Free Falcon's Flight by Joan Hohl

admit that Leslie was not just another in a long line of women. Flint wasn’t ready to examine, never mind admit to, why he felt differently about Leslie.
    Freedom, his own personal freedom, headed the list of values in Flint Falcon’s life; all others came below it in order of their importance. If necessary, Flint was prepared to fight, even die, to maintain his freedom. Yet since meeting Leslie, since wanting Leslie, his sense of absolute freedom had felt strangely threatened. Therein lay the cause of Flint’s inner conflict. Flint wanted his freedom. Flint also wanted Leslie. He resolved the inner war by convincing himself he’d have both—his freedom on a permanent basis, Leslie temporarily. Pleased by the resolution, Flint greeted Leslie with a smile and felt every muscle in his body contract when she smiled back.
    “Did you win?”
    Unable to avoid applying his question to her struggle with her doubts about her association with him as well as to her gambling luck, Leslie’s smile slipped into a satisfied grin. “Yes. Did you locate the man you wanted to talk to?”
    “Yes.” Flint inclined his head to indicate the coffee shop. “Would you like a cup of coffee?” When Leslie answered with a quick negative shake of her head, he said, “Would you like to go into one of the lounges for a drink?”
    “No, thank you,” she replied, waiting for whatever he suggested next.
    Flint’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Would you like to go on to another casino?”
    “No.” Leslie smiled and waited, feeling excitement begin to hum along her veins at the speculative expression that came into his face.
    “Would you like to return to Falcon’s Flight?” Although he didn’t add “and to my apartment—and my bedroom,” he really didn’t need to; the suggestion was woven through his low, sensual voice. Leslie didn’t hesitate an instant.
    “Yes,” she said at once, tired of the games.
    It was not until Leslie was standing on the broad landing inside the apartment, breath suspended in awe as she gazed at the panoramic sweep of star-studded night sky afforded by the window wall, that she gave a thought to the bodyguards.
    “What happened to your shadows?” she asked, her breathing resuming at an alarming rate as Flint set the lock on the door.
    “I told them to catch the next available cab,” he murmured, sliding his hand beneath the heavy mass of her hair as he came up behind her.
    “I’ll bet that made them happy.” Leslie shivered at the feather-light touch of his fingers on her nape. The shiver intensified at the sound of his soft chuckle.
    “It probably didn’t, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to share our cab with them.” His free hand slid around her waist, drawing her tingling spine into contact with his hard chest. “Forget them, darling. They’re experts. They won’t bother you.”
    “Merely knowing they’re around bothers me,” Leslie sighed, savoring his endearment as she let her head rest against his solid strength.
    “They’re not here,” Flint murmured at her ear. “We’re completely alone.” He touched the tip of his tongue to her temple. “Or does that bother you even more?”
    Leslie was too honest to be less than forthright. “I won’t insult your intelligence by lying to you, Flint.” She shivered again as his tongue stroked the skin at her hairline. “I am—” she swallowed a gasp as his palm moved slowly over her rib cage “—nervous about this arrangement.”
    “Why?” Flint’s tone was tinged with genuine puzzlement. His hand found one already aching breast and felt the evidence of arousal in the hardening crest. “We’re both mature, experienced adults,” he reasoned. “What is there for you to be nervous about?” Leslie closed her eyes as his hand grasped her hair to expose her nape, and bit back a moan when his lips caressed the vulnerable skin. “I—I’m unaccustomed to indulging in affairs,” she gasped, shuddering in response to his fingers