Kiss and Tell by Cherry Adair Page B

point in both of us getting cold and wet again, is there?"
    His eyes were slits of annoyance. "I said I'd take you."
    She poured water into the well, then set the carafe in its slot and turned the coffeemaker on. "No, thanks. I seem to do better when you're not around."
    He scowled. The skin over his cheekbones stretched taut. "What does that mean?"
    "I'm still hungry. Want some chili?"
    "No." Frustration ate at him like a canker.
    Her dog rose and ambled over to her side. The dog got its ears fondled. Jake bit back a nasty crack. He was jealous of her pet. Unfortunately he was now intimately acquainted with the feel of those slender fingers. On him. All over him. He wanted more. He wanted it all.
    He was a fool.
    It wasn't her fault she was desirable. It wasn't her concern he couldn't have her. Would never have her. He'd made the rules years ago. No more blondes.
    For a few glorious, earth-shattering minutes, he'd forgotten and allowed his hunger for her to eclipse reason. She'd been perfect in his arms, everything he dreamed a woman could be.
    His dream and his nightmare.
    Almost too late he'd remembered Dolan's First Law of Survival.
    He'd remembered about a second before he would have plunged himself into the hot wet center of her. He'd had to use considerable willpower and tooth-grinding control to refuse her offer.
    Which was why he stayed the hell away from her type. Far away. He had a negative history with fluffy blondes. Six years ago one had put paid to that craving. The ingredients had been a South American jungle, an out-of-place blond "journalist," and a sharp knife. He'd found out too late that the fragile blonde belonged to the leader of the particular little band of terrorists Jake was attempting to round up.
    She'd been sent to distract him.
    She'd been good. Damn good.
    He'd fallen for the bait like a rank amateur. The terrorists had covered their tracks and split while he nursed his bruised balls and sliced trachea. His best friend had died saving his life.
    Jake had never stopped looking for the son of a bitch responsible. Every insertion, every operation, Jake kept his eyes and ears open for news of Dancer or information of a sighting.
    He hadn't believed much in love before Soledad.
    His belief in it after her was nonexistent.
    The memory had put him off soft, delicate little blondes for life. It had done a number on his general trust indicator, too. To hell with logic – in his mind, blondes had become synonymous with pain, mayhem, and death.
    And while Jake liked sex as much as the next man, he could control his urges until the appropriate time and place with the appropriate woman. Someone a hell of a lot less dangerous to his equilibrium than this deliciously scented time bomb.
    "You sure?" Marnie asked, blue eyes heavy-lidded and sexy as sin. Her sweet little nipples peaked seductively under red fleece.
    "Damn straight I'm sure," he bit out a second before he realized she was referring to the chili she'd offered, not listening in on his mental trip down memory lane. Her skin looked as soft as it felt. Petal soft and silky, scented with the aphrodisiac fragrance of her arousal. He could still smell it.
    Sexual frustration clawed at his gut. He had several choices: use the booze to interrupt the circuit from his brain to his groin, take care of the problem himself, or get the hell away from her as fast as possible.
    "I'm going out."
    "Ookay."
    Duchess danced around the counter, tail wagging. She sat before him, head cocked, eyes alert. She whined, seeming to be saying, Poor sap . Which was a fitting end to the last few miserable hours. Jake leaned down to snag his jacket from the floor. They'd pushed it off the counter when they'd been grappling.
    He shook his head. Dumb bastard.
    "Make yourself at home," he said sourly, dragging on his damp jacket, trying not to trip over her dog. There wasn't anything Marnie could find while he was gone that he didn't want any stranger to discover. He was a careful