Betrayed by a Kiss

by Kris Rafferty

  Dane wondered if Marnie was getting cold feet. Very little was tethering her here. He’d probably blown any infatuation she might have had with his ham-fisted seduction in the kitchen. Getting to know a guy went a long way to dispelling infatuation, too, and Dane was no knight in shining armor. Alice would have been the first to agree.

  “I don’t doubt it. You’re a thorough and tenacious investigator.” She turned her face toward the window. The rising sun bathed it with warm colors, showcasing her strong bone structure and hiding her exhaustion. She was beautiful in a way that made him want to stare. And she caught him. “I want to apologize.” She lifted her coffee cup and showed disappointment when it reached her lips empty. Replacing it on the floor, she nudged it about nervously. “When we kissed the other night—”

  “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what she was going to say, but I’m sorry seemed to fix a myriad of things when it came to women, so he threw it out there and hoped for the best.

  “Okay. We can both be sorry, but let me get this out.” Her sheepish expression confused him. “We both know I enjoyed the hell out of that kiss.” They did? “But it’s still a bad idea. Us. Our shelf life going into this heist is short.” Shelf life? “And I have to protect myself. Do you understand?”

  No, he hadn’t a clue. She might as well have been speaking Greek, but she was looking at his lips as if she were remembering their kiss, and he understood that. He made as if to stand, teetering on the brink of leaving to prevent a fuckup, then sat back down. This whole thing was getting ridiculous. It was just a kiss. “I get it. You’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me.”

  She laughed from the belly, leaned back with all her weight onto her palm, which rested on a file that slipped out from under her. She fell onto her back, prompting her to laugh louder. She lay laughing on files that represented a year and a half of painstaking, single-minded, obsessive hunting for Alice’s killer.

  He enjoyed the hell out of her. It was the first time he’d smiled in this room of misery. Gratitude and hope hit him hard. She made him feel like anything was possible, that she was on the level, that maybe he had found someone who would help him rather than hurt his family.

  When she calmed, wiped the worst of the tears from her cheeks, she lay there smiling. He lowered himself onto his elbow next to her. “I’ll take that as a no.”

  She chuckled again. “Oh, I could fall in love with you, MacLain. Easily. That’s not what I’m afraid of.”

  “Then what?” The moment was surreal. They were just two people, trying to connect. He couldn’t remember the last time that happened. Maybe in high school. No. It was all about sex then. College, maybe, though sex had a lot to do with that, too.

  “You don’t know me,” she said. “You don’t want to, really, because then you’ll have to deal with how I fit into what happened to you.” She sobered, and so did he, because she was right. He hadn’t pointed that fact out, but it rode him hard. She came from the company that had ruined him. Killed Alice.

  Sitting up, she indicated the files with her hand. “Whitman Enterprises. It was my job to give you and your family up to them. Every sound bite, every move you made, I reported up the chain of command. I didn’t know it was because they wanted a way to get rid of you. I didn’t know it would lead to you having to run to this farmhouse with your family—what’s left of your family.” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t know, but it happened. There’s no coming back from that. So falling in love with you would be just my style.”

  Marnie Somerville wasn’t a big fan of Marnie Somerville. It made him want to defend her and point out all the things she’d done right in the last few days, but he didn’t trust the instinct. He didn’t trust his opinion of her yet.

  She raked her hair off her face and threw its length down her back. “Get what you need from me, MacLain, and then say good-bye.”

  There she was again, trying to save him. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s what we tell ourselves.” She arched a brow. “These people, Whitman Enterprises, they’re ruthless. Smart. They’ve been doing this a long time. When I broke into his office…let’s just say I never would have been that sloppy if I’d been doing a grift.” She poked her finger into his chest, and he felt its tip burrow just above his heart. “And I can see myself getting sloppy with you.” She looked him up and down and made no attempt to hide her appreciation for what she saw. “You’re sexy as hell, and when you touch me, I stop thinking. You’d be doing both of us a favor by remembering I’m a thin veil away from being a bad guy. You need to keep your distance, MacLain.”

  He believed her, but Dane’s expectations of people had narrowed since Alice’s death. “Are you with me or against me, Marnie?”

  “With you.” He hoped that was true. Really hoped.

  “Then everything else is best left for contemplating over a beer after the fact.” Marnie was on his side. He believed her. If only for now. And he didn’t have the energy to judge her, a person trying to make restitution, when so many had sinned against him and felt no shame, when he’d been ruthless in his pursuit of what he thought was right.

  “MacLain—” She held up her hand and then stopped herself from saying whatever else she’d been about to spill.

  “You’re asking me to be smart,” he said, “to play it safe. I hear you. Consider it done.” He owed himself to be wary of her, and he owed his family that consideration.

  She nodded. “So we agree.”

  “What do we agree?” She was so damn adorable.

  She swallowed hard. He could see her trying to pretend a nonchalance she couldn’t quite pull off. “The kiss was a bad idea.”

  He shook his head, leaning closer, his face inches from hers. Her blush rapidly moved from her chest to her cheeks, and she was biting her lip. “That kiss,” he said, “was inevitable.”

  Slowly, so as not to make her feel she had no choice, Dane pressed his lips to hers. Instead of balking, Marnie opened her mouth for him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  At first he felt satisfaction. He’d breached her defenses. Then something strange happened. It was as if time stopped, and her lips on his was the only concern in his world. There was only Marnie and this kiss. When he lifted his head, he saw the uncertainty in her eyes and knew it mirrored his own. He should back off. If it mattered too much, it might be dangerous.

  Then she pulled him back to her, kissing him with passion, demanding he keep pace. She pulled him to the floor, rolled him onto his back, and with a flurry of paperwork scattering this way and that, straddled him, sitting on his arousal. What she was thinking was beyond him. He recognized she needed something, but the pleasure she was giving rattled him. It was hard to think when he was trying to remain still and not rock his hips against her, especially since he really, really wanted to do that.

  He promised himself he’d learned his lesson from the kitchen. Take it slow. Allow her to dictate the next move. He caressed her thighs and waited, keeping it PG. He didn’t want to spook her.

  It didn’t take long to see the flaw to his plan. She was killing him, moving on top of him, licking her lips, watching how her movements were driving him wild. He was shaking with the effort to keep his passion in check when all he wanted to do was strip her naked and take her in the morning sunlight. Then she fell on him and kissed him, moaning into his mouth.

  He loved touching her breasts, her gasp of pleasure, then forced himself to rein it in and hold her hips, position her and take it slow. PG, MacLain, PG. Marnie had other plans. She pulled his hands back to her breasts, covering his hands as he cupped her. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her breath was shallow as she returned his kisses, moving against him.

  When he slipped his hands up under her shirt, it happened without thinking. When he drew them down into her pants, clutching her ass, he was just as surprised as she. He knew exactly what he was doing, however, when he moved his arousal against her softness. He felt adrenaline rush as he swallowed her moan
s with an ever-deepening kiss. She was his to command, but he’d never felt more of a servant.

  A door opened and slammed downstairs. She startled, froze, and then rolled off him, on her back, staring at the ceiling. Both were breathing hard, hanging from a precipice neither wanted to abandon. Dane’s erection was pressing so hard against his zipper he had to shift himself to stave off pain. Marnie had her palms pressing against her eyes, as if hiding from the truth. They wanted each other, and neither had the confidence or self-control necessary to go for it.

  “At least this time no one walked in.” Marnie drew her hands down her face, as if trying to erase the evidence of emotion. She sat, indicating the files. “In a few days, we’ll have destroyed Whitman Enterprises, Alice’s murderer will be caught—”

  He didn’t want to think about that now. He wanted her in his arms. She was leaning away from him again. What had he done? No, he hadn’t done anything. It was the door slamming downstairs. A reminder of others in the house, or a reminder of what was at stake? That had to be it. She humbled him, thinking of duty whereas he was only thinking of gratifying his appetite for her.

  “—or we’ll be dead,” she said. He saw her fear.

  “That’s not how this will end.” They were risking a lot by breaking into the building, but the rewards were worth it. “We’re getting our lives back. Once we have those files, there won’t be anyone trying to hurt us.”

  “You, maybe.” Marnie chuckled. “When you say things like that, it shows you really don’t know me. But you will.” He didn’t see the joke, and then he saw her eyes. She wasn’t joking.

  He sat, adjusting himself again so he could accommodate the restriction of his pants. She’d wrapped her arms around her knees and was glaring at the files. Lips swollen, hair mussed, she was so damn attractive.

  “Over the course of the next few days,” Marnie said, “you’re going to see exactly who I need to be, exactly who I am. It will be unavoidable. And every time I look at you, I’ll see it reflect back at me. The person I don’t want to be, who I promised myself I’d never be again.”

  He didn’t understand why she should care. “Bring it on.”

  “I’m trying to explain,” she said.

  “Explain what?”

  “Why this”—she indicated between them—“isn’t happening.”

  “Breakfast is ready!” Harper yelled up the stairs.

  Marnie pushed to her feet. “That woman will get me fat. All she does is feed me.”

  “Marnie.” It felt like she was breaking up with him before he even got to date her.

  She paused at the door. “I’m hungry, and we’ve put Harper off long enough. She deserves to have her questions answered.” She disappeared downstairs.

  Dane surveyed the empty room, confused. He could smell pancakes and syrup in the air, and his stomach growled, but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere until his body was under control. He opened the window a crack, grateful for the cool breeze. Manila files were all over the floor, scattered by their making out. He’d always kept this room meticulously neat, needing an organized environment to help keep his mind organized. Now it looked as if a bomb had gone off. Marnie. She was a time bomb, as he’d suspected. She’d exploded onto the scene, opening his eyes to a shit load of possibilities.

  He gathered up the scattered files and papers, saw there was no semblance of order after all. She had concentrated on Whitman Enterprises files, but there was nothing out to give him any idea of what she was looking for. There was one file off to the side. It had no business being in this room, but he kept it here to keep track of it. It was Alice’s file. It contained her birth certificate, their marriage certificate, photos he’d taken from frames that had hung in their old house, and various pieces of paper and souvenirs she’d kept in her desk drawer. It was thick. Alice had saved every card he’d ever given her when their marriage had been good. The cards stopped a few years ago when she decided she didn’t love him anymore. He put the file back in its box, wondering what Marnie had made of it, trying to see it through her eyes.

  Dane kept it handy because it reminded him of what was at stake: someone had kidnapped his family, killed his wife, and they were still out there. None of them were safe.

  …

  Marnie didn’t realize she was shaking until she reached the kitchen and nearly spilled hot coffee on herself. Harper noticed. Sitting at the kitchen table, pretending she wasn’t a raw nerve, Marnie mumbled, “Thank you,” when Harper slid a plate of bacon, eggs, and pancakes in front of her. Her mouth watered as she dug in. It was weird being taken care of.

  “Morning, Harper.” MacLain stepped into the kitchen without so much as a glance at Marnie. He thanked his sister when she slid the same plate, equal portions, in front of him.

  Fearing small talk, Marnie jumped right in. “Harper, your brother and I have to leave here to do what has to be done. Your job is to stay out of sight with Elizabeth. Here.”

  “So this is it, huh?” Harper seemed excited, if a bit nervous. “Do you two feel ready? When will it be over?”

  “We will be.” MacLain winked at his sister. “And we’ll be gone for a few days, maybe, not much longer.”

  “Good, good.” Harper nodded, biting her lip. “I’m nervous. I’m having a hard time believing this will be over. I mean, almost. No more worrying. Have you told Joe?”

  “I know what you mean,” MacLain said. “But it’s a problem I don’t mind having. And no. I don’t want Joe involved. It puts him at risk, and he’s risked enough for us. Don’t you think?” Harper nodded, but she didn’t look convinced.

  Marnie chewed on the syrupy pancakes, enjoying this part of the whole family dynamic thing. Via Skype, she’d found it riveting. In person, it was warmer. Like a hug.

  “You’re magic, Harper.” Marnie did her best to show how much she was enjoying the food. Harper deserved it. The woman was tireless in her pursuit of caretaking whoever was within reach. “This is delicious.” Using her fork, she indicated the kitchen. “This is a shit hole, but you make it into a home just by being here. Like magic. I can’t do that.” She frowned at MacLain. “Can you do that? I don’t think so. You’re a cop. You don’t care about sheets or dust. Or pancakes. But you”—Marnie pointed with her fork at Harper—“you do. Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone made me food.”

  “Why, thank you, Marnie.” Harper gave a delicate laugh and exchanged a glance with Dane. Marnie realized she’d been caught being odd. Shit.

  MacLain, the bastard, was trying not to smile. “If you have questions,” he said, “now’s the time to ask us, Harper.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking—” Harper glanced at MacLain, who nodded. “Who are you, Marnie?”

  “A computer geek,” he said. And then smirked at his food.

  She ignored him. “I worked at Whitman Enterprises as a private investigator of sorts.”

  “Where do you come from?” Harper seemed tentative, afraid of upsetting her.

  “Manchester. Mom lives in New Hampshire, so it tethers me here.” Marnie pushed her empty plate away. That was the thing about Harper’s cooking—it was always so good, you finished your plate. Marnie was stuffed.

  “But what makes you so special?” Harper said. MacLain carefully placed his coffee mug on the table, looking like he was about to run interference. Marnie thought it sweet, if extremely unnecessary. This was Harper, after all. “That came out wrong. I mean, why does Dane need you? Dane never needs anyone.”

  There was no mistaking Harper thought the world of her brother, and why wouldn’t she? MacLain was the real deal. But to think he was some superman, capable of going up against WE without assistance, bespoke a blindness of allegiance Marnie was incapable of understanding. She envied that level of faith in another human being. Kind of. It required an innocence that was not survivable in Marnie’s world, a shielding from hardship that would have made most of Marnie’s experiences impossible. Harper wore it well, though, and shone with it
like a new penny.

  “I know people,” Marnie said. “And our skill sets are different. Your brother could get into the building without me, but once inside, he needs me to access the files.”

  “Dane knows people. Powerful people—cops, the FBI. He could find another computer geek. Maybe do this the right way.” Harper glanced between her brother and Marnie, as if trying to find a truth that wasn’t there. “The legal way.”

  “The legal way hasn’t worked for any of you. They have rules. Split loyalties.” Marnie shrugged. “I don’t, and neither does Alice’s killer, or Whitman, for that matter.” She glanced at MacLain, wondering if she’d revealed too much of her shady past. He sipped his coffee, giving no indication anything was amiss.

  “It takes a killer to catch a killer?” Harper said it so innocently, it was hard to take offense, but…

  Ouch. Harper thought Marnie was a killer. “I don’t kill people.” She put her cup down.

  “I’m lucky to have found her.” MacLain covered Marnie’s hand and insisted she meet his gaze. He was reassuring them all. His family. Marnie. She was no longer looking in from the outside, and it felt like an awesome responsibility.

  Harper noted their clasped hands and nodded. “Good. You need anything from me, anything…just say what and I’ll do it. You say jump, I’ll ask how high.” She bent and kissed Marnie’s cheek, resting her hand on her shoulder when she straightened up. “We can do this.”

  Marnie didn’t know how to process all this loving acceptance. When Harper left the room in search of Elizabeth, she turned to MacLain. “She likes to touch.” Marnie could still feel Harper’s hand on her shoulder, though the delicate touch barely lingered long enough to convey warmth. “You all do.”

  “My sister is kind, capable, loyal to a fault, and incredibly smart. She likes you. You’re a lucky woman.” He sipped from his coffee mug again, keeping his hand on hers. Marnie’s was beginning to sweat, but she found she had no urge to pull her hand away. His touch comforted her, gave her courage. False courage, probably, but she’d take what she could get.