Jammer slammed the door of his hotel room in Minsk, still simmering about the lost opportunity to amass the weapons that Fuentes needed for his deal with the Libertad. He smelled her exotic scent and started to turn—a little too late. Someone struck him, knocking his feet out from under him. He hit the carpet hard, the air whooshing out of his lungs. That same someone put a knee into his lower back to keep him immobile.

"Hi, honey, I'm home."

It seemed a lifetime ago since he'd heard that soft, sexy voice. Another kind of simmering overtook him.

"Gina," he said.

"Don't Gina me, pal."

He didn't figure Gina for the woman-scorned type, but he could hear the anger in her voice. He had to wonder if he'd gotten to her as much as she'd gotten to him.

"You recovered. Your knee feels like a dagger in my back."

"Just be glad it isn't a real dagger. It would be a shame to mar such an amazing specimen of muscle and bone. You do have an amazing back…and…front, Jammer. Everything is quite spectacular, in fact."

His body pulsed, remembering how ravenous they'd been for each other. He felt her relax a little. It was the opening he needed, and he took it. Using his superior strength, he pinned her to the soft carpet.

Grabbing her wrists as he rolled, he straddled her thighs, using the weight of his body to hold her down.

She didn't fight him or look remotely alarmed. If anything, she looked…excited.

She also looked damn good and a balm to his eyes. She was all black and white, from the cap of mussed black hair with the white streak, to the black-and-white halter top and black mini, to the white stockings and short black stiletto-heeled boots she wore on her feet.

With that combo he thought she should be gracing a stage with her rocker-chick attitude and beautiful, sapphire-blue eyes that showed the world how tough she could be.

He levered his body over hers, tracing his hands down her arms to her delicate wrists. She arched up into him, causing him to swallow a groan of satisfaction as the rigid length of him came into contact with the softest part of her. He managed to find the strength to resist the urge—a primal directive—to drill his hips into hers.

Instead he brought his mouth within a whisper of her lips. "This is a backstabbing business we're in, Gina, but since I don't see a knife in your hand, you must be here for a different reason."

"I am here for something, Jammer. I have an offer for you." Her lips parted, and she moved sinuously beneath him, torturing them both.

His response was automatic and out of control. Less than ten minutes in her presence and his focus was already shot. He had no business engaging in this activity with Gina. And he didn't give a flat damn. It seemed as if the short number of weeks they'd been apart had been years. He'd waited a long time for a woman like her. Maybe a lifetime.

Too bad it was just too late. For both of them.

His distraction cost him. She bucked her hips and used the momentum to dislodge him and flip him onto his back. This time she weaved her fingers through his, trapping his hands to the carpet.

Their gazes locked. Fused, almost. He half expected the windows to fog up, given how much heat they were generating.

"Is that so?" he said.

She pressed down against his groin, then rubbed along the hardness with abandon. He moaned softly, his eyes closing.

"What do you have to offer me?"

"What? No preliminaries first? No, 'How have you been?' and 'Gee, it's been ages since we've seen each other'?"

"I'd offer you a seat and some fine wine, but I'm a bit indisposed right now."

"I'd forgotten what a charming bastard you are." She smiled then, her eyes twinkling with the mischief he knew all too well. But he had enough brain cells still firing to realize that forgiveness with Gina came at a price. The other reason he liked being close to her was that she kept him on his toes. Even when she was keeping him on his back. An added bonus.

"Now you've hurt my feelings," he said. "I'd hoped you hadn't forgotten a single thing about me." They slipped into their usual banter as if no time had passed. And their playful tête-à-tête was nothing new. Play, however, was something they had more than a little experience in. And playing with Gina was as intoxicating as it was dangerous.

"You, on the other hand, are a hard woman to forget," he said. There was a slight roughness to his tone, one he knew damn well she would pick up on. Just as he knew she'd use every bit of leverage she had with him.

He wished like hell that information bothered him a bit more than it did. He had a shipment to complete and three years of work riding on it; he should bring this to an end and send her packing.

Not entangle himself once again in Gina's very enticing web.

There wasn't a place for her in his world right now—or ever.

"You're not happy to see me. Why is that? Could it be because something big is in the wind?"

It was as if she could read his mind—and he wasn't too certain she couldn't; it would go a long way toward explaining her uncanny ability to stay one step ahead of him. He had to wonder if he had Igor's buyer on top of him right now.

The black leather mini she wore had hiked up in their back-and-forth tussle. He could see the edge of her black garter belt and the tops of her delicate white stockings.

He disengaged his hand, slipping it between them, taking in the way her white stockings made her legs shimmer, the way the lacy band at the top hugged her thighs. Lifting his gaze back to hers, he used his imagination as he traced the garter strap with his fingers, smiled as he touched her panties and her breath quickened. He found the ties at the sides of her hips, and his groin tightened at the thought of how easy it would be to tug on them and remove that flimsy barrier between his fingers and her soft feminine flesh.

"Very, very nice," he murmured, and withdrew his hand from beneath her skirt.

He raised his eyes to hers once more, wondering just what he was putting at risk here. Gina simply wasn't aware of the score, despite her savvy, and that could be dangerous—to his plans and to her. But it might be even more dangerous not to find out what her game was. Besides, all work and no play…

The moment drew out to a taut wire of tension, all of it sexual.

"What is it you came here for, Gina? I tend to doubt it was me."

She pursed her perfectly sculpted lips into a pout, which was so out of character for her it actually made him smile. "Darling," she purred, running her thigh along his hip, "don't sell yourself so short. I could be here for you." Her voice was filled with the carnal knowledge she had of him, making him twitch hard inside his now snug trousers.

He fought the urge—a constant battle—to yank her underneath him, shred the black and white covering her, and bury himself so deeply inside her they'd both forget, at least in that instant, why they were really there. He had carnal knowledge, too. And he was sure she'd be wet enough, tight enough, everything enough to fit him perfectly. "And I'd certainly never want anything less than complete honesty from you."

Something flashed across her eyes then, so swiftly he'd have missed it if he hadn't been paying close attention. And, where Gina was involved, he always paid close attention.

"So noted," she said. "I'm here for two reasons. One, I've gotten wind of your need for a lot of weapons, and two, I simply want you."

"Two tempting offers in one day," he replied.

"Temptation is something we both know more than a little about."

She'd lost her mind. It was the only explanation.

Two weeks or two years. It wouldn't have mattered. Nothing had changed between them. One grin—one flash of those white teeth—and the calculating professional who always put missions first, self second, vanished. And her inner sex kitten took over. What in the hell did she think she was doing?

She could lie to herself and say she was just doing what she had to in order to get him interested in her offer.

And it would be a lie.

She had never been able to get Jammer out of her system. Now here he was, still larger than life, still cocky as hell, and pulling her into that same sexual fog she'd barely escaped from last time. She thought she had a handle on it, had the mission fixed firmly in her mind. She was bringing in the Ghost dead or alive. Period.

Without warning, he flipped her onto her back and the air whooshed out of her. If the hit-and-run hadn't put her in the hospital, she half wondered where they would be now. She was no traitor to her country, but she might have warned him to run when he'd had a chance. But she had to contend with the fact that he'd protected her sister, saved her sister's life by double-crossing Miyagi. He had taken the launchers, but instead of turning Allie over to Miyagi, he had helped her and Drew escape, eliminating Miyagi in the process. It made her wonder who he was. Was he the definition of a bad boy—or one of the good guys? Quite an intoxicating mix. And deliciously dangerous. To her, and to her mission.

She moved her hips beneath his, fighting the internal battle of want over need, losing it handily and not particularly caring. He made it easy to play the siren. One look from him and she felt like some untamed elemental whose only mandate was to melt him down to his most basic essence. It was a wonder they both hadn't gone up in flames the last time they tangled.

Which made what she was doing right now the epitome of foolishness.

"I think I'll take you up on one of your propositions," he murmured.

Her entire body shuddered at the mere thought that he wanted more of her. Her head knew it was business.

But tell that to the rest of her. She was in dire need of an edge. More of an edge than the knowledge his raging erection gave her. She hooked her foot around him and rolled him to his back.

She tried to straddle him, but he wrapped his legs around her and kept her fully pinned to him, his fingers still entwined with hers. So much for controlling things.

"On top. That doesn't surprise me. In fact, I think that's where you like to be," he said, his grin resurfacing.

Her pulse doubled. She was in so much trouble. She could shoot the wing off a fly. But she couldn't be around Jammer for more than five seconds without losing every ounce of intellect she possessed. "I don't seem to recall you complaining all that much."

He laughed. "No. No, I didn't." In a maneuver that made her gasp and then smile, he shifted his arms up over his head, locking their fingers, drawing her face closer to his. He abruptly rolled, and she found herself flat on her back again, pinned down by his weight.

She wished it didn't feel so damn good.

There was no pretense now that each of them was trying to restrain the other.

His big hand traveled down her body, and before she could even gasp, his fingers found those tantalizing little ties and released her underwear in one pull. There was nothing in the way of her slick, swollen flesh.

She sucked in a startled breath. Her body grew hot, her skin much too tight and sensitive. Her nipples tingled, and an insistent throbbing gathered low in her belly, between her thighs, the pressure gradually building with every second that passed. She felt sexually charged, feverish and needy in a way she had no power over.

She could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, could inhale how deliciously male he smelled— a heady combination of heat and forbidden passion. His warm breath ruffled the wisps of hair along the side of her face, and pure, undisguised sexual energy crackled between them, a rare and irresistible chemistry that intensified with each moment that passed.

Her body softened, liquefied, automatically readying itself for his possession. No words were spoken—none were needed—as she lifted a hand and curled her fingers around the nape of his neck. She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him deeply, avidly. His mouth was equally burning and eager, his tongue bold and greedy, consuming her with rich, unadulterated pleasure.

She lost control as his mouth grew more demanding, his lips fiery and moist, sliding over hers. She luxuriated in the untamed sensation along with the freedom to do things with and to this man that she'd never explored with another lover before.

He made her feel amazingly feminine and lavishly seductive—as if she were made specifically for him, in every way. And for as long as she was going to be undercover and sticking to him like flies on honey, she was his in every way.

Breathing hard and aching for him to touch her, she whispered his name.

Hot, callused hands skimmed down her thighs. Long, seeking fingers delved into the crease between her legs. She was already wet, already excruciatingly aroused, drunk on passion and the excitement of the forbidden.

She cried out at his touch and his entire body jerked in response. He slanted his mouth across hers again with a rough growl, his tongue thrusting deep.

He found her clit with his thumb and strummed across that knot of nerves in a sleek caress. All it took was that one electrifying touch, and she came in a fast, feverish climax that left her panting and gasping.

Before she could even get air into her lungs, he rose up off the floor in one powerful move that made her lose her breath all over again. It wasn't far to the bed, thank you very much.

Night had fallen and as he got closer to the bed he was silhouetted against the glow of the city lights through the window.

Her entire body hummed in anticipation. Not that she could really fault her reaction; of course it was going to hum a little. Okay, a lot. But she wished she could stay focused on more important things than what Jammer could do with his very impressive body.