Page 31 of Between Love and Honor

His brain was yelling at him to slow things down, but the rest of his body parts weren’t listening. He deepened the kiss, tangling his tongue with hers while his fingers traced the sensuous curves of her body. Her pleasure-filled sighs spurred him on even more. He needed to get her to the bed.

Now.

“National Security my ass!”

Terrie’s words were like a bomb dropping in the room.

Ben swore savagely when Quinn broke off their kiss. She was flushed head-to-toe. Clutching her towel to her chest she glanced around the room, looking for likely escape routes if he had to guess. Fergus added to the commotion by yipping and dancing between their legs.

“Out!” Terrie commanded. “And take the little dog with you.”

Jesus.

Ben gave his head a little shake to try to restore some rational thought. Thank goodness Terrie had come along when she had. He needed to stop reacting to Quinn as if she was the girl from his youth. That girl was gone. He had no idea who the woman he’d just been locking lips with was. Or whether or not her heated response was real. And that pissed him off. He needed to put some distance between them and sort out his next move.

But he couldn’t leave Quinn yet. Not until she’d agreed to stay put. She was his only connection to Ronoff and he still needed answers about the Russian.

“Promise me you’ll be here when I get back.”

Her eyes were shining with equal parts apprehension and frustration. She looked as if she was going to argue.

But then she nodded solemnly.

“Can I trust you?” he whispered, not sure if he would even believe her answer.

“Yes.” She nodded again, this time with determination.

The temptation to brush the backs of his knuckles along her cheek was strong. He resisted. “Then trust me. And stay put.”

Fergus was having a field day with Ben’s shoelaces. Terrie cleared her throat angrily. Quinn stepped away. He picked up the pesky dog and left the room just as the door slammed behind him.

Christine waited outside, an I-told-you-so look pasted firmly on her face.

“Can you keep an eye on her?” he asked. “Please.”

The other agent crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you sure she’s who you think she is?”

No.

He wasn’t sure about anything. “Actually, I sincerely hope she’s not the person I think she is right now.”

With that, he handed her the dog and headed out to confront the Secretary of Homeland.

* * *

TRUST ME.

Ben’s words ricocheted around inside Quinn’s head all morning. Trust wasn’t exactly in her wheelhouse. Mainly because, in her profession, trusting someone often came with the possibility she might end up dead. But given her current situation, she had no choice. Until she figured out a way to slip out from beneath the watchful eyes of Ben’s friends, she was forced to trust him with her life.

Too bad it was his life she was more worried about. As long as Ronoff believed he had the micro card, Ben was in danger. He’d obviously left the safety of the White House, but where had he gone? She said a silent prayer he’d taken his sniper friend with him.

“Did Ben say when he’d be back?” she asked for what had to be the third time already.

Josslyn looked up from the stack of wedding response cards she was sorting with the First Lady’s secretary. They were seated at a table on the Truman Balcony overlooking the south lawn of the White House. The late morning breeze carried with it the muffled sounds of traffic and tourists.

“He didn’t.” Her indulgent smile was beginning to look strained.

No doubt Ben’s friends were a little apprehensive about welcoming into their midst a woman who Russian thugs had left for dead. Not that she could blame them. Given the chilly reception from the other woman in the room—Marin, the wife of another agent—she suspected he had shared with his friends the salient details of their past.

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