Besides, something told her Eddie Hernández had a healthy imagination. Men like him usually did. A quick tug had the bottom two buttons of the shirt undone as well. With the tails tied beneath her breasts, the crisp cotton now emphasized the portion of her anatomy Eddie's imagination was most likely to fixate on anyway.
She was ready.
Tess pressed her left foot into the clutch and restarted the Jeep before easing it into gear.
Ten minutes later, she was turning onto Eddie's beachfront street. She blessed the crowded sides of the lane and spent another minute squeezing the Jeep into the first available spot, since the cars stretched for over a block. It took a deep breath and a stern lecture to compose her nerves as she killed the engine.
Everything would be fine.
She was going to march up that planked walk, knock on that illuminated door and cruise right into Eddie's sights. If it took a steady smile through a purgatory of panting and light pawing, she was not heading back to the apartment until she had something solid to go on. She needed to solve this case—and now.
In three days, Joe was going to need her. More than he ever had before.
Despite the fact that he'd flat-out lied to her, she was going to be there for him.
Half a minute later, she was at Eddie's door. Soft rock spilled through the cracks, but not too loudly. It made sense. If the party's host was slipping illicit candy to selected guests, he wouldn't want the uniformed, all-season Halloween patrol shutting him down for noise—let alone providing the fun-wrecking ghouls a cause to search the premises.
Damn it, just do it.
Tess allowed herself the luxury of one final deep breath as she adjusted the view down her shirt, and then she knocked. The door opened and she promptly gaped.
"Nicole?"
The San Diego ICU nurse she'd known all of two days gaped right back.
Tess tucked the bottom of her jaw firmly into place and smiled. "Fancy meeting you here."
There was no mistaking her meaning. Nor did she mean for there to be.
The woman flushed, nearly matching the scarlet fabric that formed the triangles of her bikini top and the matching sarong tied about her hips. "Yes, well, it was a last-minute thing. I tried to get out of it, but Eddie…he can be…" Nicole gripped the oversized watch strapped to her wrist and twisted it around. "God, Tess, what are you doing here? I warned you about him. Leave. Now. While you can. He hasn't seen you. He'll never know. Lord knows, I won't tell him—"
"Tell who, what?"
It was too late. For both of them.
Nicole edged away from the door as Eddie walked smoothly up to the jamb. Nicole scowled at the blue and yellow Hawaiian shirt straining against the pharmacy tech's shoulders for several moments, then shot one last warning frown around his beefy arm before spinning around to stalk off.
Yeah, she'd definitely burned that bridge.
Didn't matter.
The one to Eddie appeared to be well under construction.
And from the intensity of that greed, the chasm in her shirt had planted the first, solid, stanchion. As Tess passed through the doorway, she swore she heard the jerk gulp as his height and proximity afforded him a seriously lush view of the valley below.
She'd been on the money about the panting she was bound to endure.
And here came the pawing.
Tess convinced her surrounding skin not to crawl for cover beneath what little fabric remained of the camp shirt as the tech's arm settled about her shoulders, his meaty fingers automatically curling beneath the sleeveless edge.
"Couldn't stay away, eh?"
She pasted her first toothy smile of the night into place as he hustled her down the foyer. "You could say that."
"Hungry, thirsty or just needing a…personal prescription?"
She didn't bother to stop her jaw from dropping this time. It fit her characterization, not to mention her very real shock.
The tech was ready to offer her drugs here?
Now?
She turned away to cover her racing thoughts, her gaze automatically scanning the thirty-odd beer and wine toting bodies mingling about the hideous zebra-striped rattan sofa grouping in the den beyond—and this time, she outright gasped.
Eddie leaned in close, chuckling as his lips pressed into her temple. Right over the spot her migraine had jackhammered to a sudden, blinding throb. "See something you recognize?"
Try someone. And Eddie damned well knew it. She and Nicole weren't the only last-minute additions to the tech's guest list.
Joe was here as well.
7
Teresa.
She was here.
Joe stiffened as the awareness thrummed through him. He did not need to raise his gaze and seek out her lithe form among the crush of scantily clad guests milling about, for he felt her as surely as if they were touching. Nor did he bother to pretend that the knowledge stemmed from his instincts as an agent, honed on the streets these six years past—for it did not.
It came from his heart.
And yet, though he felt Teresa's presence as surely as he felt the breath pulling into his lungs, he did not acknowledge it. It was not time. Instead, he refocused his attention upon the vacuous blue eyes of the blond who had cornered him beside the yellowing fronds of this sickly palm ten minutes before.
Despite the scent of beer permeating the potting soil, as well as the renewed surge of banal chatter regarding seasonal beachwear, he smiled. It was obvious Krissie-with-a-K thought her physical attributes the reason.
Krissie was wrong.
He lingered on the wrong end of this one-sided conversation for a single reason. Their host. He was certain Hernández had played a hand in Krissie's fawning interest and he wanted to know why. Clue one had been the not-so-subtle requests for something—anything, really—to perk her up. Clue two had been Krissie's repeated hints regarding the guest room and its exceedingly comfortable bed.
Teresa's presence had solved the mystery. The technician obviously hoped Krissie's abundant attributes and attentions would drive a wedge between them.
Hernández, too, was wrong.
"Hel-lo?"
Those over-plucked blond brows furrowed, this time in irritation, as he focused upon them. Evidently Krissie had finally realized he was not attending to her words. She pushed her bleached tresses from her shoulders, exposing the generous flesh spilling from the top of her bikini in a rather obvious attempt to regain his attention.
It did not work.
A sigh…and then another. Though she stood too close for him to catch sight of the sandaled feet beneath the silver shawl knotted at her hips, he suspected one of them had begun to tap out her annoyance as well. Perhaps it was for the best. He had waited long enough. It was time to resume the fantasy.
The touching.
He drew deeply on his breath, preparing himself for the mixed torture as he lifted his gaze to seek Teresa out. It took a moment, for most of the guests who had been outside on the deck and on the beach to enjoy the last of the fading twilight had found their way back in, and were now clustered about the keg of beer positioned between the den and the open kitchen beyond.
There.
Teresa was on the far side of the gathering, in profile just inside the kitchen doorway leading to the foyer beyond. Though she wore the shirt and jeans she had donned to dine with Gray Daniels, the agent was not in attendance.
But neither was she alone.
Hernández.
Despite the fact that her slender shoulders were locked beneath an arm four times the girth of her neck, he forced himself not to stiffen. The subtle pass of her fingers as she smoothed her curls behind her right ear assured him that not only was she aware of his presence, she remained in confident control of her mark.
A moment later, her body language feigned reluctance as the technician attempted to persuade her to enter the room. A brief conversation followed.
From the manner in which she tipped her head in his direction, he
suspected she was informing their host of her fear over her husband's anger at finding her here—alone.
She had good cause.
"Wow, has he got it bad."
Joe snapped his gaze down.
As he feared, Krissie's attention was now where his had been. He caught a shrewdness amid the blue that had not been present earlier.
Perhaps Krissie's mind was not so empty after all. And perhaps it was time to discover if the information he and Teresa sought filled it.
He opted for confusion. "Who has it bad?"
"Eddie." The blond shifted away from the sickly palm and angled her face for a clearer view. "At least he wasn't lying."
"Lying?"
Her gaze shifted to him, leaving no doubt she considered him the vacuous one. But then she shrugged and turned to trail her fingers across the fabric of his T-shirt as she elaborated. "Yeah, lying. I made the same offer to Eddie that I made you. He turned me flat. Imagine that. A week ago, the jerk is panting down my neck; tonight, he's turning me on to you." Her fingers slid down his torso to hook suggestively into the waistband at the front of his jeans. "Eddie thought you might have something I want."
Joe grasped her fingers and tugged them firmly from his pants. "Hernández was wrong. I have nothing of interest to you. Nor do you possess anything of interest to me."
The pout to her pink-glossed lips was genuine. It mattered not. Attractive though this woman was, he truly held no desire for her.
"Why not?"
For a moment he considered lying. But why? There was no harm here in the truth. "My interest lies elsewhere."
"That's what Eddie said." The pout thinned as her gaze settled tightly back across the room. The stiff jerk of her jaw followed. "Any idea who his current slut is?"
"No, but the lady is Teresa—and she is my wife."
He caught the gasp, as well as the hasty swallow, but did not bother remaining for the verbal response that was sure to follow.
He had pretended to linger long enough.
It was time.
He stepped away just as the technician turned his back to the majority of the gathering to converse with yet another scantily clad guest, his arm taking Teresa with him. Joe made his way across the room swiftly and silently, slipping his fingers about Teresa's, smoothly tugging her from that offensive grasp and firmly into his own before Hernández was even aware he was beside them.
"What the—"
He ignored the man, bending instead to brush his lips intimately to Teresa's temple as he tunneled his fingers into her hair as though he did so often. "Buenos tardes, querida. I trust you slept well without me." He continued to ignore the man now seething beside them as he combed the weight of her trailing silk behind her shoulders.
A mistake.
His gaze had narrowed upon the curves displayed so flagrantly beneath his gaze, as well as that of others, before he could prevent it.
To make matters worse, the gleam of satisfaction he caught from the corner of his eye assured him that the technician had noticed his displeasure.
Best to go with it. "¿Querida?"
Though he kept his tone soft, there was no mistaking the thread of anger in his voice. Nor was it feigned.
Her gaze found his. Cool, steady. "Yes?"
"Your shirt, mí amor. You seem to have missed several of the buttons. If you needed assistance, you had but to ask."
She glanced past his shoulder and across the room, to where he had been standing with the blond. "You looked…busy."
"And now I am not. Come." He held out his hand. "Let us take a walk and get you dressed."
She wisely placed her fingers in his.
Most fortunate—for her. He was not in the mood to argue. Least of all before this man. But as they turned, a hand clapped to his shoulder.
Hernández.
Joe stopped.
"Hey, buddy. Tess said she was feeling off. I just offered to take her upstairs and let her rummage through my…medicine chest."
There was no mistaking the message. Nor the swift, answering boiling of his blood. Joe forced himself to stand fast. Only when he was certain his fury was firmly in check did he release his hold on Teresa and turn.
The hand to his shoulder disappeared beneath his stare.
No matter. It was far too late to appease him.
He closed in on the man who had dared to touch Teresa, thankful his voice remained among the softest of murmurs. "Señor, you have tried my patience this morning already. Do not try it now, with my wife. Should Teresa require anything to assist her with her…health…I shall be the one to provide it. ¿Entiendes?"
A pause, during which those voices closest to them also chose that moment to rest. And then, a nod. "I understand."
One day soon, he would remove the confidence in this man's smile—for good. But not now, and not here.
He turned to Teresa, slipping his hand beneath the weight of her hair at the back of her neck to guide her through the throng of guests who had tried, but not quite succeeded, to display disinterest in their conversation.
They made it across the room and through the sliding glass doors unaccosted, then down the steps at the far side of the deck. Even so, neither of them breathed deeply until they finished crossing the moonlit sand, now surprisingly devoid of guests, and reached the froth of the lapping waves beyond.
Teresa tugged her hand from his, her anger riding high on her cheeks as she faced him. But she did not speak. Neither did he. They simply stood there, waiting as the soft wash of the waves spread within inches of their feet before ebbing out to sea again.
He finally sighed. "I presume you have an explanation."
Though irate, she kept her voice as low as he had. "I'd rather start with yours. After all, I'm not the one who deliberately withheld information pertaining to a case I wasn't the lead agent on."
"Granted. But tell me, lead agent, when did you manage to pass on your own information about this evening? While you were sleeping earlier?"
She flinched.
And then, perhaps even more oddly, she flushed. Only this latest tide staining her cheeks was not the result of anger, for he knew her moods well.
Surely, he was mistaken?
Over what did she have to feel embarrassed?
Much as he was upset over her presence, she had withheld no more than he. With this realization came acceptance, and his own fury fled. He purged his breath as well. "The why or the how of it matters not. We are here. Best we make the most of it. Agreed?"
She let the olive branch dangle between them a moment, then finally nodded—albeit reluctantly. Her own sigh followed. "You get anything new out of Eddie?"
"I did not."
"What about Miss San Diego?"
He did not pretend to misunderstand, nor did he hide the lingering distaste from his frown. "Nada." She did not ask for clarification regarding his distaste, so he continued, "What about Daniels? Did he have anything new to offer?"
She shook her head—but again, something odd was there. This time in her eyes. For a moment, he could not seem to place the reason for it.
And then he did.
The surge of fear was swift and searing. More so when she turned away from him to face the sea.
"Teresa? Are you all right?"
A nod.
But she was not. The evening breeze strengthened, catching the weight of her curls and causing the tangle to slip from her shoulders, exposing the bared flesh.
They were tense.
Whatever had happened, she was truly hurting because of it. And it had happened while she was with Agent Daniels. But how? He had checked this man out thoroughly. Madre de Dios, if Daniels had hurt her, fellow agent or no, he would deal with him, and harshly. He came up behind her, determined to get to the source of her pain, but as he settled his hands upon her shoulders, she flinched.
"Teresa?" Never had she shied from his touch.
Not one time.
He pulled his hands away, swallowing the shock a
s well as the painful ache as she turned to face him, her answering shrug as weak as her attempted smile. "S-sorry. I—ah—guess I just need a minute to get Eddie's touch out of my system."
First the shying, now an outright lie?
He stepped closer, the arrow to his heart piercing deeply as she also stepped away from him. For in her instinctive motion lay the proof. It was not Agent Daniels who had caused her pain. It was him.
But why?
His confusion must have shown, for she stopped moving. Feeling the stranger that he had never felt around her before—even as they met that day on the obstacle course at the academy—he simply stood there, not knowing what to say, much less what to do. It was exceedingly clear she did not want him touching her.
But he must.
Hernández. The man was bound to be watching. Waiting.
Salivating.
Indeed, it was past time to give the man his show. After all, the technician had gone to quite a bit of trouble to invite the two of them separately. But to give Hernández the falling out he craved tonight—before Teresa ensured that the supplies she had marked had made it into the pharmacy—was not wise. Though he detested this foolish game of cat and mouse, he would do nothing to undermine it.
At least not publicly.
In private, however, he would do whatever it took to convince her of the danger in her methods. But for now, he must see that she returned to the party with her clothing securely fastened. As much as it angered him, he must also afford Hernández the opportunity to spy upon them as he did it.
He was about to remind her when she cleared her throat and nodded.
She had given her permission.
He approached her slowly, giving her plenty of time to prepare for his touch. To prepare himself. For in reaching for the edges of her shirt, it was impossible for his gaze not to behold the splendor beneath his hands. Ripe and full, her breasts were quite simply, sheer perfection. As always when forced to confront this view, this close to her, his thoughts fogged and his mind slowed.
Unfortunately, his fingers followed.
The tip of his right index finger slipped from the rear of the button he was working and dipped deep into the valley between those lush curves.
Just Beyond Reach Page 12