Love In Plain Sight

by Jeanie London

  He touched her.

  Slipping his hands on her arms, he gave her a slight shake. “Don’t.”

  His voice was a plea. He hated everything about himself. He couldn’t handle hating himself because he’d hurt her, too.

  Tipping her head back, she gazed up at him with shining eyes. And everything vanished, everything but her parted lips and her surprised breaths.

  That awareness in her exquisite face.

  The want.

  Somehow all the frustrations and fears, the recriminations and regrets, vanished. Feelings gave way beneath a purely physical need, awareness that he was standing close to a beautiful woman who wanted him.

  There was no thought when he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Their lips met, a glance of soft skin to skin, and her delicate sigh. He tested her response, the way her mouth yielded beneath his, the mingling of their breaths, in sync.

  She trembled, so slightly he would have missed it had he not still been holding her, but he clung to her, poised between testing and taking, so unsure.

  Courtney’s hands fluttered between them, as if she, too, hadn’t committed to any course.

  Push him away? Pull him close?

  The moment was torture.

  Then her hands glided over his chest, just a whisper of a touch, and her fingers slid into the curve of his neck, coaxed him closer as she leaned up on tiptoes to deepen their kiss.

  Then there was nothing but fire inside him, the knowledge he was still a man who could make a woman want.

  * * *

  COURTNEY KNEW MARC had something to prove. He was a child trying to provoke her, a man whose pride had taken a beating. He wasn’t interested in her. Not really. She was just a convenient target to inflate his confidence, to appease his masculinity.

  She should have shut him down.

  But there’d been something in his anger, something she had never seen before.

  And it was that glimpse of something that drew her closer, made it impossible not to kiss him back, to explore this awareness even though it made no sense whatsoever.

  She didn’t want to like Marc or understand what drove him. He had way too much baggage for her to deal with. She was at a difficult crossroads in her own life. She was out of sorts and vulnerable to someone she didn’t trust herself to be vulnerable with.

  But the feel of his mouth on hers vanquished that horrible loneliness. His broad, broad shoulders blocked out the world. Courtney couldn’t deny him or herself in that moment. Not even if it meant they would have to face each other awkwardly across Mama’s dinner table for the rest of their lives.

  He didn’t come to town that often anyway.

  Why shouldn’t they give in? They were both adults, both needy right now. For entirely different reasons maybe, yet their need was still the same.

  To be together.

  That was all the rationalization she needed.

  Courtney stopped resisting.

  Leaning into their kiss, she swept her tongue through his warm mouth, explored the taste of this man who should be nothing to her but was suddenly everything.

  He tasted of boldness and intensity, a man with so much simmering beneath the surface. And now with the freedom to touch... Skimming her fingers along his throat, she traced the hard line of his jaw, the cheekbones, the skin around his eyes, his brow.

  His laughter burst softly against her mouth, but he never stopped kissing her. Sliding an arm around her waist, he locked her against him, and she melted a little inside at the feel of his hard body, all that muscled strength. She was surprised by how neatly they aligned when he was so much taller.

  But with her head tipped back, her mouth slanted beneath his, the world narrowed down to the breadth of his shoulders, the heat of his bare skin. The way his fingers slid into her hair until he cupped her head, maneuvered her closer, enticed her mouth wider with his tongue, their passion exchanged on each breath, each sigh that broke against his lips.

  Longing sizzled between them. Like everything else about this man, his passion was intense, evoking exactly the same response. Her body grew molten with anticipation, with the promise of discovery.

  There was no will to resist, only to yield, to shed all inhibitions, rationality and anything else that might seem like sanity outside this hotel room.

  She cared only about right now.

  Running her hands along his arms, Courtney explored the strength of his biceps, dragged her palms down the hard lines of his back. The towel clung moistly to his hips, daring her to touch. So she did. She pressed him close, nestled his hardness against her tummy.

  His groan broke against her lips, a ragged sound, then suddenly he was in motion, dragging her toward the bed, tempting and teasing her with half kisses because their stumbling steps didn’t allow for anything more. She clung to him eagerly, helping to balance them as they covered the distance. His steps awkward. Her legs nearly liquid beneath her.

  Her pulse raced hard with excitement as she tugged at his towel. It fell away as Marc hit the bed. Their kisses broke and he went down on his back. A good thing because her feet tangled in the damp fabric. She was the one who lost her balance, came down on top of him, unable to break her fall until she lay stretched across all that naked male perfection.

  He seized the opportunity, his touch sparking a fire that clearly hadn’t been stoked in too long. And she was no different. How long since her body had felt so alive? How long since her breaths had burst from her lips in tiny gasps, the ache deep inside annihilating any inhibition?

  And Marc knew. He recognized the eagerness of her response, and his mouth was on hers again, hungry kisses that tangled their tongues and distracted her so his hands could run wild over her body. He molded her hips, and when he bunched up her skirt until he could run velvet-rough fingertips along her thighs, Courtney wouldn’t have dreamed of resisting.

  Dragging his hands over her bare bottom, he discovered the thong that left her exposed to his caresses. His throaty growl reverberated through his body, his pleasure alive in a sound that filtered through her in a physical way. Tracing the edge of silky fabric, he explored her intimate places with a skilled touch until she was breathless and trembling against him.

  He never stopped kissing her. He never stopped touching her. And somehow in the haze of excited desire, she’d forgotten he was a man on a mission, a man determined to prove he could make her come unglued in his arms.

  His fingers sought out her oh-so-sensitive places, teased and explored, aroused, until she gasped her pleasure against his lips, amazed by how he could tease such responses from her body when he was the one naked and on his back.

  And when she came undone in his arms, Courtney melted against him, and he chuckled softly, showering light kisses down her throat, inhaling deeply of her hair, resting his cheek against hers in such a tender display.

  Who was this man with the expert touch and gentle spirit?

  Not the bounty hunter who was closed off to the world, so distant from his family.

  The heartbreaker Harley had warned against?

  Yes, and no. As Courtney came to awareness, she knew that Marc’s touch revealed unspoken tenderness. She hadn’t known him this way, suspected not many did.

  But she was so drawn to him, to the glimmers of that caring man. His eyes were closed, the black fringe of his lashes striking against his olive complexion. Resting her head against his shoulder, she pressed her face into his neck, felt the throb of his pulse against her cheek. Brushing her fingers over his mouth, she trailed them along his stubbled chin, learning his beautiful face in a moment when he seemed at peace.

  Had she ever seen him so at peace?

  Courtney didn’t think so, but the moment was tranquil, unexpected, exquisite in its fragility. She sensed it, in tune with him as their bodies
curled close, as he reveled in some private thought he didn’t choose to share.

  When he pressed a kiss to her fingertips, she thought her heart might break.

  She didn’t know why. She only knew he touched her in some place she hadn’t realized could be touched.

  And how much she wanted this peace to last.

  Brushing her fingers across his lips as she rolled away, she was careful not to jostle his leg. She stood, her skirt swirling around her legs, concealing her from his gaze. He moved, and she was determined to provide a distraction to help him forget anything but enjoying this moment.

  Turning away, she shook out her hair.

  She could hear his weight shift on the bed as she stepped out of her shoes and unfastened the clasp on her skirt. Releasing the zipper was all it took to send the skirt floating to the floor. There was no sound from behind her, nothing but their breaths in the quiet. Hers shallow, his ragged, as she peeled away her blouse and bra and dropped both onto the floor.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she hid her face in the fall of her hair, never before so grateful for its length. She was exposed to him completely where he lay, stretched out on the bed in all his naked perfection, propped up on an elbow with his good knee bent.

  His molten gaze devoured every inch of her.

  He extended a hand, and she took it, allowed him to draw her toward him, still shy beneath his gaze. He may have touched but he hadn’t seen, and now, the gentle expression on his face made her feel beautiful.

  Wearing only her thong, she stretched out beside him, curled against him, breathless with anticipation, heart racing as he propped up on an elbow. To her surprise, he didn’t kiss her again, but she wanted him to. No, he raked his gaze along her body, a heated look that sparked fires in its wake. He didn’t touch her, only traced a hand over her mouth, around her chin, down her throat, a barely there caress that made her tremble.

  He lingered around her breasts, skimming his fingers along her sensitive curves. A smile played around his lips as he leaned forward. She braced herself. Her chest rose and fell sharply, but he only blew on one taut peak, a warm burst of breath that penetrated her skin, made her breasts swell heavily and a tingling begin deep in her belly.

  Her mouth parted around an “Oh!” and he arched a dark eyebrow, clearly enjoying her response.

  Then he continued his assault on her senses, exhaling along her waist, nibbling his way to the hollows of her hips, her tummy, becoming acquainted.

  His erotic exploration started the shock waves building again, until she shivered and stretched beneath his touch, couldn’t stay still, involuntary attempts to ease the ache inside. She was almost embarrassed by the wanton display she presented but anticipation drowned out reason.

  Far in the recesses of her lust-soaked brain, she again remembered Harley’s warnings to keep the bedroom door locked. No joke. This man had a gift. Not an artist who might create masterpieces from nothing, but a musician who cajoled sweet sounds from an instrument.

  And when he finally wound up down there, he met her gaze across the expanse of her body. Courtney knew what he intended, knew he was proving himself at her expense, knew he wouldn’t stop until she came unglued again. Stretching her fingers toward his face, she stroked the tawny waves at his temple, wanted him so badly she would allow him anything.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THE HOURS BLURRED for Courtney. They made love once, twice, three times before the sun had set. They dozed in each other’s arms. They awakened each other with hungry kisses. They explored each other’s bodies and responses, and satisfied their yearning for the extraordinary way they came together.

  Now, as Courtney lay curled against Marc, the comforter pulled over them, cocooning their weak, sated selves together, she wondered if he had proven himself. He’d left no question that he was an inexhaustible lover.

  But had he proven himself to himself?

  His range of motion had seemed more an annoyance than a limitation. True, his leg hadn’t supported his body weight, but she grew breathless thinking of all the other ways their bodies had fit so neatly together.

  She hadn’t known what to expect of a leg so badly battered, but when he’d finally permitted her the freedom to explore him in the fading sunset, she had acquainted herself.

  The marvels of medical technology had not added insult to injury. In addition to the damaged skin, only a webbing of thin surgical scars along his thigh and behind his knee hinted at all the damage below. Crushed bones, mangled cartilage and torn muscle. Still, she found herself grateful he was alive. For him. For all the people who loved him. For herself and what they had discovered together.

  Whatever this was.

  This was foolish. That much was a given. This morning they had been determined to ignore the awareness happening. Marc hadn’t been ready to work by his own admission. She was vulnerable and lonely by her own admission. Not a winning combination to begin any relationship.

  But this wasn’t a relationship. This was nothing more than two people who needed each other. Circumstance had brought them conveniently together, and so long as she remembered that’s all this was, she had no worries.

  There was no ignoring the awareness any longer.

  The next time Courtney awoke, night had fallen completely. There was no lamp on in the suite, not even the sliver of light beneath the door from the hallway. Only the silvery glow of stars through the bedroom window.

  And the feel of Marc all around her.

  His strong arms tucked her close. Her hair was a crazy tumble across the pillows. The hollow between his shoulder and neck made the perfect place to rest her head. Her breasts pressed against the raspy hairs on his chest, measured the steady beat of his heart. One knee had slipped under hers, the other he held apart carefully, safely.

  “I shouldn’t have gone armed today.” His drowsy admission filtered through the quiet, a surprise.

  Courtney hadn’t realized he was awake and didn’t know if she should ask, if the answer would be out of bounds. She asked anyway. “Why did you?”

  His chest rose and fell on a deep breath, a sigh. “Limping to the door wasn’t going to intimidate anyone.”

  “Did you need to intimidate him?”

  Marc nodded.

  She didn’t have answers. Not for him. Not for herself. They were in uncharted territory. The only thing she knew was that she didn’t want to sacrifice the way she felt right now.

  Savor the gift of the moment.

  “Araceli ran away,” he said softly, another gift. “The first time they were staying in the shelter. Apparently, she had taken a liking to a woman from the church, followed her home and accused the Aguilars of mistreatment. The woman brought Araceli back and confronted them. Aguilar and his wife swore it was a lie. The woman warned them she had been watching the way they treated their kids. She threatened to go to the police, but the Aguilars finally left the shelter with Araceli. This time when she ran away, no one brought her back.”

  “You believed him?”

  “He was answering my Ruger. It’s a safe bet he was telling the truth.”

  There was nothing simple about the way Courtney felt just then. All drowsy satisfaction evaporated, and she lay there blinking in disbelief.

  Araceli had run away. Because of abuse?

  She had run away at the Superdome, too, but Mrs. Calderone had cared enough to return her to the Pereas. Even though she would have rather kept Araceli with her.

  “If it had been in her best interest...”

  What kind of person didn’t return a distraught little girl?

  What kind of person didn’t even try to find her?

  Courtney couldn’t wrap her brain around any possible answer. She had devoted her life to dealing with the problem of vulnerable and throwaway kids, helping them find safe p
laces to feel loved, one by one by one by one.

  Even though there was no end of the line.

  There would always be just one more child who needed a safe place, who needed to feel loved. Because there would always be one more unable, selfish, uncaring or truly evil person who would hurt the kids who relied on them for everything.

  So why did it seem like all her efforts combined didn’t make the impact of one horrible person making horrible choices?

  She didn’t know, didn’t think she would ever know. But Courtney knew foster kids, knew some were runners.

  Marc rested his chin on top of her head, secured her with those strong arms, as if he sensed her struggle, understood the impact of what he’d learned about a young girl who hadn’t wanted to live with strangers.

  “How could he let her go?” There was no answer. Not one she would ever comprehend. “How could he not call the police to find her?”

  “According to him he was afraid they would be accused of abuse that never happened. They didn’t want to lose their other foster kids because they needed the money. They’d lost everything in the hurricane, and Louisiana was cutting checks. So was FEMA. He looked for Araceli, and was convinced she had gone off with a woman from the church shelter.”

  “The woman who brought her back?”

  “Debbie. He didn’t remember the last name. She left Atlanta the same time Araceli vanished. He lied to his wife and said he sent Araceli back to New Orleans because she was trouble. When his niece was being recruited by a Colombian gang, Aguilar saw a chance to solve his problem and help family at the same time. Identity theft. If it helps any, he said the gang nearly killed his brother when he made a stand to protect his daughter.”

  How would knowing Aguilar’s niece had been cared for in Araceli’s stead help? Courtney muscled her way through the pieces, tried to fit this information into the larger puzzle.

  She couldn’t get past people being okay with a missing eight-year-old girl. How did they sleep at night? “Jane Doe knew the truth. But once she came to Atlanta, how could Aquilar’s wife not know?”