Page 78 of Dangerous Games (Tempting SEALs 2)

Clint's hands automatically wrapped around the small body that threw itself into him no sooner than he'd stepped to the staircase landing.

As the wall slid closed, Morganna was sobbing against his chest, her hands running over his shoulders, his back.

"Are you hurt?" Her voice was hoarse as the words tumbled from her lips, demanding, fierce. "If you managed to get your ass hurt, I'll skin you alive."

"Bloodthirsty wretch." He inhaled the scent of her. He could smell his own darker scent beneath the sweet, clean smell that was so much a part of Morganna.

She still wore the skirt and corset, though she had kicked off her shoes. Leaning back from him, she let her gaze go over him, her misty eyes shadowed with worry and a hint of anger.

"I am so mad at you." She slapped at his shoulder as she pushed away from him and stalked back down the stairs. "You just run off like Rambo...." Her words trailed back to him as she stomped into the main room. "All gung ho and tough and you leave me just sitting here twiddling my fingers. This is not going to work, Glint."

Did he smell food? Real food? Mace could cook, but what Clint smelled wafting up the staircase was pure heaven in the form of pancakes and maple syrup. But where was Mace?

Clint moved down the staircase, wary as he stepped from the enclosed stairwell. Mace was sitting across the room by his computers, his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Clint.

Lifting his brow, Clint turned to stare back into the kitchen area where Morganna was muttering to herself.

"Everything okay?" he asked the other man.

Mace glared harder.

"Go ahead and answer him," Morganna snapped. "He's back now; I'm sure he can protect you." She sounded a bit upset.

"That woman is trouble in progress," Mace suddenly said. "I swear to God, you go off and leave me alone with again and I'll kill you. You won't have to worry about Fuentes." He swung around in his chair then and hunched over keyboard of his computer, his fingers striking the keys. “What did you do, Morganna?" Clint sighed, moving to a good look at her. She was flat-out furious. If possible, was more pissed now than she had been when he left. I didn't do anything." She propped her hands on her hips as a feminine little sneer curled her lips. "But he doesn't seem to know where his stupid hands belong-"

“Ah hell, just get me fucking killed, why don't you." Mace jumped from his chair, staring back at Clint wild-eyed, "I swear to God, it was harmless. I didn't mean nothing by it, Clint."

Clint took a deep breath. The fury that should have been re was overshadowed by confusion. Mace looked almost scared, and Morganna was in killing mode. "Look, you don't have to kill me. That damned little witch of yours nearly shoved my balls into my stomach. I didn't mean a damned thing by it. It was harmless."

"He patted my ass!" Her voice was a low, snarling growl she pointed a shaking finger at him. "He patted my ass!" She was shaking with feminine outrage. Clint blinked back at her, wondering if he should shake head to get his bearings here. "Mace pets every woman's ass." He gave in and shook his head as he looked between two of them. "He's a Romeo."

"He's an alley cat," she snapped. "And he can keep his damned hands off my ass. No one touches my ass."

"I do," Clint pointed out. Something wasn't clicking here, just wasn't certain what it was.

Morganna lowered her chin and gave him the "moron" look, as he and Reno had always dubbed it. The droll glare, the slightest arch to her brows as her lips thinned in irritation.

"For the moment, you have permission," she said sarcastically. "He," she pointed her finger imperiously, "does not."

"Don't worry,". Mace growled back wi

th no small amount of ire. "He can keep your ass. I was just being nice."

"Then keep it to yourself." She glared back. "And the stupid pancakes are done if either of you would care to eat them. Now that Rambo has returned, I need a shower." Then she frowned again. "Did you at least bring me some clothes?"

He lifted the small duffel in his hands out to her silently. He still hadn't figured out what had happened, but her face brightened, her lips trembling just for a moment before she pounced on the bag. She pulled it from his hand and unzipped it quickly.

"Yes! Comfies," she sighed, clutching the soft cotton pi pants and the loose T-shirt to her breasts. "God, I love you."

Before he had time to comment she was rushing to the other side of the room and disappearing into the bedroom. Clint turned back to Mace, who, being no one's dummy, was tearing into the homemade pancakes with a rumble of glee.

"Want to tell me what just happened here?" Clint queried as he moved to the refrigerator and pulled out the milk before snagging a glass from the counter and sitting down at the table.

"Woman's insane," Mace muttered around a mouthful of pancakes and syrup. "Swear to God. She was crying like a baby, Clint. Damned woman can't even sob. Just these silent tears and that lip trembling. She was breaking my heart. I had to just hug her, man." His fork was poised halfway to his plate as he stared back at Clint in bemusement. "Ought to kick your ass for making her cry like that. But I just hugged her and patted her butt at the same time. Next thing I know I'm on the floor with my balls choking me." He glared at Clint again. "She's deranged. Told me to get in my damned corner and not to make the mistake of speaking to her again or she'd take a knife to me. I didn't speak." He shook his head, his expression frankly disturbed. "I haven't spoke for ours, Clint."

Clint sat back in his chair slowly. "Struck out, did you?" he asked casually.

"Struck out?" Mace blinked back in amazement. "Man, you'd have to be loose a few screws to go after that woman. Where the hell is your head? In your pants? That is not a woman you want to piss off. She is going to deball you and fry your nuts up for dinner and make you like it. Have you lost your ever-lovin' mind?"

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