Aces High by Kay Hooper Page B

“I’ll have to ask Gigi who won,” she said dryly. “It should be interesting.”
    He watched her place the shirts in a drawer, conscious of a deep surge of satisfaction. His shirts lying beside a stack of her T-shirts, his shaving gear set firmly among her perfumes and bath soaps. He had forced her to accept his presence here, and he damned well meant to put down roots and make sure she realized it. If he had to shake her loose from that secret place inside her head a dozen times a day, he’d do it.
    And it wasn’t just passion that made her unable to hide from him, though that was a surefire method and one he was prepared to use ruthlessly. Temper did it as well. She had been annoyed by his presumptuous order to have his calls routed to her number; her lovely eyes had flickered with irritation and there had been a definite snap in her voice. She had laughed too, reluctantly amused by the knowledge that the hotel’s staff had placed bets on the state of her virtue.
    She had
laughed.
    Skye reached out suddenly and pulled her into his arms, smiling down at her when her arms went instantly around his neck. “Why did you get dressed?” he asked.
    Katrina flushed slightly and cleared her throat. “Well, I felt a bit ridiculous wearing my robe in the middle of the afternoon,” she explained.
    “I should hope you would.” He began exploring the soft flesh of her throat. “You’d better wear nothing at all.”
    She caught her breath. “Is that an order?”
    “Yes,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse with deliberation.
    Katrina thought vaguely about telling him he couldn’t order her around, but it didn’t seem very important. And when his big hands slid inside her opened blouse, she forgot to think at all.
    —
    It was after midnight when Skye eased from the bed and dressed silently without turning on the lights. He was reluctant to leave Katrina even for a couple of hours, but after spending all day and half the night with her, his professional responsibilities were beginning to nag at him.
    He had decided on the Ferris wheel: it was time to set the stage and prepare it for Hagen’s inspection.
    He had left his briefcase by the door, and picked it up on his way out. The hotel was peaceful, though there were still people stirring in the lobby, and he took care to make his exit unobtrusive. Dressed in the dark clothing he wore habitually, even when he wasn’t skulking at night, Skye moved away from the hotel building, avoiding lighted paths. There was a locked gate between the hotel grounds and the park entrance; he had a key and used it swiftly.
    Fifteen minutes later he was kneeling beside the lowest car of the Ferris wheel. The lack of bright light didn’t hinder him since he had excellent night vision, and he quickly got his briefcase opened. He started to reach into the case and then froze, all his senses flaring. He had heard nothing, but—
    He relaxed suddenly. In a low voice he said, “What’re you doing out here?”
    “Came to find you, of course. I knew you’d be out here tonight, since you’d settled on the Ferris wheel.” Dane materialized out of the darkness and approached his brother. It was rather startling that he had been practically invisible until choosing to show himself, because he was wearing light-colored slacks and a white shirt that should have made him hard to miss. But Skye wasn’t surprised by the seeming wizardry.
    He had himself adopted dark colors largely because he lacked his brother’s peculiar ability to seem to vanish into the darkness or the woodwork when he chose. Dane had explained the puzzle by talking about the difference between them.
“You’re like neon, and if there’s an off switch, you haven’t found it.”
    After Skye had contrasted his brother’s utterly tranquil surface with his own impatience and restlessness, he admitted to himself that Dane was probably right. Years of discipline had given Dane the ability to cloak his own nature, but Skye had never