by Dani Collins
The kiss changed from sweet to passionate, from tentative to fully involved. He braced her back against the window and became more the man she knew, intensely focused and uninhibited. Sweeping his hands down her body, he bunched the hem of her dress up to her waist, exposing her thighs to cool air and anyone at street level who cared to look up.
“People can see—”
With a soft grunt, he lifted her so she was at his eye level and guided her legs around his waist, turned, and took a dozen steps away from the window before sinking to his knees. She felt the carpet beneath her and the weight of him settling between her legs, and pulled his head down to kiss and kiss and kiss him.
This was so like Con. Not a bed, not even a sofa. The floor, the windowsill, the edge of a bathtub. And it had been so long, too long, since they’d been like this. Hot and breathless and God, he excited her. Her hands roamed over his shoulders, into the neckline of his shirt, seeking the hot, hair-roughened skin she adored. When she didn’t find enough of it, she yanked at the tail of his shirt, but their bodies trapped it. She wiggled her fingers.
He let out a shocked laugh and lifted. “No tickling.”
She pressed her smiling lips against his. “Don’t stop kissing me.”
“Quit talking.”
“You’re stopping.”
He laughed and chased her moving lips, both of them grinning and kissing with wet noises.
“I’ve missed this,” she said, not able to admit it was him she had missed. She clasped his head and kissed him all over his face, pushing her fingers into his hair and forcing him to lift his head and expose his neck. She tasted his skin and made him shudder and felt drunk.
“I can’t touch enough of you.” Braced on one elbow, he pushed the rest of her skirt out of the way and dragged his shirt free so the bare skin of his waist met the inside of her bent leg. Instinctively, she lifted her hips, pressing herself against the shape of his erection, rolling her hips so they both groaned.
She skimmed her hands over his chest, up his sides, raking her nails gently and feeling him go taut.
With a growling noise, he scraped his teeth against the upper slopes of her breasts, biting lightly and licking and kissing the valley between them. “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”
“Touch me here.” She guided his hand from the back of her knee to the crease of her hip.
“Oh, Ren, it’s going to be hard and fast.” He slid his fingertips beneath the elastic of her underpants and curled his hand into a fist as he prepared to tear them off. “I haven’t been with anyone else. Are you still on the pill? Open your eyes and tell me it’s okay.”
“Me either. I am. It’s ok—” She opened her eyes and saw the jamb of the broken bedroom door above them. She frowned, starting to realize this was wrong, wrong, wrong.
There was a funny clicking sound and Con froze, too. His expression went grim and his hand flattened on her stomach.
As her muddled brain clued in that she was hearing the outer door opening, she pushed at Con’s chest.
He stayed where he was, between her legs, pinning her to the floor with his immovable shape so she could only raise her head. She did, looking over Con’s shoulder to see Jacob standing at their feet.
2:15 p.m.
“That’s where the Jaguar was,” Laila said, as they neared town.
Spencer didn’t say anything. He was too busy sweating bullets that his secret was about to be exposed. All he’d wanted to do was help out his boss’s grandmother, but he should have realized he didn’t need to take measures to help Mona. Con was all over it like a pit bull on a poodle.
But Spencer was as nuts about Con’s grandmother as everyone else was. Whenever he was in residence at Con’s, he made a point of going over to Mona’s for a few hands of rummy. She’d load him up on hot chocolate and sugary carbs, and he’d forget to feel self-conscious. In fact, he’d been there this morning, playing a hand of cribbage, and trying to decide between cinnamon toast and strawberry Pop Tarts, when Mona had confessed her little error in judgment to Renny. He hadn’t hung around to see whether Renny would be able to locate Con, which had been a mistake. He’d quietly taken the problem into his own hands via his alter-ego Blackwing, and now he was paying for it. Con was colliding with Laila and neither would forgive him for making it happen. He’d tried to pull her off the story with that second email, but she’d either not received it or disregarded it.
“Some things never change, huh, Motormouth? You’re awfully quiet over there. Am I in this van alone or do I have company?”
Her need to be noticed hadn’t changed, but it didn’t bother him. One of the things he had liked most about her as a kid was the fact that she had always drawn attention, thus he didn’t have to suffer it.
“Are you married?” she asked.
“No, but Amber is.” He automatically deflected her attention by talking about his twin. “She’s pregnant.”
“Really? I’m shocked she found her voice long enough to say ‘I do.’ What about you? Found the nerve to ask anyone yet?”
“I see the reporter but I don’t see the microphone.” His face heated as he made a show of looking around the van.
“Funny.” She smirked.
He grinned back. “No, I’m not married.”
“Me, neither.” She gave him the kind of once-over only women were capable of: so quick you weren’t sure you’d been judged and sure as hell didn’t know what the outcome was, but it was enough to make you aware of yourself and her, and how long it had been since you’d been horizontal and happy.
She turned her attention to the windshield, but her smile lingered. “Isn’t this town beautiful?”
It was the kind of town that appealed to women. Quaint, his sister would have called it. Spencer thought the buildings got in the way of the view and figured all the bric-a-brac was one big grab for a man’s wallet.
He didn’t tell Laila that. He was having trouble with reunion chitchat and still had to figure out how to ask her to back off the scam story.
“Here’s the Juniper Hotel. Your friend in the Jag said he’s staying here.” She didn’t want the van buried in valet parking so she pulled into the lot and hopped out at the dispenser to get her ticket.
Spencer stepped from the van then followed her to the spot where she parked. Laila tossed the ticket on the dash, locked up and said, “I have to meet Murphy and I have that thing for Salt Lake tomorrow, but maybe we should have a drink sometime. Catch up properly.”
“Sure,” he said, distractedly thinking, Murphy? “But, uh, I’d like to talk to you.”
“Me too, but— That’s him.” She waved at someone down the block and hurried to cross the street.
A young man with red hair and freckles was leaning against a light post. “Hey,” he said to Laila, straightening, and, with a nod to Spencer said, “Dude.”
Spencer adjusted the bill of his cap so it shadowed his eyes then tilted back his head to read the signage above his head. Deception Springs Mineral Pool.
“He’s still in there?” Laila asked Murphy.
“Yup.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“The description fits.” Murphy shrugged. “The chick at the desk said his blond hair is a dye job. Says he’s good looking but too perfect. Maybe he wears contacts to get his eyes so blue.”
Laila nodded. “Okay, I’m going in. I suppose I need a bathing suit?”
“You can buy one in there,” Murphy said.
“Laila,” Spencer said. “This can’t wait.”
“So come with me.” She walked into the spa.
Maybe he should find Con and tell him what was going on, Spencer thought. No, Spencer was a guy who cleaned up his own messes. Besides, his job was already approaching redundant. Telling his boss he’d arranged for him to collide with Laila Washington wasn’t going to help. Blowing out an exasperated breath, he followed Laila into the spa.
2:26 p.m.
Jacob, his suit wrinkled and
his hands smudged with oil, loomed like a reproachful parent.
“Renny?” he asked warily.
Con hitched himself onto his elbow and looked up at Jacob. “I guess you’re wondering how we’re making out.”
With a mighty push, Renny dislodged Con and scrambled to her feet, making sure her dress was tugged into place. She couldn’t bear to look at Jacob, so she could only imagine what was in his eyes. Hurt. Disappointment. Contempt.
His contempt couldn’t exceed her own. Being caught half naked and all the way lost to passion was embarrassing enough. Discovering she hadn’t left behind the thoughtless, immature girl she had been was devastating. She couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, though, so she forced herself to face him. “I’m sorry, Jacob. What I did was unforgiveable.”
“We,” Con said as he stood. “There were two of us on the floor, Renny.”
“Don’t, Con. I’m to blame for this.”
“I don’t think so,” Jacob said. “You told me this morning that he would try to break our engagement, if only because it was a challenge he couldn’t resist. Did he win?”
“No!”
“That’s what I thought. You look miserable, darling. I can see you didn’t mean to let him seduce you.”
“Wait a minute,” Con said. “You’re telling me you’re not upset about finding your fiancée under her old boyfriend?”
“Don’t be crude,” Jacob warned.
“It would have been a hell of a lot cruder two minutes later. Seriously Renny, don’t you think it’s weird that he isn’t more upset?”
“He just explained that he knows you have your own agenda.”
“And what’s his agenda? Hmm, Jake? Where do you get all this patience and understanding? Same place you get your paycheck?”
Jacob scratched his eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”
“I called the number on your card. It’s fake. Who the hell are you?”
Jake loosened his tie and laughed nervously.
Renny felt as though the floor shifted. She looked between the two men, Jacob rocking on his heels as though deciding what to say, Con looking as aggressive as he had a couple of hours ago when he had busted into the bedroom.
Now that she came to think of it, Jacob was acting a lot less upset than Con had, with more right to a greater fury. Her chest tightened and she bit her lip.
“Jacob?” she prompted.
“I was going to tell you,” he assured her.
“Tell me what?” She asked the question but didn’t want the answer.
“I haven’t been completely honest with you, but Mona—”
Con’s tension disappeared with a shout of laughter. “Gran! She hired you to make me jealous, didn’t she?”
Jacob winced and put out placating hands. “It wasn’t like that.”
“But it was something like that?” Renny asked, hearing a hysterical edge to her voice. Adrenaline ricocheted through her system.
“I’ve been mostly honest with you, Renny. I did sell mutual funds until I left for Europe. Everything I told you about being on vacation was true. Mona introduced herself to me in Venice because I reminded her of Con. It wasn’t until we’d all had dinner that first night that she asked me if I was attracted to you. I was, Renny. Am. I love you.”
“No, you don’t, or you wouldn’t have lied to me.” Breathe, she reminded herself, because she was shutting down. Her lungs weren’t drawing air and her heart had stalled.
“Everything I’ve told you about my background, my interests, my work, all of it is true,” Jacob said.
“You just neglected the little part about being hired to propose to me.”
“I was having cash flow problems.”
Renny covered her face. “Why did Mona do this to me?”
“She didn’t hire me to propose. My intentions were honorable the entire time. She just made it possible for me to be with you while you worked out your notice, until I could go to my other job. I do have a job to go to. It pays well. I’m not a bum.”
“Just a liar,” Con said.
“Back off, Con. This isn’t about you,” Renny said.
“I’m not going to listen to him talk you back into marrying him.”
“Then leave.”
“Why wouldn’t we still get married?” Jacob held out his hand toward her in a pleading gesture. “I’m sorry I kept this from you. Mona didn’t like prevaricating, either, but she felt bad that she had pushed you toward Con in the first place. She had hoped he would marry you. When it didn’t work out, she wanted to make it up to you. I would have had only a couple of weeks with you if she hadn’t . . . well, it’s a loan. Really. I intend to pay her back.”
“Uh huh.” Con lifted a skeptical brow.
“Renny, this doesn’t have to change anything. So you responded to a man who made a serious pass at you. I’m not happy about it, but I’m aware that you’re a passionate woman.” He lowered his voice, seemingly embarrassed. “I know you wouldn’t have been tempted if we . . .” He waggled his head toward the bedroom. “But I couldn’t bring myself to make love to you while I was lying to you.”
“Decent of you,” Con said dryly.
Jacob ignored him and said, “I lied, you slipped. I know it will never happen again.”
She waited for the guy to come out of the wall and point to the hidden camera.
“Renny, you’re everything I want in a woman. Smart, compassionate—”
“A con artist.”
Shock so electric it stung right down to her fingertips shot through her. She whipped her head around to stare in horror at Con.
“You know?” It wasn’t possible. Her record had been sealed because of her age, and she had cut herself off from everyone in that life. No one knew. “How?” she demanded in a choked voice.
“You were hired to work with Gran. I had to have a thorough security check.” Con shrugged.
“You’ve always known.” Of course he had always known. That’s why he had constantly tested her with his little pranks. Why he hadn’t wanted to marry her.
“I see.” Her voice cracked and she swallowed. She took a deep breath, bracing herself. “Mona knows, too?”
“No.”
Con was a damned good liar. She waited for him to blink or shift his gaze or develop a facial tic. He didn’t.
Maybe Mona didn’t know what Renny was. No wonder she didn’t understand Con’s refusal to marry her. Renny could even see how Mona would feel guilty and would try to fix things. It was very like her to provide what she figured someone needed.
“I can understand why you didn’t want to marry me and I can understand why Mona hired Jacob, but I can’t understand why you had to bring this up right now. Is scoring points on me and Jacob really that important to you? Or is it simply that you don’t think I deserve to be happy?” Renny asked Con.
His expression went slack. He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Ren—”
“You’re punishing me, aren’t you, for letting your Gran get hurt?”
“I am not! I don’t want you to marry him because . . . well . . . I’m jealous.”
“Jealousy is an immature emotion, Con. All it means is that you didn’t want me until someone else did. That’s very flattering, thanks, but I’ll pass on reuniting with you so you can tell me again that I’m not the type to settle down. Why don’t you just be honest and tell me I’m not the type any man would want to settle down with.”
“That is not what I meant!”
“I’m not a nice person, am I, Con? I’ve done horrible things.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But I’ve tried to make up for them. That’s why I came here. Not to take risks. To try to make up for what I did. I came here wanting to get Felix arrested and you . . . you . . . .” She motioned toward the bedroom floor. “I had this vision of becoming a respectable—” She choked and stopped talking, unable to look at either man, acutely aware that Jacob had said nothing while he digested exactly what kind of woman he had connected himself to.
“Cookie, you’re so far off base, you’re about to leave the field,” Con said gently.
“I should leave. It would be a lot easier than trying to redeem myself.” She sniffed. “God, that sounds pathetic, but I’m going to stop him. You’ll see.” She stepped into her shoes and picked up her purse.
“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Con said.
“You’re a self-centered ass, you know that? I’m doing it for myself.”
2:28 p.m.
The silky waters of the mineral bath welcomed Laila’s gentle submersion. She closed her eyes as she sank lower, allowing the warm water to close over her shoulders.
The floor of the pool felt slippery. That was normal, the poster in the women’s changing room had assured her, merely resulting from the natural minerals in the water. Cool water was added, but not chemicals.
She could get used to this decadence, Laila thought, but it was addictive. Already, her ambition was dissolving beneath an urge to eat peeled grapes and submit to a scented oil massage. Opening her eyes, she looked for a criminal.
She saw a god instead. He had black hair, brown skin and a crooked nose his sister had given him by swinging a Barbie into his face when they were six years old.
Oh. My.
Spencer descended the stairs into the water wearing navy shorts and a remote expression.
Shy, my ass, she thought. He’s arrogant. And had every right to be. He had traded in his tractor for a helicopter, but something was keeping him in shape. As he waded toward her, the water crept up his thighs, swallowing his shorts and lapping at his flat belly.
“Forty bucks for shorts. What a rip off,” he said.
“It’s worth it,” she murmured.
“Pardon?”
“You’re a fine-looking man, Spencer. You turn a woman’s head.” She stood. The water dragged at the top of her new white bikini and she adjusted the cups before linking her arm through Spencer’s. “Let’s find a blond, blue-eyed thief.”