CHAPTER 7
Teren had just stepped outside her duplex at five a.m., the western horizon a pale pinkish color, when Nolan joined her. She tried to hide her appreciation of his long, muscular legs encased in a pair of loose-fitting, dark green shorts. His tan muscle shirt showcased the power of his upper chest and broad shoulders. He was not wearing a pistol from what she could see.
Casually, she nodded in his direction, then quickly fashioned her hair into a long ponytail with a rubber band. Noting his beat-up gray sneakers, Teren smiled. “You must jog regularly,” she said, pointing to his worn Nikes. She had thrown on a sports bra, a sleeveless lavender muscle shirt, and dark purple shorts that came halfway down her thighs.
“Yeah, I do.”
She did a few stretching exercises on the porch, warming up. “How many miles a day?”
“Three to five, depending upon what’s going on.”
“I thought so,” she said. Today, Nolan reminded Teren even more of a young, powerful leopard. There was no fat on this man’s body. Every muscle was honed, but not overdone. She doubted he was a weight lifter and figured he followed a regular daily routine, such as jogging, to keep him in shape.
Nolan had already observed that Teren was dressed like an American jogger, since here, in the middle of nowhere, there were no conservative males to report on her. Here, she could wear typical American sports clothing and get away with it. He found her athletic build a real turn-on.
Teren was in excellent shape, thanks to her regular workouts, and Nolan was glad she was, because her personal safety partly depended on it. Much as he hated to think about it, he was here because she might need all her strength in the coming days, and his job was both to protect her and to teach her how to protect herself.
“Did you sleep well?” he asked while doing his warm-ups, stretching his legs like a fencer preparing for a match.
“Yes, but not for long periods…it was off and on.”
“Why? Did I give you nightmares last night about all the bad things that could happen if you didn’t lock your windows and door?”
She met his gaze and saw he was only half joshing her. She instinctively sensed that warm blanket of security he emanated, wrapping itself around her. There was no question that it was coming directly from Nolan to her. She was amazed at how good she felt as it embraced her.
The teasing in his low voice and the glint in his dark blue eyes made her smile. “I guess I have an overactive imagination, and sometimes it keeps me up at night.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he grunted, then stood up, ready to run. “I realize it’s hard for a civilian to suddenly be thrown into an op where her life could be at stake.”
“Well, speaking of that, I owe you an apology for last night,” Teren said, walking with him toward the closed iron gates to Kitra. He slowed down a bit so she could keep up, and they walked beside each other, comfortable in one another’s company.
“No, you don’t owe me anything. Getting you up to speed is all part of my job. Sometimes people don’t take to it right away.”
She glanced out of the corner of her eye, luxuriating in the warmth beginning to flow through her, making her feel strong and free. “Look, Nolan, normally I’m not like that. I behaved very immaturely last night.” She broke into a slow jog and he joined her.
Nolan nodded. He appreciated her gracefulness as she moved beside him. “Forget it,” he said. “It’s a new day.” He was studying how different Teren was from other women who ran. She jogged like an athlete. That was why her body was so taut, sculpted, and beautiful. She had the nicest set of legs he’d ever seen on a woman, and his hands itched to slide up from her slender ankles, feeling her body react as he learned what aroused her when he touched her.
Catching himself once again, he tucked away those yearnings. Teren was his detail, not his lover, despite what he’d fantasized about last night in a series of torrid dreams.
“Are you always this patient with other people?” Teren asked. They slowed down as they approached the guard hut and gate. Two soldiers stepped out, saw who they were, and pressed a button. The black wrought-iron gates swung open, and Teren greeted the men by name, smiled, and waved. They came to attention, smartly saluting the pair as they headed out the gate.
Nolan liked the professionalism of Ayman’s soldiers. Although Teren was friendly with them, they maintained a discreet distance, which was good. As soon as they cleared about a hundred feet, she chose the harder, packed red clay berm instead of the paved road. Nolan silently approved, knowing that the shock of hard pavement could tear at a runner’s joints, while jogging on dirt softened the constant blows, much like a cushion. There was enough room on the berm for both of them, and he automatically looked around, forcing himself to stop watching Teren move. She was so damned sensual, whether she walked or jogged. There was a boneless movement to her he’d rarely seen in anyone except those who had the right jogging DNA. Now he was sure she was part cheetah—her grace was definitely catlike.
As he heard her easy breathing, he looked forward to the first mile, which would warm them up. Then the fluidity of motion would take over and lead to the runner’s high they both awaited. For Nolan, it was like a moving meditation, and he always looked forward to finding that sweet spot where his body and mind worked effortlessly together. He called it “the song of the body,” a time when he could luxuriate in the strength and power of his muscles.
But he wasn’t going to be lulled into pleasure now or in the future as long as Teren was his PSD. It was his job to look around, to memorize the flat, red landscape scattered with brush and clumps of green grass.
He saw a rabbit skitter from one bush to another, and looking up, he saw birds flying overhead, leaving their night roosts in search of food for the day. Not a breeze stirred. The sky was losing its darkness above them, chased away by the sun approaching the horizon, which it would rise above in another fifteen minutes. Right now, the grasslands looked peaceful, even beautiful. When that August sun rose, though, it would quickly turn the land into an oven, brutally baking everything in sight. Most of the grass spreading out in every direction was yellowed and dried-out, but some brave clumps were still green here and there.
Scanning the curved black ribbon of road ahead, north of them he could almost make out the main highway in the distance. He was lucky he could see in all directions, thanks to the flat land, so it would be easy to spot any predator—on four legs or two—approaching from a long way off. Nolan felt fairly certain that Teren could safely jog out here, but he’d teach her some things to look for to alert her to possibilities, just in case.
He had noted the faint shadows beneath her eyes this morning. Although Teren had wanted to allay his concerns over her not getting enough sleep, Nolan sensed that either something had kept her from going to sleep or a dream had woken her up—and his gruffness and painting a threatening picture for her of someone hiding and waiting to jump her in her duplex had caused it.
Nolan knew that she needed to be aware of this disturbing possibility—and she was. Still, he didn’t like upsetting her, because she was a sensitive creature, and he wasn’t surprised that she had a wild imagination. He’d have to toughen her up regardless. Her life might depend upon what he taught her.
Their footfalls were cadenced and firm. Nolan enjoyed their closeness, their elbows sometimes brushing against one another. The berm was about four feet wide, which didn’t allow him to swing out farther to give her the room she probably wanted. He was pleased that Teren didn’t appear to mind those moments of contact. She hadn’t pulled away, and she hadn’t opted to jog on the highway or asked him to give her more room. Nolan knew he was a thief enjoying those accidental connections with her perspiring flesh. Sweat was trickling down his temples as she increased the pace after that first mile.
Smiling to himself, Nolan silently applauded her for pushing herself at this point. Her body was fully warmed up and fluid now. This was where the stride increase had to happen if one was serious about jogging—and Teren was very serious. She was all legs, and he watched as she let herself take off, her stride increasing. It allowed him to reach his full stride, which was surprising. Although she was just five feet seven, her legs were long, and she was using her genetic gifts to her advantage, really covering the distance now with practiced ease. She glanced at the watch on her wrist.
“What are you shooting for?” Nolan asked.
“Seven-minute miles.”
He grinned. “You’re a ballsy woman, Ms. Lambert.”
She laughed. “Oh, I think you can keep up with me, no problem at all, Mr. Steele.”
He felt good, enjoying their banter and the way her lips curved. Her ponytail swung in cadence between her shoulder blades, like a metronome moving back and forth, establishing a rhythm. She was now running strongly and blushed when Nolan sang out, “Hey, can I compliment you and say you run like a man?”
She laughed. “Thanks. Compliment accepted!”
“You’re welcome.” They were rapidly approaching the two-mile mark. “You’ve been at this a while.”
“Ever since I was nineteen.”
“Well, you’re good.”
She gave him a wicked look. “Are you up for a longer run, Steele? Say, nine miles instead of five? I can do it. Can you?”
Spunky and showing off a bit, he thought. That’s a good sign. “Sure, nine’s good. You’re on.”
“I guess having a good running partner is inspiring me,” she laughed, giving him a merry look.
“It doesn’t hurt to go longer or shorter distances every week,” he said. “That way, your body doesn’t get bored and turn lazy on you.”
“Well,” she said between spaced breaths, “since you’re in my life until this thing with Uzan is settled, I might as well take advantage of you.”
Oh, no question, Nolan thought. He wanted her to take advantage of him. He was dying to sit and talk to her in depth. He was infinitely curious about what she thought and felt, what was important to her, and what bothered her. He didn’t want to admit that no other PSD he’d been charged with guarding had opened him up as Teren had. It was her. It wasn’t that she’d done anything except breathe and be her beautiful Kentucky self.
Teren was like a Chinese box puzzle, one Nolan wanted to intimately explore in every possible way. If he told her that now, of course, it would be too soon; Nolan knew she’d run the other way. He’d gotten a taste of that last night when he’d been spontaneous and touched her cheek, curving that lone strand of hair behind her delicate ear. And he yearned to do much more to please her. He imagined watching her turn and twist, caught up in the ecstasy of a man giving her the heat of intimacy—his intimacy.
No one had inspired such need in him, not even Linda. Nolan didn’t know what the hell was going on with him or why this was happening now. It had all started in the Artemis briefing room, when the first picture of Teren had been flashed up on that screen. He’d felt as if someone had opened up his heart, tearing away the old walls of grief and loss surrounding it. Those layers of sorrow had dissolved in that moment when he’d stared at her profile, her eyes haunting him, her mouth urging him to ravish it.
But it was so much more than a physical sensation that had suddenly exploded within him. Nolan couldn’t explain it; he could only feel it. He felt like one of those ancient African baobab trees from Botswana that had such deep roots and were thousands of years old. Teren affected him that deeply. He was so attuned to her moods, her needs, and he sensed, beneath these, her yearnings.
He’d lain awake for a long time, naked, on top of the bedspread, hands behind his head, staring up at the dark ceiling. He was always in control of himself, especially with his emotions. It was vital so he could function successfully as an operator.
He was concerned that last night he’d let his control slip when he touched her cheek, and that since then, he’d been thinking nonstop about Teren in a distinctly unprofessional way.
Damn! He’d had plenty of PSD assignments in his life as a Delta Force operator, but never had his emotions ever gotten out of that internal box where he kept them. But when Teren had stopped, facing him, and the starlight had graced her shadowy, exotic face, something had opened up inside him. Something good, healthy, and whole.
For whatever reason, Teren hadn’t stopped him from being intimate in that one gesture last night, but that was beside the point. This was all his doing, and it wouldn’t benefit either of them. He’d seen the surprise enter her eyes when he’d connected with her, followed by arousal and need. Sure, he knew when a woman wanted him, and it was staring at him in her stormy gray eyes after his brief contact. And when he quickly pulled his hand away, he’d seen regret replace arousal—could it be regret that he’d stopped? Women didn’t like to be led on, and she was probably no exception.
Hell, he had to admit it. Teren was attracted to him, so it wasn’t one-sided, which was both good news and bad news. It was right in front of them, in the darkness that had surrounded them on that walk, the warm breeze wafting like invisible lovers’ hands tugging at them to move closer to each other, not step away.
But they had wisely separated because Nolan was embarrassed by his spontaneous act. Maybe that was why Teren had become cool with him at her duplex. Maybe it wasn’t that he’d scared her, it was that she’d yearned to taste him, kiss him, and more. He could wish.
On the last mile toward Kitra, the ninth one, Teren held up her sweaty hand as the first rays of sunlight shot across the quiet grassland. “Can we slow and cool down?” she asked. “You okay with that?”
“Sure, seven of those nine miles you were wide open and pushing.” He gave her an appreciative look. “You were doing seven-minute miles. Pretty impressive.”
“Yeah,” she huffed, shifting into a walk. “It felt good to really challenge myself this morning.” And then her eyes gleamed with amusement. “I guess you inspire me, Steele.”
Taking a mock bow in her direction, he said, “I think we work well together. You’re no cream puff, like I originally thought you might be.” He shot her a boyish grin, and she knew he wasn’t serious.
Lifting her chin, Teren wiped the sweat off her brow and temples with her fingers. “Get over it, Steele! What if I called you something derogatory like that? How would you feel?”
“Oh,” he said slyly, “but a woman being a cream puff is hardly an insult, Ms. Lambert. Just the other way around. She’s sweet to taste, to savor, to be placed in the category of a very special dessert.”
Nolan hoped she recognized the double meaning as her eyes narrowed a bit. Food for thought? Maybe curiosity? That was good. He wanted to engage her on that level, let her know that he thought she was one helluva delicious treat and that he appreciated her. Still, he realized there were sexual overtones to his word choice, and he saw a more thoughtful look enter her eyes.
“Well, I’m no one’s cream puff,” she replied, still trying to analyze his statement.
“Women are beautiful by nature,” Nolan said, keeping his voice light as they walked. “I always think of them as one’s dessert in life.”
“Not meat and potatoes? As dessert?” How he enjoyed her rejoinders. She was certainly easy to tease! “Not even. I suppose if I said you reminded me of a steak, you’d take that as a compliment?”
“Sure, as long as it was medium rare, I would.”
It was her turn to laugh, and she did, heartily, to Nolan’s delight. Her hair was mussed, with long strands around her face, some of them sticking to her perspiring skin, and he couldn’t suppress flashes of her lying on his bed, her hair spread out on the pillow as he licked the place behind her earlobe where an erotic reaction was guaranteed. He wanted to taste her long, smooth throat, move his tongue across her exposed nape, and watch as her breasts and nipples tightened to his exploring touch.
His erection thickened. Get a grip, he warned himself.
But it was too late. Teren was well aware of his erection and pretended not to notice. “I’m glad you have a good sense of humor,” she said, meeting his eyes. Instead of feeling insulted, she felt excited. Heat swept through her lower body with a promise of something so pleasurable she felt her thighs tighten.
Now it was her turn to scold her body. She’d never had a good lover, according to Farida and Hadii, who had managed to get her to admit to her very limited knowledge of true ardor. They’d both given her sad-eyed looks, telling her a real man knew to please a woman first, not last. A real man knew how to make his woman growl like a satisfied cat after being taken by her male lion lover. Of course, Teren pretended to understand, but she didn’t really. The two women talked excitedly about orgasms, how wonderful they were, how having one threw them into a frenzy of wild pleasure.
Teren would nod, as if in agreement. Though she suspected they knew she had never encountered such pleasures, she didn’t have the guts to admit it. And after all the trials she’d gone through with her family, she didn’t want anyone else telling her how inexperienced she was.
Not that Farida or Hadii would ever say such hurtful words to her. Instead, they clucked like wise hens who had raised many broods of chicks. For them, Teren was just one more chick to love and educate. They never made her feel insulted, only cared for and nurtured. In fact, Teren had often admitted to herself that she wished either of these wonderful Sudanese women had been her mother, instead of the stern, unforgiving one she’d been given.
Nolan wiped the sweat off his brow. Smiling, he said, “I like hearing you laugh, Teren. I wish you could see what I do when you let go.”
Giving him a confused look, she didn’t know what to say to his husky declaration. Was that burning look a yearning for her? She had no doubt that this man wanted her, and for once, Teren wasn’t afraid or disgusted by it.
Maybe Farida and Hadii were correct—maybe Nolan was the right man for her. She relied on their insight into men, having no trust in herself because she’d been such a failure at finding the right men to love. Brushing away the trickles of sweat from her face and arms as they walked in the warming air, Teren saw it was almost seven a.m., and already the heat of the day was reaching furnace levels. What little cool air had breezed past them during the run was gone.
The two soldiers at the guardhouse came to attention as Teren and Nolan passed through the open gates. Teren saw the community awakening. Women in colorful clothing were standing in line to pick up trays and get breakfast in the huge dining room of the admin building. She smiled softly, watching the smaller children running around their mothers or playing happily with other children in line.
These children had known only the pain and abuse of their fathers’ closed fists or open hands—now they laughed and played happily.
It was a scene that always made Teren’s heart swell with joy; this moment made the whole day worthwhile. She knew every mother and child by name. The tragic stories of rape, abuse, and kidnapping for use by sex traffickers were a common thread among these women. Each had come to Kitra for safety, help, and healing. Some of their children had been sold by their fathers to male predators for sex; the money from these sales put food on the table for the family.
It was a tragic way of life in Africa. Teren had witnessed the positive changes after a family had lived at Kitra for a year. The transformation was almost miraculous. She’d seen lives turned around as wounds were tended and mothers and their children began to heal, as the mother gained self-confidence instead of being browbeaten and abused. Over time, she learned the trade of sewing on a treadle machine. Sales were assured, as everything she created was sold in Kitra’s global Internet store.
The women now had monthly incomes and their families would not starve. It was an altogether powerful testament to a charity doing things the right way for those in need.
Teren often wondered if, had she been given similar help after her sexual abuse, she might have turned out differently—better than she found herself today.
“Those kids look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Nolan murmured, bringing her back to the present. “Are they like this all the time?”
“They are,” she answered softly, slowing down, then coming to a halt. She told Nolan about the women and their children and their difficult journeys to get to Kitra. She saw instantly how moved he was by her stories, and she realized he could replace that professional game face with a glimpse of his deepest feelings. Wyatt had warned her that an operator would always maintain a stoic and unreadable demeanor. But she could see Nolan wasn’t like that. She could read him easily because for some reason, he was willing to allow her entrance into his private self—the man, not the operator.
After she finished telling him about the women’s transformations, she said quietly, “Every day, Nolan, I receive the gift of seeing these women heal just a little more. Their children are healing. When a child first comes here, he or she is so frightened, just a silent shadow afraid to speak, wincing when someone lifts a hand, thinking they’re going to get cuffed or a fist in the face.” She saw the anger leap to his eyes, saw the tightening of his mouth.
Reaching out, she touched his arm, which was damp with sweat, gleaming in the sunlight. “Farida, Samar, Nafeesa, and Charuni, who all work here, use every chance they get to hug, kiss, and hold these wounded children. They embrace the mothers too. And everyone here responds to the love.”
She wanted to keep contact with him but pulled away as she saw arousal in his eyes. His look sent heat streaking down to her lower body, making it throb and ache with an unfamiliar sensation.
“Love is always the greatest healer,” he replied, watching the group and trying to get his equilibrium back after the silent message of her touch. “I’ve met the people who created Delos, and I can tell you that they’re the same way.”
Her gaze lingered on his. “And do they hire men such as yourself who have heart, who are able to reach out and do the same as we do here at the charity?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, unsure where this was going.
“Wyatt warned me about you. He said you were an ex-military operator and that you would wear your game face when you were around me.” She gave a negligent shrug. “He said I’d never really know what you were honestly thinking or feeling.” She gestured toward the highway. “Yet, this morning on our run, you didn’t wear a game face. You laughed, smiled, talked, ran. I could sense things around you…”
He put his hands on his hips, because if he didn’t, he was going to take a step forward, frame Teren’s gleaming face, and kiss her senseless. She wanted to kiss him. He saw it in her eyes, felt the desire around her. Nolan wouldn’t tell her how keen his sixth sense was because he knew it would embarrass Teren.
She was fragile in a different way, he realized. She didn’t seem confident about her feelings toward him. At her age, most women had a very solid understanding of themselves in that regard, but she didn’t. And he couldn’t be like a rogue elephant in her life, stomping through it, tearing it up as a result.
Choosing his words carefully was important. “Well,” he rasped, giving her a warm look, “I find that around you, Teren, that mask I’m supposed to wear melts away. I’m not blaming you. It’s just you. You invite me to be who I really am, not what I’m supposed to be for you. And yes, I can put that game face on in a heartbeat. But you know what? Around you, I don’t want to.”
He saw instant relief come to her eyes. “That’s good,” she whispered unsteadily, touching her brow, pushing strands of hair away from her eyes. “Because I like being around the real you, Nolan. I hate people who put on an act to hide who they really are.”
“Good. Does that mean you accept my presence here, even though you’re my PSD?”
Her blinding smile went straight to his heart, accepting him fully and arousing a fierce yearning to make her his, to please her in every way possible both in his bed and out.
“Yes…yes, I like seeing how you’re really feeling, Nolan. Don’t ever apologize for being who you really are around me. I love it…”