Page 21 of Cutter’s Lady

“Is something the matter?” Leslie asked uncertainly.

He said nothing, merely shooting her a hard glance. Leslie didn’t know what to think. Did Cutter believe they were in some kind of danger? Was that why he was hustling her along like this? He looked angry, though she didn’t know where the anger was directed. He had looked surprised and irritated when that gossip Maldenado said Blake was her ex-husband, but surely that wasn’t enough to make him this upset.

When they reached the hotel, Cutter swept her through the lobby and into the elevator. They rode up the elevator in silence. The elevator doors opened on their floor, and Cutter shot out. Leslie followed more slowly, pulling her keycard from her purse. Cutter jerked it from her hand and opened the door. Leslie went inside, Cutter right after her. He closed the door behind him sharply.

Leslie whirled around to face him. “Now will you kindly tell me what is going on? Why did we run all the way from Maldenado’s office?”

Cutter’s eyes blazed. “Was that true? Is this guy your ex, not your husband?”

“Well, yes.” Leslie swallowed. Why was he so angry about it? Why had she fudged about it in the first place?

“That’s great. Just great!” he snapped. “What else have you neglected to tell me? Huh? That he was working for the CIA?”

“Absolutely not!” Leslie gaped. “I don’t understand why you’re getting so worked up about it. What difference does it make?”

“What difference! Damn it, I’m risking my life here, and you don’t even tell me the truth! How can I trust you about anything else you’ve said?”

“Cutter, you’re being unreasonable. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

“No? If it’s a ‘little deal,’ then it’s okay to lie?”

“It wasn’t a lie, exactly.”

“Then what would you call it? You told me he was your husband, and he’s not.” Cutter didn’t know exactly why learning that Blake was Leslie’s former husband had infuriated him so. He only knew that when Maldenado told him, it had hit him like a fist, stunning and maddening. He thought of the times he had looked at her and felt desire beginning to stir in him but had reminded himself that she was married. “Why did you do it? Did you think you were safe from me if you were married? Huh? Is that it? Did you think even I wouldn’t make a pass at a grieving wife?”

As he spoke, he walked toward her, his steps slow and deliberate. His voice had lost its roar and turned low and silken, but it made him seem all the more dangerous. Leslie backed up a step or two. “Cutter, this is ridiculous. I said he was my husband because it seemed easier. That’s all.”

“Easier.” He stopped inches away from her and gripped her arms. “Oh, yeah, it was easier. Then you wouldn’t have to deal with this.” He lifted her up and into him and slowly his head lowered, green eyes boring into hers. Leslie stared up at him, mesmerized, feeling helpless in a way she had never known before. Her heart pounded and her breath came in little jerks. She was a little alarmed—and even more, filled with anticipation.

His lips touched hers, hard and demanding, and his scent filled her nostrils. Hot breath brushed her cheek, and Cutter’s warmth enveloped her. Leslie’s mouth opened under the urgency of his lips, and his tongue entered her knowingly. His lips ground against hers, and his tongue swirled and stroked in a soft, enticing sensual way. A wild, electric pleasure shot down through her body and slammed into her gut. Leslie had never felt such quick, intense pleasure, and the sheer magnitude of it scared her. Suddenly she knew she had to get away or she would be consumed by it, burned up.

Leslie twisted her head and jerked away from him. Cutter let her go, and his eyes flew open in surprise. It had astonished him almost as much as it had Leslie when he kissed her. He hadn’t planned it; he had told himself several times that he wouldn’t do it. Sheer instinct had moved him, and it hadn’t been wrong; the power of their kiss rocked him. Suddenly his body was surging with a fierce and primitively male desire. He had no conscious thought, but every fiber of his body was filled with the primal knowledge that she belonged to him. He started after her.

“No!” Leslie side-stepped him. “Don’t you dare!”

He stopped, the mists clearing from his head. “Why? Leslie…”

“What a typical male reaction!” she said scornfully. “Some instinct must have told me to say I was still married. As soon as you find out I’m not, you jump on me.”

“I didn’t jump on you,” he grated out. “I kissed you, and as I remember, you responded.”

“You grabbed me and kissed me without so much as a second for me to say anything about it! You’re as bad as that archaic macho government employee back there who kept addressing his conversation to you, when I was the one it concerned!”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything? That’s the way things are done here. It’s an old-fashioned country. And you know something? You’d get a lot farther with these guys if you weren’t so prickly and pushy. Try a little feminine charm, and you could have them eating out of your hand.”

“You’re a real male chauvinist, you know that? Why should I degrade myself by playing the ‘poor-little-me-I’m-just-a-woman-and-I-don’t-know-what-to-do’ game? If Maldenado was gay, would you have been batting your eyelashes in order to get us better treatment?”

Cutter stared at her, nonplussed. “How did we get off onto this?”

“You made one of your usual sexist remarks.”

Cutter seethed with frustration. First she had lied to him. When he kissed her she had responded with fervor, then jumped out of his arms and accused him of being sexist. Her rejection stung. He was furious with himself for wanting her when he thoroughly disliked her. Most of all, he was shaken by the force of their passion when he kissed her; it was almost frightening to think how deeply she could affect him. He didn’t like it. He didn’t want to get into anything like that. Especially not with Leslie Harper!

“You’re obsessed with that subject!” Cutter growled.

“I never ran into the problem until I met you.”

“That’s because all you’ve ever dealt with are little lapdogs or men who are paid to treat you with kid-gloves.”