Predatory Game by Christine Feehan

youth, I wouldn’t want to dwell on it either,” she sniffed.
    “So did you? Have bad taste I mean? In your youth?”
    Instantly a shutter slammed down, laughter fading from her dancing eyes and leaving them veiled, shadowed, even haunted. Saber shrugged the question away casually, too casually. “Good juice, Jesse. Is this fresh squeezed?”
    “Of course. What else would I do with you ill?” He ran his knuckles along her cheek in a rough caress. “How are you feeling this morning? I was worried last night.”
    “Better. I’ll go to work tonight,” she assured him.
    “Saber, don’t be ridiculous. You’re not well.” He laid a cool hand on her forehead. “You’re still running a fever.”
    “I’m better,” she insisted.
    “Uh-huh, I can tell.” He couldn’t help smiling. Sitting curled up in the oak chair, clad in his robe, black hair tousled, long lashes sweeping the curve of her cheek, Saber was irresistible. Jess had to touch her, wanted to hold her. His finger traced the back of her hand, just to keep the contact. “I am your boss, baby, and I say you don’t go to work tonight.”
    She tilted her chin. “Do I get it off with pay?”
    “You drive a hard bargain.”
    “I’ll get your coffee,” Saber volunteered.
    “Sit. I’ll get the coffee. You finish that juice and get back to bed.” Jess easily reached the coffeemaker sitting on the low counter.
    “So, all right, I’ll admit I’m hooked. Does Chaleen work for the CIA, or is she some agent for another government?”
    Jess concentrated his entire attention on pouring himself a cup of coffee.
    Saber ruffled his hair. “Never mind, dragon king. I don’t want you to have to lie to me.”
    His hand reached up to cover hers, fingers sliding sensuously between hers. Before she could pull away, he captured her hand, brought it to his chest. “I’m willing to trade, baby.”
    Saber could feel the steady beat of his heart. For some odd reason she had the urge to lay her head on his chest. She couldn’t look into his probing eyes. “I don’t have anything to trade.”
    His eyebrow shot up, but before he could respond, the shrill ringing of the telephone interrupted them. He grinned, white teeth flashing. “You have a guardian angel.” Jess reached a lazy hand out for the receiver. “Yes?”
    Saber rolled her eyes at his unconventional greeting. A faint scowl flitted across his features, and for a brief moment his dark gaze rested on her small face.
    “She’s ill, Les, she’s not coming in tonight.” Deliberately, he ignored Saber’s frantic signals, holding the receiver away from her, fending her off with one hand.
    “I can go in if they need me,” she hissed. Her gaze slid over his rough good looks and narrowed speculatively. Was that a smear of bright red lipstick along the bluish shadow of his jaw? Her fist clenched. Had he allowed that witch to kiss him?
    “What kind of calls? Threats? What the hell does ‘not exactly’ mean?” Jess sounded impatient. “If someone is harassing the station, or Saber in particular, call the police.”
    “No.” Saber made another grab at the telephone, her face pale. “Jesse,” she wailed when he whirled his chair around, keeping his back to her, preventing her from getting to the receiver.
    “What exactly is he saying? Yes, that’s right. Call the security company, have them double the guard around the station. Brady’s security tonight? Have him give me a call. Sure, Les, thanks for calling.” He dropped the receiver in its cradle and turned his chair to face her.
    “That was my phone call, Jesse,” Saber protested, her heart slamming in alarm, “you had no right to keep me from it.”
    As usual, he didn’t seem to be the least bit intimidated or upset by her outburst. “Sit down before you fall down,” he suggested calmly. “You’re trembling.”
    “With anger,” she exploded, but she did sit, afraid her shaking legs wouldn’t support her.
    “With fear. Tell me about it,