Beyond the Edge (3 page)

Logic told her she was responding to more than his great body and his interesting face. The secrecy and power and all his self-control fascinated her. She’d been around enough agents and on enough missions to recognize that high stakes elevated her hormone levels. But under normal circumstances she’d still find Kane interesting. His slight accent and warm tone were seductive. And those dimples. She’d always been a sucker for dimples.

However, she’d never, ever, been turned on by violence or force. The choice had to be hers.

As she drove to her house at the end of the road, she realized he’d left the car to teach her she needed him. The incident on the stairwell could have been coincidence, but the dizzying sensations had now
occurred twice, both times when they’d been apart. She shuddered, unwilling to experience them again. Clearly he’d done something to her but that didn’t mean she would surrender to his every demand.

Driving through the gate, for the first time, she regretted the privacy of her home. Set back from the road, the location gave her a solitude she usually cherished. Tonight the isolation would work against her. No one would notice the lights burning late. No one would glimpse a strange man through the twelve-foot windows.

Fallon debated whether to trip the security alarm that would summon the police. While the police could stop him from whatever he intended to do with her, suppose the cops separated them and she became ill? No one would believe her. They’d lock her away and she’d suffer horribly. She shuddered. She’d have to deal with this man by herself, figure out how he was making her ill and find a way to stop him.

After opening the garage door with her automatic opener, she turned off the car, and disarmed the security system. She walked into the black-and-white kitchen with its array of plants, herbs and potted flowers to warm the decor. “Home, sweet home.”

A home with all the amenities, a screened pool, cathedral ceilings and a phone in every room—including the bathrooms. She’d use her first opportunity to telephone the Agency and notify them of her situation. But would anyone in their right mind believe her?

She gestured toward the entertainment center
in the den. “The television’s in there. I’ll just go freshen up.”

She rounded the corner and walked into the bathroom. After closing the door, she flipped on the light. Believing she was alone, Fallon turned and discovered Kane had zapped himself into the bathroom.

Startled, she gasped. “Why don’t you give me a little warning before you do that?”

Kane leaned against the bathroom’s far wall and held her telephone, the disconnected cord dangling in one hand, his cocky grin telling her that he enjoyed playing games. “I’ll collect the rest of these so you won’t be tempted.”

“Why? Because telling someone about you would be inconvenient?”

“I’m glad you understand.” His austere features broke into a wide smile that revealed straight teeth. In the bright bathroom, she saw that his eyes weren’t black, but a deep sapphire-blue. Their gazes met for a moment, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he found her attempt to goad him humorous. She couldn’t seem to help appreciating his intelligence and the calm way he dealt with her defiance.

Even worse, she was enjoying the electric connection between them that felt more like flirtation than anything dangerous. When he strolled out the door, she refused to shrink back against the sink to avoid contact. His hand lightly brushed her hip, causing pure heat to shoot up into her chest and down to her toes. She clenched the counter for support, determined not to reveal how much his casual touch had
affected her, then slumped when she was finally alone.

She had to get a grip. He was not someone she’d chosen to bring home. He’d inserted himself into her night and she had yet to determine how much of a threat he was. She imagined him walking—no, popping—from room to room, disconnecting every phone. She couldn’t summon help and couldn’t leave without becoming desperately ill. She was a prisoner, stuck with a man she was much too attracted to, a man who had claimed he’d like the job of being her fantasy man, a man who had all the right stuff to carry out that role.

Fallon splashed cold water on her face, reviewing her alternatives. She would not fall prey to Stockholm syndrome, where a victim fell in love with her captor. Realistically, she had only one good option. Upstairs, hidden at the back of her closet lay her best hope. He’d left her no choice. She would have to go for her backup gun.

After cracking open the bathroom door, she watched Kane open the cabinet that held the big television and remove the remote control from atop the cabinet. “It seems to work just fine.”

She didn’t answer. She slipped off her shoes, then silently ran upstairs. Half expecting that at any moment he’d pop in front of her and tell her to stay with him where he could watch her, she made the most of his distraction with the television.

She padded across the thick carpet. Sweat beaded on her brow. Her heart skipped erratically. She en
tered her closet and flung aside scarves, gloves and purses, seeking cold metal until she clutched the 9 mm automatic.

With practiced ease, she flipped off the safety, pulled the slide back to chamber the first of nine rounds. She remembered the gun instructor’s words like he’d said them yesterday. “Don’t go for a weapon unless you intend to shoot. Don’t shoot unless you aim to kill.”

She’d never fired a gun at anyone, never mind aimed to kill—but she’d never been kidnapped, either. Taking a deep breath, Fallon crept silently down the steps. Kane hunched forward on the leather sofa, staring at the television with a frown of concentration.

She stepped closer, aiming at his chest. “I don’t know what you did to me, but I want you to undo it.”

Kane raised a brow, his expression one of disappointment rather than fear. “You’re in this until the end.”

The end?
That sounded like a death threat.

“What do you want with me?” she asked, determined to pry information from him.

Ignoring the weapon, he broke into a grin so sexy, it stole her breath. His eyes locked on hers with an intimate look of pure awareness. “I want nothing except what you’re willing to give.”

“I’m not giving you one damn thing.”

The heat in his tone could have melted sugar. “Before we’re done, you’ll want to put me in charge.”

His words seared her like a bolt of lightning and
she fought to ignore the electric charge sizzling up and down her veins.

Despite her gun, she didn’t feel in control and her voice hitched. “I’ll put you in charge of what?”

“In charge of you.” He chuckled, his glance enticing and knowing.

As he stood and advanced toward her, his rhythm steady and decisive, his eyes blazed with a powerful determination and emphatic certainty that she would give him whatever he asked of her.

She would never agree. Never. Even if her breasts tingled with excitement at the thought, even if she felt a sudden swooping pull in her belly at the idea of allowing him to do with her as she wished. As if sensing the conflict between her thoughts and her physical needs, he let his eyes drop to her breasts where her traitorous nipples had betrayed her by hardening into tight buds. He smiled knowingly and with pure pleasure, telling her that he most definitely liked what he was seeing.

“You do want me,” his tone coaxed. “The idea of giving yourself over to me excites you, doesn’t it?”

“You are so wrong,” she denied while recalling that he’d overheard much more of her conversation with Jaycee. Too bad Jaycee was right and she really did need a good fantasy to sweep her away. She hadn’t taken a vacation in years. Hadn’t had a fling in longer than she cared to remember. And Kane was perfect in so many ways, polite, yet in charge, intelligent and charming. She would love to ditch her responsibilities and just play. In fact, the idea was
so appealing that if she knew for certain Kane wouldn’t hurt her, she’d toss the gun aside and let him have her.

“Deny me all you like.” His gaze swept over her flushed face and lingered on her lips, lips that suddenly burned for a kiss. “Your body tells a different story.” He advanced another step, his eyes telling her oh-so clearly that he wanted her. “Imagine giving over complete control to me. You will have no decisions to make, no choices. Just the freedom to enjoy whatever I decide.”

“No.” The protest came out automatically, but his words shot heat straight to her core. He was a stranger. He’d kidnapped her.

“Yes,” he insisted.

In another step, he’d be close enough to disarm her.

And Fallon pulled the trigger.

I
N THE SMALL ROOM
the shot sounded as loud as a cannon and the scent of powder burned her nostrils. If he hadn’t egged her on, she might not have found the courage to pull the trigger. His words had been too enticing, too tempting and for a moment she’d feared yielding to him more than she feared taking a life. He’d gotten to her with his sexy smile, hot eyes and compelling promise of taking away all her responsibilities by fulfilling her fantasy. Only she’d never fantasized about giving up control of herself. That was his interpretation and she wasn’t buying it for a second. So what if her body had turned on at his words? Or that the heat in his gaze was real? She liked reading about crossing the country in a covered wagon but that didn’t mean she wanted to do it. She enjoyed watching ski jumping at the Olympics but that didn’t mean she wanted to try it. So maybe his words made her insides go all mushy, but she was way too strong-willed to turn over her will to him—no matter how badly she wanted a vacation.

So she’d pulled the trigger and kept her eyes wide open, expecting to have to steal herself for the sight
of blood and mangled flesh. But Kane was gone and she couldn’t prevent a shiver of relief that he’d pulled his dematerialization trick again.

He couldn’t have gone too far, or she’d be sick. Fallon extended the gun in both hands and spun, searching for her target. She held her breath and listened, but only the whisper of a breeze ruffling the miniblinds and the clock ticking above the convection oven interrupted the haunting silence.

Every female instinct told her to throw down the gun and agree to an exciting fling. Yet her mind told her he was dangerous. She couldn’t leave so she had no choice but to stay and fight. Too bad she was spending so much effort fighting her own desires.

How had a connection arced between them so quickly? Even as she searched for him she already knew he wouldn’t be angry. Another man would be furious that she’d tried to shoot him, but not Kane. He seemed to understand her fears—of him, of herself, of what might happen between them if she let it.

As a trained agent, she could ignore her attraction. And his. No matter how enticing she found his heat, she couldn’t succumb to an absolute stranger.

She longingly eyed the phones he’d collected and piled on the glass dining table. Dare she take a moment to plug one in and call the Agency for help? But even if a fellow CIA agent arrived, he would never believe the truth. She imagined what kind of reaction she’d receive after she described a man who moved faster than the eye could see, a man who
made her desperately ill when she tried to escape from him. A man who thought she would give him everything he asked for. A man who thought she would put him in charge of her.

Kane might not have specified his exact intention, but the heat in his gaze had clued her into the notion that he aimed to dominate her physically, sexually, mentally—and he actually had the conceit to expect her to agree.

At the thought, her hands shook. Because his idea so appealed. What woman wouldn’t want to put herself in the hands of a man like Kane and accept all the pleasure he could give? And for her the allure was all the more intriguing because she was so tired of being the one in charge. Her family depended on her. Her corporations and charities depended on her. For once it would be terrific to give up her responsibilities and just go with the flow. Her mind might be denouncing the idea of ever yielding to him, but her body was reacting favorably. Despite the connection that had grown between them, no way was she putting her hormones in charge.

Turning, searching for him, she sensed his nearness by the strange link they shared. He was close, inside the house. Recalling his special abilities and his speed of movement increased the beat of her heart until blood hammered in her ears. She might have the gun, but he stalked her like prey.

His arms suddenly enfolded her and slammed her back against his hard chest.

“No!”

“Yes.” He whispered the word into her ear like a dangerous caress.

He trapped her between his arms and his chest and, reaching forward, seized her gun with his powerful hands. She’d tried to kill him and logic told her that he would turn the weapon on her. Logic said she was going to die, and she distantly wished she’d spent a little more time on her own happiness. She should have gone skiing with Jaycee. She should have taken a trip to Hawaii. She should have…

Fallon clenched her hands tight. God! She wanted to live, but she would not beg. Closing her eyes, she held her breath and waited for the blast of a shot. And death.

And yet feminine instinct told her this man meant her no harm. Female instinct told her he admired her courage. And deep down she knew he wanted her too much to kill her.

“If you really feel safer with this gun in your hands,” his expression remained gentle, “you may have it back.”

After showing her that she couldn’t shoot him and that he could disarm her at will, she understood that handing her back the gun was a mere gesture. The gun was useless against him. With her back pressed against his chest, his breath fanning her ear, it took her a moment to focus on the important part of his statement.

“Why the hell do you care if I feel safe?” She tilted back her head and caught his charged gaze, one electric enough to light up her every nerve.

He frowned at her, but even his frown was sexy and superior. “Your fear is complicating my mission.”

“Which is what exactly?”

K
ANE RELEASED HER
, letting her keep the gun. “I’m not yet at liberty to reveal that data. However, if you’d allow me to watch television for ten uninterrupted minutes, I could…” He couldn’t say more. His orders were to reveal his mission to no one.

And he couldn’t blame her for the suspicion in her eyes. But she wasn’t supposed to have been in her office and now he was stuck with her—although he didn’t know if stuck was the right way to describe having to remain close to a beautiful, intelligent woman. After overhearing her conversation, he’d felt so attuned to her. And then he’d gone and frightened her to the point that she’d tried to kill him.

From the moment he’d arrived in her office, she’d seemed wary, but in spite of the incomprehensible things happening to her, she’d remained calm and together. However, she hadn’t been totally able to hide her attraction to him. Oh, she’d fooled him, procuring her backup weapon, but he couldn’t miss the relief in her sagging shoulders after she’d fired the shot and missed.

So much like him, duty was calling her to do one thing, when desire demanded another. That this wealthy businesswoman would try to shoot him had taken him by complete surprise. His second mistake, no doubt due to how she kept distracting him.
Her short dark hair framed her attractive face in pixielike curls that disguised her cunning. Her slenderness gave an appearance of fragility that had deceived and attracted him. And the feminine curve of her hips in the tight skirt diverted him from remembering Fallon Hanover ran a multimillion dollar conglomerate. And she’d defended herself as deftly as she ran the Institute.

Although she’d handled the gun proficiently, from the expression of horror when she’d pulled the trigger, he’d bet she’d never before fired with the intent to kill. If he wasn’t careful, her combination of strength, determination and foolhardiness could botch his mission, and if he didn’t assuage her suspicions, there was no telling what other crazy scheme she’d come up with. However, he wasn’t permitted to tell her anything—at least not without permission.

“You could have killed me,” he said, hoping that if he stayed firm, she’d pull back and he’d find her less seductive. Kane liked strong women, women who knew what they wanted—but this wasn’t the time or the place for a dalliance. And he didn’t enter relationships lightly, not after his past disaster. So as appealing as he found Fallon, his talk about becoming her fantasy man had been a joke—one that had taken of a life on its own in his imagination.

“Shooting you would have been self-defense.”

She didn’t back down an inch and he had to stop himself from applauding. Any way he looked at her, Fallon Hanover was one hell of a woman. And he’d most definitely like to know her better.

Perhaps coming to her home had compounded his mistake. He’d allowed her the advantage of the home ground, giving her options he couldn’t anticipate. But if he’d taken her to a public hotel, there was too much risk of a stranger noticing something odd. His enemies could read newspaper headlines for leads, notice that Fallon Hanover had disappeared, and put the facts together.

Her lakeside home had seemed the best option. A pile of unfolded laundry on the couch indicated she didn’t expect company. She lived here alone, without servants.

When he’d tried to give her space to adjust to her situation, she’d taken the offensive and her action was forcing him to reassess her. He couldn’t drag her around and expect blind cooperation. A woman like her needed answers.

Perhaps her unwillingness to be a victim had altered his opinion of her. Or perhaps holding her in his arms, breathing in the vanilla scent of her hair, watching her rapid pulse beat at the hollow of her neck, feeling her firm bottom wriggling against his thighs had made him realize that his teasing to become her fantasy man had been more than a pleasant diversion to keep her distracted.

Yet in his line of work, civilians were a hindrance. His duty was too important to let anyone distract him. Billions of lives were at stake.

Yet while Fallon would slow him and interfere with his mission, he admitted to himself that he would savor every delicious moment. Despite his at
traction to her, if he could have left her behind and gone on with his job alone, he would have. He was caught like a fly in a web—and if he wasn’t careful, she’d have him for supper.

From the moment he’d accepted the assignment, the mission had been pure disaster. His briefing had been too sketchy, the timing off, the planning poor. Already his chance of success had been cut by a factor of four, and he’d calculated those odds without figuring in Fallon and his attraction to her. Even worse, he’d violated his sacred vows, mistakenly allowing her to see things she’d had no right to. He’d have to backtrack and feed her lies, convincing lies.

When Kane released her, she spun to face him, her green eyes spitting poisoned daggers that made him want to stroke her like a frightened kitten. She straightened her skirt and, white-faced, glared at him.

He wished he could kiss the distrust off her face, cup the delicate chin, explore her smooth complexion with the pad of his thumb. Her look said she needed explanations, something he didn’t have time for. Still, he’d have to justify certain actions or she might attack him again. Not that she could hurt him, but he couldn’t jeopardize his work. The greatest danger lay in drawing unwanted attention to himself or in allowing himself to become too fascinated by her.

“Come.” He held out his hand to her. “Let’s sit in front of the television for a few minutes.”

Clutching the gun in one hand, she warily placed her other in his. “Fine.”

Clearly, she didn’t trust him, but at least she wasn’t running screaming from the room, and her hand felt damn good in his. They entered the den together and he turned up the television’s volume. Then he removed his watch, which concealed a special transmitter and receiver. The moment he began to transmit, data flashed on his screen.

Fallon leaned over, her scent wafting to his nostrils and teasing him. “What language is that?”

“It’s code.” Data streamed in about Fallon. “You’re CIA?”

He had to give her credit. She didn’t change expression. “I run the Hanover Institute.”

She might be willing to sink millions into charity to search for a cure for cancer, but she also was no pushover. And at his mention of his knowledge about her, she’d instantly become defensive.

“And you don’t simply run the Hanover Institute, you also control a vast personal wealth, don’t you?”

As he mentioned her wealth, her eyes darkened, as if mentioning her assets caused her to draw into herself.

“Is that what you want, money?” Her tone sounded resigned, cool and, perhaps, disappointed.

“Your money might prove useful to me, but that’s not what I really want.” He let his gaze rake over her, and she thought she might tell him to go to hell, but she flicked her tongue over her bottom lip as if considering the full implications of his statement.

While he’d spoken with her, through his transmitter he’d asked his superiors for permission to tell her
the truth. As a government agent, surely she could be trusted with secrets. But much to his disappointment, the reply came back: a resounding
No.
He was not allowed to reveal the truth and he was beginning to wonder if he could lie well enough to fool Fallon Hanover, especially after she’d seen the technology he carried.

However, he would try. As his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he needed sustenance, he rose to his feet and brought her to the kitchen, his mind racing.

“So you use the television to transmit and receive messages?” she guessed.

“Sit down. We need to talk.”

She cast him a puzzled look and seated herself at the table while he explored the cupboards, pulling out crackers, olives and a jar of caviar. They would both need their strength for what lay ahead. He grabbed a bottle of Chablis, provolone cheese and seedless red grapes from the refrigerator, then returned for two wineglasses and set them on the table.

After filling her glass, he raised his in a toast. “To life.”

“I won’t be toyed with. If you intend to kill me, just get it over with,” she snapped.

“Look, I owe you an apology.”

“I’d say you owe me much more than an apology.” Her breasts heaved beneath the swell of her silk shirt and when she caught his glance, she frowned—but her nipples hardened. Lovely. Ms. Fallon Hanover
was definitely more interested than she pretended and he’d have to double his efforts not to become entwined in her allure.

But he wasn’t adverse to pleasing her—as long as she didn’t slow him down, and as long as she didn’t mind that his emotions would never be involved. The idea of her totally submitting her will to him excited him. But first he had to assuage her suspicions.