Check Mate Part 2

"Say good-night to Lester and Burgess for me, will you? Tell them to sleep tight and not let the bedbugs bite."

Mariah huffed. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have a very warped sense of humor?"

Before he could reply, she escaped. Her plan to stay upstairs as long as possible this evening went up in smoke. But she was running scared-away from Jake Ingram. Fending off Lester's unwanted advances was a piece of cake compared to indulging in s.e.xual repartee with her captive.

Jake ate hungrily, finishing his sandwich and chips in a couple of minutes. As he toyed with one of the shortbread cookies, he thought about escaping. Not tonight. But soon. And if what he suspected was true-that Mariah was attracted to him-he'd just have to find a way to use her to implement his escape. Who knew if she might help him or even go with him? But persuading her could take days. Or longer. What he didn't have was time. No matter how well he managed to resist the doctor's mental probing, sooner or later, the Coalition would expect results. If Dr. Brooks couldn't manage to brainwash him, they would try other methods.

Before he could use Mariah, he had to get to know her, learn what her weaknesses were. On the surface, she didn't seem the type to join a group like the Coalition. But then he didn't really know her political views, her religious preferences, her heart's desire or her soul's pa.s.sion. What he needed was a crash course in Dr. Mariah Brooks. And he'd often found that s.e.x was the quickest way to become acquainted.

s.e.x. Jake harrumphed. He'd been celibate ever since Tara had ended their engagement. It wasn't that she'd broken his heart when she'd called off their wedding. h.e.l.l, he had postponed it several times himself, coming up with one good excuse after another. The bottom line was that Tara and he hadn't been right for each other. He'd never really looked beyond that successful, beautiful, cultured facade she presented to the world and seen the self-centered, self-serving b.i.t.c.h beneath the glossy exterior. Maybe he'd known all along that when the chips were down, Tara wasn't the kind who'd stand by her man.

Finding out that he'd been born as a result of genetic engineering had unnerved her. Oh, she'd hidden her revulsion well enough, but he'd known. He'd felt her rejection in his gut. She didn't want to be married to a freak, no matter if he did possess certain superhuman qualities.

It wasn't that he'd intended to swear off women and give up s.e.x; he'd simply needed a little time to let the wounds heal. He'd thought he was in love with Tara. h.e.l.l, maybe on some superficial level, he had been. After all, the lady had looked d.a.m.n good on his arm. She'd been the type of woman everyone thought a man in his position should have. And perhaps the rich, willowy blonde had been exactly what the old Jake had deserved. But he was no longer the same man he'd been a year ago. He knew the truth about his heritage, had met his biological brothers and sisters, and was fighting the demons who had destroyed his birth parents and had manipulated their lives. Jake hoped he was a better person for the experiences he'd endured. Maybe the new, improved Jake deserved someone vastly different from Tara Linden. Someday. In the distant future. When he'd straightened out his life. When he and his siblings were safe. When the Coalition had been annihilated.

But before he could move forward into that idyllic future, he had to take care of his present problems. And the first order of business was escape.

Bide your time, he told himself. Let Dr. Brooks think you're playing into her hands, then manipulate her for your own purposes. No matter how attracted you are to her, never forget that she's the enemy!

With Jake's warm, clean clothes in her arms, Mariah said good-night again to Lester and Burgess. This time, Lester seemed rather subdued; no doubt the result of Burgess's previous warnings. At least that was one irritation she wouldn't have to deal with again this evening. But upstairs, waiting for her, was a situation she wasn't sure how to handle. Her intuition and training warned her that Jake Ingram was playing her, that he'd picked up on her attraction to him and was trying to figure out a way to use it to his advantage. But unless she had misjudged his feelings, Jake wasn't immune to her either. There was most definitely some chemistry there-like a live wire sizzling between them.

Why now? she asked herself. And why with this man? Wrong time. Wrong place. But the big question remained- under different circ.u.mstances, would Jake Ingram be the wrong man? What does it matter? she asked herself. Deal with the problem. Don't let it get out of hand. She was a trained professional, not some homy, s.e.x-starved woman out to get laid.

By the time she reached the door to the bedroom she would share with Jake tonight, she had herself convinced she could handle her overactive libido and do the job she'd been sent here to do. Even after getting another good look at Jake, who still sat in the chair at the desk, her resolve remained firm. After all, it wasn't as if he was the first good-looking man who'd ever come on to her.

She placed his folded garments on the foot of his bed. "You can get dressed while I take my shower."

"Aren't you going to handcuff me to the bed?" he asked flippantly.

"If you try to make a break for it while I'm in the shower, Burgess and Lester will probably shoot you. So I don't recommend an escape. At least not tonight." She tried for the same humor he'd used.

"All right. Not tonight." He scooted back the chair and stood, then walked across the room. "But maybe tomorrow night."

She shook her head. "Not tomorrow night either. Why don't you wait until I tell you when."

He gave her a puzzled look, then grinned, a.s.suming she was joking. For just a moment she thought he was coming toward her, but he paused, glanced down at his clothes on the bed and said, "Are we going to bed soon?"

"What?"

"I was just thinking there would be no point in putting on my clothes if we're going to bed soon."

"Uh, yes, I-I see." Oh, great, Mariah, get tongued-tied at the mention of you two going to bed. He didn't mean go to bed together. Or did he? "You can just put on your underwear and get in bed. It's early, but I have a busy day planned for us tomorrow."

"I don't sleep in my underwear," he told her.

"What do you- No. Absolutely not. If you're accustomed to sleeping in the raw, forget it. Put on your shorts and T-shirt."

"Is that an order, Madam Warden?"

"Yes, that's an order."

When Jake sat on the bed, Mariah hurried to the closet, removed her pajamas, robe and slippers, then scurried across the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, she closed and locked the door, then stood there with her back braced against the door until her accelerated breathing calmed.

She took her time showering and washing her hair, hoping that when she returned to the bedroom, Jake would be asleep. After her shower, when she was drying her hair, she picked her watch up off the edge of the sink. Nine-fifteen. Over an hour had pa.s.sed. She groaned. Who was she kidding? Jake wouldn't be asleep. He'd be lying there in the bed next to hers, wide awake and waiting for their next verbal sparring match.

When Mariah opened the bathroom door, she hesitated, then reminded herself of who she was and the importance of her a.s.signment. No way could she allow personal issues to cloud her judgment She marched into the bedroom, closed the door behind her and, deliberately not looking at Jake's bed, walked straight to hers. She removed her velour robe, tossed it on the foot of her bed, turned down the covers and placed her gun under her pillow.

"Even in those ugly flannel pajamas, you can't hide that great body," Jake said.

"I'm not trying to hide anything," she told him. "I'm trying to stay warm."

"If staying warm is a problem, I have a solution."

Her mistake was looking at him. He sat up in bed, his pillow against the headboard, his broad, bare chest totally exposed.

"Where's your T-shirt?" she asked. "You'll need it to stay warm." She used a hand gesture to request he not make any suggestions on how they could stay warm.

"I don't sleep in a T-shirt." He scratched his hairy chest. "The d.a.m.n thing presses against my hair and makes my chest itch."

"Well, you're in the Arizona mountains in the dead of winter. I suggest you put on your T-shirt and scratch. It's better than freezing half to death."

As hard as she tried, she couldn't immediately remove her gaze from those broad shoulders, that muscular chest, those big, fined-toned arms or that washboard belly. Fully clothed, Jake Ingram was a handsome devil. Undressed, he was devastating.

Jake tossed back the covers. Mariah held her breath, uncertain whether he was wearing his shorts. Thankfully, he was. She sighed quietly. He jerked the white T-shirt from atop his jeans and plaid flannel shirt lying in a neat pile on the floor, then pulled it over his head. It was then that Mariah noticed the dark bruises along his side. Oh, G.o.d, he'd been severely beaten. When he glanced at her, his gaze narrowed and a hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"You were wondering if I had on my shorts, weren't you?"

"They beat you," she said, her gaze fixed on his bruised side.

"Yes, ma'am, they did."

"Do you think you have any broken ribs?"

He shook his head; "I'm not in agonizing pain, so I figure my ribs are still intact."

"There was no need for them to do that to you."

"I'm afraid there was. You see, I resisted."

"Of course you did." Putting a damper on her desire, she rushed to him to check his bruises for herself, to make sure he wasn't badly injured. Bad move! She wasn't supposed to care what had happened to him. You're not playing your part very well, she told herself. Act unconcerned, dammit!

Mariah retrieved the handcuffs she had removed from Jake earlier and walked over to his bed. She hated having to cuff him to the headboard, but if he tried to escape, Lester or Burgess would stop him, maybe even kill him. She couldn't allow anything to happen to Jake. He was too valuable. Part of her job was to keep him safe.

"Sorry to have to do this, but..."

He held up both arms. She hesitated, wondering how touching him would affect her. Just do it, she told herself. She grabbed his left arm, cuffed his wrist and then attached the other cuff to the bedpost. Frozen to the spot, the feel of his warm wrist still tingling through her palm, she stared at him, and from the way he was looking at her, she suspected that innocent touch had rattled him as much as it had her. If not, then he was doing a d.a.m.n good job of faking it.

"If you need to go to the bathroom during the night, or need anything else, just let me know," she said.

"I'll keep the offer in mind."

Once again he'd used her own words against her, changing their original intent into something s.e.xual. Let it go, she told herself. Don't respond.

Mariah slid into bed, pulled the covers up to her waist, then reached out to turn off the bedside lamp. "I'm going to sleep," she told him. "I suggest you do the same."

Several minutes later, when her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Mariah could see a sliver of light coming from beneath the closed door. She lay there, wide awake and wishing she was anywhere else on earth. Anywhere except confined inside a mountain cabin with a man she had to think of as her enemy. A man who, come morning, she would be forced to deceive, playing with his mind the way a cat plays with a mouse before going in for the kill.

Three.

Much to his surprise, Jake actually slept several hours before waking with a cramp in his arm. When he first awoke, he tugged on his wrist and couldn't figure out why it was bound, but then reality hit him like a splash of ice-cold water. Everything came back in an instant flash. His beating, capture and transport to this isolated mountain cabin. Using his free hand, he ma.s.saged his aching arm; then as he flipped over, he glanced at the person lying in the bed next to him. Dr. Mariah Brooks. The woman fascinated him, but he didn't have the luxury of fully exploring that fascination. What he needed from her-and needed as soon a possible-was her help in escaping. Accomplishing that goal would take finesse on his part. If he pushed too hard, too fast, she might balk. But then again, he really couldn't wait.

He wondered how deeply involved she was with the Coalition, how many years she'd been working for them. Was she doing it for the money or was she committed to their cause? If it was money, he could offer her twice what they were paying her. If it was a true commitment on her part, then he might be screwed. Unless he could charm her into helping him, regardless of her loyalty to an unjust cause. Women had been known to betray their families, their countries, their own valued principles, all for love. Could he seduce Mariah into thinking she was in love with him? He didn't have much time. He needed to put a plan into motion immediately.

"Dr. Brooks?" Jake called her name softly, but when she didn't respond, he said it a bit louder the second time. He could barely make out her dark form moving beneath the covers, but when she turned over, he felt certain she was looking his way.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice sleep-husky.

"I've got a cramp in my arm," he admitted honestly. "Would you mind removing the handcuff for a few minutes?"

"All right." As soon as she rolled out of bed, she flipped on the bedside lamp, lighting the room with a forty-watt creamy white glow.

He watched her as she got to her feet-long slender feet, with red toenails. Red toenails! Now wasn't that interesting? Dr. Brooks's fingernails were short and sported clear polish. Neat, professional, boring. But her toenails were fire-engine red. Bright, s.e.xy, ultrafeminine. And exciting.

She retrieved the key for the handcuffs, then approached his bed. He looked up at her and smiled. "Did anyone ever tell you that you're awfully pretty when you first wake up?"

Narrowing her gaze to slits, she glowered at him as she reached down, unlocked the handcuffs, removed one cuff from the bedpost and then pulled the other cuff from his wrist. He dropped his arm and sighed dramatically while he rubbed his arm from wrist to elbow.

"I don't know what sort of game you think you're playing," she said, "but I advise you to forget it."

As she turned to walk away, he reached out, grabbed her arm and dragged her down until she toppled over on top of him. He wasn't quite sure what to expect, didn't know if she'd slap him, just jump up to get away from him or verbally reprimand him again. She surprised him by sliding off him and onto her side, then she stared deeply into his eyes. Those sky-blue eyes of hers appeared twice as bright, twice as sparkling, against the golden glow of her dark complexion. In that one instant of complete stillness, Jake slid his arm around her. She didn't move, didn't respond, and he realized she was holding her breath.

He caressed her neck with his fingertips. "Do you play chess, Marian?"

She shook her head, tossing her thick black hair ever so slightly from side to side. "I jog, I play tennis, I work out at the gym. As far as games go, I haven't played any since I was a kid. Checkers and jacks were my favorites."

He continued caressing her, allowing his fingers to linger over her earlobe a few minutes before forking them through her hair. "In chess, each player's goal is to attack the enemy's king in such a way that the king can't escape. It's a game of wits. You must learn to not only evaluate your own moves, but you must antic.i.p.ate your opponent's next move."

"Does chess have anything to do with the game you're trying to play with me?" A shiver rippled through her when he cupped the back of her head and brought his mouth within a hairbreadth of hers.

"What do you think?"

"I think you should release me and go back to sleep. I plan to start our first session fairly early in the morning."

"Why don't we start now?" Before she had a chance to respond, he lowered his mouth and kissed her. Gently. Sweetly. Being careful not to seem too aggressive. For a split second she responded, giving herself over to the moment, but then she ended things. Abruptly. Withdrawing quickly, she stared at him, a startled expression widening her eyes.

"No." She uttered that one word before she pulled out of his arms and shot up off the bed. After turning from him, her back ramrod straight, she stood in place for several seconds before she faced him again. Without saying anything else, she grabbed his arm, manacled his wrist and yanked the cuffed hand high enough to secure the other cuff to the bedpost Jake looked up at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. He'd had her there for a few seconds. She'd been his completely. Perhaps he'd been too gentle. Next time-and there would be a next time-he'd take her hard and fast, without giving her a chance to think.

"Should I apologize?" he asked.

Instead of responding, she turned and walked away, straight back to her bed. She dropped the key into her boot, which rested on the floor beside her bed. He watched her while she crawled beneath the covers and then switched off the lamp.

"Mariah?"

Silence.

"I don't like it any more than you do, you know," he told her. "How do you think I feel being attracted to a woman who plans to try to reactivate Oliver Grimble's programming embedded in my brain? Believe me, lady, you're the last woman on earth I want getting me hot and bothered." Say something, d.a.m.n it, Jake thought. Had he really blown it with Mariah? Had the kiss been too much too soon? "We can't help it. Neither of us. I want you. You want me. It's that simple. We'll have to find a way to deal with it."

"Go to sleep, Jake," she said finally, her voice low and calm. "You need your rest."

"Avoiding talking about it isn't going to change anything. It's not going to make us want each other any less."

"Shut up, will you?"

Smiling, Jake burrowed his head into the fluffy pillow. He had her rattled. He considered his options and decided that keeping quiet was the wisest course of action right now. Mariah was interested, but she was no pushover. She would fight him every inch of the way. And if he knew women-and he did-she'd be cool and aloof come morning. He expected her to give him the cold shoulder and probably take a bit of perverse delight in trying to break down his defenses. His gut instincts told him that Dr. Mariah Brooks was accustomed to being the one in charge. Maybe he should let her believe she could control him, then when she least expected it, make his move.

Mariah brought Jake downstairs for breakfast with Burgess and Lester, an action designed to deactivate Jake's out-of-control libido. Of course, she wasn't sure whether the guy really was turned on by her or if his seduction routine was simply part of some master plan he'd concocted. Either way, she had to make sure he didn't kiss her again. In the wee hours of the morning, she'd known before he kissed her that he was going to-and she'd let him. She'd had enough warning so she could have stopped him if she'd really wanted to. But that was the problem-she had wanted that kiss. Her own s.e.xuality and curiosity had gotten the best of her, at least for a couple of seconds. Thank goodness she'd been able to use her common sense in the nick of time. Another couple of seconds and she would have been lost. As it was, just that brief kiss had been enough to curl her toes. Heaven help her, she was "in l.u.s.t" with Jake Ingram. Talk about a major professional mistake!

"Will you need us to go upstairs and stay with you this morning while you work on Ingram?" Burgess, who stood beside the kitchen counter, downed the last drops of his second cup of coffee, then put the empty cup in the sink.

"Not unless Mr. Ingram refuses to cooperate," Mariah replied.

"You're not going to do that, are you, buddy boy?" Standing at the back of Jake's chair, Lester ruffled Jake's hair.

Jake snarled, then glanced over his shoulder and gave Les a warning glare.

"I plan to give Mr. Ingram an injection," Mariah said. "Burgess, perhaps you should accompany us upstairs to make sure he doesn't give me any trouble. Once the medicine takes effect, I should be able to handle things myself."

"What are you going to give him, some type of truth serum?" Les asked, his lopsided, yellow-toothed grin difficult to stomach so early in the morning.

"What type of medication I use on Mr. Ingram is none of your concern. You're here strictly to follow my orders and I'm ordering you to mind your own business."

"Humph!" Les glowered at Mariah, but he didn't respond verbally.

She looked at Burgess. "I'm going to set things up in the bedroom and I'd like for you to bring Mr. Ingram upstairs in a few minutes. I'll let you know when."

"Yes, ma'am." With a nod of his head, Burgess motioned for Les to leave the room, which he did immediately, if somewhat reluctantly. "I'm sorry Les is giving you a hard time, Dr. Brooks. He thinks he's a d.a.m.n ladies' man."