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the banquette. He snorted. “You think I’d balk at eating kidneys in cream? You don’t know what crappy rations we have in the field. When we’re lucky enough to have rations. My men and I holed up in a cave once for three weeks and all we had to eat was a mountain goat we captured. We had to eat it raw because we couldn’t afford to light a fire. We ate everything including the eyeballs. We’d have eaten the hooves and the fur if we could.”
     
    “Ugh.” She shuddered delicately. “Where was this?”
     
    His mouth quirked. “Someplace a lot more unpleasant than here, that’s for sure.”
     
    “If you told me, you’d have to kill me?” she teased gently, swirling a lock of hair behind her ear.
     
    “No. Never.” He caught her hand, his face sober. “I don’t hurt women, Suzanne. Couldn’t. Don’t ever worry about that.” He brought her hand to his mouth and brushed a kiss across the back. “But yeah. It’s best for you not to know.”
     
    Her hand tingled where he’d kissed it. It surprised her, scared her.
     
    The waiter came to slip a small plate of warm hors d’oeuvres in front of them and to take their order. John ordered in decent French. The man was full of surprises. He could pick locks, eat raw goat and speak French. An unusual combination for an unusual man.
     
    “You speak rather well. Your French is better than my high school French, that’s for sure.”
     
    “The Navy sent some of us to Monterey for intensive courses. Learning French and Spanish was okay, but Farsi and Afghani were bitches—er, tough to learn. Afghani’s a good language to swear in, though. With the added benefit that no one else understands.”
     
    He didn’t relinquish her hand. With the other arm along the back of the settee, he was effectively holding her in an embrace.
     
    Suzanne cleared her throat. She had the wall to one side and the wall of his chest to the other. She couldn’t see any of the other diners. He filled her entire field of vision, overwhelming her.
     
    The flickering candle cast fascinating shadows over the hard planes of his face. He was closely shaven as if he must have shaved just before coming out. There was no hint of an after-shave but she was acutely aware of his scent just the same—clean clothes, leather and soap. And some indefinable something that must have been…him.
     
    Suzanne coughed and fidgeted. He was so close to her she felt she couldn’t pull in enough air in her lungs. She tugged gently at her hand, then harder. His large hand tightened.
     
    “If you’re trying to get me to back off, it won’t work.” He leaned even further forward and buried his nose in her hair. “You’re too alluring for me to even think of backing off,” he murmured. “You smell too good, feel too good. Christ, I want you.” When his right hand moved from the back of the settee to cup the back of her neck she jumped.
     
    “Am I spooking you?”
     
    “A little,” she whispered.
     
    “Too bad. Because I’m not backing off. No way.” He was playing with her fingers, running the rough pads of his fingers over her skin. His eyes glittered. She still couldn’t figure out what color they were. Dark, but not brown. Not quite blue, either.
     
    He relinquished her hand to stroke the back of his fingers over her cheek. “Soft,” he murmured. “So soft.” One large finger ran over her jawbone, then down her neck. He traced a vein that was pounding. “You might think you’re spooked, Suzanne, but I don’t think it’s that. Do you know what I think? Hmm?”
     
    She was breathing shallowly, her breath coming light and fast. “No.” Her voice sounded husky even to her own ears. “What do you think?”
     
    “Your skin is so fine, I can see the blood pumping through your vein here.”
     
    His finger moved tantalizingly down, stroked her collarbone, and traced the swell of her breast. He circled her nipple.
     
    “You’re hard here, honey. Like a little