Tempted by His Target by Jill Sorenson Page B

abruptly. In the car, he’d all but ground his erection against her. She’d expected him to be eager to bed her, not desperate to cross the border.
    Cursing, because his hands were tied, he continued walking. He didn’t care if she stayed angry, as long as she stayed with him. Maybe it was better this way, because he couldn’t stand any more alluring glances.
    Soon after, they came upon a sturdy-looking hacienda on a hill. She pointed to it, indicating that this was the place. There were several outbuildings, including what appeared to be a guest cabin.
    They climbed the steps to the covered walkway, spirits lifting. A note was posted on the front door, written in Spanish.
    “What does it say?” he asked.
    As she scanned it, the hope drained from her face. “The family is away for the holidays, so the guest quarters aren’t available.”
    He swore bitterly, bracing his hands against the front door. Wanting to put his fist through it. Rain battered the adobe roof, pouring off the sides and rushing from the gutters. The temperature had dropped considerably, and although they weren’t in danger of freezing this close to the equator, it would be a hard, cold night in wet clothes.
    Isabel appeared ready to burst into tears. She took off her cap and furrowed a hand through her dark hair, which was plastered to her head. He knew at a glance that she couldn’t continue walking in those useless shoes. The soles had probably been worn down on the sweltering road to Tehuantepec.
    “I suppose you think this is my fault,” she said hotly, following his gaze. “Like the long walk yesterday.”
    He sighed, shaking his head. He wasn’t about to place blame on a woman who carried a dagger strapped to her thigh. As a fashion accessory, it looked sexy as hell. As a weapon, it was very effective.
    “You should go on without me.”
    “Why would I do that?”
    “You obviously can’t wait to get to Guatemala.”
    “Because killers are after us, Isabel. Remember them?”
    “They’re after me, not you.”
    He shrugged, unconcerned with semantics.
    “I don’t need your protection,” she said, her voice raw with emotion. “I don’t want it! Just leave, okay? I have enough blood on my hands.”
    Her willingness to split up infuriated him. “You’re such a damned martyr,” he said, crowding her against the side of the house. “I’m not going anywhere.”
    She shoved at his chest. “Get away from me.”
    Although she was strong and determined, her efforts failed to move him. They did incite him, however. He didn’t like being pushed around, literally or figuratively. So he pushed back the only way he could without hurting her.
    Gripping her chin in one hand, he lowered his mouth to hers.

Chapter 9
    I sabel was prepared for a fight, not a sensual onslaught.
    One moment they were involved a heated argument, the next he was silencing her with an insulting kiss. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like the firm grasp of his fingers, or the rough scrape of his beard stubble, or the careless way he plundered her mouth. She certainly didn’t like him pinning her against the house, holding her prisoner.
    Didn’t he know she could pull her dagger and teach him a lesson?
    She clenched her hands into fists, ready to pummel him. He wasn’t making any attempt to secure her arms, but instead of striking him, she felt herself relax. Her body melted against his as he swept his tongue inside her mouth, penetrating her with bold strokes. He tasted like rain and heat and desperation. She moaned, threading her fingers through his hair and encouraging him to kiss harder .
    Maybe she did like this.
    With a low groan, he obliged her, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth. Her nipples puckered against the damp cups of her bra and need blossomed between her legs. Kissing him back with hungry bites, she explored the bunched muscles in his shoulders, digging her fingernails into his wet shirt.
    He made a strangled sound and slid his hands to her