The Rogue's Fortune

“There’s nothing complicated about what happened between us last night.”

She gave him a you-have-to-be-kidding look. “Maybe not for you, but I have a bad habit of getting in too deep with men like you.”

“Men like me?” Her generalization ignited his irritation. “What sort of man am I?”

“The sort who likes to take off without warning and views commitment like one step up from death.”

He had no way to refute her claim. “And you want stability.”

“More than that, I need to feel connected. To have someone I can count on. A year ago I lost my sister, her husband and my niece. They were killed in a car accident. She was my best friend. We talked every day. It’s like a piece of my heart was cut out. Being alone is so hard. I’m afraid I’ll start to rely on you and soon you’ll be gone.”

The pain throbbing in her voice lanced through him. He remembered the day his CO had informed him a call had come in while he was on training maneuvers. A thousand miles away his mother had died, alone and miserable because her only son had abandoned her.

“Of course I understand.” How could he not. He had his own issues with letting people get too close.

Which left him with a conundrum. Making love with Elizabeth had been fantastic. He wasn’t ready to give her up just because they wanted different things.

“Of course, now that we’ve slept together,” she continued, “I’m almost guaranteed to start wanting more. It would be less of a problem if I wasn’t so attracted to you or if you’d sucked in bed.”

His mood lightened at her admission. “Then what would you suggest?”

She grimaced. “Just give me a little space to sort everything out. Get my head on straight.”

“How much space?” He wanted her again. Now. He thundered with the craving to snatch her into his arms and plunder her mouth, to strip her bare and sink into her warmth. Hearing her admit that she had little defense against the chemistry between them was a powerful aphrodisiac.

“A few days.”

“We have the Children’s Hospital benefit to attend tomorrow night.”

“Oh, right.” She eyed him solemnly. “Can I count on you to keep your displays of affection strictly PG?”

He grinned. “Only if you promise to do the same.”

Seven

“And this one?” Elizabeth drew the tip of her finger along a three-inch scar that transected Roark’s right rib cage.

“An alley in Cairo.” For the past hour she’d been cataloging all the damage done to his body, most of it in pursuit of antiquities, and Roark had explained every wound in the same matter-of-fact tone. “I’d gone there to get some information from a guy and ran into a competitor of mine instead.”

It was close to midnight. Roark lounged in the middle of her bed, hands behind his head, lips quirked in a wry grin, his naked body laid out for her perusal. At the Children’s Hospital benefit this evening he’d been respectful of her space just as he promised. No breath-stealing kisses. No provocative flirting. Just routine public displays of affection. His hand around her waist. His lips grazing her cheek.

And every second she’d grown more jittery with yearning. She knew he was bad for her, but her body betrayed her with every heartbeat.

“Dangerous business you’re in.” Her voice grated like a spoon caught in a garbage disposal. She couldn’t match his nonchalance. She’d counted fifteen scars, nine from knives, five from bullets and one from a cigarette. “What happens when your luck runs out?”

“Who said anything about luck? I was trained by Master Li in Wing Chun and by the marines. I’m the Jackie Chan of treasure hunters.”

She knew he was trying to lighten her mood, but now that she’d seen just how perilous his business could be, she was gripped by a familiar fear. Let it go. He’s not yours to worry about.

“And if you’re ambushed by ten burly men?”

“I’d run like hell to safety.” Roark sat up and wrapped his arm around her waist. His free hand tangled in her hair, trapping her. His gray-green eyes had gone serious as he stared at her. “I’m smart enough to know when the odds are against me.”

Her heart clenched. She wanted to kiss him hard and long, until the ache in her chest faded, but losing herself in passion would only stave off anxiety. It didn’t solve anything. Hadn’t she learned that?

She tried a laugh, but it sounded hollow. “I believe you think you’re smart enough.” She gasped as Roark’s teeth grazed her neck. “I’m just not sure you know when to give up.”

He tumbled her backward and let his weight push her into the mattress. Her fingers drilled into his hair. The texture was as soft and wonderful as she’d once imagined it would be and addictive as hell. So were his kisses. And the slide of his body into hers.