Now, he worked every chance he had, lived modestly between jobs, and when on the job, never spent more than needed. Soon, he'd have saved and invested enough to quit and start seeing the world. He wanted to go everywhere, see everything, get as much livin' out of life as he could.
Too often, in his business, he met wealthy men who didn't realize they'd already earned enough for a lifetime of adventure, exploration, or just flat out enjoyment. They were obligated to companies, to making another million, to competition with their peers. Responsibility to family was one thing, but those who were free of blood ties, like himself, and still refused to enjoy the world at their fingertips, confused him.
Mitch twisted and glanced at Jess. In the quiet of his thoughts he'd sensed her breathing wasn't deep enough. She was still awake. He wondered what her future plans were. Not for one instant did he believe she was satisfied with what she found in her own backyard. What does she want when this is all over?
With her inheritance, she could do anything, go anywhere. She wouldn't have to be alone either. Her sex appeal and that bank account would attract a legion of willing men to her side. She could have anything and anyone she wanted.
Imagining what she might do, what she might want, wasn't going to get him to sleep any faster. He stood, pulled the blankets back, and slid between the sheets. Let her pretend to be asleep. It was a hell of a lot safer that way.
From the next room, he dimly heard the sound of canned laughter. Mitch pictured the agents, shoulder to shoulder, in their skivvies, watching reruns and sharing popcorn. He flopped to his back, covering his face with his forearm to bar the uncomfortable image from his mind's eye. He definitely didn't want to fall asleep thinking of them.
Then again, it wasn't a good idea to fall asleep thinking of the woman in the next bed either. He might not be able to sleep at all, bathtub or no bathtub.
"Mitch?" She whispered so low that for a moment, he wasn't sure he'd actually heard her, or if, in the dark, he'd imagined her husky, erotic voice saying his name. She rolled over on the bed, her eyes open and luminous from the dim glow of parking lot lights filtering through a part in the drapes.
"Yeah?" He ignored the instant heat in his body.
"What's my mother like?"
He frowned, not expecting the question, but grateful for it all the same. Thinking of Beth dampened the fires with a bucket of shame. "You look like her, but she's taller I think. She stays real busy, so she's in shape. I guess she dresses nice."
"No," she said softly. He could hear the smile in her voice. "Not what she looks like, but…who she is."
"Oh." He felt like an idiot. Of course that was what she wanted to know. "She's a good woman, Jess. I only worked for her for a few months, but in this business, you get to know people pretty good. Especially if you're livin' with them. She treated me decent."
"But she never talked about me?"
She sounded small now, like she'd shrunk over the last twenty-four hours. He could hardly reconcile that voice with the woman who'd warned him his welcome expired in two days.
"I think they didn't talk about you because it would've been hard to explain and they didn't want to put you in danger by contacting you now."
"They?"
He tried to recall if anyone had told her she had a stepfather, and couldn't. "Your mother's remarried. Jared Kramer."
"That's where the name came from." Jess propped her elbow on the bed and cupped her head in the palm of her hand. The blanket fell away, revealing the scoop of her nightgown. His gaze dropped to the shadow of a tattoo where the white of her breast met the tan line on her chest. He looked away.
"Can I ask you something without you getting defensive?" Jess asked.
"Yeah, sure." He answered quickly, hoping for a question that would erase the vision of the rounded fullness beneath that thin fabric.
"How did my mom get shot?"
That worked. Although the question was asked with curiosity, not accusation, Mitch felt the sting all the same. Guilt was a sorry replacement for lust. "I left too much in the hands of the security team they'd hired before me. I added a few extras, but I left the most important job to them."
"What was that?"
He rolled to his side and propped himself up the same as she had. "Your mother lives on about five acres. I strengthened the perimeter security, but I left the house to the security team. Whoever had installed the system, didn't know jack. They didn't wire the second floor on it's own system, so you can hear by the tone of the alarm where the intruders are. Someone got on the roof and shot through the skylight in the dining room."
"That's where it happened? In the dining room?"
"The attack came during dinner."
"Bad luck." Jess winced. "I don't mean that my mom was shot, that's far worse than just bad luck. I meant it was bad luck that they were in the dining room at that exact moment."
Mitch thought she didn't sound very convinced that luck had anything to do with it all. Neither was he. He'd gone over this in his head a hundred and one times. Each time he came up with the same answer. Someone who knew the house, knew the system, had to have ordered the hit.
Maybe it was Grady after all. He certainly knew the place well. According to Beth, he had spent every summer there until he graduated from college.
Jess said, "Really, I didn't mean it that way. It's all right. I don't blame you either, if that's what you're worried about."
She'd taken his silence as a sign her questions had upset him. He smiled to reassure her. "That's good to know, but I'm still responsible."
"More responsible than the guy hiring the hits?" She returned his smile with an ironic quirk of her full, very softlooking and appealing lips.
"Point taken." He wondered if she'd welcome a quick good night kiss. Back on dangerous territory, he thought, and twisted on the mattress, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "We should get some sleep."
He heard the rustle of blankets and felt the weight of her gaze leave him. A long, low breath escaped as he tried to relax his mind and body. They fought his efforts and it wasn't until Jess had been breathing deeply for an hour that he finally felt sleep creep over him. As he drifted, he tried to imagine walking away from her when this was all over…and couldn't. * * *
Jess, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, caught her hair up in a ponytail as a knock came to the door. Mitch stiffened, placed a finger to his lips and touched the butt of the gun stuffed in his shoulder holster. Her tummy trembled like a spring gone haywire.
"Mr. Conner? Ms. Owen? It's time to leave," Agent Davis shouted through the door.
They both exhaled in one shared breath. Mitch grinned and she gave him a shaky smile. He said, "We'll be out in a minute."
Davis didn't speak again and Jess imagined he'd heard the call of a wild doughnut from the Serengeti of the hotel lobby.
She and Mitch had already grabbed their share of the continental breakfast. She'd wolfed three muffins, two cups of coffee and a banana under Mitch's amused gaze. He'd eaten almost twice as much as she had, but in his hands, the muffins looked half their size. If she thought about it, they had effectively eaten the same amount, per bodily-inch.
"How you holdin' up?" Mitch zipped his bag closed.
"Good." She was, she found, relieved. In the brightness of morning, yesterday's events felt like they'd happened to a different person–a movie she had watched. The strange disconnected feeling, she decided, came from doing something.
As she had busied herself with a shower, dressing, eating, cleaning up her mess, packing her suitcase, and fixing her hair, she'd managed not once to think of the man she'd shot, or that her mother actually wanted to see her, or that her father would be left alone while she was in California.
She'd avoided thinking of all that until right now. She gnashed her lip beneath her upper teeth in an effort to fight the monsoon of emotion all that busyness had kept at bay.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Oh, that's what happened.<
br />
Mitch had asked her to think about it. Who was he to ask if she was all right? What did he think? He hadn't shot a man for the first time, he hadn't had his family history kept a secret, he hadn't ever been afraid for his life, like she had. Or had he?
God, she couldn't stay angry at anyone for long, not even in her own head. Of course she didn't know if any of that was true. Looking at him now, at how very strong and weathered he was, she doubted yesterday had been a first anything for him.
"I'll be all right, as soon as this is over." She sighed. Too much had happened, really, for her to take it all in, especially since there was so much she didn't yet know. A sudden tremor of worry raised gooseflesh on her arms. "Whatever happened to those two men? The ones from the diner? Did someone question them?"
Mitch paused in the middle of putting on his jacket, arms in the air. He slowly lowered them, then opened his big fat mouth and lied to her. She knew he was going to lie because his face hardened into a mask of deceit. "They didn't know anything."
He picked up both his bag and her suitcase in one hand, slid mirrored sunglasses on, and held his arm out toward the door. "Ladies first."
She thought about arguing with him, forcing the truth out of him. A small voice grew very loud in her head as she bent to retrieve a pillow that had fallen to the floor. Could she handle the truth right now? If he had lied, then the news couldn't be good. With a growl, she flung the pillow back onto the bed.
Damn it all to hell and back again .
"What really happened, Mitch?" she asked. He didn't move and the sunglasses hid his eyes. "Tell me. I hate that I know you're lying. I hate that I think I know what that lie means. Don't make me wonder, it's worse than hearing the truth."
He nodded, set the bags down, and took off his glasses. His eyes were troubled when he looked up. "They didn't make it. Both of them. We didn't get anything from them."
She drew in a deep breath and nodded, her gaze going to the blue carpet. Okay, I can handle this. "So I'm guilty of murder now."
Mitch reached her side almost before she'd finished speaking. He touched her chin, carefully, kindly. "No, you protected yourself. It's not murder. If you need a word, call it manslaughter. But not murder. Don't do this to yourself, Baby, they aren't worth it."
"Don't call me baby," she muttered absently. There was a difference, she discovered, in looking at it from that angle. Manslaughter still felt like a sin, but no longer a mortal one. She wished she'd had some religion in her life, she wanted to know for sure, but church wasn't a big Owen family ritual. Weddings and…funerals only.
Jess looked into his eyes, and was startled mute by how close he stood. Her skin felt charged and she wondered if she touched him, would a shock bounce from her fingers to his flesh?
His head lowered, a shift in his shoulders brought the scent of leather, skin, and man into the chaos of her senses. The back of his fingers brushed her jaw line, urging her forward with a light touch, but with so much impact, it reached her toes.
Jess gazed at his mouth and her head tilted up all by itself. His dark eyes offered escape. Who could care about anything in a moment like this? Time didn't matter, life didn't matter, breathing didn't matter. She only wanted this, only wanted his touch. Wanted him.
He drew closer. Soap. Sunshine.
His kiss.
The soft rustle of bending leather. His hand, gentle on her neck. The too-fast pounding of her heart in her ears.
His mouth covered hers, tantalizing her with the promise of more if she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it. Her body hung from that touch, dangled in a sea of need behind the connection of his lips against hers.
She grabbed the back of his neck, felt his arms tighten and lift her against his chest. The kiss deepened as she opened to him, gave him possession of more than just her tongue, her mind, her thoughts. She gave him her entire needy, greedy soul.
He was so strong, his shoulders so wide, it stole her away to a place where the FBI didn't exist, where killers and clothes were banished. To a place where skin and flesh and arms and legs tangled erotically in a world made soft by satin and….
He drew away, buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Jess," he breathed the word, his lips on the sensitive skin where her jaw joined ear and throat together.
"Oh boy." Reality soon cleared the gauze of lust from her thoughts. She shouldn't be doing this, she shouldn't be begging for this with every ounce of her being. Not with the agents waiting outside. Not when she'd see her dad soon.
Mitch straightened, heaved a deep breath, and refused to look into her eyes. He rubbed the top of his head briskly and replaced the sunglasses. Facing the wall, he said, "Sorry about that."
She crossed her arms, the points of her breasts hard against her arms. She shook once, trying to regain function of her limbs and brain. "Me too."
Except she wasn't sorry, not one damn bit. She'd wanted that kiss, wanted to know what it would be like since the moment she'd seen him outside the garage. It didn't matter that her heart pounded too fast or that her lungs were a good deal smaller than they'd been five minutes ago.
He nodded, she wasn't sure at what, and lifted the bags. "We should go, or we'll miss the flight."
Jess opened the door for him, and found she couldn't look him fully in the face either. She was afraid he would see the need in her eyes. "Can't miss our flight."
"Nope, sure can't."
The sound of a smile in his tone gave her the courage to venture a glance at him. He grinned. She smiled back, though she had the sinking feeling the flight would be anything but comfortable for her. She thanked heaven she could hide her arousal easier than a man could.
As he stepped outside, she looked at his jeans. What she saw made her grin widen to a satisfied smile.
* * *
That kiss had been a mistake. Mitch didn't know how it had happened. He'd wanted to comfort her, not maul her. He could still feel the press of her body against his. Jess didn't do anything by halves and that kiss had felt like all or nothing. Glad she picked all.
He motioned for her to stay in the alcove of the lobby doors and wait. With Jess's keys, he unlocked the Mustang. Mordstrom, dabbing powder-sugar lipstick, waved from his government-issued car. Mitch stowed the bags in the back seat and closed the door. His gaze fell to the puncture wounds along the side panel. The bullet holes were a sober reminder of the line he'd crossed.
Never get involved with a client or a member of their family.
The outcome, never good, usually included a bad reputation that spelled death for future business. Gorgeous, sexy, or willing didn't matter. He couldn't touch any woman under his protection.
He eyed the street, the parking lot, the few guests wandering to the lobby for their breakfast. No threats in sight. He couldn't allow himself to get sloppy, to let anything but his brain do the thinking.
Clear your head, Mitch, this is not cool.
Especially at a time when it didn't seem to matter how careful he was. This case left him feeling like a grade-A screw-up. If he didn't blame himself, he had to believe the powers that be were against him, tempting him into laziness and…lust. Then again, blaming an unseen force was like accusing the baby of stealing the candy first.
Jess stood, half hidden near the lobby doors, hands tucked into her back pockets, waiting for his nod. Her t-shirt blazing white in the hot sun, the crown of caramel-colored hair pulled high and glowing bronze, made her appear an angel set down on earth. Maybe it wasn't too hard to believe that someone upstairs tempted him after all.
Mitch nodded, releasing her to come across the parking lot. She straightened and strode to him, her hips slightly forward in that way she had.
He didn't believe in fate and karma and all that new age stuff, but he knew he had won fights when he shouldn't have, beat the odds when most couldn't have, and escaped the mob in New York where men better than him had become underwater members of the concrete-shoe society. This had to be a test.
Jess went r
ight by him, got into the driver's seat and slammed the door. The window rolled down and she held out her hand for the keys. "I'm driving."
Mitch leaned down and through the open window, noticed her mouth was rosier than usual. He remembered the cause, and grimaced. Definitely a test. "Sorry, Darlin', but I need to drive."
"Don't call me darlin'" She smiled, that adorable dimple flashing. How could anyone look so sweet, but so seriously determined at the same time? "Give me the keys, or I'll hotwire her and leave you standing here."
He searched her face, saw she was serious beneath the warmth in her voice, and growled. If he didn't know she handled the muscle car like an ace, he never would have agreed. Because Jess could be bullheaded, he took the path of least resistance. "You're impossible, you know that?"
"Sure do." She took the keys from him and gestured with a bob of her head to the passenger seat. "You comin' or what?"
"I'm comin'." He went around the nose of the car and glared at Mordstrom and Davis who both grinned. The agents had seen the whole thing and were taking great pleasure in watching Mitch jump into the passenger seat. He stifled the urge to give them the bird, and instead, snapped his sunglasses on.
Mordstrom answered by revving his engine once. Jess turned the ignition, taking his cue and going a step further. She returned the rev with a roar form the Mustang and a grin of her own. The heavy engine made the agent's car sound like a wheezing cat. Mitch smiled and wiggled his fingers in a tootleloo wave at the disgruntled looking men.
Jess spun out backward and paused, letting Mordstrom nose his car alongside her so Davis could speak through the passenger window. "We'll be riding behind you. Use your signals and keep us in your review mirror at all times."
"Will do," Jess said, but she sounded ready to race him out of the parking lot.
"I mean it, Miss Owen." Davis all but shook a finger at her. "Maybe you should let Mitch drive, men are better at this type of thing."
Mitch groaned and tightened his seat belt.
"And what type of thing is that, Agent Davis?" she asked, much too sweetly.
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