Spy Games-an exclusive tournament for law enforcement officials only. Private investigator Kim Casey has a personal invitation, but it's her brother who's taken home the trophy four years running. This year, Kim intends to win, at any cost.
But to do that, she needs to master the one sport she's never been able to get a handle on: fencing. And who better to train her than Galen Warner, a former fencing champion with a reputation for winning matches in the face of incredible odds?
The only problem is, no one's seen him in eight years. With a warrant out for his immediate arrest, he disappeared the night of his final championship win.
Kim knows the cops charged the wrong man with murder that night. And she's resourceful, having made a career out of finding people who'd rather remain lost. Now she has one chance to convince Galen to train her before he fades into the shadows once again. And if becoming Galen's temporary mistress will convince him to become her fencing master, well, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...
Excerpt
"Have you ever heard of Spy Games?" Kim asked.
Galen stood and pushed the chair toward the oak breakfast table to join the other three that surrounded it. "No. Should I have?"
"Probably not. It's a tournament solely for the law enforcement community. Each year, people from all branches of the government as well as those engaged in private practice gather to compete. For the past four years, my brother has been the Spy Games champion." Her lip curled with distaste. "I intend to change that."
"Uh huh. And that's where I come in."
She raised her eyes skyward. "If you think I'm in this because I want to show up my brother, you're only partially right. The winner of Spy Games doesn't just get a trophy to put on his mantle. She also gets the combined respect of every law enforcement agency in the country. I work for myself, and business isn't always what it should be." She paused and nibbled at her lower lip, suddenly looking uncertain.
Just how badly did she need this win? If her private investigation firm was in real trouble, Galen could see how business sent her way by the FBI, CIA and other agencies would turn a floundering career around.
Galen closed the distance between them and grabbed her hand. Startled, Kim let out a soft gasp. The sound sent a ripple of desire to pool low into his stomach.
"Come with me."
She didn't protest as he lifted a latch and revealed an opening in the hardwood floor. He led them down a set of dark stairs, pausing at the half-way point to flick on a light switch.
Neon light from an overhead bulb flooded the area, revealing his makeshift training room. Since he'd realized that Zihuatanejo was the place where he wanted to spend the rest of his life, he'd begun to accumulate various artifacts and training tools he needed to keep up with his sport.
The piste he'd created was smaller than the standard fourteen by two meters, but he'd had to make do with the space he had. To one side, a narrow closet served as the armory, housing the uniform he'd managed to take with him when he left. Against the opposite wall stood a weapons rack.
Kim walked to the middle of the piste and turned in a complete circle. A smile lit her features, and Galen found himself grinning back.
His heart raced as he watched her move to stand in front of the weapons. Her hand closed around the hilt of a foil. She lifted the thin, flexible blade and held it up before her.
"I've trained with one of these in the past, so you don't have to worry about dealing with a total novice."
"Put it back. That's not what we'll be working with."
Kim furrowed her brows. "But the foil is the easiest fencing weapon to master. The chances of scoring points are greatly increased by the lightness of the blade."
"Maybe so, but that's not the weapon you'll be using."
Standing directly behind Kim, he reached around her and grabbed the hilt of a genuine nineteenth century saber. It had cost him a fortune when he'd found it in an antique shop a year earlier, but it had been worth every penny.
He inched forward so his body pressed against hers from behind. He knew she could feel the length of his erection prodding the base of her spine. To his surprise, she didn't move away. Instead, she covered his hand with hers and drew out the sword.
"Tell me, Master," she said, her husky tone making his sac draw up tightly against his throbbing cock, "do you know how to wield this thing, or are you just bluffing?"
Steel-Tipped Velvet