Excerpt of Enemy Husband by Nina Bruhns

Washington, D.C.

She went in through the window this time.

That was something they probably weren't expecting, considering it was thirty stories up and, technically, wasn't supposed to open at all.

Kansas Hawthorne allowed herself a good chuckle as she lowered herself another few inches on a thin metal cable against the side of the building, and finished tightening the last of the two-foot-long bolts inserted in the holes she'd drilled through each of the corners of the target office window. Then she wedged the heavy pane away from its casing — not a simple task, but she managed, as she'd known she would. It had worked fine on paper, after all.

Damn, she loved breaking and entering! It was something you could count on. If you planned carefully and followed the plan meticulously, things always turned out as they were supposed to. Unlike life in general.

She checked her watch. 2:00 a.m. exactly. Right on time. Squeezing through the eighteen-inch gap provided by the bolts she'd rigged, Kansas quickly flipped down her infrared goggles and studied the motion-detecting laser beams crisscrossing the dark, night-empty office she was breaking into. Complicated, but not impossible. Most of the red beams in the matrix were concentrated around the outer door and the ventilation shafts in the ceiling.

Shaking her head, she directed a silent tsk, tsk, tsk at her adversary, the handsome but obviously unimaginative ANSIR — Awareness of National Security Issues and Response — agent, Stewart Rio. This was going to be easier than she'd thought. He'd be eating crow big-time over this one. Her mouth curved up at the thought.

Earlier, during business hours at the well-known beltway defense contractor, she'd slipped into the building's basement and hacked into the wiring to the surveillance camera to freeze-frame at 2:00 a.m., but for only six short minutes. So once she was in, she went straight to the safe, cracked it and extracted the top secret government software CD that was her objective.

She checked her watch again. Two minutes. Excellent. She headed around the big wooden desk in the center of the room and back to the window. Trying to avoid one of the laser beams, she banged her leg against the desk's corner.

"Damn," she cursed crisp and low and reached for her throbbing knee. Her hand knocked the out-basket off the desk, spilling its contents onto the floor and missing the red beam by millimeters.

Again she swore roundly, then bent awkwardly to gather up the files and envelopes, stacking them neatly back in the out-basket. Straightening, she unzipped her black catsuit, swiftly tucked the CD under her breasts — against her rib cage — and zipped it back up, snug and secure. She hurried to the window.

Thirty seconds left.

Her heart was pounding like a jackhammer by the time she'd repositioned the window and replaced the temporary bolts with taps so everything would look normal in the morning.

She raised her fist in glee. What a rush! Everything had gone perfectly.

Oh, yeah, she'd give half her month's paycheck to see that insufferably arrogant, unflappable Stewart Rio's face tomorrow when he realized she'd beaten him.

Again.

Laughing out loud, she pulled the band from her ponytail and tossed her head, letting her long hair fly wild and free, then with a squeal she released the brakes on the pulley-reel holding the cable she was dangling from, thirty floors up.

Downward she plunged, fast and reckless, using her soft boots to rappel off the building in graceful arcs so she didn't cream herself on the way down. She shouted a rebel yell at the top of her lungs out of sheer exhilaration, knowing the sound of her voice was swallowed up by the height and the dark, fathomless night, her blood pumping to the primitive beat of pure adrenaline.

This was what she lived for!

Some might prefer tamer pursuits, like stamp collecting or falling in love. But for Sass, there was nothing more thrilling than the danger of pulling off yet another impossible job.

Her feet hit the springy grass of the manicured grounds surrounding the posh office building, and she flipped a switch on the reel in her hand, sending it back up the wall to the roof where she'd attached the apparatus earlier, winding up the microthin cable as it went. Just one more small maneuver left, and she'd be home free.

With immense satisfaction, she watched the reel and cable disappear from sight, and murmured, "Take that, Stewart Rio."

"Thank you," a deep voice rumbled directly behind her. "I believe I will."

Kansas spun. How the hell had Rio managed to find her so quickly?

"Special Agent R-Rio," she stammered, suddenly harrow- ingly unsure if she could actually pull this mission off.

"Well, if it isn't Special Agent Hawthorne," he returned politely. Even in the dark, she could see the gleam of straight white teeth between sensually chiseled lips. "How nice of you to…drop in."

She clenched her jaw. "Very clever."

The silhouette of his broad shoulders lifted negligently, and he moved in closer. Within inches.

"I've had a lot of experience," he said modestly.

She stifled the urge to step back. She'd cracked safes only a handful of specialists could breach, faced blazing guns and two-hundred-foot drops without blinking an eye. This man would not intimidate her. He hadn't before, and he wouldn't now. She had to stay focused on the task at hand.

"Is that so," she said, reaching out to run a finger down the front of his black FBI T-shirt.

She sensed his body stiffen, and then relax a fraction. Yes. She could do this.

There was no way she'd let Stewart Rio best her. Not a chance. Covert Ops was counting on her to bring home the trophy in their annual informal intra-agency competition — for the second year in a row. Rio was the Special Agent in Charge — or SAC — of an elite FBI squad within its ANSIR division. His squad was responsible for preventing the theft of top secret government assets throughout the country — In other words, exactly this kind of burglary. But within a year of joining the Bureau, Sass had become the FBI Covert Ops squad's newest weapon, and an annoying thorn in Rio's over-bearing butt. She had no intention of disappointing either side this time around.

He was the enemy.

Besides, she liked winning. Too much to be bested by this man.

Rio held out his hand. "Give me the disc, Sass." She lifted a brow at his use of her nickname. It was the first time she'd ever heard him use it. Usually his dealings with her were as stiff as his own neck, and always by-the- book formal, same as with all the women agents he knew. What had changed now?

"Come get it," she replied, smiling coyly, gratified when his eyes widened in surprise.

Taking swift advantage, she shoved hard on his chest and crooked her foot around his legs, hitting the backs of his knees as hard as she could. He fell like a sumo wrestler and she took off running.

She got as far as the bushes at the edge of the property. He tackled her from behind, knocking her to the grass face- first and landing on top of her.

"That wasn't nice, Special Agent Hawthorne," he scolded in her ear. "Sorry," she muttered, spitting grass out of her mouth. "I don't like losing."

"Me, neither." He lifted up and turned her none too gently to face him, and settled back on top of her. Giving her an even look, he said, "Now, are you going to give me the disc, or am I going to have to take it from you myself?"

For some unfathomable reason, her pulse doubled at the prospect. She squirmed under him. Big mistake. Her catsuit was thin, a scant ounce of body-clinging fabric. His long, hard frame pressed firmly into her curves, reminding her of things she'd rather not think about. Especially under these circumstances.

Stick to the plan, Sass.

When she didn't say anything, he gathered her wrists in one of his big hands and pulled them over her head. "All right, have it your way."

She squeezed her eyes shut as he took hold of her catsuit's zipper tab and started pulling it down her chest.

Okay, easy now. She chewed her lip, waiting, silently willing her unruly body not to respond.

It did anyway.

She stifled a groan. Just as well. It would make what she was about to do all the more believable.

Taking a steadying breath, she ignored the blood pounding in her ears. "Listen, uh, I was wondering…"

She opened her eyes to find him gazing at the large expanse of pale flesh exposed between the open zipper, which had stalled just below her bare breasts. She could see the valley between them gleam in the moonlight, along with a few inches of lush slope to either side. She had deliberately left her bra off tonight, in anticipation of this very moment.

Rio tugged the zipper down a bit more and faltered again when the ultrastretchy black fabric threatened to snap to the sides and expose her completely. He changed tactics and tentatively slipped his hand into the opening, just above her breast, ostensibly probing for the disc.

He seemed fascinated, yet at the same time horrified by what he was doing. Undoubtedly, he knew exactly where it was.

"Rio?" she prodded, waiting for him to acknowledge her query.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, obviously not concentrating on the conversation too well.

"Any chance we could make a deal?"

That jerked his wary attention back to her face. Disconcertingly, his hand halted, over her breast.

"What kind of a deal?"

In the position they were in, neither of them could miss his growing arousal. It was probably as involuntary as her own body's response, but nevertheless, it was good to know she turned him on, if only on that instinctual, primitive, male-female level. She lay still for a moment, allowing the hard ridge to swell bigger between them.

His fingers tightened on her breast and she swallowed heavily, suddenly completely unnerved. Had she gravely misjudged the man lying on top of her?

Too late now.

She cleared her throat. "I'm up for my two-year review in a few weeks," she said. "I really want this win on my record."

He stared at her levelly. "And?"

"And I'd be willing to trade for the disc."

His gaze narrowed. "Trade what?"

Her throat was so dry she could scarcely squeeze the words out. "Surely, there's something you can think of."

Wariness flitted through his eyes, followed closely by something else. Something more predatory, and calculating.

She stifled a gasp when his hand moved slowly around her breast, touching her deliberately and thoroughly. Unwillingly, excitement zinged through her like a jolt of electricity.

She bit back a murmur of protest when his hand continued its travels downward, hitting the edge of the CD hidden against her rib cage.

He pulled out the disc and looked at it consideringly. "You must want to keep this very badly."

"I do." She held her breath, her heart hammering like a tommy gun.

He tipped his head. "I think we both know just how… interesting…I find your offer." For a heart-stopping, terrifying moment she thought he would actually accept. "But I must regretfully decline."