From the depths of a hidden laboratory, an imprisoned German biochemist crafts a toxin designed to target the essence of life: water. Aaron O'Neill, an elite CIA operative, recognizes the devastation and calamity that could result from a polluted water supply, and he vows to do everything in his power to prevent such a catastrophe.
Jenna McClintock, a biochemist specializing in venom-based compounds, remains blissfully unaware of these underworld machinations. Consumed with helping her sick sister, Jenna refuses to participate in the mission when she is initially brought for briefing. But then she receives an offer she cannot refuse . . .
In the weeks preceding the arms auction, working exclusively with Aaron, Jenna finds herself inexplicably drawn to him. Call it chemistry, adrenaline, or perhaps the twisted hands of Fate, but Aaron, too, cannot ignore Jenna's captivating eyes or intellect.
Now, they must struggle to preserve the country's safety. Submerged in a vortex of treachery and violence, they must learn to trust each other and, perhaps, in an once-in-a-lifetime love.
Aaron loosened his tie as he paced back to Jenna. Motioning for her to enter, he caught her hand and drew her into the room.
"I arranged for us to have this suite," he explained. "A limo will take you to the airport tomorrow morning." He pointed to the closed doors to the right and left of the living room area. "There are two separate bedrooms."
Jenna glanced only at one door and then back at Aaron. Her green eyes glowed brilliantly, hesitantly.
"You shouldn't look at me like that," Aaron warned. "I will take whatever you offer . . . Damn it, Jenna, I've wanted you since I first laid eyes on you. But it would just be for tonight. That's all I'm capable of."
"I'm not asking for marriage."
"You deserve it."
"Don't deny me. I'm not naive or a child. I won't fall apart when you walk away. And I won't beg for more than you can give me."
"Oh, you'll beg all right."
Jenna's laugh was full of feminine confidence. "Is that a challenge?" She pulled down the straps of her gown.
The garment fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of black silk.