Who Do You Trust? by Melissa James Page A

right. He rushed on, “Sorry I’ve been so stupid. I just love you so much, and the thought of losing you…”
    She shuddered so delicately only he felt it. “I love you, too, Mitch.” The words, warm and soft, came out frigid on her lips, as insincere as the words of love he’d just given.
    Damn! After waiting half a lifetime, it shouldn’t be like this. None of it should be like this. But there was more at stake than his relationship with Lissa. He had to find out what was going down here, or the vital work of the Nighthawks would be destroyed. He kissed her jaw, her ear and murmured, “Who is he?”
    She tugged at his ear with her teeth. “I don’t know. He said you left the Air Force two years ago.” She moved against him, moaning. “Darling, that’s so good…”
    My God. That was highly classified information! His cover was blown even before he set up a courier business. Anson would roar like a wounded tiger when he knew. “Let’s go to bed.” He cupped her bottom in his hands, his body taut with fury and unwanted arousal. “Is there anything on you? Any bugs?” he whispered.
    “No. Just in every room. I think he did it when we were at Bob’s the first night.”
    Damn and double damn.
    She let her hands roam under his shirt. “I don’t want our first time to be in the bed I slept in with Tim,” she said in a strangled sexual mutter. “That’s why I’ve held off, darling—not because I didn’t want to. Let’s make love outside, out by the water hole, where we were always together as kids.”
    “I’ll buy us a new bed this afternoon.” He chuckled aloud for the bug, but in truth stunned by her quick thinking and clever manipulation. She’d woven truth and lie, using her real life and his to find a way of getting privacy their silent watcher would find hard to doubt. And heaven help him, he was horny as hell, turned on beyond belief by the lightning change in her, by her intelligence in a terrifying situation—by the sexual game they had to play. “I’ll grab a blanket.”
    “Mmmm…” She kissed him again. “Two blankets, darling, just in case anyone comes and sees us.” Another soft, melting kiss, her eyes flashing. “He’s not far away. He’ll probably watch us. We’ll have to make it look real—but it damn well better not be until I have answers,” she whispered fiercely into his mouth. “Don’t take long,” she moaned aloudan’t wait…”
    And he’d thought her predictable? Sheesh. She could win an Academy Award for this performance. But while the Nighthawk in him cheered her on, the man wanted more.
    The next kiss he gave her was deep and hot and real. Grinding against her, getting even hotter when she pressed back, kissed him back with a passion she couldn’t possibly be faking. “Is this exciting you as much as me?” he growled in her ear.
    She grinned up at him. “Probably more,” she whispered, “since I reckon you’re probably used to it. I haven’t had this much fun since I always beat you and Tim and Sally Jones at Spy versus Spy. Oh, Mitch! Now!” she cried aloud.
    The memory hit him. How had he forgotten? Lissa always found the treasures buried on school orienteering games, always knew who murdered who, and where, whenever they played Cluedo, and always topped them at Spy versus Spy. Her nickname at school had been Nancy Drew. She’d been so known for her love of intrigue-type stuff she’d been voted “girl most likely to join the FBI.”
    So make use of it now, if only this once—then get her right out of it.
    “I’ll get the blankets.” In her ear, “You’d better control this if you want it to stay fake, because I’m way past that.”
    She lifted a brow. “I like that idea,” she purred, loud enough for the bug to pick up, low enough to sound saturated with sex. “Being on top. Hmm.” Try it and you’re dead, she mouthed.
    He laughed and nuzzled her neck. “You’re driving me nuts, Miller, you know that?”
    Both brows lifted