“Mallory, come on,” Jac muttered, her hips lifting all on their own. She steadied herself with her fingertips on Mallory’s shoulders, looking down into Mallory’s sparkling, triumphant eyes.

“What? Huh?” Mallory said with a teasing lilt as she popped the button on Jac’s waistband. She unzipped Jac’s fly, her gaze never leaving Jac’s face.

“I’m naked under there,” Jac warned, her voice thick and husky.

“Oh, I know.” Mallory grabbed the material over Jac’s hipbones and tugged her pants down, shoving them to the tops of Jac’s boots so she had enough room to spread her legs.

The top of Jac’s head threatened to blow off. She was wet, hard, and ready. “If you stop now I’m going to cry.”

Mallory kissed Jac’s stomach and rubbed her cheek over the base of Jac’s belly. She clasped Jac’s ass in both hands and squeezed, pulling Jac harder against her face. “Have a little faith,” Mallory whispered against Jac’s skin.

“Mal,” Jac groaned. “I really need you to make me come.”

Mallory licked a line from Jac’s belly button down to the triangle between her thighs. Jac’s thighs rippled and her knees bent. Mallory held her tighter and licked her again. “Don’t come right away.”

“I’m not gonna be able to help it.”

Mallory tilted her head back and shot Jac a boss look. “I know you’ve got better control than that, Russo.”

Dazed, a little desperate, afraid she might come the instant Mallory touched her, Jac shook her head. “I don’t. I don’t. Damn it, you’re killing me.”

Mallory laughed. “Oh no, I’m not. I’m going to make you feel so good.” She framed Jac’s sex with both hands and opened her with her thumbs. She moaned, a hungry moan of approval, and kissed Jac exactly where she needed it.

“God,” Jac gasped, tilting her hips, pushing against Mallory’s mouth. “Do that again and I’ll come.”

“Go ahead,” Mallory murmured, her lips moving against Jac’s center. “I really want you to come in my mouth.”

Jac’s vision went fuzzy. The little bit of pressure from Mallory’s lips passing over her tense clitoris was so exquisite, so perfect, she started to hum inside. “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Mmm-hmm. So you said.” Mallory sucked her, softly, slowly, and then leaned back, rubbing her hands fitfully up and down Jac’s thighs. Her lips were swollen and flushed. “You’re so beautiful. You taste so good I don’t want you to come yet. I want you just like this forever.”

“I can’t, Mal,” Jac groaned. “Just let me come, then you can do anything you want.”

Mallory slid her thumbs up the insides of Jac’s thighs and parted her again. “I’ll remember you said that.”

Mallory’s mouth closed over her, firm and sure and hot, and Jac grabbed Mallory’s head. She worked herself into Mallory’s mouth, her knees going loose and her ass tightening. “I’m coming. Oh fuck, Mal, I’m coming.”

Mallory took her, all of her, in deep and didn’t stop until Jac ceased pumping between her lips. Mallory looked up, her expression soft and sated. “Lie down with me.”

Jac stumbled the few feet to the sleeping bag and collapsed as Mallory crawled over beside her. Jac kicked off her pants and boots, wrapped Mallory in her arms, and kissed her. She wanted Mallory, needed her, in ways that should have scared the hell out of her, but all she wanted to do was shout like a crazy person, she was so damn happy. She’d just been demolished by a woman and she’d never felt stronger. The chains of caution fell away and the words burst out. “I love you, Mallory.”

Mallory stiffened.

“I know you probably think it’s just the great sex talking,” Jac said quickly, “but it—”

“I don’t think that.” Mallory stroked Jac’s hair, then cupped the curve of Jac’s hip. Pressed tight against her. “But I don’t know if I want you to.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jac kissed her forehead. “But it’s one of those things, like trust. You don’t get to decide.”

“I’m afraid I’ll hurt you,” Mallory said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“Loving you feels good, Mal. Don’t ask me not to.”

“God, I can’t.” Mallory buried her face in Jac’s neck. “Maybe I should tell you not to, but I can’t.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Jac surfaced from oblivion to someone shaking her shoulder. Grunting, she tried to pull away but stopped resisting when her brain registered the faint current of honeysuckle wrapping around her senses. The next instant she remembered everything. Mallory’s body, warm and pliant beneath her hands, Mallory’s head thrown back in abandon. Mallory’s mouth on her, taking her in ways she’d never been taken before. Her hips jumped and she groaned. “Mallory?”

Beside her, Mallory sat up quickly. “We’ve got company.”

“What?” Jac’s eyes flew open. Judging by the slanting rays of the sun coming through the window high up on the wall, it was only late morning. They’d been asleep two or three hours at the most. “Benny maybe?”

“Not unless he’s wearing high heels,” Mallory muttered.

Jac heard it then, the rapid-fire strike of heels on cement, and her stomach sank. She knew that rhythm. “Fuck.”

“Jac?” Mallory searched around inside the sleeping bag, found her sweatpants, and lifted her hips to pull them on, still lying flat on her back. “What’s going on?”

“Stay there.” Jac jumped up naked and looked around for her clothes. She’d chucked everything far and wide when she’d taken them off. Just as she spied her jeans, she heard the scrape of shoe-leather on steel. Their company had arrived. She spun toward the edge of the loft, and a familiar coiffed blond head appeared followed by a long, sensuous body sheathed in a tailored plum Prada silk suit. The skirt came to just above Nora Fleming’s knees, showcasing her shapely expanse of calf below. The suit jacket was buttoned over a low-cut ivory camisole, exposing a hint of pale creamy cleavage. Sexy without being blatantly suggestive. Nora stopped, sedately deposited her soft calfskin briefcase on the floor next to her lethally thin spiked black heels, and coolly appraised Jac. “You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“I’ve been busy,” Jac said.

Mallory handed Jac her jeans. “Put these on.”

“Thanks.” Jac grasped the pants without looking at Mallory and jammed her legs into them. “What are you doing here?”

“Your father has a fund-raiser Friday night. He wants you there.”

“I can’t make it.” Jac zipped her fly and buttoned her jeans. Her stomach felt hollow, as if she hadn’t eaten in a long time, but the thought of food made her nauseous. The loft was cool and she was bare-chested. Her nipples tightened.

“Could you excuse us for a few moments,” Mallory said, getting to her feet, “while we get decent?”

Mallory spoke with what some might call a pleasant tone, but Jac knew better. The ice in her voice barely disguised the razor edge of temper. Mallory was pissed.

“This doesn’t concern you,” Nora said dismissively, not bothering to look at Mallory when she responded. “Jac, whatever game you’re into here isn’t as important as your father’s fund-raiser. It’s bad enough we couldn’t reach you for his nationally televised acceptance speech. Your father is going to be the next president of the United States, and it’s time for you to grow up.”

“Grow up,” Jac whispered, thinking of her months overseas, her weeks on the fire line last summer, the last few days doing SAR up in the mountains. She’d faced death, beaten death, wasn’t that enough? Wouldn’t anything ever be enough? “I’m not playing, Nora.”

“Whatever you think you’re doing is beside the point. The family needs to present a united front now. You’re needed at home.”

Jac shook her head. “That would be new. I thought he wanted me MIA.”

“Jac,” Mallory murmured, grasping Jac’s arm.

“It’s a little late to feel sorry for yourself, Jac. Most of your problems you brought on yourself.” Nora glanced at the rumpled sleeping bags as if indicating the evidence. “Considering you’ve practically made it your life’s work to entertain the media, your father has little choice. He can hardly pretend you don’t exist.”

Mallory said, “It seems to me he’s been doing a pretty good job of that so far.”

Fleming flicked arctic blue eyes in Mallory’s direction. “Perhaps you’d like to excuse us. This is Jac’s business.”

“Actually, this is my business too.” Mallory retrieved Jac’s shirt and handed it to her. While Jac took the shirt, Mallory stepped slightly in front of her, facing Nora. “I’m Mallory James. I’m the ops manager of this station. Jac’s not going anywhere.”

“Well that’s very convenient for you,” Nora said. “Is sleeping with your subordinates a regular part of your program?”

“Nora,” Jac said sharply. “This is private.”

“Not really.” Nora bent down, opened her thousand-dollar briefcase, and withdrew a manila folder. She slid out a photograph as she walked to Jac. “I wouldn’t exactly call this private.”

Jac’s stomach curdled. She only had to glance at it for a second to recognize the image. Her and Mallory, apparently about to share a kiss. “Did they ask for money?”

“Not yet.” Fleming put the photograph back in the envelope. “Since you’ve obviously gotten yourself into another”—Fleming raked her eyes over Mallory—“situation, you need to let us contain it. I think you’ll be better off at home. Your father agrees.”

Mallory slid her arm around Jac’s waist. “This is a situation, all right, but one you probably don’t understand. Jac’s not going anywhere. She’s on my team, and unless I say she goes, she doesn’t.” When Fleming looked like she was about to interrupt again, Mallory held up her hand. “Furthermore, our relationship is our business, and no one is going to tell us what we can and cannot do.”

“Mal,” Jac murmured, “we ought to talk about this.” Mallory might be used to parachuting from a plane into the face of a wildfire, but she had no idea how dangerous it would be taking on Franklin Russo. She wouldn’t just get burned, she’d be incinerated.