Stranded With a Spy by Merline Lovelace

Author:Merline Lovelace [Lovelace, Merline]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romantic Suspense, Action Adventure Mystery & Detective
ISBN: 9780373275533
Google: MXOep4kGZyEC
Amazon: 0263201201
Barnesnoble: 0263201201
Goodreads: 1276589
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2006-12-31T11:00:00+00:00

The desire that had bitten into him earlier didn’t

compare to the hunger her eager mouth and hands

now roused. Tightening his arm, he crushed her lips

under his, as if daring her to unleash the beast.

Mallory slid her palms up the lapels of his jacket,

felt his muscles straining under the suede, and sur-

rendered to a rush of mindless pleasure.

128

Stranded with a Spy

This was the way it should happen. This was the

way it was supposed to be. Desire feeding desire.

Heat stroking heat. No politics. No sexual power

plays. Only his mouth greedy on hers and her hands

frantic to burrow through layers of fabric to get at the

hard contours beneath.

She had to smother a curse when the rattle of

wheels announced the arrival of Madame Picard

and her serving cart. Cutter wasn’t as restrained.

With a muttered expletive, he released her and

rolled his shoulders to settle his sport coat while

Mallory tugged down the jacket that had ridden up

over her hips.

They weren’t quite quick enough. Madame

Picard’s glance went from one to the other as she

rolled her cart across the tiles.

“You wish me to serve dessert?”

“That’s okay,” Cutter said, taking charge. “We’ll

serve ourselves.”

With a smile and a small bow, madame departed.

The interruption hadn’t lasted more than a few

seconds. Just long enough for reason to prevail…if

either of them was inclined toward reason.

Mallory certainly wasn’t. After so many weeks of

doubting herself, of hiding behind sunglasses and

avoiding men’s glances, she reveled in the heat in

Cutter’s eyes when they whipped back to her. Her pulse

skipping, she scooped a two-tiered plate from the cart.

Merline Lovelace

129

“I’ve got the chocolate truffles and strawberries.

You bring the whipped cream.”

Dessert was the last thing on Cutter’s mind as he

snatched up the silver pot containing fresh, frothy

cream. Visions of where and how he would spread the

stuff damned near had him tripping over his own feet.

He maintained his balance and enough presence

of mind to snag their unfinished bottle of wine from

the cooler as he followed Mallory through the grand

dining salon. Once they’d mounted the stairs and

closed the door to her sitting room behind them,

however, the bottle, silver pot and two-tiered plate

were set aside and forgotten.

Mallory came into his arms with unrestrained

eagerness. The ugly insinuations and allegations of

promiscuity flashed through Cutter’s mind, only to

die an instant death the moment she went up on tiptoe

and locked her arms around his neck. She gave as

much as she took, but the giving was warm and

generous, the taking anything but rapacious.

He was the one who yanked open the buttons of

her jacket. He almost choked when he peeled down

the denim and saw the lacy camisole beneath. His

heart jackhammered against his chest when she

angled her head and nibbled her way from his lower

lip to his chin to his throat.

Cutter had to fight to keep from tossing her over his

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Stranded with a Spy

shoulder and hauling her to the bed in the next room.

The instincts she stirred in him were primitive, almost

primeval. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d

wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one. Hell,

he’d never wanted one as much as he did Mallory.

Not even the Danish

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