For Your Eyes Only

by Rebecca York

  In the parking lot, he opened the passenger door and then climbed behind the wheel. She heard him slip the key in the ignition, but he didn’t start the car immediately. “What are you doing?”

  “Looking around.”

  “For what?”

  “Habit”

  Did he think the man who had tried to kill her was lurking nearby? She felt a tight, choking sensation. She didn’t want to think about what had happened yesterday. She wanted it to be over. And she wanted to know where she stood with Ben—exactly where she stood. It was hard to draw in a full breath, and she could hear her words come out in a rush as she said, “I’d like to stop at the drugstore on the way home.”

  He swung toward her. “Are you okay? Did the doctor give you a prescription or something?”

  “I wanted to pick up some condoms—unless you already remembered to get them.”

  He didn’t answer, and she felt her heart plummet. Well, better to know now.

  “You’re sure about that? I mean, you just got out of the hospital,” he said in a strained voice.

  “I’m sure.”

  He reached for her and kissed her fiercely. When he finally lifted his head, she nestled her cheek against his shoulder. “Ben, I wouldn’t have gotten out of that reservoir alive if it wasn’t for you. I told myself we had a date, and I was damn well going to make it.”

  “Jenny,” he whispered, his lips playing with her hair and his hands stroking her neck and shoulders.

  She longed to touch him too. And she did, feeling the recently shaved skin of his cheeks, the hard muscles of his shoulders and upper arms. When she slid her hand over his drumming heart, he clasped her fingers.

  “I needed you last night,” she whispered.

  “I needed that, too.” The words rumbled low and intense in his chest. “But Diangelo called to say he had Duke Wakefield in custody. He knew I wanted to be in on the interrogation. He gave us some information that links Jesse James to an outfit called Techno Transfer. I spent the morning getting Fraud to speed up their timetable for raiding the place.”

  “I guess you have been busy.” She tipped her face toward him. “Who’s Jesse James?”

  “That’s what the waitress at Three Sheets to the Wind calls the cowboy. I want him behind bars where he can’t hurt you or anyone else again.”

  She burrowed closer, craving his warmth. “Last night I couldn’t stop thinking about what it was like when he threw me into the water,” she whispered. “I went down so far, I thought I’d never come up.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”

  “It’s okay…now.”

  He held her for a few more minutes, murmuring words that sent shivers of anticipation across her skin.

  “Drugstore,” she finally managed.

  “Right. There’s one in the Wilde Lake Village Center.”

  It was only a short ride away. After pulling into a parking space, Ben cut the engine. “I won’t leave you in the car.”

  She chose to put a positive interpretation on the statement. “I’ll be glad to give my opinion of what product to buy.”

  “Based on what?” he inquired in a slightly thready voice.

  “Well, I don’t know much about condoms. I guess you’ll have to read me the features on the labels,” she answered cockily.

  “This should be interesting.”

  He climbed out and came around to her side of the car. “There’s a flight of steps leading up to the store.”

  “I’ll be as graceful as possible. I wouldn’t want to call attention to our mission.”

  She heard Ben laugh and gave him a little grin.

  “YEAH, VERY FUNNY,” muttered the man following Larkin and the cop. Pulling into a parking lot on the other side of a service road, he cut his engine. Then with a quick twist of his wrist, he also turned off the directional mike that had let him listen in on their stimulating conversation. He hadn’t gotten the first part—when they’d been sitting in the hospital parking lot—because of some damn interference. But as soon as they’d started moving, he’d begun picking them up loud and clear. It didn’t sound like he’d missed too much.

  From his vantage point, the watcher could see them climbing a flight of steps. Well, Little Miss Goody Twoshoes had certainly fooled him. He’d thought he was messing with a chaste blind girl. Now he knew she was hot to jump into bed with lover boy. And the cop—Brisco—was hanging around so he could get into her pants, damn him.

  Lips pursed into an angry pout, he climbed out of his car and walked with his arms folded tightly across his chest. A lady carrying two grocery bags gave him a curious look, and he ducked his head. When he raised it again, the happy couple had gone into the drugstore. He went alongside the building and in the front entrance.

  Pretending interest in the greeting cards, he made his way slowly toward the back of the store, where he could see them. Snatching up a Father’s Day card, he stared at the sappy sentiment, but anger made his vision blur.

  He was furious with Larkin for getting out of that reservoir. And furious with himself for dumping her over the side of the bridge instead of simply putting a bullet in her brain. He had let his ego interfere with business—telling himself it would be fun to play with her for a while and then watch her flounder in the water. That was his first mistake. He hadn’t been able to watch. He’d had to drive away. His second mistake had been thinking that she couldn’t possibly get out alive. No, his third, he admitted. He never should have let her chase him out of Blaisdell’s house with that screwdriver. If he’d whacked her then, he would have had the computer, and been on his way—instead of being left with this mess. It had been a matter of honor to finish her off. Now it was a matter of necessity because she could probably identify him. It was too dangerous to leave her on the loose.

  “IS ANYONE LOOKING at us?” Jenny asked, fighting acute embarrassment. Was she really in a drugstore with a man, all but announcing to the world what they were going to do? Still, the embarrassment was tempered with a giddiness she hadn’t felt since—well, since Ben had held her at his side for that memorable stroll in Fells Point. Then she’d been intoxicated by his closeness. Now they were getting ready to move a lot closer.

  She longed to know where he saw the relationship going. With all her heart, she wanted it to last a lifetime, but she wouldn’t make any demands. If he felt that something permanent with her was too much of a commitment, then she’d still have the memories of their time together. And she wanted that time, more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life.

  He interrupted her musings to answer her question. “A little old lady with horn-rimmed glasses is looking at us like we’re about to rob the place.”

  She flushed. “Really?”

  “No.”

  “Ben, don’t tease me.”

  “I’m nervous.”

  “You?”

  “Let’s just say I’m glad we have the back of the store practically to ourselves.”

  “It’s too bad we can’t order through the mail.”

  “We can. But we’d have to wait for delivery.”

  “Not acceptable.”

  “So what’s your pleasure?” His voice was husky. “They’ve got about three hundred different choices.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, latex, natural lamb skin. Lubricated, or unlubricated. Ribbed…”

  She was too embarrassed to ask what that meant.

  “Extra long. Shocking pink. Strawberry-flavored.”

  “Flavored?”

  “Only in specialty stores with black paint over the windows. Or by mail order in a plain brown wrapper.”

  “Um.” She tried to sound nonchalant. But she knew her face was going to stay beet-red until they left the store. Maybe longer.

  “Then there’s the quantity.”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  “It has its points.” He leaned down and gave the spot behind her ear a quick kiss, sending bursts of ele
ctricity along her nerve endings. “We can get a three-pack. A twelve-pack. Twenty-four. Forty-eight.”

  “Forty-eight sounds like a commitment,” she heard herself say. “But if you only get three, you might have to go out for more.”

  He made a strangled noise.

  “Go for twelve,” she whispered. Her hand was sweating, but she didn’t pull away to wipe it. Her whole body was hot. “Your favorite brand,” she tossed out.

  “I think you have a distorted picture of my life-style.”

  “Do I?”

  “I’m pretty selective about women,” he confessed. “Oh,” she managed. There was a wealth of implications in his words.

  SHEESH! Twelve. It looked like the cop wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon. Maybe he could just follow them home and surprise the two of them in bed. That would be a hoot. The lovebirds naked and defenseless. This time he wouldn’t screw up. He could snatch her right out from under lover boy. Except that the cop probably slept with his gun under his pillow.

  He’d have to hang around until they came up for air. Maybe she’d send Brisco out for groceries. Then he could slip inside and grab her. Have some more fun. And finish it right there. That would give the cop a nice surprise when he came back home and found her.

  “I HATE TO HURRY you, but a horny-looking teenage couple came in. I think they’d like us to move along so they can make a selection.”

  “Then pick something, so we can get out of here.”

  “Okay.” He reached forward, and she heard him remove a package from the shelf. Then he led her toward the counter, and she stood stiffly while he made the purchase.

  “What did you get?” she asked when he climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door.

  “Plain vanilla. No fancy features.”

  “So, what kind of expression is on your face now?” she asked. “Smug?”

  “Try lustful. I’d give you a long, passionate kiss, but I’d better stay in shape to drive.”

  “Hmm. What kind of shape are you in?” she teased. She’d thought she was too reserved to play this kind of game, but she was finding out what a rush anticipation could be.

  She got more than she’d bargained for.

  “Since you asked…” Taking her hand, he carried it to his lap.

  When her palm encountered his erection, she gave a startled exclamation. She’d never realized how much it would turn her on to touch his rigid flesh.

  He muttered something incoherent, and she felt his body tremble as she gave in to her desire to stroke him. Caressing him made her feel suddenly hollow, as if her own body would never be completely whole until he filled her.

  “Jenny…ah, Jenny.” His trembling hand lifted hers away from him. “Bad idea,” he growled. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The key turned in the ignition and the engine started. That was the last sound in the car till they turned into the rutted tracks of her driveway.

  Ben got out and came around to her side. She was on familiar ground, but she kept hold of his arm as they climbed the steps. Now that they were finally here, desire curled through her. Every sense was focused on him, every thought on what they were going to do.

  “Do you have the key?” he asked, and she realized they’d been standing in front of the door for several seconds.

  “Yes.” She fumbled with the purse Elizabeth had brought.

  “Let me.” Her heart was pounding as his fingers brushed hers. He opened the door, and they walked into the front hall, their footsteps echoing on the floorboards. All at once she was unsure of herself. Would they go right up? He shattered her romantic illusions with a low, policeman’s command. “Wait here, I’m going to check out the house.”

  “What?”

  He took her firmly by the shoulders and moved her against the wall. “I’ll be back as soon as I make sure everything’s okay.”

  Then he was gone, and she was left standing frozen and brittle—feeling as if she would shatter.

  As she heard him move stealthily down the hall to the kitchen, all the raging desire and sweet anticipation that had been building inside her evaporated. Instead of making love to her, he’d left her parked by the door while he checked the house for enemies.

  She clasped her hands over her shoulders to keep them from shaking. She felt so damn frightened and disappointed—and she wasn’t sure which was worse. Ben climbed the stairs, and she wanted to shout for him to come back in case there was someone upstairs waiting—like the night at Marianne’s.

  It was difficult to keep drawing in air and expelling it from her lungs. Trying to stand as still as possible, trying to stop her body from trembling, she strained her ears, listening for sounds of a scuffle—imagining Ben slumping to the floor again.

  Chapter Thirteen

  She couldn’t hear him, and fear leaped inside her. She was dizzy with it, sick with it. This had all happened before. Only last time…last time… Her brain wouldn’t complete the thought. Finally she heard him at the top of the steps. It was him. She knew it was him. At least she hoped to heaven she wasn’t fooling herself. He started down, then slowed as he drew near the bottom. She imagined she heard the sound of his gun being slipped into his holster.

  He halted a few feet from her. “The house is secure.”

  She squeezed her hands into fists. “I wanted—” She stopped abruptly, afraid she’d break down if she tried to tell him all the things she was feeling. She suspected they were splashed across her face, anyway.

  A long sigh eased out of him. “I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  The joy had gone out of the morning. The mood between them was shattered. Worse, she felt as if they were standing on opposite sides of a chasm instead of only a few feet from each other.

  “Do you want to sit down? We can go into the living room.” She heard disappointment mixed with resignation. She couldn’t stand to hear either. What was wrong with her? Why was she shoving away the very thing she most wanted? And for the wrong reasons.

  “Ben,” she said on a sob, stretching her hand toward him. He closed the chasm, taking her fiercely in his arms.

  “I was scared. It’s so awful when you don’t know what’s going on—and you start imagining the worst.”

  “I know, sweetheart, I know,” he crooned.

  “Do you have to be so damn understanding?”

  He gave a low laugh. “I thought that’s what women are always saying they want.”

  Miraculously, she found she could laugh with him. As she did, the last of the frightened, disappointed feelings left her.

  His voice was soothing. “I’m not going to take any chances where you’re concerned ever again.”

  His hands slid up her back to her shoulders, where he began to knead her tense muscles. Closing her eyes, she melted against him, lulled by the brush of his lips against her hair and the magic of his tender caress.

  The warmth she’d felt earlier came flooding back through her. She made a little sighing sound. His hands closed around her, lifting her, pressing her against his body.

  “So tell me what expression is on your face,” he teased.

  “Happy. Turned on—if that’s an expression. Perhaps a little worried.”

  “Let’s explore that last one,” he suggested as he rocked her body against his, the friction drawing a gasp from her lips. Luckily he was still holding her, because she wasn’t sure her own knees would have held her up.

  She hid her face against his shirtfront, breathing in his wonderful, unique scent.

  “Tell me what you’re worried about,” he insisted.

  “I don’t want to disappoint you in bed.”

  “You couldn’t.”

  “I—I don’t have much experience,” she whispered. “I—I haven’t had many relationships. It, uh, didn’t seem worth the effort. Sex was never like in books. No fireworks. I figured I just wasn’t going to feel that way. Until I met you.”

  She heard him catch his breath. “This time is going to be different,�
� he promised.

  “It already is.”

  “Let’s go upstairs.” He laughed. “While I can still walk.”

  “I’m not sure I can.”

  “No problem.” He swung her into his arms and strode across the foyer. After the initial surprise, she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on while he carried her up to her bedroom. When he set her down, the edge of her knee brushed the bedspread, and she knew exactly where they were standing.

  “That was pretty decisive,” she whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  She knew from her limited experience how the rest of it would go—fast and to the point. But that was all right, because she longed to feel him shudder in her arms when she gave him the ultimate pleasure.

  She heard him shrug out of his sports coat and toss it onto the chair. Then he surprised her with a request.

  “Jenny, would you take off my shirt for me?”

  She reached out, found his broad chest covered by crisp oxford cloth. She could feel his heart thumping as she slid her hand to the shirt buttons.

  He stopped her for a moment by lifting her hands to his lips and kissing each in turn. Then he brought them back to his chest, and she began to slide open the shirt buttons, her fingers touching warm skin and crisp hair as the fabric parted. She couldn’t resist slipping her hand inside, burrowing into the crinkly hair. When her fingertips brushed against a flat nipple, he caught his breath.

  He felt good. Wonderful and sensual. And touching him brought a wanton heat to her own body.

  His rapid breathing and wildly beating heart told her that he liked what she was doing. So when the shirt was out of the way, she traveled the path her hands had taken with her face and lips.

  He bent to nibble at her ear. “My turn.”

  She was suddenly shy again, but she could deny this man nothing. “Yes,” she whispered, nodding against his heated skin.

  He must know how she felt because he didn’t take a direct approach. Slowly his hands slipped under the back of her knit shirt and splayed against her flesh. Then they slid up and down her ribs, touching the sides of her breasts. She shivered, wanting more. He gave her tiny, provocative kisses as he unhooked her bra and pushed it out of the way. When he took the weight of her breasts in his hands, she couldn’t hold back a satisfied cry. He seemed to know what would feel good, what would drive her higher and higher so that all she wanted was more and then more still.