Author: Jaci Burton

“Are you listening to me at all, Mac? Are you hearing what I’m saying? I am competent, goddamit. I am not some air headed idiot who needed protecting. And where’s the vial?”

Once he had the jacket off, she zeroed in on the dark stain on his arm and a river of blood pouring off the ends of his fingers. Any anger she felt dissipated in a rush of panic and concern.

“Oh. shit. You were shot?” She rushed over and began to pull up his shirt.

“I’m fine,” he said, but he didn’t try to stop her.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Bullet just grazed me.”

Her gaze rocketed to his. “Oh, and you’re some kind of psychic doctor, I suppose. How do you know?”

He shrugged. “I’ve been shot a few times. I know.”

She shuddered at the thought. “Spare me the details.

Let’s get this shirt off.” She drew the shirt over his head, then peeled it gently away from his shoulder, taking special care when she pulled the fabric down his injured arm.

“We need more light.” She looked around the campground, spotting a grey brick building with a single overhead light a short distance away. Bathroom. “Have you got a first aid kit in the bike?”

“Yeah. Left saddlebag.”

She hurried over and fumbled through the bag, found the first aid kit and a flashlight, then pushed him toward the bathroom. The light switch revealed a dim bulb hanging from the ceiling. Thankfully there was a wink and paper towels in there.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing him toward the wooden bench next to the shower.

“Bossy,” he teased, grinning up at her.

Ignoring him, she wet some paper towels, turned on the flashlight and placed it on the edge of the sink so it was pointing toward his arm. She cleaned the wound, wiping away the blood so she could get a look at the injury.

Like he said, it was a graze. Mean looking and about three inches long, but not deep enough to need stitches. He was lucky the bullet had barely scraped the flesh of his arm. She cleaned it, applied pressure until the bleeding stopped and after spreading some antibacterial ointment on it, placed a bandage over the wound.

The hot rush of adrenaline she’d felt after she’d seen the blood dripping down his arm calmed somewhat. She was surprised at the fear she’d felt seeing him bleeding like that, having long ago convinced herself she was immune to ever having feelings for Mac Canfield again. She should have known better than to think he would ever mean less to her. She sighed.

“You’re going to be fine,” she said, pushing her emotions deep as she cleaned everything up and turned to him.

“I could have told you that.” He stood. “But thank you anyway.”

“You’re welcome.”

Mac couldn’t believe the woman standing in front of him. The one who’d faced down a barrage of bullets, hopped on the back of his bike for a quick escape, then yelled at him because he’d prevented her from diving for her own gun.

She sure as hell wasn’t the same Lily West he’d known so many years ago. That girl had been sweet and gentle and fragile. The woman who stood in front of him now looked similar, though obviously more grown up. And a hell of a lot tougher. Curvier too, with low slung jeans hugging her hips, a snug-fitting polo shirt that accentuated fuller breasts and a slender waist. But what was completely unrecognizable was her attitude.

She stared at him, not speaking. Hell, he didn’t know what to say. She licked her lips and he followed the track of her little pink tongue swiping across her full bottom lip.

His gaze went from her mouth to her eyes and the past mingled with the present.

God, she really was here. He moved toward her and she took a step back, stopping when she hit the wall. But her gaze never left his. Even in the darkened bathroom the look she gave him was unmistakable. She was thinking the same thing he was.

Ten years ago. The heat between them. The fact they’d just been shot at a little while ago.

Aw, fuck it. He never was much good at thinking things through. He braced his hands on either side of her head and moved in closer, crowding her.

“Your arm,” she said, looking at the bandage, then back at him.

“Is fine.”

Her lips were still parted and he heard her breathing.

Rapid little pants in and out, like she was having trouble catching her breath. But this time she wasn’t pushing at him to let her go.

“Mac,” she whispered, whether in warning or invitation he didn’t know.

Before it became a denial spilling from her lips, he slanted his mouth over hers and took possession.

Chapter Two

Mac drank in the sound of Lily’s whimper, adding a groan of his own.

A thousand reasons why he shouldn’t be doing this fired through his brain. He shut them out. Fuck them all. He was doing this. She wasn’t a young girl anymore. She was an adult. And until and unless she said no, he was barreling full steam ahead.

Christ, she tasted good. Hot and sweet and wet. He shifted, wrapping his uninjured arm around her back to pull her against his body. He rimmed her lips with his tongue, then slid it between her teeth to find hers, lapping against the velvet softness. And she wasn’t saying no. Not with the way her body sank into his.

Lily palmed his chest, smoothing her warm hands over his skin. He couldn’t think rationally, just wanted her naked against him. He skimmed her belly, feeling the muscles there quiver while he lifted her shirt and jerked it over her head. A sexy little black bra barely contained her breasts. He traced the swells where they dipped into the satin enclosure. She shuddered.

Her eyes—soft, wide pools of dark blue—registered surprise. He’d always loved her eyes. They told him so much about what she was thinking.

Don’t say a word, he pleaded mentally. He didn’t want anything to stop this.

She didn’t speak, instead grabbed his belt buckle and unhooked it, then released the snap from his jeans. His breath came out in short rasps as she drew the zipper down and slid her hand inside, wrapping her cool fingers around his heated cock.

He pulsed against her hand, surging forward, loving the feel of her skin against his. But he wanted more. So much more. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the scent of her, drawing his tongue along the column of her throat.

He remembered the taste of her, like an intoxicant entering his blood stream, drugging him into a wild frenzy of untapped lust. He skimmed her flesh, sliding his fingers into her jeans.

The scent of her filled the air around them, a heady, potent aphrodisiac. He already knew how she’d taste and he wanted that sweet honey on his tongue.

Christ, he wanted it all and right now. It had been too damn long.

“Wait. Stop. Mac, stop.”

His motor was running, his engine revving in high gear, and she wanted to slam on the brakes?

Shit. He slowed down, withdrew his hand from her pants and pulled back, studying at her eyes. Eyes that spoke volumes, that read no. No, no, and no.

“What’s wrong?”

“We can’t do this. I can’t do this.” She released her sweet, tight grip on his cock and started fixing her disheveled clothes.

Ah, hell. She was probably right, though his throbbing dick wanted to argue the point in a big way. He shoved it in his jeans and zipped up, staying silent while he gathered his composure, trying to figure out why the wildcat in his arms had suddenly tucked its tail and run.

Where had his common sense gone? One look, one whiff of her scent and he was off and running at high speed. He was on a case, not on vacation. This wasn’t the time to pursue Lily, to take up where they’d left off ten years ago. He had a ton of questions. Like who she was now and why she’d been at the museum.

“Okay, we won’t do this. If you’d rather talk than fuck, I have questions,” he said. “Why were you at the museum tonight?”

She whirled on him, the heat, the passion of a few moments ago gone from her eyes, replaced by a cold hardness.

“No. I have questions for you. And I’m not saying a damn thing until I get answers to my questions first.”

So much for warmth and sex. He felt every bit of the chill in the night air. Or maybe that was coming from Lily, who’d definitely turned on the cold, hard freeze. “Then I guess we’re not going to have much to say to each other, because I can’t tell you anything.”

She crossed her arms. “Ditto.”

Shit. He couldn’t exactly hold Lily captive without explaining why, but he sure as hell couldn’t reveal who he worked for and why he’d stolen the vial. Which meant she was going to believe he was still a thief. He hated that, but it was how it had to be.

Wild Riders was a secret. No one outside their organization knew they even existed. Hell, their own government didn’t even know. And it had to stay that way, which meant he’d have to lie to Lily.

Again. Just like ten years ago, when he told her didn’t care about her, didn’t love her, didn’t want her in his life.

And just like ten years ago, she was going to hate him.

Lily waited for Mac to say something, anything. Tell her he had a reasonable, logical explanation for breaking into the museum and stealing the artifact. Or, rather, the virus. This was so confusing.

“Well?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, then shook his head and left her standing in the bathroom.

Oh no. He was not going to get away with blowing her off again. She stalked out after him.

“You know, stealing someone’s wallet or a few bucks here and there was bad enough when you were younger,” she said, stepping around to the other side of the bike. He grabbed a clean shirt out of the saddlebag and put his jacket back on, then started lifting other things out. “I had hoped you had grown out of that petty thievery. What are you into now, Mac?

Luxury cars? Fine art? Knocking off a bank here and there?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he tossed a lump of something on the ground, then gathered pieces of wood and started a fire in the campsite’s pit. After that, he grabbed a roll and unraveled it.

“What are you doing?”

He looked up at her from his position on the ground.

“You were always a smart girl, Lily. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She scanned the area, finally making the connection.

Campsite. Tent. Oh hell no. “I am not staying here with you tonight.”

“Yeah, you are, since I’m not taking you anywhere else.

You didn’t give me much choice after showing up…”

She waited for him to finish the sentence. Of course, he didn’t. “And screwing up your theft of the artifact? Or the virus? Tell me about the vial. How did you know it was inside the artifact? What do you plan to do with it? How much are you making on this deal? Do you have any idea what terrorist organizations will do with something like that?”

He left the tent pieces and stood, approaching her. Just having him stand near her was unnerving. A few minutes ago she’d held his cock in her hand—hot and hard, his mouth and hands on her, reminding her of the all the reasons she’d fallen in love with him before. Sexy, uninhibited and thrilling, he’d promised adventure and a trip to the dark side, a place she’d never been. But this wasn’t ten years ago. Now was reality, not a teenager’s fantasy.

If she hadn’t gathered her wits about her and stopped him, she could have easily fallen into the same trap again and had sex with him. Maybe she hadn’t learned a thing in ten years.

His eyes were warm, but his voice was cold. “I did steal the virus. But I can’t tell you why or what I’m going to do with it, other than I’m not selling it and it’s not going to fall into the hands of terrorists.”

She was so confused. What she really needed was to talk to her boss and her client. Did the museum even know what was inside that artifact? Oh, why didn’t she just call the police when she saw Mac pull up at the museum? She was in deep shit now.