell in his body went on alert. Her words were clear, absolutely clear in his mind. Because of you. She was capable of projecting her thoughts into his head. Not only had she been clear, she had done it easily, with no energy spills at all, no surge of power to give her away. Never once in ten months of living with him had she slipped up. Not one time. And that spoke of specialized training--not merely specialized; it took rigid discipline to be good enough to go undercover and never make a mistake. He wasn't going to buy it that she just happened to find his home, find him, and be trained in telepathic communication. God. Jesus. He couldn't bear it if she was undercover playing him for a fool.