"Sure, whatever you say," she said, an edge to her voice. She walked to the car, her back as stiff as an iron poker. She was even more beautiful when she was angry. He was in deep shit.

Maybe he'd get two hotel rooms.

13.

Over-he thought it was over? He was crazy. She'd let him know when it was over. Christina stomped around the hotel room, annoyed that there hadn't been more than one room available, and even more irritated that J.T. had asked for two rooms. He was the one who'd kissed her first, who'd poured out his heart to her, who'd made her like him even more with that sorry tale about his father, who'd made her feel like she wasn't the only one with a crazy family. J.T. was the one who'd devoured her like a starving man went after a feast. Then when she responded, he had the nerve to stop, to say it was good, but it was over. As if he had the right to call all the shots. Well, he didn't. And she intended to tell him just that. Unfortunately, he was in the shower.

She hoped he was taking a cold shower, because if he thought she was going to sleep with him the next time he decided he wanted to start things up again, he'd better think again.

Pausing by the table, she hit the computer key to finish booting up the laptop computer he'd set up for her-so she could get back to business. The ass! Who did he think he was?

She ran her hand through her hair, glaring at the bathroom door. Was he singing? She could hear his voice over the water. And it definitely sounded like he was singing. She walked over to the door and paused, hearing some sort of garbled rock-and-roll song. So that was it? No tension for him? No restless frustration?

It wasn't fair. He was the one who'd gotten her all warmed up...so to speak.

A reckless idea took hold in her brain. She told herself it was foolish, probably stupid, and it certainly hadn't been her week for good ideas. Then again, could things really get any worse? Couldn't they only get better? The thought of a naked J.T. with water streaming down those beautiful muscles made her stomach clench and a delicious heat sweep through her body. It would be over between them when she said it was over.

She pulled off her suit jacket and unbuttoned her blouse with jerky fingers, making just as fast work of her bra, skirt, and panties. Second thoughts were already trying to take hold, but she pushed them ruthlessly away. She turned the knob on the bathroom door and walked in. Steam swirled around her, clouding up the mirrors. The scent of soap and the thought of J.T. completely overwhelmed her senses.

Could she really be this bold?

Well, why the hell not?

She was tired of dancing to everyone else's tune. She wanted some control over her life. And what she wanted right now was J.T. She opened the sliding glass door.

His song stopped in midnote, his eyes widened at the sight of her nude body, and he drew in a sharp breath. She stepped into the shower with him, putting her hands on his hard but slippery biceps. "It's not over," she said.

His gaze darkened with desire. "I guess it's not."

She ran her fingers up and down his soapy arms, then took the bar of soap out of his unresisting hand and ran it across his chest. She loved the fine dark hairs that played across his skin, dipping across his flat abs, down to his groin. She followed the path with the bar of soap.

"Uh, Christina, I already got that part," J.T. said, a sly grin spreading across his lips.

"I think you missed a spot," she teased. The soap dropped from her hand as she stroked him with her fingers, feeling him harden against her.

He put his hands on her buttocks, pulling her up against him, pressing his mouth against hers, his tongue sweeping past her lips. She moaned as the pleasure of his kiss slammed through her. She'd started this game, but he was taking over, and she didn't mind a bit. His hands were roaming now, moving over her slick, wet body with a restless hunger. His mouth moved from her lips to her throat, his tongue tracing the line of her collarbone, then sweeping down to her breasts, leaving a wet path around her nipples.

He dropped to his knees. She leaned against the wall of the shower, her legs feeling weak as his tongue delved into the hot space between her thighs, tasting, exploring, making her crazy. She felt the tension knotting her muscles. She dug her hands into his hair, holding him against her as she cried out his name in blessed release. He slowly moved back up her body. Reaching behind her, he turned off the shower and helped her out of the tub.

"Wait," she said. "You-"

He cut her off with another kiss, grabbed a towel from the rack, and wrapped it around her. Then he dug into his shaving kit and took out a condom, making no mistake of his intention to have his turn.

He kissed her all the way into the bedroom. Her legs hit the side of the bed as she fell backward. J.T. came down on top of her. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he entered her. He moved inside of her with restless, driving passion. She shuddered with each powerful stroke, giving in to the moment, the pleasure, and the man in her arms, in her body, and in her heart.

Christina's heart was still beating in double time when J.T. moved off her, stretching out next to her. She rolled to her side, putting her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat, too, and it was just as fast. But gradually it began to slow. Their breathing started to sound normal, instead of ragged and rough. "J.T.," she murmured, lifting her head to gaze into his eyes.

"Yes?" he asked, a wary note in his voice.

"Now it's over." She smiled with satisfaction.

He grinned at her as he ran his hand down her back. "Are you kidding? No way is it over now." He pulled her head down and gave her a hard kiss. "We're just getting started."

"You always like to be in charge."

"Hey, you're the one who interrupted my shower," he reminded her.

"Because you always like to be in charge," she repeated.

"Okay, I'll tell you what. You get to pick what we have for dinner." He grabbed the room service menu off the bedside table and handed it to her. "It's all yours, every single, solitary decision."

She made a face at him. "If you think you're going to placate me by allowing me to order you a steak, you have another think coming."

"I love steak."

"Just for that, we're getting fish."

"I like fish, too."

She blew out an exasperated breath. She had a feeling she could order sardines and he'd be perfectly happy. So he wasn't picky about his food, so what? He could still be extremely stubborn and heavy-handed and far too controlling. Of course, he was also sexy, passionate, tender, a generous lover who could do extraordinary things with his tongue....

"Christina. You're not looking at the menu," he pointed out, his eyes darkening. "If you keep staring at me like that, it's going to be a while before you get to eat. However, the decision is completely up to you."

She scrambled off the bed, grabbing the white terry-cloth bathrobe off the back of the bathroom door. "In that case, I think I'll order dinner."

"Are you sure?" He patted the empty spot on the bed that she'd just vacated. "You could let me try to change your mind. We could test the strength of your decision-making skills."

His wicked grin and his uninhibited naked pose almost made her reverse the decision, but she decided it would look far too wishy-washy on her part to get back into bed with him. "I'm sure. As you reminded me earlier, we have work to do."

With a groan he flopped back on the mattress and closed his eyes. "I'm tired. You wore me out."

"Some food will perk you up."

He laughed and cocked one eye open. "You could perk me up."

"You are bad." She grabbed the wet towel on the bed and tossed it at him.

J.T. caught it and stood up, wrapping the towel around his waist. He paused to kiss her on the cheek before heading for the bathroom.

With a little sigh, she turned her attention to the menu, then picked up the phone. She ordered steak, potatoes, vegetables, salad, and chocolate cake for dessert. She was starving. In fact, she couldn't remember when she'd last eaten. Then she walked over to the table and sat down in front of J.T.'s computer. She needed to refocus her thoughts on her father and that damn diamond. If only the Benedettis had sent their diamond to some other auction house, then her life would still be her own. Her father would be out of the picture. Evan wouldn't be involved. And J.T.... well, that was the one person she didn't want to wish away. But the truth was that he was with her only because of the situation she was in. They never would have met otherwise.

They didn't have anything in common-not really. He knew next to nothing about history, art, jewelry, the things that mattered to her. He was a jock. He knew about football and sports. Okay, he was an FBI agent, too, so he was probably up on the law as well. But they led different lives-well, sort of different lives. He lived alone. So did she. His job was his life; so was hers. He understood the disappointment of family. He knew what betrayal felt like. He understood what it meant to lose a parent.

She let out a sigh, realizing she'd just blown her own argument. They did share some common bonds, but still...what did it matter? As soon as this case was over, they'd each go back to their own lives. Wouldn't they?

But what exactly was her own life? Would she even have a job, or would she have to start over again?

She put her elbows on the table, resting her chin in her hands, wishing she could answer just one of her own many questions.

As J.T. returned to the bedroom, he began to get dressed, throwing on jeans and a long-sleeved sweater. She hated to see him cover up that beautiful body, but they would probably get more done if they were both dressed. Not that she'd bothered to put on her business suit. The bathrobe was far more comfortable.

J.T. sat down in the chair next to hers and turned the computer so it was facing him.

"You haven't gotten far," he said.

She shrugged, the euphoria of the past hour turning to weariness. It was back to reality, a state of mind she was not particularly excited about these days.

His gaze narrowed on her face. "You okay?"

"Just not sure where to start."

"Maybe you should lie down, take a little nap. You look tired."

"A few minutes ago you said I looked beautiful."

He smiled. "You still look beautiful, just tired. I noticed before, but I wasn't interested in convincing you to take a nap at that moment."

"Ah, so the truth comes out."

"Seriously. Take a break."

"I'm okay. I know time is passing, and my father already has a big head start. It's possible we may not be able to catch him before he puts the diamond back."

"You don't think he'll just keep it somewhere, stash it away?"

She shook her head. "Absolutely not. He doesn't steal to own. He steals to retrieve items he believes belong elsewhere. He thinks of himself as the Robin Hood of missing artifacts."

"That's a romantic tag for taking what doesn't belong to you," J.T. said dryly.

"It's his definition, not mine."

"Okay, so we have to figure out where the diamond is supposed to be. I'm assuming your father doesn't believe it belongs to the Benedettis?"

"No, he said they stole it. He didn't give me any more details. I asked him to prove it. He couldn't. He said I should take his word. If you can believe that."

A sudden knock at the door sent her heart back into overdrive. For a split second she thought the police had caught up with them. J.T. was on his feet when the knock came again and a man called out, "Room service."

Christina was about to relax when she saw J.T. reach into his overnight bag and pull out a gun. She stiffened in shock. J.T. had a gun! Of course he did. He was an FBI agent. He was law enforcement. It just hadn't seemed so real before.

"I ordered dinner," she said as he headed toward the door. "It is room service."

"Let's just be sure." He took a look through the peephole, then slipped the gun into the back of his jeans, hiding it under his shirt. He opened the door and a young waiter pushed a table into the room. Christina grabbed a few dollar bills from her purse as J.T. signed for their meal. The waiter left with a smile and a thank-you.

"I didn't realize you had a gun," she said when they were alone again. Her heart was still beating too fast.

"It's part of the job," J.T. replied, returning the gun to his bag.

"I'm sure it is. I guess," she added belatedly. "Have you ever shot anyone?"

"Yes. But only because they shot at me first," he said, meeting her gaze.

"Did they hit you?"

"No. They missed. I got lucky. And I made the better shot."

"Oh." She thought about asking what had happened to the other guy but decided against it. She fell silent as J.T. walked over to the table and took the lids off their dinners. Although the steak smelled wonderful, her appetite had diminished a bit.

"This looks good," he said. "Nice decision making." He offered her a smile; then his gaze turned speculative. "The gun bothers you?"

"A little-actually, a lot. I've never seen a gun before that wasn't on television or in a locked glass case." She crossed her arms in front of her. "It's intimidating."

"Your father never had a gun?"

"Goodness, no."

"Hey, don't act so surprised. A lot of thieves carry guns. That's why I carry one-to keep up with the bad guys."

She frowned. "My father isn't a bad guy, not the way you mean. I want you to meet him. I want you to talk to him. You'll see in five seconds that he has a good heart, and while he might get mixed up about what things belong where, he would never hurt anyone."

"I think your opinion of your father is somewhat biased, Christina, but I'll reserve judgment until I meet him, which I hope will be very soon. But while your dad might be a mild-mannered guy, Evan is not. So I think I'll keep the gun handy all the same."

"Could you really shoot him-if it was just you and Evan, face-to-face? Could you pull the trigger?"

"In a heartbeat." His gaze was direct and unflinching. "But...I wouldn't."

She was surprised by his answer. "Why not? He killed your father. An eye for an eye. Revenge. Payback. You said you wanted justice."

"I do want justice. I took an oath to uphold the law, Christina, not take it into my own hands. I want to see Evan in prison. If he dies there, or someone else kills him, fine."

"What if he threatened you, put a gun in your face?" she asked. "Or mine?"

"Well, then I'd shoot him straight through the heart-not that he has a heart." J.T. walked over to her and put his hands on her shoulders. "The law won't get in my way if Evan tries to hurt you, Christina. I would never stand by and let that happen."

"I believe you. I'm just worried, afraid of the future. I love my father. You love your job. I want to protect my dad. You want to put Evan away. It seems like we should be on the same side, but I have a terrible feeling one of us is going to have to choose, that we won't both be able to get what we want. And the closer we are to each other, the harder that choice will be."

"Let's not borrow trouble."

"You're the one who made me realize I need to start thinking ahead. You tried to warn me that the diamond was going to be stolen and I didn't listen. I didn't see how it could possibly happen, so I dismissed it. Obviously I was wrong. I also thought I could handle my father by myself. Wrong again. I don't want to make any more mistakes."

"Just know that I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, and I'll try to include the people you care about," he added, gazing deep into her eyes. "Can we eat now?"

It wasn't exactly the answer she wanted, but it was close enough. "Sure, we can eat."