Surrender. Brenda Jackson

possibly doing working for the CIA.

      “And what's your specialty, Ashton?”

      He looked at her when he brought the car to a stop at a traffic light. “Like this vehicle, I'm a Pathfinder, which is another name for a tracker. Being able to locate anything and anyone in thick woods, jungles, forest and any type of uncivilized or impenetrable territory is my special skill.”

      Netherland nodded, deciding not to tell him that tracking wasn't his only special skill. He was doing a pretty good job in the seduction area. The man was seducing her with the ease of someone who was an ace at it. Even now incredible sensations were skittering inside her. She had known from the moment Ashton had smiled at her at Clayton and Syneda's house that she would be spending time with him tonight. She would have to approach what was happening to her logically and intelligently. Although there could never, ever be a future between them, there was no reason they couldn't enjoy each other during the time he was in Houston on military leave. She was sure once she presented the idea to him that he would go for it. Something was better than nothing. She would get him out of her system, and he would get her out of his; then they would go their separate ways. He would travel around the world playing soldier, and she would remain in Houston contented.

      She had gotten into this thing with Ashton, and she might as well finish it.

      Ashton tightened his hands on the steering wheel. Dealing with Netherland was just as bad as dealing with any band of terrorists. The woman was giving him the battle of his life.

      He wondered what she was thinking. He could tell she had gotten relaxed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see she had undone the top button of her blouse. Was she deliberately trying to get next to him? He doubted it. Like him, she was probably beginning to feel hot.

      “Ashton?”

      “Hmm?” He had come to another traffic light. He looked at her, then wished he hadn't. Her eyes were dark, desirously dark. And all that desire was focused on him.

      “How much longer until we get to the hotel?”

      He continued to look at her for a moment more before saying, “Not much longer.”

      “Good.”

      They rode the rest of the way to the hotel in companionable silence.

      Netherland began questioning her actions when they walked into Ashton's hotel room, and he closed the door behind them. Especially when she saw his marine uniform in a dry cleaner's bag neatly placed diagonally across his bed.

      She started to turn around and leave, then decided to take another approach. Without saying anything to him she walked over to his bed, picked up the dry cleaner's bag and walked over to the closet and hung it up. She closed the closet door behind her.

      “That won't eliminate who and what I am, Netherland,” Ashton said, leaning against the closed hotel door.

      “I know, but tonight I don't want it to matter.” She walked back over to him and placed her arms around his neck. “And for the rest of the time you're here in Houston, it won't matter.”

      “Why won't it?”

      She leaned up and brushed her lips gently across his, once. Twice. Then she answered, “Because we're looking at this like two sensible adults who want to be together. Let's enjoy today and not concern ourselves with tomorrow.”

      “Are you suggesting we share a bed tonight and go our separate ways in the morning?”

      She brushed another kiss across his lips before saying, “No, I'm looking at something a little longer than a one-night stand. I'm suggesting we share a bed while you're in Houston and when you leave for parts unknown you won't look back and I won't have any regrets. The time we'll spend together will be a memory we'll have forever. What do you think of that?” She brushed another kiss across his lips.

      Ashton knew it was time he showed his future wife just what he thought.

      This time when her mouth touched his, he cupped the back of her head with his hand. Parting her lips with his tongue he swept inside her mouth, stealing her next words—whatever they may have been. And when she moaned in a shuddering breath, he stole that, too. He continued kissing her with more fire and more passion than he'd kissed her that night in her office.

      That was only the beginning.

      He broke off the kiss and took a step back from her and began tugging the tails of his shirt out of his jeans. He then began unbuttoning his shirt while she watched him.

      The rate of Netherland's breathing increased when he removed his shirt and tossed it aside. His chest and shoulders looked firm, muscled, strong, and she wanted to feel the naked strength of them beneath her fingertips. Her skin began to feel heated when she watched him slowly unzip his pants. Her eyes widened. She blinked when he tugged down his jeans and revealed…a loincloth?

      Netherland blinked again. Her jaw dropped. Ashton's underwear was styled as a loincloth. She inhaled deeply. She had seen men in boxers. Her father and brothers still preferred those kinds. Erik had preferred wearing briefs. But she had never seen a pair of loincloth underwear and hadn't known such a thing existed. Standing before her, he could have been either primitive Indian or primitive African. The loincloth could have served either purpose.

      “Now your turn, Netherland.” The deep hoarseness in his voice filled the room.