Reckless

“And two because this woman Althea needs to be stopped. You may be able to find her on your own. But finding her and capturing her are very different things. You can’t stop her alone. The CIA have resources.”

Tracy studied his face. The broken nose, the intense gray eyes. Cameron had beautiful eyes. There was something honest about them, the perfect complement to the matter-of-fact, direct way he expressed himself.

He’d be terribly easy to fall in love with, Tracy thought. If I were capable of falling in love again.

That was one roller coaster ride that was most definitely behind her. Thank heavens.

“What if I weren’t alone?” she said. “What if you helped me? What if we found her to

gether?”

Cameron laughed. “Me?”

“Why not? You have resources too, after all.”

“I have money. That’s not quite the same thing.”

“Sure it is. And anyway, it’s not only money. You have a vast network of contacts all over the world. Not just in the fracking industry but in politics, journalism, the charity sector. You know people.”

“Yes, but Tracy, I’m a businessman. I’m not a spy or a paramilitary. I don’t have the wherewithal to stop terrorists.”

“Six months ago I was a soccer mom,” Tracy reminded him.

“Hardly.” Cameron gave her a knowing look.

Tracy’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been researching me?”

“Maybe a little.” Cameron smiled sheepishly. “I liked what I found, though.”

“OK, so maybe I wasn’t your average soccer mom,” Tracy admitted. “But the point is I was a civilian. And now I’m not.”

“No,” Cameron agreed. “Now you’re not.”

“Please think about it. I know we could do it. We could find Althea and Hunter Drexel.”

“The world is out there looking for Hunter,” Cameron said. “What makes you think we could find him?”

“We have Sally Faiers. She trusts me and I think she’ll help me. Especially if Hunter wants to be found.”

“If he wanted to be found he’d have gotten into that helicopter,” Cameron said reasonably.

“Not if he thought the CIA might harm him. Or silence him. You and I are different. All we want is the truth. My bet is that’s exactly what Hunter Drexel’s been trying to do. Tell the truth. Remember, he was on his way to see you when he was kidnapped.”

“So?”

“So he had something he wanted to tell you. Or ask you. I’m guessing he still does.”

“It’s a theory,” Cameron said skeptically.

“Do you have a better one?” asked Tracy.

“I guess not.”

Cameron moved closer. Suddenly Tracy felt powerfully aware of their touching hands. The heat of Cameron’s body, its strength, its nearness. The sexual tension between them was electric and stifling at the same time, like a New Orleans thunderstorm about to break.

Sliding a hand around the back of Tracy’s neck, Cameron pulled her to him and kissed her. Not gently, like he had earlier, but forcefully and passionately. Tracy responded instinctively, losing herself in the moment. The kiss was an explosion, wild and urgent, as if they were both racing against an invisible clock. Reaching down, Cameron grabbed the hem of Tracy’s dress and yanked it up over her head in one fluid movement.

Tracy gasped, closing her eyes. His hands on her back felt heavenly, warm and rough. Doubt and fear and guilt all came flying at her like bullets whizzing through a jungle. But they all fell short of their target, melting into nothing against the raging heat of her desire. It was as if she’d descended, body and soul, into a thick, hot soup of longing. And she wanted nothing more than to drown.