"But they weren't-" He stopped. He didn't know why he was so angry. She was right; he had sent many of his people into danger. Riskwas accepted as part of a reporter's life. Yet there was something so fragile and vulnerable about Ronnie Dalton despite her air of tough bravado that the thought of her in danger made him-

"It's my face, isn't it?" She grimaced. "I've had to fight this cherub's mug all my life. No one wants to take me seriously."

"You're still pretty young. It's not been a very long battle." He touched the scar again, his finger rubbing gently. "This isn't a fresh wound. How old were you when you got the scar?"

"Eighteen." She looked down at his finger. "I wish you wouldn't do that; it makes me feel… funny."

Touching her didn't make him feel funny, it made him horny as hell. He could feel himself hardening and was abruptly conscious of a lemony scent clinging to her, of her slight breasts thrusting beneath the thin sheet.

Crazy. He was probably only minutes away from another encounter with those Middle Eastern thugs and he wanted only to mount the woman and drive into her like a rutting stallion. Hell, maybe not so crazy. It was instinct for every species, when faced with death, to want to procreate. At least there was no doubt he wanted to.

"You're not-" She stopped when she heard the sound of raised voices in the hall. "They're here!"

He moved swiftly over her.

TWO

Warm hard flesh against her own.

Shock. Fear.

Ronnie was conscious her heart was pounding so hard it made her breath come in short, painful pants.

"You're shaking," he whispered. "Take it easy, everything will be all right."

"I know that." She swallowed and added, "Maybe."

His head lifted. "They're opening all the doors." He parted her thighs and moved between them. "Wrap your legs around me. Quick!"

She obeyed him without thinking, her thighs closing around his hips. Shocking hardness. Her eyes widened and her gaze flew to his face. "Why, you're-"

"Adrenaline has that effect on me. It doesn't mean anything," he muttered.

"It feels like it means something very-"

The door of their room flew open.

She couldn't see anything beyond his shoulder.

He turned his head so that only his bearded cheek would be revealed and shouted something in Said Ababan in a guttural tone.

There was an answering curse from the intruders and then the door slammed shut.

She went limp with relief. She whispered, "You'd better not move until we're sure they're gone."

"I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice still thick and guttural. Then his hands fastened on her shoulders and he added, "We could make it even more believable." His palms began to move in a caressing, yearning movement. "Lord, you're soft…"

And he was iron hard; the muscles of his chest and abdomen felt like steel pressed against her. Evan had said Falkner had exercised for hours every day in captivity and she could believe it as she felt the tough corded textures of him. She gazed up at him in fascination. The brown beard and contact lenses disguised him and yet they were not the cause of the sense of strangenessshe felt. It came from Gabe Falkner himself, who was turning out to be a different, more vulnerable man than any she had imagined. His chest was moving rapidly, lifting and falling with each breath; his cheeks were flushed and hollowed with hunger.

His hips moved with the same yearning movement as his hands on her shoulders, and she felt a tingle of heat start between her thighs when he nestled even closer into that most intimate part of her. "Lord, I want in!" he said through his teeth. "Let me-"

She felt dazed, chained, unable to stir. She shook her head as much to clear it as to refuse him. "No, it's not-"

"No?" He froze in place. "Okay." He drew a deep ragged breath. "I hear you. My body isn't paying much attention, but I'm not going to rape vou." His teeth sank into his lower lip. "Just lie perfectly still and I'll be all right."

Dimly she heard the uproar continuing on in the hall; the beating of his heart sounded louder, stronger, filling the room.

"Talk to me," he said.

She didn't know if she was capable of speech. "What do you want me to say?" she asked breathlessly.

"I couldn't care less. What is Ronnie short for? Veronica?"

"It's just Ronnie. My father wanted a boy."

"Why?"

"He thought a girl would be inconvenient. I was a big disappointment until he found out he could treat me like a boy anyway. Are they gone yet?"

"Not yet," he said in a hoarse voice. "I can still hear them at the other end of the hall. What about your mother?"

"She divorced my father when I was three."

"And left you?"

"For her a baby was an inconvenience, period. No matter what the sex."

"Sex…" he repeated. "I believe it's a mistake to mention that word under the present circumstances."

She laughed shakily. "Jed always did say I had a talent for blurting out the wrong thing at the wrong time."

He stiffened. "Who the hell is Jed?"

"They're gone," Fatima declared as she opened the door and marched into the room.

"Thank God!" Gabe pushed the sheet down and moved off Ronnie, stopping at her side.

Fatima raised her brows. "Your time withher shouldn't have proved that unpleasant. She is skinny but not that bad." Her gaze went to his lower body and she grinned. "No, you do not find her too ugly."

Ronnie reached down to pull the sheet back over her naked body. "You've posted a lookout?"

Fatima nodded. "But I don't think they will be back. They've gone to search the house next door. I will send you food and wine."

"Will we be safe here?" Gabe asked.

Ronnie shrugged. "Safer than on the streets. They'll be stopping everyone for the next few hours. Evan has arranged for a Jeep to meet us at the edge of the bazaar at seven in the morning. It will be so busy there that we'll hardly be noticed."

"Evan?"

"My father." Ronnie wound the sheet around her and stood up. "I'll go get dressed."

"Stay here." Fatima turned. "Someone might see you and I don't need word of any strangers wandering around the place. I'll get the clothes Evan brought for both of you."

Ronnie stood uncertainly as the door closed behind Fatima before forcing herself to turn back to Gabe. He was lying there totally nude, sherealized with shock. Big, brawny, unashamed, and completely male. Very male. She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she glanced away from him and said with bravado, "It's too bad the circumstances aren't different. Evan says Fatima's women are the best in the Middle East. You could take the edge off before-"

"Take the edge off?" Gabe repeated.

"That's what Evan calls it." Blast it, she wished Fatima would hurry with those clothes. She didn't look at him as she plopped down on the bed and retrieved her camera bag from under it. "I think it's one of his more apt phrases. It pretty much says it all, doesn't it? Sex gets rid of all the tension and lets a person get on with the important things."

"If you view sex so casually, why the hell didn't you let me-" He stopped and then, spacing each word carefully, said, "I believe we'd better talk about something else."

"Or not talk at all." She reached into her bag and with a flourish pulled out a deck of cards. "Poker?"

"You play?"

"Sure." She began to shuffle the cards. Damn, she hoped he wouldn't notice the slight tremor in her hands. "I'm terrific."

He sat up and crossed one muscular leg over the other. She wished he hadn't done that. It disturbed her. Now he looked like a naked sultan lolling in his harem, bringing all kinds of erotic thoughts to her mind.

He studied her for a moment and then smiled curiously. "Do you know, I believe I'm beginning to agree with you."

Gabe picked up his cards and, without looking at Ronnie, asked casually, "By the way, who is this Jed?" "Jed Corbin."

He glanced up swiftly. "The Jed Corbin?" She nodded. "We work together. Jed's fantastic."

"I agree. He's one of the best anchors in the business. I tried to lure him away to my network three years ago."

"Really? Jed never told me." "Does he usually tell you everything?" "Not as much as he should. He worries too much about his crew." She grinned at him. "Like you."

"You can never worry too much when you're asking your people to put their lives on the line."

He threw down a card, and Ronnie dealt him a new one. "Why haven't I heard about you? When I was investigating Corbin before offering him a job, I studied most of his stories. I don't remember seeing your name on the credits."

"I like to keep a low profile."

"Emmy Award seekers don't hide their lights under a bushel," he said flatly.

She could have bitten her tongue. Lord, he was sharp. She had forgotten she'd made that flippant remark, but evidently he had not.

"I'll make an exception." She quickly changed the subject. "I'm surprised you didn't get Jed to come over. He likes your style."

"Evidently not enough. Why isn't he here now instead of letting you run the risks alone?"

"Oh, he doesn't know I'm here. I told him I was going to Germany to interview East Berliners about life after unification." She made a face. "I figured that sounded boringly safe enough, even for him."

"Instead you come here and try to get yourself killed by terrorists."

"Neither of us is going to get killed." She looked at him uncertainly. "I did a good job so far, didn't I?"

He smiled. "Very good."

She felt a rush of pleasure. "Well, then there's no reason to think the rest of the plan won't go off as well."