Even though his gut yelled at him to run like hell, Mac forced himself to walk away from the campfire and Susan. For all the years he’d run from facing her, now that he was here he couldn’t hold himself apart from her. Wouldn’t. He had to make amends to Susan. It was now or never. And if he chose never, he would fall off that razor’s edge he’d walked for so long and end up destroying himself for good.

But how in the hell was he supposed to make things right between them if she wouldn’t let him past her defenses? She was freezing him out with a cold shoulder made of dry ice.

He put his body on autopilot, going through the familiar motions of perimeter surveillance by rote. Crouching down in the long grass, he eased to the top of the next ridgeline. He scanned the area through his field glasses.

The gentle movement of the grass on the dark plain reminded him of Suzie’s auburn hair, flowing around him as they made love. The twinkle of the stars reminded him of the way her eyes used to light up whenever she’d look at him. The wide-open spaces of this country even reminded him of her free spirit when they first met.

How was he supposed to do his job if he was all tied up in knots thinking about her? He needed to concentrate here.

He was a professional.

He was on a Tango One mission.

He’d promised Colonel Foley he could handle this.

He’d lied.

Damn.

He could still do this job. The trick would be to stay objective. He’d catalogue the changes he’d noted in her so far, analyze options for helping heal her heart.

Her girlish slenderness had transformed into a willowy, womanly form. She was more beautiful than ever. Her youthful good looks had matured into the kind of ageless beauty that would shine when she was sixty-five. Of course, he would have to convince her of that. She’d gotten damned self-conscious since he last saw her. Frankly, he thought the slight limp and the scar on her neck lent her character. But then, he was used to hanging out with beat-up soldiers whose scars were viewed as badges of honor.

She was more guarded, more defensive than he remembered. It might even be fair to say she’d become a shade reclusive. God help him, was she ashamed to go out in public? Clearly he would have to fix that one—after Ruala was off the market. A weariness of spirit hung over her sometimes, now. As if she’d done a lot of hurting over the years. Both the physical kind and the emotional kind that wilts a person’s soul.

The good news was she wasn’t quite dried up inside yet. No woman who rode around in a pair of hot-pink cowboy boots had gone totally dead inside. Those damned boots had had him thinking dirty thoughts all day.

He slipped on a pair of night-vision goggles and scanned the area for heat signatures. The outlines of a couple of distant coyotes popped into view.

God, he’d missed her. His whole world had revolved around her once upon a time. He’d been so sure she was The One. His soul mate. He’d flung himself headfirst into loving her and hadn’t looked down or looked back. Hell, he still blew off dating other women because they weren’t her….

Abruptly Mac froze, his train of thought snapped. His attention riveted on the landscape in front of him. Something had moved. Something that didn’t belong there. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and every sense went on full alert. Very slowly he scanned the horizon. And sucked in a sharp breath. There was a person out there. He magnified the zoom on his NVGs and made out one man. He was dressed in dark clothing and carried a standard pair of civilian night-vision goggles. They didn’t look like heat seekers, which was good, or the guy would have already seen the column of hot air rising from their fire beyond the next ridge.

The guy was maybe a quarter mile away, moving from right to left across Mac’s field of vision. He wasn’t bothering to move stealthily, so he probably didn’t know Mac was out here. It also meant he hadn’t spotted their camp yet. Mac reached for his throat mike out of habit, and realized he wasn’t wired. Sloppy. A mistake they couldn’t afford. He couldn’t warn Dutch to hit the dirt with Suzie.

He cursed under his breath. Had Ruala picked up their trail already? Dammit! They needed one more day to get to the rough terrain where the horses gave them the advantage. How had Ruala mobilized so blasted fast? The guy must be outrageously motivated to find Susan. Chagrin filled him. It wasn’t often The Blackjacks underestimated an opponent or got caught flat-footed.

He slithered backward until he was below the ridgeline and then he took off running, low and silent, toward Dutch and Suzie. By paralleling the guy’s course, Mac could get to the camp first—if he hustled.

He hustled, all right. He busted his butt, in fact, and was panting when he burst into the circle of firelight. Dutch was on his feet before Mac even skidded to a halt.

“What’s up?” Dutch asked shortly, as he tossed on a bulky ammo belt and picked up his rifle.

“One man, dark clothes, night-vision goggles, a holstered pistol, looks to be scouting. Approaching from the northwest, estimated time of arrival, two minutes. No time to pack up and ride out of here before he arrives.”

“Ruala?” Dutch bit out.

“No. Too short. A flunkie.”

Dutch glanced around their camp. “No time to bug out. Do we take him down?”

Mac ignored Susan’s gasp. He thought fast. “If we take him down and he doesn’t report back in, more men will follow. I hoofed it back here and didn’t locate his base camp to see how much backup he’s got.”

“Options?” Dutch asked, smearing black grease hastily on his face.

“Diversion. Disguise Susan. She and I will be a guy and his girl out for a tryst. We’ll give him a show and distract him while you get into position to track him. Drop him if he threatens Susan.”

“You got it,” Dutch said grimly, pulling the black dew rag from around his throat up and over his light hair. “Get wired. I’ll call when I can.” Although he was a big man, Dutch slipped away in catlike silence.

Mac dug in his pack and then hurried to Suzie’s side. She was already bundling up Dutch’s bedroll and stuffing it in her tent. He hefted Dutch’s saddle and tossed it inside as well. It would be hard to explain two humans toting three saddles.

“Here. Put this on.” It was a brunette wig.

She twisted her own hair up onto her head and yanked on the wig. It was all they had time for. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with fright. “Is it him?” she asked breathlessly. “Ruala?”

“One of his men probably. Unless you can think of anyone else who’d be sneaking around out here in dark clothing using night-vision equipment.”

“How did he find us so fast?”

His gut roiled ominously. He’d like to know that one, too. This was not good. He looked into Suzie’s worried eyes and managed to shrug nonchalantly. “It’s no big deal. Dutch and I have it covered.”

She shuddered. “So what do we do now?”

Mac knelt down and rummaged in his bag again, coming up with a handful of gear. He tossed one of the saddle blankets over his black nylon Special Forces pack and checked his watch. Their two-minute head start was over. From here on out, he had to assume they were being watched.

“Come sit beside me, hon.” He sat down casually on the broad rock beside the fire.

She did as she was told. He saw her hands shaking as she moved toward him. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. Ruala was supposed to come in from the south, from the main road, the bastard.

“Now what?” she whispered.

“Smile, darlin’, you’re on Candid Camera,” he breathed. He rummaged with one hand in his pile of supplies and came up with two spare radio antennae and a plastic bag. “Let’s roast some marshmallows,” he announced brightly.

“You’re kidding.”

He smiled grimly at the shocked expression on her face. Come on, baby. Play along. If the slightest thing went wrong, a single inadvertent twitch, people could die tonight. “I found the marshmallows this morning. I threw them in because I thought you might need a little stress relief at some point.”

“Good call,” she mumbled back. Her voice gained a little strength. “You can’t go wrong giving me sugar or chocolate.”

“We need to look like we’re enjoying ourselves,” he breathed without moving his lips. He raised his voice. “How do you like your marshmallows?”

She poked a marshmallow onto the long, thin rod he handed her and held it out toward the fire. She answered seductively, “I like mine evenly browned, puffed up to twice their usual size, soft in the middle and crispy on the outside. You?”

He replied lazily, “I like mine soft and sweet, and I don’t care about the outside.”

She looked up sharply at him.

“Smile for the audience,” he directed under his breath.

She pasted on a grin and mumbled, “Can you see him, Mac?”

“Nope, but he won’t show himself if he knows what’s good for him. If I had to guess, he’s on his belly crawling up that ridge across from us.”

“I’m scared. What do I do if he attacks?”

He answered reassuringly, “If I tell you to get down at any point, throw yourself backward off this rock as fast as you can and stay down behind it. Okay?”

“Okay,” she murmured.

He raised his voice. “Now aren’t you glad we came out here? No parents or brothers to chaperone us for once.” He added under his breath, “Do you know how to use a gun?”

She laughed low and sexy. Despite his tension, Mac’s gut coiled a little tighter at the sound. “I don’t know,” she teased loudly. “Should I trust you?”

How could she be a firearms analyst and not know how to shoot? Or maybe her knee prevented her from shooting. He could believe that. The recoil from a weapon might put too much strain on the joint.

Damn. He put one arm around her, pulling her close by his side. She went as stiff as a board under his touch. She felt as if she might break into a million pieces any second. Her tension had to be visible to the watcher. He reached under her hair to massage the nape of her neck. “Relax, babe. We’ve got all night.”

She threw him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”

He popped a roasted marshmallow into his mouth and murmured around the sticky lump of sugar, “You’re doing great.” He continued sotto voce, “There’s a beeper in my pack. If something happens to me and Dutch, hit the square button on the end of it. It’s a panic button, and Uncle Sam will show up shortly to rescue you.”

She nodded as she poked another marshmallow on her makeshift stick. “Next one’s for you, honey bunny,” she added in a normal speaking voice.

“As long as you feed it to me,” he replied playfully. He murmured, “Honey bunny? Jeez, I hope Dutch didn’t hear that.”

She grinned and popped a wad of goo into his mouth. Mac slogged through the marshmallow until he could mumble, “I’ve got to get my throat radio on. I need your help.”

“Uhh, okay. What do I do?”

“I’m going to roll us on top of the horse blanket. Reach underneath it, grab the wad of wires you’ll feel, and stuff it under the front of my shirt.”

He didn’t give her time to tense up over how this maneuver was going to work. He just wrapped his arms around her and lay back, pulling her down on top of him. She felt good, stretched out across him. Correction. She felt great. Her body was slim and lissome against his, and she squirmed against him, protesting playfully, until he nearly moaned at the sensation.

He didn’t have to act when he groaned aloud, “You feel so damned good.”

Her eyes were pools of black, her pupils dilated in shock—of hopefully lust—when she propped herself up on his chest and stared down at him. He saw recognition in her eyes that something still simmered between them. Something hot and electric and sexual. Her hand slipped around his rib cage and under his back. He lifted infinitesimally to help her search beneath him.

“Got it,” she mumbled. “Don’t call me baby,” she added louder. “I’m all woman.”

He laughed darkly. “Yeah. I noticed. Hard to miss, in fact.” He whispered, “Slip it under my shirt.”

She batted her eyelashes at him and made a production of slipping her hands under his shirt. Her palms were soft and gentle, everything he was not, and everywhere she touched him lit on fire. He growled in response and quickly reversed their positions. Susan looked startled as he towered above her.

“Your knee okay?” he bit out, low.

“Yeah,” she murmured back.

“I’m going to kiss you, Suzie, and while we’re doing that, I need you to run the round necklace-shaped thing up my shirt to my neck.”

Her jaw dropped. Was that outrage at the idea of Mac Conlon kissing her again after all these years? Please God, let it be something else. Their lives hung on making this look good. They had to convince the guy on the ridge that this was real. He prayed she would play along. If she blew their cover now, while he was lying on the ground, in the open, with his arms around her and his weapon a full arm’s length away, he was a dead man. And so was she.

Mac had never been so tense about kissing a woman, not even the first time he’d kissed Susan, all those years ago. But then, this was the first time that doing it wrong might get him killed. Please let Dutch not fail to cover their backs.

“I’m sorry, Suzie,” he murmured. Surprised, he realized he actually meant his apology. And then his mouth closed on hers.

He’d forgotten.

How could he ever have forgotten the berries-and-cream taste of her, the way she arched up into him, kissing him with her whole body, the little sound she made in the back of her throat when she was aroused. Her lips were warm and soft beneath his. They opened eagerly, beckoning him forward. He deepened the kiss, tasting marshmallow and Suzie. Her body molded to his, cushioning and cradling him in a perfect fit. Her hand crept up his chest, exploring the muscled contours there. Suddenly he was glad for all those grueling hours of exercise. Her fingers traced upward, taking his blood pressure higher, as well, his heart pumping harder and faster as her hand roamed across his skin.

Aww, hell. Dutch, my back’s all yours. And then the last remnants of rational thought drifted away like ashes on the wind, leaving only hot desire burning in his gut. He wanted her. All of her. Right here. Right now.

The cool circlet of the throat mike touched his neck, and he abruptly remembered what they were supposed to be doing. He rolled off the low boulder they’d been lying on, holding Suzie close to his chest. He absorbed the impact with the hard ground into his own body. She lurched on top of him, surprised.

“Tickle me, honey,” he murmured.

“You hate being tickled,” she murmured back.

He smiled seductively. “Just do it.”

He gritted his teeth as she complied, and he promptly wrestled her onto her back, carefully pinning her beneath him. He hoped he wasn’t hurting her knee. He also had to be careful not to knock off her wig. Their mock struggle brought them too close to the fire, so he sat up, dragging her beside him to a safer distance.

“What was all that about?” she asked under her breath.

“It covered me hooking up my mike and inserting my ear piece.”

“You did all that while you were tickling me and practically hog-tying me?”

He flashed her a genuine smile. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Either that or you’ve got eight hands,” she retorted.

He chuckled, pulling her casually against his side. “I wish, baby.”

He sincerely hoped this act was working. Unfortunately, a single kiss wasn’t likely to hold their scout’s interest for very long. They were going to have to up the ante.

Mac turned toward Suzie, shielding her from what he estimated to be the view of the watcher. The last thing he needed was for the scout to positively ID Susan Monroe and start shooting at her. Although with her fake dark hair messed up like that and her cheeks flushed the way they were, he doubted many people would recognize cool, sophisticated Susan Monroe right now. Who’d have guessed such heat lurked in her?

Suzie had grown up. She was tougher than he remembered, and gutsy. The hottest number this side of the Rio Grande. He most definitely wanted to get to know this woman. At the moment he wanted inside her pants as bad as he wanted inside her heart.

He clenched his teeth. The mission, dammit, the mission.

Control came, but precariously. He closed his eyes briefly, shoving back his guilt and the pain of her anger at him. He pushed away his sudden urge to overpower her physically and emotionally until she yielded to him once more. This was all an act. It was only an act. Yeah, right.

* * *

Susan gasped when Mac’s arms closed around her in an inescapable bear hug. It felt good to be held—really held—by someone. Her world was so lonely and sterile she’d almost forgotten what human contact felt like.

But Mac had slipped right past her defenses. He’d brushed her self-protective prickliness aside and gone straight for her weak spot. Him. He was her greatest weakness.

It was exciting and frightening all at once. She leaned into his embrace, meeting his body with her own, cushioning his hard angles and edges with her yielding softness. Her breath stuck in her throat at the sensation. It would have been perfect except for the expression of acute pain that flickered across his face. Helpless frustration washed over her. Why did she have to be so bloody attracted to a man who obviously wanted nothing to do with her? But here she was, hoping he would kiss her again. Hoping he’d do a lot more than that, in fact.

She was an idiot. She was neurotic and insecure to throw herself at a man who’d walked away, no run away, ten years ago and never looked back.

She was in heaven. Never had a man’s arms felt so safe and strong around her. Never had a man so completely surrounded her, sheltering her and protecting her like this. Never had another man made her insides melt into a shapeless lump of white-hot desire. She burrowed against Mac’s heat.

He went as rigid as rock. It was like snuggling up to a granite boulder. He was so tense he all but vibrated. Was that good or bad? Did he want her and was he trying to hide it, or did her closeness just make him horribly uncomfortable? Should she pull away or snuggle even closer? In an agony of indecision, she did neither.

“How dangerous is the guy watching us?” she whispered into Mac’s shoulder.

“He’s not. As long as we don’t do anything to arouse his suspicions, he’s not going to try to shoot us.”

Susan lurched. “He’d kill us?” she squeaked.

“Shh,” Mac warned. “He’s not going to kill anybody. Dutch will take him out long before he gets off a shot at us. You’re a nonexpendable resource.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.”

Mac chuckled, the sound a low vibration in her ear as she snuggled against him. “It should be. If the mission is to keep you alive and get the bad guys, then that’s what we’ll do, come hell or high water. We never fail.”

“Never?”

“Never. The Blackjacks are the best, Suz. You’re completely safe.”

A confident ring in his words proclaimed their truth. She laid her head in the hollow of Mac’s shoulder, beneath his ear. She couldn’t count how many times she’d rested her head in this exact spot before. It gave her a powerful sense of déjà vu to be doing it again.

“So now what do we do?” she asked.

Mac opened his mouth to answer, but instead, Dutch unwittingly answered her question. Susan’s ear was close enough to Mac’s earpiece that she also heard Dutch’s words. “Pick up the action, Mac. This guy’s getting antsy.”

Mac casually reached up to rub his jaw, activating his mike while he was at it. “Roger.”

She looked up at Mac, and he met her gaze squarely. Apology shone in his lovely eyes. It hurt like a hot poker in her heart. She didn’t want him to be sorry he had to make out with her, darn it!

He kissed her again. But this time, he meant business.

Her thoughts spun away like dandelion fluff as he swept her into his arms, transporting her to a place where nothing existed but the two of them. His kiss started sweetly, testing around the edges of her restraint, coaxing her to come with him further into his magical world. She had no will to resist him. Her hands slid up and into his thick, glossy hair, pulling him closer to her. Her breasts felt full and tight against his chest, her uneven breathing rubbing their peaks against him with tantalizing results.

His arm closed around her waist, pulling her higher against him, and his free hand speared into her hair, massaging her scalp and urging her ever closer. She groaned when he tore his mouth away from hers, only to sigh in ecstasy when his lips closed upon the soft spot just below her ear. His fingers twined in her wig, tugging gently, and she gladly offered him her neck to feast upon.

He accepted her wanton invitation. Her eyes closed, and she felt nothing but the fire of his mouth blazing upon her skin and an answering fire roaring inside of her. The two flames twisted and wrestled like lovers, their pagan dance entwining them in a single inferno that consumed her entirely.

Oh no, her scar. Her hands flew up to cover it, but he intercepted them. He kissed his way across the damaged flesh as if it was perfectly normal. He must be a good actor if he could act completely unaffected by the ugly scar that ran from just below her ear all the way down to her shoulder. The thought was cold water on the flames within her.

But his kisses continued, heating her flesh anew, sending the fires inside her flaring even higher. She craved the touch of Mac’s hands on her nearly as much as she craved the feel of him beneath her own fingers. She reached for his shirt, but his hands stopped hers.

Right. She mustn’t reveal the wire.

He rolled over, partially covering her with his body. Protecting her from the shooter.

“I don’t want to crush you, baby,” he murmured.

“Do I act like I’m in pain?” she murmured back.

A low, growling chuckle was his only reply before he covered her even more fully. His elbows supported his weight on either side of her head, and she reached up, looping her fingers around his massive biceps. She reveled in his hardness, in the size of him, in the way their bodies fit together.

“More, Mac,” she gasped. “I want more.”

He lowered his head, kissing her hungrily, and she returned his kisses just as voraciously. If she could consume him entirely, make him a part of herself and herself a part of him, she would do it. This was a man she could lose herself in completely and revel in the experience.

Whoa. Time out. This was Mac.

The thought repeated itself in her head, a gentle sigh in the face of the wildfire between them. Yes. This was Mac, indeed. Her first love and, truth be told, her only real love.

Dutch’s voice came across Mac’s earpiece, startling Susan out of her sensual reverie. “The scout is moving away. I’m following him back to his camp.”

“Don’t be too long, Dutch,” Mac replied in a completely businesslike tone. “I’ll have us ready to move out by the time you get back.”

Susan went limp with disbelief beneath him. How could Mac talk so calmly after what they’d just been doing? She was panting like a dog on a hot summer day, and he was as cool as a cucumber. Had that sizzling embrace meant nothing to him? Had all that been an act after all? Had he just been doing his job?

She wriggled beneath him, and he rolled aside immediately, which allow her to sit up indignantly while she gathered her tattered emotional defenses. She stood up awkwardly, momentarily taller than Mac as he leaned back against the boulder, gazing at her expressionlessly. She glared down at him and let her humiliation and rage build to a smashing crescendo. It was better than sobbing like a little girl.

She snarled at him, “Don’t you get any ideas from what we just did, Mac Conlon. I was saving my neck and nothing more. You stay away from me. Got it?”

One dark eyebrow rose sardonically. “Got it.”