Maybe he could use that topic to get Abbie on his side again. “Your fiancé sleep with someone you know?”

“Yep. Someone much younger and prettier.”

“What was she? A teenager? She sure as hell couldn’t have been prettier.” He meant that. Young and cute was fun but not hot. Not in his book. Abbie was definitely hot.

Her eyes turned buttery soft for a moment, then she shook off whatever she’d thought. “See, that’s the kind of sweet-talkin’ trash that got me in trouble before. I believed what he said and let him humiliate me. Then I made it worse by demeaning myself with you. I was on a roll that week.”

So that’s what had sent Abbie into the bar the night he met her.

His anger lost its sizzle.

She had a gift for pissing him off with quicksilver speed, but watching hurt replace the hellion spark curbed his irritation.

Six years ago she’d charmed him with her laughter.

If he didn’t take care, she’d charm him all over again with her spirit this time.

But six years ago she’d been looking for a man to spend the night with to pay someone back and Hunter had been more than willing at the time. Until he realized she wasn’t the cavalier bar hopper she’d pretended to be.

He shouldn’t have let that golden opportunity pass when they first met, because this sure as hell wasn’t the time to find out what it would feel like to make love to all that fire.

But damn, he wanted to and couldn’t believe some moron screwed her over for a kid, because she had to be early twenties when he met her. “You didn’t demean yourself that night.”

“Easy for you to say, but I don’t remember much.” The admission cost her a chunk of pride. “And it’s not like you’d tell me the truth if I asked.”

She didn’t remember telling him she wanted to lick him up one side and down the other, no strings attached? Shit. Wrong thing to think about right now if he didn’t want to limp back to the cabin.

She was showing him a vulnerability he could use to manipulate her, which was what he’d been trained to do.

What he did naturally.

But could he play with those emotions and hint that they’d been intimate, knowing another man had used intimacy to break her heart? He needed information fast-sixty-two minutes left on Joe’s deadline-but using her that way would be cruel.

His job required being cruel, dangerous, manipulative… whatever it took to succeed regardless of the toll his soul paid.

The breeze picked up, spiraling loose curls around her forehead and face.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them to inches. He ran a finger along the side of her cheek and under her chin, tilting it up until their eyes met. He gave her the only answer he could. The truth.

“You showed up at the bar without a car, clearly planning on drinking and not driving. By the time I realized you were too drunk to make it home on your own I tried to send you home in a cab, but you wouldn’t give me your address and you were determined to have someone in that bar take you home. That’s when you asked me, firmly, to take you home with me.”

Embarrassment tinted her cheeks pink over the careless image that painted. Her eyes locked on something beyond his shoulder. “I stand corrected. That sounds about right.”

He could see the play of thoughts on her face. How after she’d thrown herself at a stranger she believed he probably judged her as a tramp, jumping from bed to bed.

But any man with experience would have seen through her façade that night.

“And then?” she asked in a whisper, as though afraid to hear what they’d done.

Yes, he could use this to his advantage, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt her. He’d find another way to get what he needed. “I didn’t touch you, because you were too intoxicated to meet my criteria for consensual sex.”

Instead, he’d held her all night until he felt her start to wake the next morning. He hadn’t held a woman all night before that. Or ever again.

She opened her eyes. An ocean of worry and mortification washed through them before she pulled her defenses back into place. Her words came out stinging with self-recrimination. “A truly unmemorable night, huh?”

Not memorable?

He couldn’t count how many times he’d wake in a strange bed in some godforsaken location, alone and thinking of that night with her. She’d smelled of bath powder and sweet wine. Her laughter had eased his dark soul for a few hours. He’d climbed into bed next to her, intending to ignore the warm body in spite of how much he wanted her.

She’d rolled over and curled up against him tight as a kitten looking for heat. He’d cursed her sweetness, the blatant lack of experience that prevented him from stroking her into a night of rousing sex he knew she’d regret in the morning.

That hadn’t meant he’d intended to let her off without something in trade, so he’d wrapped her up in his arms and stolen a night with an angel.

“You’re a very memorable woman,” he whispered, his hand cupping her face. One kiss would soothe the insecurity that had crept into her voice. But if he kissed her like he had last night, he’d have her flat against the boulder behind her in seconds. He was supposed to be earning her trust. Stripping her naked on the side of a mountain wouldn’t aid his cause. Instead, he pointed out, “Don’t you think not touching you that night proves I’m trustworthy?”

“It proves you didn’t want to make love to me any more than my ex-fiancé did.” She frowned at herself, clearly not happy about that admission either.

“The hell I didn’t.” He still wanted her. So badly he was starting to ache.

She glanced up at him with surprise, studied his face, then gave a little shake of her head as though refusing to let herself accept some thought. Skepticism flashed in those turquoise beauties. Strong eyes that had suffered but survived. “You expect me to believe that? You forgot me the minute I walked out the door.”

Forget her?

He remembered how the moonlight had fingered through the window to dance across her pale skin when she slept.

He remembered how her walking out of the hotel room had left him in an unusual state of mind. Lonely.

She might look different now with the spiraling hair and a lusher body, but she’d been memorable six years ago.

His fingers twitched with indecision. Pull her into his arms and show her just how much she had affected him-and still did-or turn away and keep a distance between them for the sake of the mission?

“Abbie, I-”

“Give it up, Hunter.” She offered him a tough look, but he still saw the shimmer of hurt hanging deep in her eyes. “I saw the women at the Wentworths’ that night. I’m not a sex kitten guys like you go for. I know I’m not Lydia-”

That did it. He pulled her into his arms and lowered his mouth, covering her upturned lips.

She gasped, a soft sound of surprise.

He cupped her head, kissing her deeper, savoring the taste and feel. Just enough of a kiss to let her know she was not Lydia. She was so much more.

Her arms hooked around his back. She opened her mouth, slipping her tongue in to dance with his. Not a sex kitten?

He’d argue that point.

What man-with a normal life-had been stupid enough to walk away from someone this soft and inviting?

A fool.

When she moaned, he decided to let the kiss go on a minute longer to send her a message. Last night’s kiss had been a dare to make her think twice about challenging him or trusting him.

This kiss was an apology for letting her leave his hotel room six years ago thinking so little of herself.

He slowed the kiss, preparing to end it.

She must have felt the change. All hesitation gone. Her fingers dug into his back. She kissed deeper and deeper, her mouth burned with pure sex.

Desire flared across his skin. He wanted to feel her naked and damp. She went up on her toes, the motion rubbing her against his ready and willing erection. His body tightened at her response. Heat coiled inside him fast as a snake ready to attack. He held the target. His heartbeat tripled with craving her touch on his skin.