Free The Defiant Hero by Suzanne Brockmann Page A

held him just as tightly. She was going to miss him, too. God, when was the last time she’d had a friendship like this one? When had she ever had a friendship like this, with someone she could confide in completely, without fear of her darkest secrets becoming public knowledge?

    And yes, the man was pleasant to be around for other reasons, too. He was attractive. It was hard not to think about how incredibly gorgeous John was, particularly when she was wrapped in his arms. He had a great body and a smile to die for. He was smart and funny and extremely sweet in a twenty-five-year-old kind of way.

    He was the little brother she’d always wanted.

    Wasn’t he?

    It didn’t help that his embrace wasn’t at all brotherly. It didn’t help that he ran his hands through her hair and down her back, fitting her exquisitely, perfectly, intimately against him.

    And it didn’t help at all when he pulled back to look at her, and she saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen in a good long time when Daniel looked at her.

    He pressed a piece of paper into her hand. “That’s my phone number,” he told her. God, his eyes were hypnotizing. “Both home and work.” He smiled fleetingly. “Of course, I’m away a lot. But if you’re ever back in the States, call me, and I’ll get leave.”

    Meg nodded, unable to speak. Who was he kidding? She wasn’t going to call him. She was married. Her husband hated his guts. They both knew damn well that unless it was by accident, they were never going to meet again. She felt her eyes fill with tears, but still she couldn’t look away.

    “Ah, shit,” John Nilsson swore. “I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this. . . .”

    He kissed her.

    It wasn’t a brotherly kiss.

    It wasn’t even close.

    He tasted twenty-five years old. His mouth was hot and sweet and impossibly delicious. His lips were both soft and unyielding, and he swept his tongue into her mouth as if it belonged there. And oh, God, for the next few heartbeats, it did.

    Maybe it was the knowledge that she wouldn’t call him, wouldn’t see him again, that made Meg kiss him back with such complete abandon. Maybe it was the way he’d looked at her just moments before, with such genuine desire in his eyes.

    Maybe it was a lesson in the powers of temptation, a sign from above that she should ease off a little on the holier-than-thou self-righteousness when confronting Daniel about his past transgressions.

    But the truth was, the entire world faded into gray when this man kissed her. Nothing else existed. There was only his mouth on her mouth, his tongue against hers, his hands in her hair, on her back, pressing her against him as if the way she was clinging wasn’t close enough to satisfy him.

    The doorbell rang, startlingly loud in the stillness, and they both pulled back, both breathing hard.

    Oh, God, what was she doing? What had she just done?

    He must’ve seen the shock in her eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse.

    “No, I’m sorry.” This was her fault. It had to be. She was older and more experienced. She was married.

    “I have to go.” He reached for the door, but then stopped, turning back to her. “Call me, Meg. Jettison that deadweight of a husband and come back to the States. Call me when you get there.”

    As she gazed into his eyes, she was as tempted as she’d ever been in all of her life.

    But then he was gone, the door closing tightly behind him, and sanity returned. Meg knew the difference between reality and fantasy. And this man was pure fantasy.

    That kiss was no more real than if it had happened in a dream.

    Call me.

    She knew that she never would.

    Call me.

    Meg sat in the men’s room of the Kazbekistani embassy, aware that despite her attempts to keep her distance, she’d finally done just that.

    She’d finally called John Nilsson.

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Five

    “WHAT THE FUCK are you