Forged In Desire

“Yes, most definitely.”

Margo then watched as Striker walked Claudine to the door.

* * *

“I’M GOING TO let you introducing me as Lamar slide.”

Margo glanced across the table at him as they ate lunch. “I assume that’s your name since it’s on your driver’s license. If you don’t like it, then change it.”

“Trust me. I would if I could.” He knew Margo was annoyed at him for how he’d handled Claudine. “You do know pouting won’t get you anywhere, don’t you?” he said, before taking a huge bite of his sandwich.

She narrowed her gaze. “You could have compromised my relationship with a client.”

“How?”

“You were wearing a gun.”

He rolled his eyes. “Since I was wearing my jacket, how was she supposed to know what I had underneath it...unless she copped a feel. Were you expecting her to do that?”

“Of course not.”

“Okay, then. You’re getting all worked up for nothing. You need to just chill.”

When she didn’t say anything, he shook his head. Getting up from the table, he stretched his body before tossing the trash into the garbage container. He then leaned a hip against the counter and watched her.

Striker let the silence stretch between them, knowing he wouldn’t have to wait too much longer. She jerked around and glared at him. “Just what are you staring at?”

“So, you can talk? For a minute there I thought that maybe you’d lost your voice.”

She clenched her teeth so hard he swore he could hear her doing so. Instead of their working relationship moving forward, it was going backward, real fast. “Look, Margo. Don’t you think at some point we need to reach an agreement to get along? You can’t keep fighting me at every turn. Whether you like me or not, whether you like the situation you’ve been placed in or not, I’m not going anywhere. My job is to protect you and I intend to do that, regardless of how you feel about it.”

“Fine. And you need to not be so unbending and show flexibility with some things. I’m aware of the danger I’m in, Striker, and I do appreciate you protecting me, but do you have to be so dogmatic?”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

Okay, maybe he was. He had given Roland his word to protect her and he took his promises seriously. “Alright, let’s agree on a truce,” he said. “I promise to try to be more flexible if you’ll stop resisting me all the time. Agreed?”

For a long moment their gazes held and then she said, “Yes, I agree. Considering everything, I know I need to be protected, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“You’re right. It doesn’t.” He didn’t say anything for a few moments and then added, “Trust me, Margo, I know exactly how it feels to get your freedom taken away.”

She frowned. “No. Don’t compare my situation with yours, Striker. What I’m going through is nothing compared to what you had to endure all those years. I can’t possibly imagine.”

She was right. She couldn’t. But neither would he lessen what she was dealing with. “So, from here on out, we’re good?”

“We’re good,” she said, standing and sliding her chair under the table.

Striker covered the distance separating them. “Let’s shake on it,” he said, offering her his hand.

She looked at his hand. “Shake on what?”

“On our truce.”

“Really? Is that necessary?”

Striker forced a smile to his lips. She was hesitating and a part of him knew why. He wasn’t made of stone and remembered what had happened the last time they shook hands. The moment their hands had touched yesterday, a pang of intense desire had shot through him. He’d felt it and had known she’d felt it as well. “I believe a person’s word is their bond, and we need to shake on it.”

“I said I agreed to a truce, Striker.”

“I know you did. But why are you against sealing the deal with a handshake?” He knew he was playing with fire, but he didn’t care. A part of him enjoyed pushing her buttons.

She lifted her chin. “I am not against it.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Narrowing her gaze at him, she took the hand he offered.

CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_33df396a-9e2a-558d-a037-dc4999ea37d4)

JUST LIKE IT HAD YESTERDAY, an intense rush of yearning tore through Margo the moment her hand touched Striker’s. But unlike yesterday, now she did not want to snatch her hand back. She needed to know, to understand, why there was this powerful desire whenever they touched. If she was truly honest with herself, she would admit the desire was also there whenever she looked at him.

While she had dated a few times, she hadn’t been intimate with a man since her breakup with Scott; however, she doubted that could be it. Sex between her and Scott hadn’t been all that frequent and it definitely left a lot to be desired. Could it be that Striker was such a dominant male in looks, build and sexuality that all that raw desire oozing from him had an effect on her whether she wanted it to or not?

She wasn’t pulling her hand from his, but why wasn’t he ending the handshake? And was she imagining it or was the air surrounding them suddenly charged with an electric awareness? The man and woman kind? A mere touch from Scott had never affected her like this. Not only was she fully aware of this man, but she was responsive to the intense heat he generated.

She continued to hold his gaze. Call it woman’s intuition, but she had a good idea of what he was feeling. And the look in his eyes was definitely telling her what he was thinking. The gaze roaming over her was blatant, sexual and bold.

Her nipples tightened to hardened buds. When had they ever done that? Definitely not whenever Scott was looking at them the way Striker was doing. He was arousing her as no other man had before.

Margo felt a gentle tug on her hand and realized he was slowly easing her toward him. Now was the time to yank her hand free, but for some reason, she couldn’t. And when he tightened his hold on her hand and continued to stare down at her with a gaze that almost took her breath away, she felt her senses infused with mind-numbing desire.

He shifted his stance to lean closer to her and began lowering his head toward hers. He started nipping lightly at her mouth. She could no longer deny what was taking over her mind and her body. Nor could she dismiss the hungry throb of her lips that wanted to be fully taken by his.

The tiny nips continued. Was he intentionally trying to drive her crazy by playing with her mouth instead of giving her a full, heated kiss? Surely he could hear her tiny moans, the way her breath was being forced from her lungs. Then finally with a confidence that shot arousal through every part of her body, he fully covered her mouth with his.

Margo felt his tongue enter her mouth, glide slowly around before finally touching hers, capturing it and proceeding to suck on it. She’d barely gotten the chance to familiarize herself with Striker’s taste when his phone rang. Muttering a curse, he released her mouth to answer. Margo drew in a deep breath while thinking she should be thankful for the intrusion; it had shocked some sense into her.

She needed to get away from him, escape into her workroom, try to forget all about that short—yet satisfying—kiss and begin work on Claudine’s wedding gown. She wanted to be any place but here when Striker ended the call. But the tenseness in his voice and his glance her way told Margo the call was about her, so she decided for the time being to stay put. He was no longer saying anything. Just nodding every so often while keeping his gaze firmly on her.

The call lasted a few moments longer and then he said, “Okay, keep me posted,” before clicking off the phone.

“What was that about?” she asked, taking the chance he might tell her that it wasn’t any of her business.

He rubbed his face as if he was frustrated about something. “An arrest has been made.”

She threw her hand to her throat. Surprised. Elated. “They got the assassin?”