Free The Desperate Game by Jayne Castle

cocktails, late-evening cocktails, and anything in between.
    The bartender had produced the tequila without comment, adding a side of lime and salt. But Zac wasn't fooled. He sensed that the straight tequila didn't fit into this atmosphere any more than it fitted into the yuppie bar in which Guinevere had worked as a waitress. This place might seem more real in some ways, but Zac didn't feel any more at home here than he did with the yuppies. He took a slow sip of the tequila and reflected on his fate in life. He really didn't fit in well anywhere.
    He wasn't aware of feeling depressed or dissatisfied about the fact. He'd been living with it too long, for one thing. For as long as he could remember there had always been this odd sense of distance between himself and the rest of the world. His body had developed with a natural sense of coordination in high school, but he'd never quite grasped the concept of team spirit, so he'd never been successful in sports.
    In the military he'd questioned orders frequently enough to earn himself a reputation as a troublemaker. He'd been promoted anyway but not into a position of leadership. An unusually perceptive commanding officer had seen the hard edge of stoic perseverance that underlined everything Zachariah Justis did and had recommended him for special intelligence training.
    "You're like a dog with a bone, Justis. You just keep gnawing on something until you've digested the whole damn thing. And then you look around for the next bone. You need to work alone; you're too goddamned independent to be part of a team. But you're smart, and there's a certain ruthlessness in the way you approach bones. I think you're just what G group is looking for."
    But he hadn't been quite what G group was looking for, Zac recalled wryly. Oh, he'd done all right for a while. The training had interested him, and he'd liked the prospect of being alone in the field. But in the military you never really were your own boss, regardless of how the system was set up. And once again he'd started questioning orders. Some of the bones he'd been given to gnaw inspired more queries than answers. And Zac was always looking for answers. But the military didn't always want all the answers uncovered. Zac and G group had parted company with a general understanding that he just didn't fit the profile of military intelligence personnel.
    Life after that had not altered significantly. He'd had other assorted career opportunities, but although he'd usually gotten the jobs done, he hadn't always been thanked for the way he'd accomplished the task. He'd been slow coming to the realization that the role for which he was best suited was that of small, independent businessperson. Zac had another taste of the tequila and considered the fact that Guinevere Jones had been much quicker to understand her personal career objectives. She was doing at thirty what he'd waited until thirty-six to attempt.
    That thought led him to recall the interesting little adventure at Cal Bender's house the previous night. The evening had been a revelation in some ways and a quiet affirmation of some inspired guesses in others. Most of those guesses had concerned the nature of Guinevere Jones. Zac's mouth crooked for an instant as he recalled the sense of excitement that had unwillingly emanated from her as she'd followed him into the cottage. He'd wanted to laugh at the time, but he hadn't dared. She would have assumed he was laughing at her when what he really wanted to do was let her know he shared the adrenaline rush.
    Zac toyed with the tiny tequila glass and thought about how long he'd stayed awake after dropping Guinevere off at her apartment. He'd gone back to his own place and spent more than an hour speculating on the kind of excitement she would reflect in the heat of passion. His body had seemed tense and awkward for quite a while last night. The physical reaction was alarming in some ways. At his age he should be in better control of