His mouth crushed down on hers, and she tasted that need, the fierce and focused intensity of it. And the greed, the desperation of it.

She gave herself over to it without hesitation. Because he was wrong, as he was very rarely wrong. She understood the need, and she understood the frustration of knowing it wouldn't be controlled.

The same war waged in her.

He released her weapon harness, dragged it off, tossed it aside. She only wrapped herself more tightly around him, moaned in drugged pleasure when his mouth, his teeth, fixed onthe curve of her throat.

Somewhere a bird was singing its heart out, and the scent of roses grew heavy, hypnotizing. Air that had seemed so cool inthe green shade went thick, went hot.

He yanked the shirt over her head, and those hands with their long, clever fingers raced over flesh until she all but felt it melt. But when she tugged at his shirt, he shoved her hands away, locked them together at the wrist behind her back.

He needed control, however fleeting, however tenuous.

"I'm taking you." His voice was as thick as the air. "My way."

"I want-"

"You'll get what you want soon enough." He unfastened the hook of her trousers. "But I'll have what I want first."

And he wanted her naked.

He leaned in, nipped her bottom lip. "Do off the boots."

"Let go of my hands."

He merely slid his down into the opening of her trousers, tightening his grip on her wrists when her body jerked.

"The boots."

He laid his lips on hers, slid his hand over her. His tongue slipping in to soothe, his finger slipping in to arouse with a patient seduction opposed to that steely grip on her wrists.

Even as she murmured a protest, her arms went limp. Dazed, she began toeing off her boots, and the movement of her own body shuddered her over peak.

She was hot and wet and trembling.

He wanted to touch, to taste, to explore and exploit every inch of her. Releasing her hands, he moved down her body. And when his mouth clamped over her, she erupted.

Her hands grabbed at his hair as she choked on gasps. But he only gripped her hips and continued to destroy her.

She was his now. In this garden, in this world. She was his.

Her world was spinning, all the color and scent gone mad around her. His mouth was like a fever, burning against her with a torment so exquisite it felt like death.

She could feel the heat rolling through her again, filling her, pumping into her blood and bone until it burst like a nova and left her shattered.

And still he wouldn't stop.

"I can't. I can't."

"I can."

When the next rush buckled her knees, he pulled her down.

This time he dragged her arms over her head and once again locked her wrists together. "Do you remember the first time I had you? I can't, you said, but you did."

"Damn it." Her body bowed up. "I want you inside me."

"I will be." He closed his free hand over her breast. "I can make you come this way now. You're primed for it. Everything in you is ready for me."

His hand was like magic over her skin. Under it her breast felt impossibly full, unbearably sensitive. And her heart beat like a fist.

"It pleasures me to watch it take you over."

He watched now as the helpless pleasure raced over her face, as her breath came faster through her lips. She bowed up again, a trembling arch. Then burst. Then melted.

He shifted away, began to undress.

She lay sprawled, damp, naked, conquered on the soft green grass. She wore only a long chain from which dripped the fat tear of a diamond, and the simple St. Jude's medal. He'd given her those, symbols and shields. That she would wear them, together, moved him unbearably.

Her arms stayed flung over her head as he'd left them. Surrendered, as she surrendered to no one else.

He was rock hard and desperate to mate.

He straddled her, ran his hands over her face, her throat, her breasts. "Eve."

She saw his face so intense, so strongly beautiful in the deep shade. A trio of thin sunbeams shot down through the leaves and flashed light over his hair.

"I want you to take me. Is that what you need to hear? I want to be taken, as long as it's by you."

He drove himself into her. Shoved her knees back and drove himself deeper. She cried out, the shock of sensation slicing through her as he plunged.

"Harder," she demanded and yanked until his mouth was on hers again. "Harder."

His body quivered, and control snapped like brittle glass. Caught up in his own madness he ravished her mouth, her body. Pounding as he heard her cry out, pounding as he felt her gather again.

"With me." He took her hands, linking fingers now. "Come with me."

He gave himself, as she had given, so they could take each other.

The blood was still roaring in his ears when he managed to roll, drawing her with him so she was cushioned by his body rather than pinned under it.

The storm inside him had burned itself out. His hand was gentle as he stroked over her back.

"Some walk."

He smiled a little. "Yes, well, a bit of fresh air always does a body good."

"Yeah, I'm sure it was the fresh air that did the trick." She snickered. "Now I get why people go to the countryside for a little R and R."

"I'm feeling pretty rested and relaxed at the moment."

She lifted her head now, studied his face. "Yeah?"

He knew what she was asking. Knew she'd understood. "Yeah. I suppose we'd better tidy ourselves up and get inside. They should be bringing McNab along soon, and I've yet to tell Summerset."

"I'll leave that happy little job to you."

"Coward."

"Bet your ass." She rolled off him, then looked around on the grass for her clothes. "Where the hell's my shirt? Did you eat it?"

"Not to my knowledge." He glanced up, pointed. "There, hanging on the roses."

"The many uses of the garden," she commented as she strode over to tug it free. "Visual and olfactory stimulation, sex 'capades and clothes hanger."

He got up laughing, and the rich, easy sound of it told her they were back on steady ground again.

Once they were inside, Eve made a beeline for the stairs and went straight up to her office. She had work, she told herself. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid whatever conversation Roarke was going to have with Summerset

Or it wasn't just that.

She put in a call to the commander first. The reluctance she'd shown about having Roarke on board as consultant had been smoke. She'd already planned to tag him for it, officially.

But there wasn't any reason to give him a swelled head about it.

"Permission's already been granted," Whitney told her. "Feeney requested that Roarke be asked to consult. I'm told Detective McNab's been released from the hospital and into your care."

"Not my care-so to speak."

"I've already spoken with his parents. You can expect a transmission from them."

"Ah…" Her mind began plotting how to pass that along to Summerset as well. "He's young and he's fit. I expect he'll be back on his feet in a day or two. I'll be working primarily out of my home office, Commander. Unless Feeney feels otherwise, I want Cogburn's unit transferred here."

"That's your call. We have a meeting tomorrow with Chief Tibble, Mayor Peachtree, and Chang, the media liaison. Fourteen hundred, in The Tower. Your presence is required."

"Yes, sir."

"Get me some answers, Lieutenant."

When he broke transmission, she sat down at her desk. She might not have the answers yet, but she could line up all the questions.

She made notes, checked prior notes. Shuffled them together and made fresh ones.

Cogburn, Louis K.-playground illegals. Possible to trace purchase of data unit? Search data entries to determine how often he used it-per week, hours per day.