JAVIER DIPPED THE strawberry first into melted chocolate, then into brown sugar, and then into the dish of sour cream. He held the strawberry to Laura’s lips, watched her take it with her tongue.

Her eyes drifted shut as she chewed. “Mmm.”

She sat beside him wearing her bathrobe over hot-pink panties and a white cotton tank top that left little to his imagination, her hair still wet from their shower.

He leaned in and licked a spot of chocolate off her lower lip. “That good, huh?”

She opened her eyes, smiled. “Your turn.”

She selected a fat, red strawberry for him, dipped it in the three small dishes, then held it to his lips.

His gaze fixed on hers, he took her offering and chewed, the sweet-tart-chocolate taste combination surprising him as it exploded across his tongue. “Mmm. Amazing.”

She’d been right when she’d said it was a culinary orgasm.

They’d already polished off their eggs Benedict—which, Javier had discovered, was just a name for poached eggs served on an English muffin with Canadian bacon and some kind of lemony sauce—and were finishing their mimosas and the strawberries he’d grabbed on the way back from his run. He hadn’t had many breakfasts as nice as this, and he knew he would never forget it, not only because of the food and the company, but also because it had followed one of the most incredible nights of his life.

He would remember every moment of last night until the day he died. Last night, he had watched Laura come back to life in his arms. She had trusted him, and together they’d found a way to break through her fear. No, they hadn’t had conventional sex—no tab A in slot B—and yet it had been one of the most sensual nights of his life. If he’d doubted that he was in love with her, those doubts had been blown to bits.

Wouldn’t the guys get a kick out of this if they knew? The Cobra was hopelessly, helplessly in love—and happy about it.

You are in deep shit, chacho.

As for Laura, she’d slept through the night without a single nightmare—which was more than he could say for himself—and seemed more like her old self than she had since he’d arrived in Denver, more playful, more lighthearted, a smile on her beautiful face more often than not. Just seeing her happier made him happy.

They’d already made love once this morning, making creative use of touch and tongues and tile walls—not to mention Laura’s pulsing showerhead.

“That’s two,” he’d whispered when she’d sunk against him in a boneless, postorgasmic stupor.

There was nothing like sex to wake up a man—or a woman—in the morning. And, despite his nightmare, this was the most relaxed he’d felt in months.

He reached for another strawberry, dipped it, and held it out for her. “Where’d you learn this? Is this the way your grandma serves strawberries, because, man, if it is, I got to figure out how you stay so skinny.”

She raised a hand to her mouth, fighting not to laugh while she chewed. “I learned this from my college roommate. She learned it from some other woman and used it to try to seduce some guy she was seeing.”

“She went to all this trouble for that? All she had to do was tell the man he’d be getting puss—” The annoyed look on her face cut his words short. “Uh . . . I mean . . . did it work?”

The corners of Laura’s eyes crinkled, and she burst into laughter. “Just so you know, the p-word doesn’t offend me provided you use it for the correct body part and not to insult people. And, honestly, Javi, I think all women understand that about men. In this case, she was looking for more than sex.”

“Oh.” Okay, that made sense. “She was?”

Laura dipped a strawberry for him and held it. “I think Kim wanted to do the traditional thing—marriage, kids, the dog.”

“You got something against dogs?” He took the fruit from her and was again blown away by the taste.

“I’ve always been focused on my career.”

And Javier’s mood dropped a notch.

They fed each other the rest of the strawberries, the conversation drifting while Javier tried to sort through his feelings. Yeah, the nightmare had sucked. It had been the same nightmare he’d been having off and on for the past three months. He’d been lying wounded in the dirt, holding Krasinski’s hand, trying to keep him conscious, only to discover as the medevac helo went up in a fireball that it was Yadiel bleeding out beside him. But Javier didn’t think the nightmare was to blame for how he felt right now.

Then it hit him.

When they’d met in Dubai, Laura had been clear that she didn’t plan on getting married and having kids. He’d felt the same way. They’d both agreed—no strings.

But now Javier found himself wanting strings.

How was Laura going to feel about that?

She looked into the small dipping dishes. “I wish we had more strawberries. We’ve got leftover chocolate.”

Javier set his thoughts aside and smiled. “I know just what to do with that.”

Oh, yeah. She was going to like number three.

* * *

LAURA LEANED BACK against Javier’s chest in a tub of hot water, feeling languid and sleepy, little tremors of pleasure still shivering through her, her body replete, the chocolate that hadn’t been licked off her skin now washed away. “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He kissed her hair, one arm encircling her just above her breasts, his fingers caressing her shoulder. “You know I am.”

“How did I get so lucky?” She trailed her fingertips over his forearm.

“Hmm?” he asked.

“One night in Dubai, a man steps in to save me from two drunk Russians, and the next thing I know, I’m in bed with him.”

“Nah, not in bed.”

He was right. The first time hadn’t been in bed.

“The next thing I know, he’s shagging me against the wall.”

“It’s a miracle we weren’t arrested.”

True. But that wasn’t the point.

“Now, more than three years later, that same man steps back into my life and changes everything. I never thought I could have this again. I thought . . . I thought this part of me was dead. Thank you, Javi.”

He kissed her hair again. “Hey, all I did was open the door.”

“Oh, you did more than that.”

By some miracle, Laura felt almost whole.

He nuzzled her ear. “Well, I am pretty good in the sack—or so you’ve said.”

She smiled. “You’re very humble about it, too.”

Javier wasn’t just the most creative lover she’d ever had or the most confident, but he was also the most thoughtful. She’d seen that side of him in Dubai, but she’d come to appreciate it even more last night, perhaps because that was what she needed most this time. He’d been patient with her, getting her consent each time, making certain that she felt comfortable—and then driving her wild.

It amazed her to think that he was still holding back. If she’d just met him, she would have no idea how forceful he could be, how physical sex could be with him. As much as she treasured the gentleness he’d shown her, some part of her was beginning to long for the thrill of his more aggressive side—and the feel of him inside her.

She hadn’t found a way to tell him yet, still afraid that she would freak out the moment she felt him thrust into her. But the ache was there.

She wanted him—all of him.

But there was still time for that. In Dubai, they’d had only three nights and two days, and that had been magical. They still had more than a week to be together, and . . .

Her pulse spiked.

More than a week.

That was no time at all.

In the blink of an eye, this would be over. He would go back to the dangerous job that had almost cost him his life, and she would stay here in isolation, waiting for the cops to catch this killer, working at the paper, fighting to get Klara back. And God only knew whether they’d see each other again.

No, she couldn’t let that happen this time.

She decided to come right out and ask. “Can we stay in touch this time?”

“Are you asking for my phone number?”

“E-mail, phone number, address—and your grandmother’s, too.”

“You want to call my abuelita?”

“If anything were to happen to you, I would want to know.”

“Well, it’s kind of sudden. You’re talking about taking our relationship to a whole new level.” He kissed her cheek, his voice going soft. “You got it, bella.”

* * *

BY SUNDAY EVENING they’d made it to number seven. Laura knew it was humanly impossible to reach a thousand in the time they had, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t try.

Javier had made love to her with his mouth, his fingers, her massaging showerhead. He’d even made them both come by rubbing her clitoris with the hard length of his erect cock. They’d tasted each other on the bed, in the shower, on the table, on the floor, and still Javier kept coming up with ideas that were new to her.

Ice cubes. Side-lying sixty-nine. A dab of minty mouthwash on his tongue.

She was just finishing the supper dishes and thinking about the start of the workweek when she heard a buzzing sound. She turned to find him standing there, one dark eyebrow arched, her blue jelly vibrator buzzing and rotating at high speed in his hand. Heat flooded her face. “Oh, my God! Where—”

“You left one of the bathroom drawers open.”

Helvete! Damn!

She reached for it.

He angled his upper body away from her and held it out of her reach. “Hold on. I’ve got a right to check out my competition. Are you blushing? You are.”