The warmth of overheated bodies steamed the air, sending the scent of his expensive aftershave and her frustration billowing around them. Dominic kept his legs together as he rose up onto his knees. "Don't even think about it, doll face," he growled.

Annie snapped her head, ready to glare and found him gazing intently. Besides the subtle odor of Cologne, she smelled the elemental scent of an aroused male. She opened her mouth to tell him off and he took full advantage, lowering his lips to hers.

The taste of mint overpowered the smoky tang of cigarettes. Dominic's tongue stroked hers and Annie turned to stone. Then he eased the pressure, teasing at her lips, and she felt herself go marshmallow soft and hot all over. As if sensing her surrender, he settled into her chest.

Their bodies shifted, until he was cradled against her, yet he'd wrapped his arms around her back to cushion her from the cement. Taken in by the thoughtful gesture, her hands worked their way to his neck. Her fingers threaded through his thick silky hair. Crazy. She was crazy...and so was he.

He sucked the air from her lungs and she thought she'd faint with the need to let him. Deepening the kiss, she hooked her calves around his thighs. She bit at his lower lip as she arched into him, trying to devour him from the outside in. The world faded, until his mouth became the center of her universe. Nothing mattered but the man in her arms. Consumed with heat, all she could do was feel.

Dominic slid his hands under her sweatshirt. Obviously flustered by the layers she wore, he groaned low in his throat as he plucked at her nipples, circling his thumbs up and over breasts hidden under an inch of cotton fiber. She quivered at the sensation, the jolt of electricity that arrowed straight to her womb.

Without warning, he pulled back. Annie blinked through a heady fog of desire. A gust of cold air chilled her back to reality. Her eyes focused, then locked onto his scowl.

"Damn, that wasn't supposed to happen," he muttered. He stared at her, his steely gaze almost a slap. "Jeez, McAllister, what the hell did we just do?"
"I—I-don't know." Still dazed, Annie shook her head. He removed his arms and jumped to his feet, and she hit the cement with a thud.

Standing over her, he offered his hand. She ignored it and fumbled to her feet. Oh, hell. Oh, crap. Was she insane? Inhaling a long, slow breath, she averted her eyes and smoothed the front of her sweatshirt, then ran her fingers through her damp curls. His pointed question echoed in her brain. What the heck had happened? Not only had her experiment flopped, her career was in ruins. And it was all her fault.

Raising her gaze, she checked the back porch, certain Lou had seen everything. He'd probably run to get Bob...or he was laughing his head off.

But the porch was empty.

Swinging around, she squinted across the yard. Maybe she'd gotten lucky and Lou had slipped away to the bathroom, or decided to do a perimeter check. Prepared for a wise crack, or at the very least a leer from Dominic she turned, surprised to find him scanning the trees, his body tense, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"Get down!" He jerked around and shoved her to her knees. Annie batted his hands away, but he pushed at her shoulders and gave a harder shove. "Just do it, McAllister."

She read the fear in his eyes, and a hint of something more. Operating on instinct, she rolled toward the car, rose to her knees and drew the keys from her pocket in one smooth move. Opening the trunk, she grabbed for the gun just as three shots rang out.

Whipping around, she spotted the bright red stain spreading across Dominic's left shoulder. With his eyes fixed on hers, his face paled. In slow motion, he took a few stumbling steps toward her and fell to his hands and knees at her feet.

Annie's heart did a triple stutter. Crouching, she shielded his body with her own and raised her gun to pan the grounds. Where the hell was Lou?

Her WITSEC training took over and she concentrated on her prisoner. He'd pitched forward and rolled to his back. Blood continued to soak his sweatshirt, broadening the stain until it covered his chest and stomach. He moaned and she tucked the gun in the waistband of her pants. Still in a squat, she put her hands in his armpits and dragged him backward into the shelter of the garage.

After laying him flat on the cement, she tugged off her sweatshirt, stuffed it up and under his and pressed down hard. Raising her head, she again scanned the farmhouse, then the yard. Where was Bob Fielding? What had happened to Lou?

Her instructions were to protect Dominic Viglioni at all costs. She studied his ashen face, felt the blood seep into her sweatshirt, and a rush of utter helplessness overwhelmed her.

His life was slipping away under her hands. His breathing turned shallow and she started to panic. "Don't die," she whispered. "Please, God, don't let him die."