that he didn't have time to try out those moves.
Because he really wanted another taste of her.
And because he did, he slid out from under her, stood and stretched out the kinks while she shifted and tried to find comfort. She rolled onto her back and flung her free hand over her head.
The restless animal inside him stirred.
He grabbed it in a choke hold and reminded himself that he was, occasionally, a civilized man. Civilized men didn't climb onto a sleeping woman and dive in.
But they could think about it.
Since it would be safer all around to think about it at a distance, he went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face and considered his next move.
In dreams, she was holding the stone in her hand, wondering at it, as streams of sunlight danced through the canopy of trees. Instead of penetrating the stone, the rays bounced off, creating a flashing whirl of beauty that stung the eyes and burned the soul.
It was hers to hold, if not to keep. The answers were there, secreted inside, if only she knew where to look.
From somewhere came the growl of a beast, low and feral. She turned toward it, rather than away, the stone protected in the fist of her hand, her other raised to defend.
Something moved slyly in the brush, hidden, waiting, searching. Hunting.
Then he was there, astride a massive black horse. At his side was a sword of dull silver, its width a thick slab of violence. His gray eyes were granite-hard, and as dangerous as any beast that slunk over the ground. He held a hand down to her, and there was challenge in that slow smile.
Danger ahead. Danger behind.
She stepped forward, clasped hands with him and let him pull her up on the gleaming black horse. The horse reared high, trumpeted. When they rode, they rode fast. The blood beating in her head had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with triumph.
She came awake with her heart pounding and her blood high. She was in the dim, cramped motel room, with Jack shaking her shoulder roughly.
"What? What?"
"Nap's over." He considered kissing her awake, risking her fist in his face. But it would be too distracting. "We've got places to go."
"Where?" She struggled to shake off sleep, and the silky remnants of the dream.
"To visit a friend.' He unlocked the cuffs from the headboard, snapped them on his own wrist, linking M.J. to him.
"You have a friend?"
"Ah, she's awake now." He pulled her outside, into a misty dusk that still pulsed with heat. "Get in and slide over," he instructed when he opened the driver's side door.
She was still groggy enough that she obeyed without question. But by the time he'd started the engine, her wits were back. "Look, Jack, these handcuffs have got to go."
"I don't know, I kind of like them this way. Did you ever see that movie with Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier? Great flick."
"We're not escaped cons running for a train here, Dakota. If we're going to have a business relationship, there has to be an element of trust."
"Sugar, you don't trust me any more than I trust you." He steered out of the pitted lot, kept to the speed limit. "Look at it this way." He lifted his hand, causing hers to jerk. "We're both in the same boat. And I could have just left you back there."
She drummed her fingers on her knee. "Why didn't you?"
"I thought about it," he admitted. "I could move faster without you along. But I'd rather keep my eye on you. And if things go wrong and I can't get back, I'd hate for you to have to explain why you're cuffed to the bed of a cheap motel."
"Damn considerate of you."
"I thought so. Though it's your fault I'm flying blind. It'd be easier if you'd fill in the blanks."
"Think of it as a challenge."
"Oh, I do. It, and you." He slanted her a look.
"What's this guy got, M.J.? This friend of yours you'd risk so much for?"
She looked out her window, thought of Bailey. Then pushed the thought aside.
Worry for Bailey only brought the fear back, and fear clouded the mind and made it
Because he really wanted another taste of her.
And because he did, he slid out from under her, stood and stretched out the kinks while she shifted and tried to find comfort. She rolled onto her back and flung her free hand over her head.
The restless animal inside him stirred.
He grabbed it in a choke hold and reminded himself that he was, occasionally, a civilized man. Civilized men didn't climb onto a sleeping woman and dive in.
But they could think about it.
Since it would be safer all around to think about it at a distance, he went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face and considered his next move.
In dreams, she was holding the stone in her hand, wondering at it, as streams of sunlight danced through the canopy of trees. Instead of penetrating the stone, the rays bounced off, creating a flashing whirl of beauty that stung the eyes and burned the soul.
It was hers to hold, if not to keep. The answers were there, secreted inside, if only she knew where to look.
From somewhere came the growl of a beast, low and feral. She turned toward it, rather than away, the stone protected in the fist of her hand, her other raised to defend.
Something moved slyly in the brush, hidden, waiting, searching. Hunting.
Then he was there, astride a massive black horse. At his side was a sword of dull silver, its width a thick slab of violence. His gray eyes were granite-hard, and as dangerous as any beast that slunk over the ground. He held a hand down to her, and there was challenge in that slow smile.
Danger ahead. Danger behind.
She stepped forward, clasped hands with him and let him pull her up on the gleaming black horse. The horse reared high, trumpeted. When they rode, they rode fast. The blood beating in her head had nothing to do with fear, and everything to do with triumph.
She came awake with her heart pounding and her blood high. She was in the dim, cramped motel room, with Jack shaking her shoulder roughly.
"What? What?"
"Nap's over." He considered kissing her awake, risking her fist in his face. But it would be too distracting. "We've got places to go."
"Where?" She struggled to shake off sleep, and the silky remnants of the dream.
"To visit a friend.' He unlocked the cuffs from the headboard, snapped them on his own wrist, linking M.J. to him.
"You have a friend?"
"Ah, she's awake now." He pulled her outside, into a misty dusk that still pulsed with heat. "Get in and slide over," he instructed when he opened the driver's side door.
She was still groggy enough that she obeyed without question. But by the time he'd started the engine, her wits were back. "Look, Jack, these handcuffs have got to go."
"I don't know, I kind of like them this way. Did you ever see that movie with Tony Curtis and Sidney Poitier? Great flick."
"We're not escaped cons running for a train here, Dakota. If we're going to have a business relationship, there has to be an element of trust."
"Sugar, you don't trust me any more than I trust you." He steered out of the pitted lot, kept to the speed limit. "Look at it this way." He lifted his hand, causing hers to jerk. "We're both in the same boat. And I could have just left you back there."
She drummed her fingers on her knee. "Why didn't you?"
"I thought about it," he admitted. "I could move faster without you along. But I'd rather keep my eye on you. And if things go wrong and I can't get back, I'd hate for you to have to explain why you're cuffed to the bed of a cheap motel."
"Damn considerate of you."
"I thought so. Though it's your fault I'm flying blind. It'd be easier if you'd fill in the blanks."
"Think of it as a challenge."
"Oh, I do. It, and you." He slanted her a look.
"What's this guy got, M.J.? This friend of yours you'd risk so much for?"
She looked out her window, thought of Bailey. Then pushed the thought aside.
Worry for Bailey only brought the fear back, and fear clouded the mind and made it
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