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      MILLS & BOON

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      AMY J. FETZER

      was born in New England and raised all over the world. She uses her own experiences in creating the characters and settings for her novels. Married more than twenty years to a United States Marine and the mother of two sons, Amy covets the moments when she can curl up with a cup of cappuccino and a good book.

      Dedicated with love to my son, Zackary Cain,

      For your cartoon obsessions and wanting to explore and invent and draw. For likely being the only teenager who does what he’s told when he’s told and doing it well. For having big dreams and a natural kindness that only angels possess. You, my son, have made me grow as a person and understand why a mother would gladly lay down her life for her child.

       I love you.

      Contents

      Prologue

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Epilogue

      Prologue

      Hong Kong

      He was Secret Service. She was CIA. He wasn’t hiding that fact.

      She was.

      But right now they weren’t hiding a thing from each other. A desire, no, a raging passion she’d never imagined existed inside her, was taking complete command. Ciara loved every second of it. And from the look on his face as she shoved open his trousers, so did he.

      She drove her hand inside the dark fabric and he groaned and pushed her against the nearest wall, taking her mouth with an excitement so powerful, so hot, it would burn out of control in no time. She was counting on it. She had wanted him the minute she saw him. She wanted to be wild and escape and spend this one night with him. He was head-turning handsome with a hard body, and that sexy to-die-for look of a secret agent. Coal-black hair, Nordic blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw she wanted to kiss ’til dawn. Add to that a gentlemanly southern drawl, slightly disguised, and she was melting for him with the first word.

      Behind them in the hotel room lay a trail of clothes—black, inconspicuous. Just what their jobs called for. But the situation now called for none. Naked. Ciara was nearly there. He wasn’t getting there soon enough.

      He ground against her, letting her know he was ready for whatever she had in mind, and she pushed his trousers lower and cupped the tight curve of his buttocks, pulling him into her and sending the same message.

      “You’re driving me insane, you know that?” he said, his voice whiskey rough as his mouth rolled over her throat, her shoulder. He made quick work of her slip, adding it to the trail with her dress.

      “No more than you are me.”

      He unclasped her bra, pulling it off, tossing it aside, then filling his palms with her breasts.

      Ciara gasped, then gasped again as his thumbs circled her nipples deeply. Oh mercy, his touch was all she needed to explode.

      “The instant I saw you, I thought about this.”

      She smiled. “Did you imagine this?” she asked, then slicked her tongue over his nipple. He flinched and made a helpless sound she already loved.

      “Yeah, I did.”

      His knife-creased black slacks hit the floor, and she bent to help them all the way off. And when she stood, she scrubbed her hands over his corded thighs, his trim bare hips. He was built like a wall of muscle, twisted, ropy, delicious to touch and she could tell that he liked watching her touch him. It made her burn for more. She wrapped

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