“So what’s with the T-shirt, angel face?” Jess idly toweled his hair.

“I always wear a T-shirt swimming.” Saber shivered as the cold air hit her wet body. She strove for the ideal tone. Nonchalant. Breezy. She could do breezy-she’d honed that to perfection. “You know I do, it isn’t anything new.”

“I know, but you can’t exactly get sunburned indoors,” he pointed out, and reached for his thick, terry cloth robe. “I’ve explained that before, but you didn’t take much notice.” He paused in the act of putting on his robe. “Where are your sweats?”

“I forgot them.” Saber was drying herself off as fast as possible.

“Come here,” Jess ordered softly in exasperation.

“I’m all right,” she assured him, looking anxious.

“It’s a hell of a lot easier for you to come over here than it is for me to go over there, but if you insist.” Jess shifted his weight, reached behind him for his racing chair.

“All right already,” Saber was beside him in an instant. “Do you always have to have everything your way?”

He grinned mockingly, and without preamble caught the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled it right over her head. Saber froze in place, her heart thundering in her ears, but Jess was already enfolding her in his warm robe.

“You already know the answer to that one, baby.” With the ease of long practice and the help of strategically placed bars, Jess lifted himself into his chair.

Saber pulled the robe close, tightened the belt around her small waist. “Someone spoiled you, Jess. Patsy?” She named his older sister.

“Patsy!” He groaned the name. “Patsy was far too busy ensuring my soul was saved. You ought to know that. How many times have you heard her lectures on the two of us living in sin?” He spun the chair around, balanced on the two back wheels for a long moment before streaking through the wide-open halls to the living room.

“Will you stop doing that?” Saber jogged after him. “One of these days you’ll be showing off and you’ll go over backward.” She scooped up the thick comforter lying in a heap on the sofa and tossed it to him. “And it’s all your fault we get lectures. You started the whole thing.”

“I did?” Jess tucked the blanket around him, one eyebrow shooting up. “I was not the one who came strolling out of my bedroom wearing one of my shirts and nothing else when she came to visit.”

His smile did something to her heart. “It wasn’t like that and you know it. You didn’t even mention having a sister, dragon king. How was I to know who she was? And you know very well why I was in your bedroom, wearing your shirt.”

“Another one of your unfortunate accidents-a mud puddle, wasn’t it?”

“Laugh about it.” Saber swept a hand through her wet hair, glaring at him. “You dropped me in the mud puddle on purpose. I know you did. I wasn’t about to go dripping up the stairs and into my bedroom. And I wasn’t going to stand around in filthy clothes.”

“You decided all by yourself to pay me back by dirtying up my bedroom,” he pointed out. “And it wasn’t my idea for you to come out of my bedroom looking as sexy as hell when my nosy sister showed up. You did that all by yourself.”

Saber stamped one bare foot in feigned outrage. “Hey now. I did not know she was here. You could have warned me.” Only Jesse had ever made her feel this way-joy, laughter, a sense of belonging. Fun. He created fun. “I was not about to stay dirty. You knew very well I had taken a shower and put on your shirt. I was being silly-it was a joke. I did not look sexy. I’m totally incapable of looking sexy.”

Amusement softened the hard edge of his mouth. “Yeah? Who says? Believe me, honey, you looked sexy. I didn’t blame Patsy for jumping to the wrong conclusion.”

“And you didn’t deny it when she did,” Saber accused, snuggling deeper into his robe, wishing it were his arms, wishing she dared press her mouth to his.

“Neither did you. As I recall, you wound your arms around my neck and looked provocative.” Deliberately he provoked her, wanting the shadows gone from her eyes, wanting to see her laugh, the real thing, the one that she reserved for him alone.

“Provocative?” Violet sparks were fairly shooting through her blue eyes.

She looked young, tousled and very tempting, so small in his huge, thick terry cloth robe. If he reached out, he could catch the lapels of the robe and tug her close, bring his mouth to hers and just go up in flames.

“Provocative,” he said decisively.

“Now that is untrue and you know it, Jesse.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Provocative. What rot. And you pulled me onto your lap prior to my winding my arms around your neck. Which, incidentally, was a major mistake; it should have been my hands around your throat. I had no idea Patsy was your sister. I thought she was some ex-girlfriend you wanted to get rid of. I was merely obliging you.”

“Ha!” he snorted inelegantly. “More like you thought she was a new one you wanted to get rid of.”

Saber’s bare feet beat a little tattoo on the floor in total frustration. She looked around for something to throw at his head, and settled for her damp towel. “You wish, caveman. Don’t flatter yourself. You are so arrogant, Jesse, it drives me crazy.”

He reached out, captured her hand, and brought her fingers to the disturbing warmth of his mouth. “You love it, baby.” His thumb feathered over her knuckles, sending little darts of fire racing along her nerve endings. “You love arguing.”

She jerked her hand away as if she’d been burned. Maybe she did, but she wasn’t admitting it. “One of these days someone is going to take you down a peg or two.”

He shrugged his powerful shoulders, his smile mocking. “It won’t be you, angel face.”

“Don’t count on it, dragon king. As it happens, my week to cook is coming up fast. I know at least seven recipes for tofu. Shape up or eat soybean.”

Jess burst out laughing, the sound so infectious she found herself joining in. “Vengeful little brat, aren’t you?”

“You know it.” Saber didn’t bother to deny the accusation. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Stop leering, although I can tell you’re very experienced at it,” she retorted. “Good night.”

He let her get to the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t keep me up all night with that mournful twanging garbage you refer to as music.”

“Mournful twanging garbage?” Saber echoed, outraged. She raced up the stairs, his soft, goading laughter following on her bare heels.

He didn’t like her usual country music, did he? She rummaged through her collection of CDs. “Just the thing,” she murmured happily and cranked up the loudest, most obnoxious rap song in her collection. Jess would appreciate good country music after listening to an hour of really loud rap. She took her time in the shower, shampooing her hair, allowing warm water to cascade over her cold, shivering body. She even sang, very loudly, feeling righteous and pleased with herself.

By the time Saber had finished toweling herself off and blow-drying her hair into complete disorder, Jess was throwing things at the ceiling.

Her grin wicked, she stopped the rap music. “Did you want something, Jesse?” she called using her sweetest voice.

“I surrender. White flag,” his muffled voice replied.

“I thought you might,” Saber said smugly.

Jess shook his head as the music stopped. She had a mean streak in her. She knew he often wrote songs and that the sound of whatever she was blaring would hurt after a couple of minutes. It made him laugh, though, as he pushed the wheelchair down the hall to his private office. He keyed in his code and waited for the doors to part.

Once inside with the doors closed and locked and the security system switched on, the smile faded from his face. He was going to have to dig a little deeper and find out just who Saber Wynter really was. He couldn’t let his feelings for her get in the way of business. And God help them both if she was there to do damage, because he wasn’t altogether certain he could kill her. With a sigh, he pushed the thought from his head and went to work.

The computers and phone lines inside were all clean. He hit speed dial. “We’re clear. Send the information and let’s do this. When you come in, don’t make any noise at all. She won’t be asleep.”

“I know the drill by now.”

The abrupt click told Jess he was in for trouble. Logan Maxwell wasn’t happy with him. He hadn’t been when Jess told him about inviting Saber Wynter to live in his home. He hadn’t bought the story for one moment that Jess needed a housekeeper, any more than Saber had. Neither had pushed it. That was the power of the wheelchair. Logan would have reamed him if he hadn’t been staring down at him, facing the chair. But if Logan knew Saber was telepathic, he’d put a gun to her head, Jess’s objections be damned.

Jess rolled the wheels back and forth, rocking himself while he thought about that. Everything had some advantages, and a GhostWalker learned to take whatever he had and use it. Jess was sure as hell counting on Logan to continue to notice the chair and not the man, because Logan was like a brother, but Saber-well, Saber was wrapped around his heart. There would be nothing left if Saber was gone.

The moment Logan slipped inside the secure room, he kicked the wheel of the chair and glared at Jess. “What the hell are you doing these days? Do you have any idea what time it is? And that-that woman never goes to sleep. You’re damned lucky this room is soundproof, because she’s pacing again. What’s up with that?” He reached around Jess and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Hello to you too.” Jess glanced up at his fellow GhostWalker. Logan was wearing a frown, his blue eyes flat and cold. “I can see you’re in a great mood.”

“We’re supposed to be catching a killer, Jess, not catering to your girlfriend.”

“Go to hell, Max,” Jess snapped. “I’m getting the job done. And if you don’t want to work with me, the door’s right there. Don’t let it hit you in the ass when you leave.”

“Whoa. What a grump.” Logan rolled his broad shoulders and flashed a small grin. “You’re not sleeping with her yet, are you? The great Jess Calhoun, studmaster of the SEAL team, shot down by his housekeeper.”

Jess responded with a rude gesture and shoved a chair at him. “You get the grunt work tonight for that crack.”

Logan dropped into the chair and they went to work, moving with the ease of much practice, sifting through the files and reports, searching for a name. A single specific name. They both hoped they’d recognize it if they came across it.

After an hour Logan pushed back and shook his head. “This looks bad for the admiral.”

“No way. It’s not him. The traitor’s hidden deep,” Jess said with a small sigh. “I will not let myself believe Admiral Henderson is in any way involved. He can’t be that good of an actor, and he sure as hell isn’t stupid. Right now he’s our only suspect, and would that be the case if he were guilty?”

“We’ve been at this for weeks, Jess,” Logan said. “Have you run across one single name that has the pull and clearance needed to orchestrate this kind of double cross, a person who has been involved with every mission?”

“He’s head of the NCIS. He’s one of the most decorated rear admirals our nation has. He’s been the sole commanding officer for our GhostWalker team since we were formed, and he’s looked out for us,” Jess protested. “It isn’t him.”

“Who then? Give me someone else.” Logan threw his hands into the air. “Anyone else. Because as far as I can see, he’s the only one who has known every time we’ve been sent out. He gave the order to send Jack to the Congo. When Jack couldn’t go, he sent Ken in his place. The Norton twins were tortured beyond human endurance. Have you seen Ken? They’re lucky they got out.”