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Through the vague blur when consciousness returns after a night’s sleep, Mike sensed light streaming in from the window. In truth, he sensed a great deal more than that. His cock was harder than a steel gun barrel, and the intoxicating scent of woman swirled around him. He felt too good to open his eyes. All he needed to do was slide his fingers across the mattress and pull Henri flush against his body. Och aye, with a few clothing adjustments, he could slip between those shapely thighs she’d wrapped around him a time or two in the sparring ring.

God. He wanted to spar right now. The kind of sparring that’s done between the sheets.

With a deep moan, he slid his hand over and met with nothing but cool cotton. Then he moved his palm up and down. Come to think of it, the length of Henri’s body had been pressed against him all night. The pillowy soft crack of her bum had cradled his cock, and there had been nothing Mike could do about it. The mattress dipped to the center and nothing he tried to shift away had worked. In the end, the whisky did its job and they’d both fallen asleep with Henri spooned against him as if they were really man and wife.

Disappointed, Mike opened his eyes and pushed himself up, his head full of cobwebs. While he stretched, Henri walked in carrying a tray of food. Mm, it smelled good, especially the coffee. “A woman after my own heart.”

Henri stopped. “Do you think I got this for you?”

The vixen had tempted him all night and now she wasn’t about to stop. “Bloody hell,” he groaned and leaned down to pull a couple of aspirin out of his pack.

“Just kidding.” She put the tray on the bed, then slid in with her back against the wall.

Mike popped the aspirin and reached for a cuppa. “What’s on the menu?”

“Scrambled eggs, beans and fried bananas.”

“And toast,” he said, snatching a piece.

She picked up her coffee while her gaze trailed downward.

Mike usually slept in the nude, but last night he’d kept his jocks on. The only problem was the bedclothes had shifted and his hard-on was practically wrapped around his hip. He stuffed the toast in his mouth and tugged a blanket over his crotch.

Henri’s gaze flickered away as her tongue tapped the corner of her mouth.

Trying not to groan, Mike leaned against the wall and took a long sip of coffee. The caffeine may have begun to clear his mind, but that only sent his libido into overdrive. Again. Her hair was wet and loose rather than in its usual braid. He took a long drink as he watched her eat. She might act like a tough bird at times, but she ate like a duchess. She even used a serviette to dab the corners of her mouth.

She glanced up. “What?”

He pinched a lock of her hair between his fingers and brought it to his nose. Jasmine. God save him, he loved the fragrance of jasmine. “Where did you find a shower?”

“It’s out the back by the head.”

“You showered outside?”

“There’s a curtain.” She shrugged. “I’ve endured worse.”

That’s right, she had, and he needed to keep reminding himself of the fact.

She nudged the plate of food toward him, her gaze shifting to his crotch. “The water’s cold but it might be just what you need.”

“Bloody temptress you are.”

She laughed. “The same could be said for you—oh Mr. Ripped Abs staring me in the face.”

***

No matter how much Henri would have liked to stay in their ramshackle room and test the endurance of those ripped abs, they had a job to do. They both knew it. She’d made the mistake of dating a guy in her squadron once and, after working with him day and night for a few months, the relationship fizzled. Then it became unbearably awkward—almost got her shipped stateside.

Never again.

Henri was a big girl now and tougher than she’d ever been. Jail had a way of turning a woman to ice. The sooner they exposed the ISIS operation in Tanzania, the sooner she could go home—or move on to the next assignment. Mike said he usually worked alone. She liked that idea. In fact, she might push the issue with Garth once she chalked up a few wins against her name.

After breakfast, Hali took them to Tengeru, east of the city. A dirt road cut through the center of town, festooned with vendor’s stalls like an old-time market. Henri and Mike dressed their parts and the game was on. She wore an orange sundress with her voluminous hair tucked up in an enormous straw hat. Mike complemented her ensemble with a loud Hawaiian shirt, sunglasses and a Panama hat. Their getups were ridiculous, but that’s what made them not look like themselves.

By mid-afternoon they’d browsed through most of the stalls, here and there using cash and gold coins to buy uncut gems and, hopefully, spreading the word that a pair of Canadians with deep pockets was in town. If their hunch was right, Amri and his friends were laundering the gems by selling them to unsuspecting overseas buyers.

It wasn’t until they stopped for a Coke that they found their first break. A man from one of the shops where they’d purchased some uncut tanzanite slid into a seat at their table. “Have you found all that you’re looking for?” he asked in English, giving them a leery smile.

“Not yet,” Mike said, sounding distinctly Canadian. He was good.

The man glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in. “I have been given approval to show you the first-quality gems—those we only present to serious buyers like yourselves.”

Mike arched his eyebrows in question. “Why didn’t you say something when we were in your shop?” he asked, affecting the accent.

Henri sipped her Coke, keeping her face impassive but taking in every word.

The man chuckled nervously. “Sorry, boss, but I’m not allowed to mention our highest quality gems until I am given approval from my superiors.”

“I see. And for this transaction, will I be bartering with you or with your superiors?”

The man sat back and thumped his chest with a grin. “You will deal with me, of course.”

“Hmm.” Mike looked to Henri. “I think not. I am no dupe, sir. When I make an offer, I want an answer. I do not want to wait while an agent moves back and forth as a middleman to the negotiation.”

Beads of sweat peppered the man’s brow. “I assure you, I am able to transact business on his behalf.”

“Tell you what. Introduce me to your boss. If we like what he has to show us, we’ll make it worth his while.”

Then man pulled out a kerchief and wiped his forehead. “That can be arranged. But first I’ll need more to give him.” He rubbed his fingers together. “What kind of investment do you have in mind?”

“Seven figures.” Mike picked up his Coke. “For starters.”

“I see. Where are you staying? I’ll send a boy for you when it is arranged.”

Mike hesitated.

“The Arusha Hotel. Under Emmerson,” Henri said with a pleasant smile directed at her work-husband.

“I would have thought no less,” said the man. “I am Mr. Kisongo. I shall be in touch.”

Mike waited until Kisongo left the café, then gave her a look. “The Arusha Hotel?”

She shrugged. “It was the nicest place we passed on the way out here.”

He snorted. “Hali will be crushed. That was his auntie’s bed and breakfast.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand—and so will my aching back.”

“What? The wee dip in the mattress didna form to those shapely hips, madam?” Mike shook his head with a laugh.

“I’d rather get a good night’s sleep than appease Hali who, by the way, nearly got us killed yesterday regardless if I was there or not.”