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  She held herself very still, fighting for control and taking slow, deep breaths until she thought she could speak without her voice trembling. “You must be Sullivan,” she said with admirable calm as she gradually relaxed her clenched hands.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She didn’t know what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this. He and Kell were so much alike that it staggered her. It wasn’t the way he looked, but they both had the same stillness about them, the same aura of power. He had sun-streaked, shaggy hair, and his eyes were as piercing and golden as an eagle’s. A scar cut across his left cheekbone, testimony to some past battle. He was a warrior, lean and hard and dangerous…like Kell.

  While she had been looking at him, he’d been giving her the same treatment, studying her while she struggled for control. One corner of his mouth kicked up in an almost-smile. “Sorry for scaring you, ma’am. I admire your self-control. Jane would’ve kicked me in the shins.”

  “She probably did,” Kell commented, his tone still cool, but now with an undercurrent of amusement.

  Sullivan’s dark brows snapped down over his golden eyes. “No,” he said dryly. “That wasn’t where she kicked me.”

  That sounded like a fascinating story, but though Kell still looked amused, he didn’t pursue it. “This is Rachel Jones,” he said, holding out his hand to her in a quiet command. “She dragged me out of the ocean.”

  “Glad to meet you.” Sullivan’s drawl was soft and raspy as he watched Rachel immediately go to Kell in response to his outstretched hand.

  “I’m glad to meet you, Mr. Sullivan…I think.”

  Kell gave her a brief, comforting touch, then began pulling on his shirt; it was an action that still caused him some difficulty, as his shoulder was stiff and sore. Sullivan looked at the tender, red, newly formed scar tissue where the bullet had torn into Kell’s shoulder. “How much damage?”

  “I’ve lost some flexibility, but there’s still some swelling. Part of it may return as the swelling goes down.”

  “Did you get it anywhere else?”

  “Left thigh.”

  “Will it hold up?”

  “It’ll have to. I’ve been jogging, loosening it up.”

  Sullivan grunted. Rachel sensed the man’s reluctance to talk freely in front of her, the same ingrained caution that characterized Kell. “Are you hungry, Mr. Sullivan? We’re having spaghetti.”

  That wild-animal gaze turned on her. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” The soft slurring of his drawl and the grave courtesy of his manners made such a contrast to the fierceness of his eyes that she felt off-balance. Why hadn’t Kell warned her?

  “I’ll finish while you two talk, then. I must have dropped the peppers when you grabbed me,” she said. She started toward the door, then turned back, distress in her eyes. “Mr. Sullivan?”

  He and Kell were walking into the living room, and Sullivan stopped, looking back at her. “Ma’am?”

  “My dog,” she said, a faint trembling in her voice. “He’s always there when I go outside. Why didn’t he—”

  Understanding was in those wild golden eyes. “He’s all right. I’ve got him tied up in that pine thicket. Had a helluva time outsmarting him. That’s a nice animal.”

  Relief made her weak. “I’ll go untie him, then. You didn’t…hurt him in any way?”

  “No, ma’am. He’s about a hundred yards down, just to the left of that little trail.”

  She ran down the trail, her heart thudding; Joe was right where Sullivan had said he would be, tied securely to a tall pine, and the dog was furious. He even snarled at Rachel, but she talked softly to him and approached him at a slow, measured pace, calming him before she knelt beside him to untie the rope around his neck. Even then she kept talking, giving him small, quick pats, and the snarls diminished in his throat. Finally he accepted a hug from her, and for the first time gave her a welcoming lick. A lump rose in her throat. “Come on, let’s go home,” she said, getting to her feet.

  She collected the peppers from where she had dropped them on the back steps and left Joe prowling around the house. She washed her hands and began preparing the sauce, listening to the quiet rumble of the men’s voices from the living room. Now that she had met Sullivan she understood Kell’s confidence in him. He was…incredible. And Kell was even more so. Seeing them together made her realize anew the caliber of the man she loved, and she reeled under the shock of that realization.

  It was almost an hour before she called them to the table, and the sun was a fierce red ball low on the horizon, a reminder that now her time with Kell was truly running out. Or was it already gone? Would they be leaving soon?

  Deliberately, to get her mind off her fears, she kept the conversation going. It was remarkably difficult, with both men being the way they were, until finally she hit on the right subject. “Kell told me that you’re married, Mr. Sullivan.”

  He nodded, a curious lightening of his expression making him seem less formidable. “Jane is my wife.” He said it as if everyone knew Jane.

  “Do you have any children?”

  There was no mistaking the look of intense pride that came over the hard, scarred face. “Twin sons. They’re six months old.”

  For some reason Kell was looking amused again. “I didn’t know twins ran in your family, Grant.”

  “They don’t,” Sullivan growled. “Or in Jane’s, either. Even the damn doctor didn’t know. She took everybody by surprise.”

  “That’s not unusual,” Kell said, and they looked at each other, grinning.

  “The hell of it is, she went into labor two weeks early, in the middle of a snowstorm. All the roads were closed, and I couldn’t get her to a hospital. I had to deliver them.” For a moment there was a look of desperation in his eyes, and a faint sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead. “Twins,” he said faintly. “Damn. I told her not to ever do that to me again, but you know Jane.”

  Kell laughed out loud, his rare deep laugh making pleasure shimmer through Rachel. “Next time she’ll probably have triplets.”

  Sullivan glared at him. “Don’t even think it,” he mut­tered.

  Rachel lifted a forkful of spaghetti to her mouth. “I don’t think it’s Jane’s fault that she had twins, or that it snowed.”

  “Logically, no,” Sullivan admitted. “But logic flies out the window when Jane walks in the door.”

  “How did you meet her?”

  “I kidnapped her,” he said offhandedly, leaving Rachel gasping, because he offered no other explanation.

  “How did you get away from her?” Kell asked, provoking another glare.

  “It wasn’t easy, but she couldn’t leave the kids.” Sullivan leaned back in his chair, an unholy light entering his eyes. “You’re going to have to go back with me to explain.”

  Kell looked alarmed, then resigned; finally he grinned. “All right. I want to see you with these babies.”

  “They’re already crawling. You have to watch where you step,” the proud father said, grinning in return. “Their names are Dane and Daniel, but beats the hell out of me which one is which. Jane said we can let them decide when they get older.”

  That was it. The three of them looked at one another, and Rachel gulped helplessly. Kell made a rough choking sound. In a perfectly choreographed move three forks were laid down on the table and three people held their heads and laughed until they hurt.

  CHARLES READ THE hastily gathered intelligence report on Rachel, frowning as he rubbed his forehead with one thin finger. According to both Agents Lowell and Ellis, Rachel Jones was a good-looking but otherwise ordinary woman, even though Ellis was enamored of her. Ellis was enamored of women in general, so that wasn’t unusual. The problem was that the report painted her as anything but ordinary. She was a well educated, well traveled, multitalented woman, but again the problem went even deeper than th