Share the Darkness

“It’s hard to know what you’re feeling in here, it’s so dark.”

A chuckle from deep in Ward’s chest filled the lift. “Oh, believe me, I know what I’m touching.”

Pure desire raced through her. Hannah quickly returned to patting the floor. She needed that blouse now for more than the ruse of being chilled. She needed protection against the potent, sexual promise of Ward. And her own need to be very, very naughty.

Their fingers entwined as they found her blouse at the same time. He trailed his hand up her arm to rest at her shoulder. All his other touches had been accidents. But not this one.

Hannah couldn’t move away. She hadn’t purposely touched another person sexually in over four years. But here it was dark. Ward would never see her body. Never see what she had to hide. The dark had become her favourite companion, and now it would give her something else. A chance to feel, if only briefly, like a woman again.

Every function in her body stilled. Waited. Then Ward’s lips covered hers.

BY

JILL MONROE

This book is dedicated to Jenn Stone and

Donnell Epperson – your continued good health is my greatest wish!

As always, I’d like to thank my family, for

their endless encouragement and for overlooking dust, stacks of paper and more fast-food meals than home-cooked ones. I’ll try to do better, Mom!

Special thanks to my editor, Jennifer Green,

whose ideas and suggestions are always spot-on. You rock!

Thanks also to Brenda Chin for giving Sharethe Darkness Honourable Mention in the Blaze^>® contest and encouraging me to write past those first ten pages. Thanks to Kimberly Whalen. May this be the first of many!

For my critique partners: Kassia Krozser, Gena

Showalter, Linda Rooks, Angi Platt and Beth Cornelison – thanks for the red ink.

And to Jennifer, Karen, Maggie, Traci, Sheila,

Amanda and Betty – I can’t imagine better friends. Go, Wet Noodle Posse!

1

WARD CASSIDY could think of better uses for an ice cube.

Although the way Hannah Garrett rolled the ice along her skin to cool the slope of her gorgeous neck still topped his list. He sucked in a breath as a droplet of water slowly ran past the inviting underside of her chin and slid down her throat, weaving a path along her collarbone and disappearing into the tantalizing area below.

Tantalizing because he hadn’t thought of much else other than Hannah or her breasts since he’d gotten this awful assignment in the hottest place next to hell.

He liked his ice cold, and his women hot. And Hannah would make an ice cube melt in Siberia. Now she was lifting up her red curly hair and rubbing the cube on the back of her neck. Next to hell? He was in hell. Why’d his office have to face the break room?

The multiline telephone on his desk beeped an annoying jingle. Why couldn’t phones just ring? The electronic chimelike sound literally tap-danced on his nerves.

Just then Hannah put the ice cube in her mouth and sucked. Desire shot through him as his mind conjured up images of those generous lips of hers surrounding him. His knuckles tightened around the cool plastic phone handle. But nothing could chill his white-hot arousal.

The phone chimed again, and he almost flung the damn thing across his desk. Whoever was daring to interrupt his stint as voyeur could take a train ride to hell. Or right here next to him in Gallem. The heat was probably about the same. He took a deep breath. Get it together.

Ward Cassidy, federal officer of the law, turned his chair with slow deliberation away from the break room where Hannah was perfecting her “cooling off” techniques.

Instead he concentrated on the view outside his window. He centered on the grass, parched just as he was. The office air conditioner couldn’t chug out enough cold air to contend with the heat. He was acting a fool. Hannah was just a woman trying not to sizzle in the offices of Protter and Lane Investment Banking. And here he was taking his frustrations out on a poor defenseless telephone.

He lifted the handle before the damn thing could ring a third time, just barely remembering to use his cover name. “Coleman here.”

A few clicks echoed in the background, and he im mediately went on alert.

“We’re on a secure line.”

“I’ll shut the door.” Ward stood and closed the door, welcoming the barrier. A lot of good it did, a huge picture window still gave him a prime view of the break room.

He picked up the phone again. Ward recognized the voice of his friend and former partner at the Bureau. A few years ago, his colleague, Brett Haynes, was one of the best field agents. Now he was permanently desked after choosing the wife and family route over adventure and danger. Poor guy.

Good. Another person he could take his frustrations out on.

Ward resisted his urge to laugh out loud. “Why wouldn’t the line be secure? The security around here is so lax any ten-year-old with low speed Internet access could hack into this place.”

Brett’s chuckle was loud and clear. In disgust, Ward angled his chair away from the window. Still his eyes once again drifted back to the break room. He gritted his teeth. Hannah hadn’t left. Neither had the ice cube.