Desire on Deadline

by Lucy Lakestone

  “Not now. But I’ll file a report in the morning. About the boat, too.”

  “Maybe that’s how they found you,” Alden said.

  She looked at him, and he noted her color seemed much better, her voice steadier. “What do you mean?”

  “If the guys who shot at us this morning got the registration number off your boat, there would be ways to track down the registrant.”

  “But my name wouldn’t be on the record. Oh, God, would they go after my mom?”

  “They didn’t,” Alden said reassuringly. “They made the connection with you for a reason. If they knew it was your family’s boat, it would be easy enough to find out about your connection to the Gazette. You’re the editor. You were the target. The first time, they might not have known who you were — ”

  “But this time, the bastards knew exactly who I was.” She shook her head. “But why? Again, why? What am I doing that’s pissing somebody off? And they almost — they almost kidnapped me.”

  She shuddered, and Alden shifted closer to her, sliding an arm around her shoulders.

  “It’s scary as hell,” he said, “but we’ll tell the police, and we’ll figure it out. It may be they just wanted to scare you off something you’re writing.”

  “There are other ways to scare somebody, Alden.” Her eyes were wide, gold flecked with green, as her gaze caught his. “They — they wanted to kill me.”

  “Shhh,” he said, holding her closer, and she rested her head on his shoulder again. Even as his body responded to her warmth, fury boiled up within him at the thought that anyone would try to harm her.

  For what? What was in her stories that had someone scared or angry enough to kill? After all, he was more likely to piss people off with his gossip pieces.

  Or maybe it was just Roz’s and his presence this morning in the gulf, when they didn’t even know what they were looking for. The shooters, whoever they were, had seen them and deemed them a threat. Once they figured out Roz was connected with the newspaper, they must have decided she had to be eliminated.

  “You’re squeezing me pretty hard, Alden,” Roz said in an amused voice.

  “Sorry.” He eased his grip and caressed her shoulder. “Just thinking about why someone would do this to you. There must have been something at the accident scene we weren’t supposed to see.”

  “Oh, shit! That reminds me.”

  “What?”

  Roz wriggled as she reached into her pocket. Her movement against his thigh shot an arcing lightning bolt right to his groin.

  “I have this.” She held up a tiny memory card. “From the camera. I haven’t tried to read it yet. It got wet, but these things have a reputation for surviving a lot.”

  “Do you mind if we look at it?”

  “Do I mind? Oh, because you’re the competition?” She paused, as if she were coming to a decision. “At this point, Alden, I’m happy to share, as long as I don’t put you in danger.”

  “Nice of you,” he said. “Relax. I’ll get my laptop.”

  He retrieved the computer and a card reader, which he plugged into the USB port. Roz slipped the SD card into the slot, and after a few seconds of suspense, the photo program pulled up rows of thumbnails.

  Roz exhaled, and Alden smiled.

  The small images didn’t show much, but Alden hit the import button and let it work so they would be able to see the larger pictures.

  Roz made a strange sound, and Alden turned to see her clutching her belly.

  “Did they punch you in the stomach, too? Are you OK?”

  She gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m just hungry.”

  “Me, too. Bourbon, it turns out, does not provide adequate nutrition, even excellent bourbon.”

  “Should I ask?” Roz said.

  “It was all for journalism,” Alden said. “I’ll order a pizza.”

  ≈≈≈

  As they waited for the pizza — which Alden explained was coming all the way from his favorite Italian joint in Naples — they looked at the imported photos. There weren’t that many, and Roz’s flash had mostly glinted off unidentifiable pieces of debris. A few were obviously boat parts. There appeared to be pieces of cushion, plastic and netting, along with irregular shapes that, even with the flash, were a mystery.

  “And a lot of it probably sank,” said Roz, whose head was feeling much better after the infusion of root beer and the promise of dinner.

  “I thought the same thing,” Alden said. “No smoking gun, then.”

  She frowned as she scrolled to the last frame. “And this boat photo sucks.”

  “Hang on.” Alden adjusted a few settings, and they could see the shape of the boat that had pursued them more clearly. Still, it gave them no clue who it was.

  There was a knock, and Roz looked at the door nervously. Alden got up and peeked out the window first, opened the door and exchanged cash for a box of what appeared to be steaming, cheesy deliciousness as he opened it on his coffee table. The accompanying scent of garlic was heavenly.

  “Mmmm. I want to marry this pizza right now,” Roz said after savoring the first bite, which was as scrumptious as it smelled.

  “I just want to watch you eat it and make that noise again,” Alden teased, and she smacked his arm. He laughed. “No need to get violent.”

  “Maybe if I’d been a little more violent, I wouldn’t have been bashed in the head.”

  “Did you see them coming?”

  “No. Actually, I was looking at you.”

  “Oh.” Alden sounded sheepish. “Sorry. I guess I looked kind of like a stalker, didn’t I? But I assure you, I was just drunk.”

  “I’m glad you were watching me, or I might be — ” Roz paused, unwilling to contemplate what might have happened. She started shaking and put down the crust of the slice she’d just about polished off.

  Alden took one look at her, put down his slice and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close. He caressed her hair, and she was instantly distracted. And embarrassed.

  “Shhh,” he said in her ear. “You’re all right. And I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Her shaking eased after a minute under the influence of his body’s heat and the soothing sound of his voice. He felt so good.

  And this was so dangerous.

  Roz might be willing to work with Alden, but she didn’t need to hook up with him. A one-night stand would be awkward, and more — more would make it harder to leave Mimosa Key, which she wanted to do before the year was out.

  With effort, she pulled away from him.

  “Alden, I don’t expect you to rescue me ever again. I’ll be all right. Maybe it’ll be better when we file a police report on this. Jimbo will call in extra help from the county. At the very least, no one wants the VIPs at the resort to be any more alarmed than they already are.”

  Alden shrugged. “I can’t let something bad happen to you. I’m invested in you now. You’re my partner. Maybe my conscience.” He sported a mischievous smile, but there was something behind it, something a little sad.

  “Don’t you have your own conscience?”

  “It’s taken a beating,” he said simply, picking up his pizza.

  As they ate, they flipped through websites that had news about Boyd Bellamy and talked over the angles. Nobody had as much as they had — or as much as Alden had, she thought. Some of the gossip sites were already quoting his latest story.

  “Even the fishing company seems convinced the explosion was caused by a fuel leak,” Roz said. “I mean, they said they were still looking into it, but that was the subtext I got.”

  “You’d think they’d be avoiding any kind of conclusion at this point,” Alden replied. “Blaming God or lightning or a meteor from space, anything so that their customers wouldn’t see their boats as unsafe.”

  “Or maybe they just want this to go away as quickly as possible.”

  “What could be more damaging to their rep than shoddy safety?” Alden asked.

&nbs
p; “I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be interesting if it were a different kind of accident? My mom suggested I look into another possibility. It’s a real outside chance, but I thought it might make a story in and of itself. If you want, you can come with me tomorrow morning for the interview.”

  “What possibility?”

  “Unexploded munitions dumped into the gulf.”

  Alden lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a thing? And if so, how would it affect these guys? Did they have a submarine skimming the bottom?”

  “Maybe we’ll find out tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  “Good.” The idea of having company after tonight’s scare was reassuring. She yawned. What a hell of a day. “I’m pretty tired. Thanks for the pizza — and the rescue. I should go home.”

  “Hell, no.” Alden’s look was fierce. “If they know where you work, they know where you live. You can’t go home yet, at least not until we get the cops involved.”

  “But, Alden — ”

  “No ‘buts.’ ” He looked her over, and she saw something in his eyes, a flash of heat, and then an earnestness, protectiveness, even. She bit her lip at her own response, her body’s traitorous reaction. This was ridiculous. This wasn’t a big, strong man who existed for her protection. This was Alden Knox, obnoxious rival reporter.

  Who happened to be rather big and strong.

  “You’ll sleep in my bed,” he said gruffly. She raised her eyebrows. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Roz shook her head. “Just like in the movies? No need to be that gallant. I insist on the couch. I’ve put you out enough already.”

  “But — ”

  “No ‘buts,’ right?” She smiled. “Have a blanket and a pillow?”

  Emotions warred on his face, stirring her own, before he relented. “I’ll get them.”

  While Alden went to retrieve bedding, Roz went to the bathroom. Business accomplished, she examined her head in the mirror. There was a subtle bump and a slight ache, but it wasn’t too bad. She blamed fright as much as the attack for her fainting. She had the same reaction if she looked at the phlebotomist when she had blood drawn.

  She found some mouthwash and rinsed, then returned to the living room. Alden had spread sheets on the couch, along with a pillow and a quilt.

  “You know, you can still sleep in my bed,” Alden said, flirting again. “You wouldn’t even have to kick me out first.”

  “Ha ha,” said Roz, but his words gave her a rush as she imagined him next to her . . . above her . . . She shook off the image. “Wake me in the morning. We’ll have to get back to my car so we can drive to the interview. Where’s yours, anyway?”

  “Up at Casa Blanca.”

  “I’ll take you to it later, if that’s OK.”

  “Good idea,” Alden said. “My boss won’t appreciate it if you’re driving me to all my interviews.”

  Roz smiled. “This is a temporary truce.” She sat on the couch, pulled off her shoes and socks and looked up at him, at his handsome face, as tired as hers. She felt vulnerable. And grateful. “Thank you.”

  “See you in the morning,” he said softly, and went to his bedroom.

  She closed his laptop and turned off the light. Then she wriggled out of her jeans and removed her bra, more comfortable in just her shirt and underpants as she snuggled between the sheets and quilt, all too aware of the man in the next room.

  And the darkness. And the wind picking up, rushing through the trees, knocking branches against the windows. Hints of yellow street lights seeped through the blinds, and the world outside seemed very close and very scary as she slipped into restless sleep.

  ≈≈≈

  The strange cry woke Alden from a troubled slumber. It took a moment for him to get oriented. In his dream, he’d been on Roz’s boat, trying to drive them away from a man o’ war, an English frigate with billowing sails. It was firing cannons at them, all smoke and noise and hurtling projectiles.

  The sound stopped, and he sat up and remembered where he was and who was in his apartment.

  There was a shadow in the doorway of his bedroom.

  “Roz?”

  “Alden?”

  “Are you OK?”

  “Nightmares,” she said. “I thought someone was breaking in.”

  He slipped out of bed by the light of the clock — 2:24 a.m. — and padded over to her in his boxers, wincing at each touch of his bare, battered feet on the wooden floor. The cool air raised goose bumps on his naked torso.

  She was in his room.

  She was nervous, yes. But she was in his room.

  He tried not to assume what he couldn’t help but think. Want.

  “Come here,” he whispered, and he wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head against his chest with a shiver. “Must have been some dream.”

  “I’m not used to being scared,” Roz said.

  “It’s easier to pretend not to be.”

  “I’ll have to try it,” she said, the strain in her voice easing. He felt her warm breath against him and rubbed his hands across her back. Her skin was smooth through the soft cotton of her shirt. He became aware of her nude legs against his and realized she was in her underwear, with nothing under her shirt, and his body responded. He shifted, not wanting her to know how much he wanted her, not yet, and guided her toward the bed.

  “You’re safe,” he said. “It’s OK.”

  “Is it?” Roz faced him, looked up at him, and in the dim light, he saw her eyes were wide and moist and skeptical. But they held something else. Yearning. The same light he’d seen the other night after dinner, when she’d practically run away.

  She wasn’t running now.

  Alden cupped her chin with one hand, rubbed her cheek with his thumb and took a step closer until their bodies were touching. She had to feel his arousal through his boxers. She didn’t back away. The wind rushed through the trees outside in a wave of sound that made the night feel exquisitely alive.

  He leaned in and took her mouth with his.

  Roz sighed into his kiss, and he felt the thrill of her surrender to the moment. To him. She curved into his embrace like a willow in a breeze, and she slipped her arms around his waist. God, she tasted good, and that whiff of jasmine she carried with her wrapped him up in a gossamer cloud of heat and hormones and want. She opened her mouth to him, and he slipped his tongue inside, finding hers, tilting his head to capture her more fully.

  “Mmm,” she moaned into his mouth, stripping away his hesitation, and he spun them both toward the bed.

  They bounced sideways on the mattress and faced each other, still kissing, now more urgently. He moved to her neck, tonguing her skin, and tugged at her earlobe with his teeth. She stretched against him, moaning again, and the sound reverberated in his bones. He moved one hand to her knee and slid it slowly up the outside of her thigh as he kissed her clavicle. He tugged down her shirt a little so he could lick the curve of her breast. The tantalizing slope of her skin drew him further, drove him wild.

  It wasn’t enough. He had to get it off.

  Roz was ahead of him. She pulled the shirt over her head, threw it to the floor, and he saw her, beautiful in the blue glow of the clock and the scant yellow light filtering around the blinds. Her pale breasts were full, the nipples dark and erect. He reached out to cup one globe, then the other, reveling in the feel of her in his hands, admiring her. He bent over her, laved one perfect peak and began to suck.

  “Alden,” she sighed, running her fingers through his hair.

  He cupped her ass with his other hand and pulled her into him so she could feel how much he wanted her, to test how far she wanted to go. She hooked one leg over him as he kissed her mouth again. His hard-on stretched the fabric of his shorts, pressed against her underwear, slid against her mound.

  “God.” He was a volcano about to explode. He lowered his head and tugged at one nipple with his teeth. She gasped. And he began to slide off her panties.

&
nbsp; “I’m not sure,” she whispered, even as she clutched his shoulders.

  “Trust me.”

  He used both hands to pull them off and slowly kissed his way down her belly, rounded and silky under his lips. He popped the panties over her feet, tossed them, and held her sweet naked behind with both hands. He kissed his way up her thighs, and she arched, her hands back in his hair.

  He licked her nub.

  Roz made a desperate sound as he licked again, as he lapped at her slit and swirled his tongue around her most sensitive spot, feeling her tremble, a different kind of trembling from earlier. She lifted her hips to meet him. He spelled the alphabet with his tongue, and then he spelled out her name with deft movements, over and over, until she cried out and bucked against him, clutching him as she came apart. To see her lose control under his command, to watch her icy edges melt into a pool of fire, was almost enough to make him come.

  Alden licked her again for good measure, savoring her taste, then gently kissed her thigh. She was breathing hard, clutching him, and whimpered again. He moved up against her body, cupping her breasts, kissing her mouth so she could taste herself on his tongue.

  He was so hard, so ready that when she slipped her hand inside his shorts and wrapped her fingers around his cock, he almost spent himself right then.

  Roz pushed him onto his back and slid off his shorts. He watched her as she grasped him again.

  She was stunning. Her long hair fell over one shoulder and brushed his chest as she leaned over him; her breasts were pendulous silhouettes, and he couldn’t help touching them one more time.

  “Hmmm,” she murmured, straddling him. She rubbed her fingers lightly through the moisture at the tip of his shaft, then slid them up and down in a delicate, deliberate rhythm that became stronger, faster, until it was all he could do not to shout. The tension winding up in his groin snapped and shattered, and he gushed around her hand with a groan.

  She looked into his eyes and smiled.

  And bent close and kissed him.

  Alden wrapped his arms around her and rolled her onto her back and kissed her and kissed her again, burning to meld with her, to claim her, until they collapsed against the pillows, body to body, hot, exhausted. But this would have to be enough, for now. It had been so much more than he’d ever expected.