Authors: Beverly Barton
"Our room is to your left," she told him.
He turned and walked into the 14' x 12' room. Wooden floors and walls. Two windows, one over each of the twin beds, each covered with wooden blinds. Sliding doors that he assumed hid a large closet. A wooden desk with a chair against one wall and a large, overstaffed chair in the opposite corner. Nothing fancy by anyone's standards, but clean and orderly.
"At night, I'll handcuff you to the bedpost," she told him. "I regret doing it, but it will be necessary. At all other times, your cuffs will be removed... as long as you behave yourself. Do you understand?"
"I believe so."
"Turn around, please."
He did. She took the keys from her pocket and unlocked his handcuffs, then removed them and tossed them on the bed to her left. "Would you like to use the bathroom?"
"A shower and a shave would be nice." He rubbed the beard stubble on his chin and cheeks.
"I see no problem with that. There's everything you'll need in the bathroom." She walked across the room, slid open the closet door and retrieved a terry-cloth robe. "Leave your jacket on the bed and take this—" she tossed the robe, which he caught midair "—and go to the bathroom. After you've undressed, toss your things out into the hall and I'll take them downstairs to the laundry room."
"Service with a smile," he said. "Who could ask for anything more?"
She glared at him.
"Well, maybe not with a smile," he amended.
"If you're thinking of trying to get out one of the windows, forget it," she told him. "There are bars on both windows in the bedroom and the one in the bathroom."
"You people think of everything."
"We try."
Jake laid the robe on the bed, then removed his jacket and exchanged it for the robe, which he tossed over his shoulder. Dr. Brooks watched him closely as he walked out of the room, into the hall and straight to the bathroom door.
He glanced over his shoulder. "Coming in with me?"
"You seem awfully glib for a man in your situation." She narrowed her gaze speculatively. "You do realize your life is in danger, don't you? Unless you do exactly as you're told and cooperate fully—"
"Tell me. Doc, how did a woman like you get involved with the Coalition?"
"You don't know what kind of woman I am, Mr. Ingram."
"You're right, I don't. But if I'm here for a few days, I might get a chance to find out."
When she didn't refute his comment, he studied her expression. There it was again—that hint of compassion in her eyes. Or was he imagining it, simply seeing what he wanted to see?
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Jake went into the bathroom, closed the door and stripped completely, then cracked open the door. "Here they are."
He poked the clothes through the opening.
When Dr. Brooks reached out to take the clothes from him, he grasped her wrist. She tensed, but made no move to retreat or attack. Their gazes held and locked.
"Let go," she told him. "I really don't want to resort to violence, but I will, if necessary."
He released her immediately. She took the clothes, turned and headed for the stairs.
"Hey, Doc."
She halted, but didn't turn around. "Yes?"
"You should know that I bend, but don't break. Whatever little mind games you have in store for me—they aren't going to work."
"I guess we'll see, won't we, Jake?"
So that was how she intended to play this. Like a chess match. Each step of the way, seeing who could outsmart and outmaneuver the other. He could probably handle Burgess and Lester. But this woman posed a real problem.
Whoever she was and for whatever reason she was working for the Coalition, she was no mere flunky.
"Yeah, I guess we'll see," he said. "By the way, if you get to call me Jake, then what should I call you?"
"Dr. Brooks."
He shook his head. "What's your given name?"
She glanced over her shoulder, but said nothing. He thought maybe he'd already lost this round. Then just when he started to close the door, he heard her say in a soft, whispery voice, "Mariah."
Before he could respond, she rushed down the stairs. With her name echoing inside his head, he closed the door.
Mariah. The name suited her. Somehow he sensed that beneath that cool, controlled exterior, a wild, untamed woman existed. But was she a woman who could be persuaded, with the proper inducement, to change alliances?
Figuring the odds, Jake decided that if Mariah was as much woman as he suspected she was, she could definitely be his best hope of getting out of this predicament, not only alive, but free from the Coalition.
Two
Mariah had been handpicked for this job because of her background in the Intelligence Division and her doctorate in psychology. If she succeeded at this crucial assignment, a promotion wasn't out of the question. Being young—
only thirty—and female, she had to work twice as hard to prove herself. But competition and hard work were in her blood, inherited from her parents and instilled in her by her three older brothers. Her reputation as a hard-nosed professional who gave as good as she got only scratched the surface of the person she really was, the woman inside her who had spent a lifetime trying to prove she was the equal of her brothers and every man in her line of work. Her physical appearance alone intimidated some men. After all, at five-ten she was as tall as half the male population, and her physical prowess and expertise in the martial arts as well as practically every type of weaponry made her the equal of and often superior to a great many men.
As she removed Jake Ingrain's clothes from the washer and tossed them into the dryer, she asked herself why she was rehashing old information. Her life had been on a steady, straightforward track since she'd graduated from college and chosen her profession. Having witnessed her parents' strong, happy marriage, she had secretly hoped that by now she would have found a man with whom to share her life. It wasn't as if she didn't date, although she'd been dating less and less these past few years as she'd concentrated on advancing her career.
Be honest with yourself, Marian's inner voice demanded. You've given up dating because every suitable man you meet is either too awed or too intimidated by you to be a true partner. Most men like less aggressive women. Women who can't whip their butts. Women who can't outsmart them and outshoot them on a firing range. But Marian refused to lower her standards. If she couldn't find a man with whom she could be an equal partner, she'd stay single and unattached for the rest of her life.
Marian scolded herself. Now was not the time to be thinking about her sex life—or lack thereof. She was on an assignment. Lives were at stake. The security of U.S. citizens was at risk. So why had she allowed her unwanted attraction to Jake Ingrain to send her libido into overdrive and her thoughts wandering into forbidden territory? Yes, the guy was drop-dead gorgeous and masculine to the
n
th degree. So what? He was a key player in her assignment, not a potential lover.
She groaned silently. Don't even go there! But her mind had already painted a rather vivid picture inside her head—
of Jake Ingram naked, aroused and dragging her down onto one of the twin beds upstairs. Great, just what she didn't need, a mental image of her being ravished by the man the Coalition expected her to break down mentally by slow, precise degrees until he cooperated fully and could be reprogrammed to do their bidding.
"Damn," Mariah cursed quietly under her breath.
"Got a problem, Doc?"
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Gasping, Mariah turned and glared at Lester, who stood in the hallway outside the laundry room. "Don't ever sneak up on me like that again."
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Burgess sent me back here to see if you need us for anything—" he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling "—up there."
"No, thank you." Mariah punched the timer on the dryer. "Mr. Ingrain is taking a shower and shaving. I plan to carry his supper upstairs to him and then have a preliminary talk with him tonight."
"Aren't you going to start screwing around inside his head tonight?" When Lester grinned, a bit too lasciviously to suit Mariah, he revealed a set of crooked yellow teeth.
Mariah breathed deeply. This man was an idiot. "Mr. Ingram will respond more positively to my hypnosis therapy if he's well fed and well rested. I'll begin my brainwashing of the patient in the morning."
"Brainwashing, huh? I thought Burgess said you were supposed to reprogram him. But I guess it's all brainwashing, isn't it?" With one hand braced against the door frame, Les leaned into the laundry room, his gaze traveling from Marian's face to her breasts. "I'm sure glad you aren't going to be messing around inside my head. But if there's any other part of me you'd like to mess with, I'd be more than obliging."
Mariah pursed her lips tightly, just barely controlling her rage. She'd love to tell this moron exactly what she'd enjoy doing to him, but since he was working for the Coalition, it was in her best interest not to antagonize either him or his partner. But stroking this man's ego wasn't part of the deal.
"Look, Lester, we're both here to do a job," she told him, "And if you don't stop harassing me, I'll report you to our superiors. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yeah, honey, I get what you're saying. We're both working and you don't go in for any hanky-panky on the job."
She could correct him, but she didn't. Instead she gave him a cold, calculated glare. He grinned, nodded and then walked away. She sighed. Thank goodness. Maybe he'd leave her alone. If not, she'd have to deal with him less diplomatically.
When she entered the kitchen, she went straight to the refrigerator and quickly removed the ingredients for two sandwiches. If she shared dinner with Jake Ingram, she could accomplish two objectives. One, not having to come back downstairs for a while and deal with Les and Burgess. Two, sharing something as social as a meal with her captive might make him less hostile tomorrow. Working quickly, she prepared two ham and Swiss sandwiches, added a pile of potato chips and dill pickles to each plate. She poured two large glasses of cola, then as an afterthought, she reached up into the cabinet next to the microwave and pulled out a bag of pecan shortbread cookies. She removed four cookies and laid them on the counter. After placing all the items on a serving tray, she added a couple of paper napkins.
All her life Mariah had been blessed with a healthy appetite and a great metabolism. Even now, out of her twenties, she never worried about her weight. But part of maintaining a toned, healthy body came from regular exercise. And she prided herself on staying physically and mentally fit.
As she headed out of the kitchen, she saw Les hovering in the hallway. Doing her best to ignore him, she started up the stairs.
"Don't you want me to carry that up for you?" Les asked. "Looks mighty heavy for—"
"I can manage just fine. Thank you." Picking up her pace as fast as she could with the extra burden of a heavy tray, she didn't look back at the leering man. And even without eyes in the back of her head, she knew he was ogling her.
"Get the hell back in here and leave the doc alone," Burgess yelled. "If she needs us, she'll let us know."
Mariah said a silent thanks to Burgess. When she reached the upstairs hall, she noticed that both the bathroom and the bedroom doors stood wide open. She glanced into the bedroom. Wearing the white terry-cloth robe she'd given him, Jake lay sprawled out atop the spread on the twin bed to the left. He'd crossed his long, hairy legs at the ankles, and his head rested in the cushion of his cupped palms created by his entwined fingers. His eyes were closed, but she doubted he was asleep. His thick black hair glistened with moisture. Odd, Mariah thought, the man looked as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if he were at some swank hotel and was resting peacefully after his shower.
She cleared her throat. He opened his eyes and looked right at her.
"I brought our supper up here," she told him as she entered the room.
He rose from the bed and came toward her. "Let me take that tray."
"No, thank you," she replied. "I don't need any help."
He shrugged.
She placed the tray on me desk. "Come on over and sit down. You should eat and then try to get some sleep." She pulled out the wooden desk chair, then walked over to the corner and dragged the over-stuffed armchair to the end of the desk.
Jake sat where she'd instructed him to sit, glanced at the meal she'd prepared and picked up a glass of cola. He downed half the glass before he set it back down and grabbed the sandwich. By the time Marian sat, he'd devoured a third of the ham and Swiss.
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"Slow down," she cautioned. "You're eating on an empty stomach and if you eat too fast, you might make yourself sick."
Jake grabbed a napkin, wiped his mouth and grinned. "Are you always so bossy?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "It's part of my charm."
"But only part." His gaze raked over her in a sensual, beckoning way.
Her nipples tightened. Thank goodness she was wearing a good bra and a bulky sweater. "Yes, only part. I'm also patient and persistent. I usually accomplish whatever I set out to do."
"Usually, but not always?" Jake munched on the potato chips.
Mariah picked up her sandwich, but before taking a bite, she said, "I win more often than I lose."
"Hmm. What's your average?"
Mariah chewed and swallowed, then grasped her glass of cola. "My average? I'd say at least eighty percent or more."
Jake looked skeptical, then let out a long, low whistle. "Are you a sore loser?"
"Depends."
"On how gracious your opponent is in victory?"