Confiscated Conception

It didn’t.

But it would have been far better if it had.

Jared stepped inside and made a mental note of the weapons that were neatly arranged in a rack next to the door. Side arms and rifles for backup. Extra magazines of ammunition. Ditto for the two Texas Rangers posted at the checkpoint at the end of the road. They were armed to the hilt.

Maybe the four peace officers wouldn’t try to use those weapons against him before this visit was over.

He glanced around the sparsely furnished place and spotted Rachel right away. She was in the adjoining room that had been converted to a gym of sorts. She was barefoot. Her shoulder-length dark blond hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. She wore a pair of loose gray boxers and a red sleeveless T-shirt.

Oh, man.

She looked good. It’d been months since Jared had last seen her and well over a year since he’d had her in his bed. But even after all that time and after everything that had gone on between them, the thought of making love to Rachel still set his blood on fire.

He had too-vivid memories of her naked body slick with perspiration. The feel of her firm breasts beneath his hands. The scent of her arousal mixed with his. The heat of her mouth. The eagerness of her touch.

Which obviously wouldn’t be so eager now.

Jared watched as she pounded her fists and then her forearms into the punching bag. The blows weren’t random but part of a workout routine. Shaolin boxing. And from the looks of things, she wasn’t a beginner.

“Hello, Jared. You’re early. I didn’t expect you for another hour.” Rachel spared him a cool glance with those intense jungle-green eyes before she peeled off her scarred boxing gloves. She picked up a bottle of water from a weight bench, took her time drinking it and then strolled to the window.

Ah, the ice princess act. Her favorite. He recognized it immediately. It probably fooled her bodyguards, but it sure as hell didn’t fool him. She was riled by his visit.

Interesting.

“When did you take up Shaolin boxing?” he asked, walking toward her.

Rachel wiped the perspiration from her forehead with the back of her hand. “About a year ago.”

Of course. It made sense. After all, there was a reason she was in protective custody. This was probably her way of dealing with the constant fear and stress from Clarence Esterman’s death threats.

“You’re good at it.”

She shrugged. “Well, if I’m ever accosted by a punching bag in a dark alley, I’ll be able to hold my own.” The comment might have been lighthearted, but that lightheartedness didn’t quite make it to her voice. She flexed her eyebrows, a mild indication that the chitchat was over. “Let me get a pen so I can sign those papers.”

So much for breaking the ice. This obviously wasn’t an ice-breaking sort of moment. Unfortunately, he had to proceed anyway.

Jared went to her, slipped his arm around her waist. Before she could protest their bodily contact—or use one of those Shaolin boxing moves on him—he upped the ante. He crushed his mouth to hers.

The kiss was, well, interesting, too. Even though it was supposed to be all for show, it sent a jolt of pure heat through him. Too bad he couldn’t say the same for Rachel. If she felt any heat, it was likely from temper and not passion. She shoved her forearm against his abs and jerked away. Jared didn’t let her get too far.

“Play along,” he whispered against her ear. He slipped the thick envelope into the inside pocket of his jacket. “It’s important.”

No cool dismissive glance from her this time. Rachel’s scalpel-sharp gaze sliced him, her eyes asking a lot of tough questions. Questions he couldn’t begin to answer in front of the other officers.

Jared touched her arm with his fingers and rubbed softly. More of the pretense. It was a gesture meant to comfort and reassure.

It didn’t work.

He felt her muscles tighten even more.

“Could you give us some time alone?” Jared asked the detectives. He didn’t look back at Miller and Smith, nor did he take his attention off the obviously irritated woman in front of him. “Rachel’s going in the Witness Protection Program after she testifies against Clarence Esterman this afternoon, so this is my last chance to be with her.”

Detective Miller practically marched across the room and joined them. “Sorry, but I’m not allowed to let Rachel out of my sight. Especially not today.”

Jared gave her his best wise-guy glare. “Then, you’d better brace yourself for one helluva peep show, Detective, because I intend to take my wife in the bedroom and do my best to talk her out of this divorce.”

Rachel opened her mouth and then closed it just as quickly. She pulled her eyebrows together. Jared gave her arm a gentle squeeze, hoping it would buy him a little more cooperation. It bought him a scowl.

“I have orders from the captain—”

“I’m a cop,” Jared reminded Miller. “Head of Special Investigations and your superior officer. The captain’s order is that Rachel be guarded at all times. She will be—by me—and it’ll happen in the bedroom.”

Jared didn’t wait to see if Rachel or Miller would call his bluff. He latched onto Rachel and got her moving toward the back of the house.

“What’s this all about?” Rachel demanded in an angry whisper.

Jared didn’t answer. Not with the detectives right behind them in the hallway. He’d studied the floor plan of the house so he knew where her living quarters were. He maneuvered Rachel into the makeshift suite and slammed the door before Miller could invite herself in.

“I don’t have time to explain everything,” Jared informed her. “I have to get you out of here—now.”

Surprise and then outrage raced through her eyes. It was an understandable reaction. He was feeling plenty of outrage himself.

Jared clamped his hand over her mouth before she could voice her emotions. “Just listen.”

But she didn’t. Rachel shoved his hand away. “I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but I want no part of it, understand? Just give me the divorce papers, damn it, and I’ll sign them.”

“There are no divorce papers.”

Other than a somewhat shocked look, Rachel didn’t have time to react to that news flash.

“Rachel?” Detective Miller called out. “Are you sure you’re all right in there?”

Jared moved quickly when he heard the door open, and he cursed himself for not locking it. It was time to beef up the charade, since Miller obviously wasn’t backing off.

He snapped Rachel to him and kissed her as if they hadn’t been separated for the past fourteen months. In the same motion, he slid his hand beneath her T-shirt. With everything else going on, he sure as hell shouldn’t have noticed that she was wearing only a tiny, silky swatch of a bra.

Lace, at that.

Miller cleared her throat. “If you need me, Rachel, just yell. I’ll be right outside.”

The moment Miller shut the door, Rachel pushed Jared away from her. “What the heck is wrong with you?”

“Plenty.” Jared hurried to the door and locked it. “It’s been a really bad night, and the morning hasn’t gotten any better.”

Not wasting any time, he went to the closet. It was in perfect order. As he’d known it would be. Rachel arranged and organized things when she was nervous. And when she was really nervous, she paced. He figured she’d be pacing and organizing a lot before this was over.

Jared grabbed a pair of running shoes and jeans from the closet and thrust them into her hands. “I don’t have time to soothe your doubts or convince you that I’m doing the right thing. I have to get you out of here.”