by Metsy Hingle
“Something wrong with the wine?”
Lily blinked. “No. No, the wine’s fine,” she told him, taking another sip to prove it.
“Do you want some dessert?”
“No thanks, but you go ahead if you want.” She looked at her plate again and laughed. “For someone who wasn’t hungry, I did a nice job on that pasta. Thanks for suggesting it.”
“Glad you enjoyed it.” At the blare of a horn out on the streets, Michael said, “Looks like the natives are getting restless.”
“Do you think what the concierge said is true—that this partying is going to go on all night?”
“Probably. I’m told this is only a taste of what it’ll be like tomorrow.”
When she noted Michael gazing past her toward the lobby, she started to turn around to see what had caught his attention, but he reached across the table and caught her hand. “It’s starting to get crowded in here. Why don’t we go upstairs?”
Lily didn’t argue. Nor did she think anything of his suggestion that they take the stairs. “Shouldn’t your father be in New Orleans by now?” she asked as they began the climb.
“Let’s give him another hour or so, and if he hasn’t called, I’ll try him. I’ll also try my brother again.”
Michael didn’t have to call either one of them again. They had no sooner returned to the room when the cell phone rang. “Sullivan.” He paused. “Hey, Dad.” Several more pauses and all rights, and he said, “I think it might be better if you were to just take Timmy and Gertie and head back to Houston.”
“What? Michael, what are you talking about?” Lily demanded.
He held up his hand, listened to his father on the other end. “All right. If you’re sure you’re okay with that. Yes, sir. I’ll explain it to her.”
“Explain what? Why is your father taking Timmy and Gertie back to Houston? Why isn’t he coming here? Has something happened? Has—”
Michael placed a finger to her lips. “Nothing’s happened. I suggested he take them to Houston because I spotted one of the men Webster had tailing us in the lobby.”
“Oh my God.”
Michael took her hands, led her to the bed and sat her down. “You and I are going to leave here in the morning as planned. We’re going to go pick up Timmy and Gertie, too, if she wants to come, and we’re going to the airport, and you and Timmy are getting on that plane to Oklahoma.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she insisted. “Let your dad take Timmy and Gertie back to Houston now.”
“My dad doesn’t think Gertie’s up to making the trip. She’s pretty stressed out and was having some problems with her blood pressure. It only got worse when my dad suggested taking Timmy to Houston. He’s taking her back to her place and is going to spend the night there with her and Timmy. He’ll look out for them until we get there.”
“Michael, I don’t know. If Adam finds Timmy—”
“He won’t find him. And even if he does, my dad’s a former cop. He can handle himself. He’s not going to let anything happen to Timmy. Okay?”
She nodded.
“I’m going to try to reach Travis again,” he told Lily. But he hadn’t even finished punching in the phone number when another call came through. “Sullivan. Well, it’s about time. What have you got?”
While Lily couldn’t hear what Travis Sullivan was saying, she did her best to glean what he was saying from Michael’s responses. Not that Michael gave much away, she thought.
When he hung up the phone, she asked, “What did he say?”
“He’s running some checks on Webster’s credit card activity now. He’ll get back to us as soon as he knows something. In the meantime, Travis is on his way down here. Because you didn’t want me to contact the police, I’ve asked Travis to try to get someone from the local Bureau to meet us at the airport tomorrow. Normally, the feds don’t get involved in something like this.”
When Michael fell silent a moment, Lily grew edgy. “What did he say?”
“The FBI has been investigating Webster for some time now. He’s been under surveillance for the past few months.”
Lily’s heart pounded in her chest. She thought about that man she’d seen in his study, the one who’d turned up dead. And she remembered the disk she’d stolen. A part of her wanted to tell Michael what she suspected and about the incriminating disk. But what if she gave Michael the disk, and the FBI still failed to put Adam in jail? What if they put her in jail for not turning it over sooner? Then she’d be helpless to keep Timmy safe. And she’d have nothing to bargain with to save her son. She couldn’t take the risk.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
Lily jerked her attention back to Michael. “I’m not. I’ve wondered for a while how Adam managed to be so successful with his clubs. When other owners of a club would fail, Adam would buy them out, and within a few months he had another successful hit.”
“You thought something illegal was going on?”
“I didn’t know, and I didn’t ask,” she told him honestly. “Adam didn’t want me involved in his business.”
“No, all he wanted you for was his bed,” Michael fired back.
Though the barb stung, Lily kept her eyes on his. “Yes,” she said evenly. “That is all Adam ever wanted or expected of me. And if that makes me a whore in your eyes, you’re not the first person to feel that way.”
Michael swore and started toward her. “Lily—”
She held up her hand. “I’m really tired, Michael. I think I’d like to try to get some sleep. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
“I’m sorry,” he told her.
From the tortured look in his eyes, she didn’t doubt the apology was sincere. But she also didn’t want to open herself for any more pain from this man. While she might have fantasized about a relationship with him for a few brief moments when he’d kissed her, she knew it was just that. A fantasy. She had to live in the real world. And in the real world, a man like Michael Sullivan would always see her for what she was—a woman who had allowed herself to be bought and used by a rich, ruthless man.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. He jammed a fist through his dark hair. “I don’t think of you that way. I never would. It’s just that I get a little nuts whenever I think of you with that creep.”
“I hope you’re not expecting me to say that I regret marrying him. Because I don’t, and I never will—not when it’s the reason I have Timmy.”
Michael said nothing, simply stood there with a frustrated expression on his face and a stormy look in his eyes.
Completely drained, she said, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.”
Lily took her time in the bathroom. The soak in the tub helped to ease some of the tense muscles in her shoulders and neck brought on by the harrowing day. Unfortunately, it did nothing to ease the ache in her heart. Remembering her embarrassment that morning when Michael had seen her in her nightgown, she opted to use the oversize T-shirt as a nightshirt. But now that she had the thing on, she saw that it hit her midthigh. She questioned the wisdom of her decision—especially since it looked as if she and Michael would have to share a bed. Bracing herself, she exited the bathroom and found him staring out the window. “It’s all yours,” she told him.
“Thanks,” he said, and Lily noted how he averted his eyes as he moved past her to the bathroom.
Although it was past eleven o’clock at night, the streets below were packed, and when she saw a crowd gathered round a musician, she unlocked the window and pushed it open. Immediately the lonely wail of a sax filtered through the merriment and drifted up to her. Lily couldn’t help thinking of her life, all that had happened and what still lay ahead. And at the sound of the shower being turned on, she wondered how she was going to get through the night.
Fifteen
Michael stood under the cold shower, closed his eyes and tried to erase the image of Lily as she had exited the bathroom with her skin all flushed f
rom her bath, her hair damp at the ends, her legs so silky and smooth. He’d caught one whiff of her scent—that combination of peaches and soap and sunshine—and he’d wanted to kiss her so badly he’d ached. He’d wanted to do more than just kiss her, he admitted. He’d wanted to sweep her up into his arms, carry her to the bed and make love to her until that sad bruised look in her green eyes disappeared.
And because he’d wanted her so badly, he had opted for a cold shower instead. Damn! How had he managed to let her get under his skin this way? If only half of what Travis had told him turned out to be true, Lily and Timmy were in even greater danger than he’d thought. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions get in the way. He’d made that mistake once before.
Now here he was doing the same thing all over again. Only with Lily it was ten times—no, a hundred times worse. She was a woman he was attracted to and he wanted her so much he could hardly breathe.
And if you don’t start thinking like a cop instead of a man, you could get her killed.
The reminder sobered him. He shut off the shower, dried off and slipped his jeans back on, not bothering with a shirt. Exiting the bathroom, he felt more in control than he had in days. Until he saw Lily.
She stood at the window with her elbows propped up on the ledge, her hands clasped together as though in prayer, her head resting atop them. She’d opened the window and a light breeze ruffled her honey-colored hair. But she didn’t seem to notice. She simply tapped her foot in tune with the music that was playing on the street below. When she lifted up on her toes and leaned over to peer at something below, the hem of the green nightshirt rose with the movement, revealing even more of those long silken legs.
He must have made some sound, because she turned her head and looked at him. “It looks like they’re having a party,” she said.
“Yeah. We probably should close the window or that music will keep us up all night.”
“Right,” she said, and when she reached out to grab the window arm to pull it in, up went the shirt again.
“I’ll get it,” Michael told her, yanking it closed. He paused a moment. “Listen, about that crack earlier, I really am sorry.”
“I know,” she whispered.
Fearful that if she kept looking up at him out of those big green eyes, he was going to kiss her, Michael said, “Why don’t you go ahead and take the bed.”
“But where are you going to sleep?”
“I’ll pull those two chairs together and sack out on them. I got some blankets and a couple of extra pillows out of the closet while you were in the tub. I’ll be fine. You go on to bed.”
She looked over at the sitting area and back at him. “Those chairs don’t look very comfortable. And I think there’s at least a foot too much of you to fit.” She whooshed out a breath. “Listen, it’s a big bed, and we’re both adults.”
“Lily, if I get in that bed with you, it won’t be to sleep,” he told her honestly, watching her eyes widen. He could see she was both tempted and afraid. “That’s what I thought. Go to bed, Lily. I’ll be fine. Like you said, tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
And tonight was going to be even longer—for him.
While she climbed into the big bed, Michael pulled the chairs together and tried to make his long frame comfortable. When after thirty minutes it wasn’t working, he tossed the blankets and pillows onto the floor and tried to sleep there.
But every time he closed his eyes, he could see Lily, remember how she had tasted when he’d kissed her. Annoyed with himself and even more annoyed by the fact that just thinking about her had him hard and aching, he punched the pillow and tried counting sheep.
It didn’t work. Nothing was working, he finally admitted, and sat up. A look at his watch told him it was well past midnight. He debated whether to take another shower or to just take a walk and see if he couldn’t burn off some of this sexual tension.
“Michael?” Lily’s voice called out.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” she said, and sat up in the bed. “I couldn’t sleep, either.”
Since they hadn’t closed the drapes, there was just enough light coming in from outside so that he could see her face. In the soft light, her hair looked as if it had been painted with fairy dust and her skin looked luminescent. Her features were so perfect, they could have been sculpted in ivory, Michael thought. Her mouth—that mouth that he’d been longing to taste again all evening—was the color of a ripe peach. And the eyes that had haunted him from the first time he had seen them stared at him now with such longing, he nearly groaned. “Try to go back to sleep,” he told her as he got up, intent on getting dressed and going out for a long run—anything to get his thoughts off her.
“Where are you going?”
“To take a walk, get some air.”
“Is that really what you want to do?”
Michael pulled a T-shirt over his head, then looked at her. “No, it’s not what I want to do. What I want to do is make love with you. But—”
“It’s what I want, too.”
Michael froze. A stunned look spread across his handsome face. Mortified that she’d shocked him by being so brazen, Lily wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hide her face. Never before had she been so forward—not even with Adam—especially not with Adam. But never before had she truly felt this ache for a man’s touch. No, not any man’s touch, she admitted. Michael’s touch.
He walked toward the bed and with each step he took, her heart pounded. When he stopped beside the bed and looked at her, she braced herself for his rejection.
“You want to say that again,” he said, his voice so low Lily had to strain to hear the words. But she had no trouble seeing the heat that had turned his eyes to the color of steel.
Her pulse jumped. That jittery feeling in her belly spread, moved lower. She swallowed. “I said that I want you to make love to me.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and pulled back the covers.
Slowly he stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. He was magnificent, she thought as she took in the wide shoulders, the swirl of dark hair that ran down his chest and formed an arrow that disappeared beneath his jeans. With a brazenness that should have shocked her, she never took her eyes off Michael for a second. She simply sat there and watched with fascination as he unfastened his jeans, lowered the zipper. Excitement and anticipation churned in her veins as he shed his jeans and kicked them aside, along with his briefs. In that moment, Lily wished she were a painter or a sculptor so that she could capture him on canvas or in clay. “Tell me what you want, Lily.”
“You,” she told him because it was true. “I want you to make love to me.”
“No,” he said, making her heart stop for a moment, but then he joined her on the bed. “I won’t make love to you, but I will make love with you. If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she murmured, opening her arms to him.
She wasn’t an innocent. She’d been married for seven years, had given birth to a child. She knew what sex was, knew the mating ritual of joining her body with a man’s. And she thought she knew what to expect.
She hadn’t expected the slow, oh-so-slow kisses. Nor had she expected Michael to go on kissing her—first her eyes, then her cheeks, her chin. He kissed her mouth again. More sweet, long kisses at the corner of her mouth, to her lower lip. Kisses that started a fire in her belly and had her sliding her fingers in his hair to bring him closer.
“Open for me, Lily,” he murmured, then traced the seam of her mouth with his tongue. She parted her lips, and he took the kiss deeper. His tongue danced with hers, mated, giving her a glimpse of what was to come.
When he broke off the kiss, she whimpered. She hadn’t wanted it to end so soon, but she knew that the kissing and cuddling didn’t bring the same pleasure to a man as it did to a woman. Still, the kissing had been worth it, she thought. Sitting up, she removed her nights
hirt and dropped it to the floor. Then she lay down and waited for Michael to begin squeezing her breasts and thrusting himself into her.
“Lily, what’s wrong?”
She snapped her eyes open, found Michael looking down at her, a worried frown creasing his forehead. “Nothing. Why?” she asked, wondering what she’d done wrong, why he wasn’t touching her.
He stared at her so intently, she felt as though he was trying to see inside her. “If you’ve changed your mind and want me to stop, you can tell me. I’m not saying I’ll be thrilled about it, because right now—I want you more than I want my next breath. But not if you don’t want me.”
“But I do want you. Why would you think I didn’t?”
“Because all of a sudden you looked like you were on your way to the guillotine.”
“Oh, Michael. No,” she said, stunned. She cupped his face in her hands, his beautiful face with the stubble darkening his cheeks and jaw. “That’s not how I feel at all. It’s just that I was enjoying the kissing so much, I didn’t want it to end. But I know it’s different for you. I mean, I know kissing doesn’t bring a man the same pleasure. It’s all right. We can make love now.”
“Where in the devil did you ever get an idea like that?” he asked, and immediately said, “Never mind.” He let out a deep sigh. “Listen, I like kissing you. In fact, I like it so much I think I could easily become addicted to it. And if you think I didn’t enjoy kissing you just now, you’re crazy.”
Her heart seemed to swell in her chest. Afraid she might blubber if she tried to say anything, she threw her arms around him and hugged him.