"You feel better." Archer shifted his hips just a bit and smiled to hear her breath break. He was still hard. She was still soft. The combination was dizzying.

For both of them.

"Impossible," Hannah said, her voice husky. "There's no word for better than wonderful."

"Yes, there is."

"What is it?" she challenged.

"Hannah."

She laughed softly and went back to exploring his face with her mouth. Len had rarely allowed this kind of sensual freedom, and never after s.e.x, but Archer wasn't pushing away from her. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying it. She liked that as much as she liked having him stay deep inside her.

Eyes closed, smiling, Archer enjoyed Hannah's caressing hands and nuzzling kisses, her tongue tasting first his beard, then his neck, then the tender skin behind his ear. When she nibbled around his ear and explored the center with her tongue, heat flickered over his skin like lightning.

"You keep that up and you're going to wish you weren't on the bottom," he said.

Her answer was a low, questioning sound, because she was too fascinated by the contours of his ear to bother shaping words. Then she felt his hips clench. Suddenly he was locked hard against her, moving in short, powerful jerks that made her limp with a shocking pleasure. But nothing was as shocking as feeling him stretching her again, as though it had been weeks since his last climax. "Archer?"

"Hang on." He rolled over onto his back, taking her with him, shifting her until she lay on top of him, thigh to thigh, chest to b.r.e.a.s.t.s. When the tile hit his back, he grunted, but it wasn't his bruises that bothered him most. "You should have told me."

"What?"

"How cold the tile was."

"I didn't notice."

"The least you can do is return the favor." Reluctantly Hannah started to get up. Big hands held her where she was, pinned against him, still deliciously impaled on him. She gave him a questioning look.

"Make me forget about the tile, Hannah." She didn't understand until she looked at his eyes. And then she could hardly believe it. The intensity of his hunger made her whole body tighten with pleasure, stroking him where he lay buried within her.

"That's a good start," he said, his voice raspy. He shifted his feet until they were between her ankles. Slowly he opened his legs inside hers, stretching her wide. Her eyes came fully open in startled pleasure. He was hard against the violently sensitive knot of her c.l.i.toris. The more he pushed apart her legs, the more pleasure licked through her, and the more need gnawed at her. She moved as much as she could against him, inching her hips back and forth until she shivered against him, around him.

It wasn't enough. She could tease both of them to the edge of release, but no more. Trapped on a sensual rack, she writhed slowly, seeking release and at the same time luxuriating in a ravishing kind of pleasure. She knew nothing about making love like this, about need that grew and grew and grew, climax leading to climax and yet nothing was enough, never enough, until she was shaking, whimpering, struggling against and with him, crying and wild.

And then she was free, grinding against him as wave after wave of pleasure slammed into her. She would have screamed if she could have, but all she could do was arch her back and give herself to the endless, wrenching ecstasy.

Archer watched through burning gray-green eyes, moving just enough to drive her higher, rubbing against the sleek, hot pearl of her pleasure until she was abandoned, crying, utterly surrendered to him and wholly victorious at the same time, driving him as surely as he drove her, taking him to the same shattering completion she knew, holding him there, burning, pulsing, drowning him in ecstasy.

It was a long, long time before either of them noticed the tile floor again.

Twelve.

The bathroom was still steamy from their shared shower. So was Hannah. The fact that Archer had been obviously ready for s.e.x again by the time he left the shower hadn't helped to cool her off. Wistfully she toweled herself dry and watched the closed bathroom door. She hadn't expected him to want her again. Not so soon. That he did both surprised and aroused her. He might be as ruthless as Len, but Archer was certainly different when it came to s.e.x. She liked that difference. A lot. Knowing that he wanted her even before the sweat dried from the last time made her lightheaded with too many emotions to name, even if she had wanted to.

She didn't. The shimmering s.e.xuality she had discovered within Archer and herself was more than enough for her to cope with at the moment.

"No wonder Coco can't wait to get past a man's fly," Hannah muttered, wrapping the towel around herself.

"What?" Archer asked from beyond the door.

Even as she flushed, she smiled a cream-licking kind of smile. It was still on her face when she opened the bathroom door. "I said, 'No wonder Coco can't wait to get past a man's fly.'"

He smiled despite the familiar stab of heat in his crotch when he saw the rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the white towel, a towel that was too small to entirely cover the dark nest of curls between her legs. All that kept him from kneeling and burying his face in those curls was the clock ticking in his head, the d.a.m.ned clock that told him he was running late. They should be on their way to Broome by now. Yet there were so many things he wanted to do to her, for her, with her; a whole world of sensuality waiting for them.

It had waited for ten years, Archer told himself. It will wait a little longer. The fact that he wanted to suck on her tender flesh now right now was too d.a.m.n bad. He was old enough to control himself.

Or he had been, up until an hour ago, when he had laid her down on the tile floor and found out just how much he had been missing in life.

"What do you usually wear when you go to Broome on errands?" he asked.

Hannah didn't miss the thickening of his voice, or the silver flicker of heat in his eyes as he looked at the bottom of the towel that almost covered her. "Shorts. A tank top. Sandals."

"The usual, huh?"

She nodded.

"Underwear?" he asked.

"Bikini bottoms. Bras are too hot in the rain months. Why? Do you have some kind of thing for underwear?"

He laughed even as his body tightened. "If it's yours, I have a thing for it."

"And I know just where you keep it." Smiling, she looked at the Aussie walking shorts he was wearing. It was her new smile, the one that told Archer just how much she had enjoyed being his lover. And that she was looking forward to being his lover again.

Soon.

"Get dressed, Hannah. My good intentions are getting even smaller than that d.a.m.ned towel you're almost wearing."

"Who needs good intentions?"

"I do. It had been a long time for you. You're going to be sore enough without an instant replay."

"How about a slow replay?"

"Even worse."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

"d.a.m.n." She sighed. "I'll get dressed."

She turned away, only to go still when Archer's palm slid up the inside of her thigh and tenderly cupped the soft curls.

"I'm sorry I was rough," he said quietly.

She stared over her shoulder at him. "You're kidding, right?"

"No."

"Archer, have you looked in the mirror? I left marks on you!"

He grinned. "Did I forget to thank you?"

"Yes. No! b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, the point is you didn't bite me or scratch me. I was a lot harder on you than you were on me."

"I'll make it up to you when you're not sore." Gently he skimmed her hidden s.e.x, parting soft folds. The flesh heated, moistened, until his fingertips were damp, too. "G.o.d, I wish this was my tongue."

Her eyelids flickered down and her legs trembled as she focused on the sweet caresses he was giving her, barely penetrating her with a fingertip, for all the world as though he was tasting her. "How do you know just how to touch me?"

"I've had ten years to think about it."

He entered her tenderly once, twice, then withdrew so slowly that her head tilted back as though it was suddenly too heavy to hold upright.

"Get dressed, sweetheart. Think of me thinking about you. Think of all those things I want to do to you. Think of things you want to do to me. I'll wait for you outside."

Archer turned and left the room quickly, while he still could. The sweet heat and ease of her response made his blood burn and his mind go blank.

The front door closed hard. Hannah sighed and opened her eyes. She was alone in the bedroom.

And she was thinking about Archer thinking about her.

She dressed by habit, picked up her purse, put on her sungla.s.ses, and headed for the front door. When she stepped out into the white violence of the sun, she stopped dead. Archer was there as he had said he would be, backpack slung over one shoulder, waiting for her.

And Coco was standing close enough to him that her hard-tipped b.r.e.a.s.t.s rubbed his bare chest every time she took a breath.

"Something wrong, Coco?" Hannah asked.

Coco's black eyes gleamed as they roamed again over the man who had introduced himself only as Archer, the man who had neither backed up nor moved toward her. He was tall and rangy, with the kind of strength that made her wonder how long it would take to wear him out with s.e.x. Men were strange that way. Some of the big ones were used up quick. Some of the wiry ones had amazing stamina, like Tom Nakamori, whenever she got around to allowing him in her bed. Whichever kind Archer was, he was obviously and impressively aroused.

"Coco?" Hannah repeated, her voice sharp. Normally Coco's effect on men was amusing, but seeing Archer standing so close made her angry.

"The dive," Coco said, reluctantly shifting her attention to her employer. "Was it good?"

"It went fine," Archer said before Hannah could answer. "We found some sh.e.l.l."

"Much?"

"Not enough to make a difference," Hannah said briskly. "Where's Christian?"

"He still bad."

Hannah made an impatient sound. When Christian had called and begged off giving her a report because he was feeling ill, Archer hadn't believed him. Neither had she, but there wasn't a great deal they could do right now.

"We won't be able to decide how to put Pearl Cove back together until he finishes his report," she said curtly. "Has he seen a doctor?"

Coco shrugged. "That one? I no think so."

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l," Hannah muttered. "I'm going to Broome to run errands. Anything you need?"

With a lazy kind of thoroughness, Coco looked Archer over again. "Out, but is not in Broome."

Hannah knew she should laugh and leave Coco to it, as she had so many other times with other men. Yet even as Hannah lectured herself, she couldn't look at Archer. If he responded to Coco's open invitation, Hannah didn't know what she would do. Expression neutral, Archer watched Coco. Despite his body's stubborn arousal and her lush b.r.e.a.s.t.s brushing against him, he didn't want her. It was Hannah who made his blood heat, not the undoubtedly accomplished Ms. Dupres.

"Ready, sweetheart?" Archer said, turning away from Coco.

Coco saw the change in him when he looked at Hannah. The heightened tension, the narrowed eyes, the sheer s.e.xuality radiating like heat boiling up from a fire. With a shrug, Coco conceded the field to Hannah. For now, anyway. Archer wasn't the first man to sniff after Sister McGarry. When he realized that she wasn't interested in s.e.x, he would remember Coco.

And she would remember that he had once turned his back on her. She would make him pay before she climbed on and rode him until he was raw. The thought made her smile and stretch like a lazy cat.

"When will you be back?" Coco asked Hannah.

"Tomorrow," Archer said.

Hannah gave him a surprised look. "I shouldn't be gone that long."

"You need a break."

She looked at his eyes, more steel than heat now, silently commanding her to agree. "I hear the hotels along Cable Beach have Jacuzzis in the rooms," she said after a moment.

His smile gleamed whitely against his sleek beard. "Big enough for two?"

Dubiously Hannah measured Archer's length. "I don't know."

"I'll take the bottom. You take the top. Plenty of room that way."

The thought of having Archer in a Jacuzzi with water fizzing all around appealed to Hannah. She smiled slowly, thinking of the possibilities. It was her new smile, the one that made Archer want to strip off her shorts and take her right there.

Coco stared at the transformation in her employer. She had the look of a woman who had just acquired a very good, very personal s.e.x toy, and his name was Archer. Ian wasn't going to like hearing about this.

But she sure was going to enjoy telling him.

Chang and Flynn sat in a private room off the Blessing Crane's small public dining room. None of Chang's anger at finding out that Hannah McGarry had finally taken a lover showed on his face. The least important part of his anger was personal and male. The majority of his ire was professional. The Chang family was counting on him to discover the secret of producing rainbow pearls. With that, they could increase their importance to mainland China. With more importance would come more contracts, better contracts, and a strengthening of guanxi, the all-important connections that were the basis of power in China.

Despite his darting thoughts, Chang's face was impa.s.sive as he ate, wielding chopsticks or knife and fork with speedy precision, depending on the dish in front of him. Flynn did the same. Cigarettes smoldered in the ashtray between the men, adding to the stale smell of the room. The fact that the food was second rate didn't matter to either man. If they wanted really good food, they abandoned Broome for Darwin or Kowloon or even Perth.

Both men were silent. They had nothing useful to say to one another. McGarry's death was old news. The missing rainbow pearls were old news. The fact that each man's government was pressuring him to come up with the pearl prize was taken for granted, as was the fact that Flynn and Chang were in compet.i.tion.

They hadn't come to the restaurant to socialize. They were here because a third player in the pearl game had "requested" it. Until the third representative arrived, there was nothing to do but smoke and eat and drink lukewarm beer.