Beyond Danger

by Kat Martin

  Half an hour later, he was beginning to get antsy, pacing in front of the living room windows, tempted to pour himself a drink. On the other side of the glass, underwater lights illuminated the clear blue water of the swimming pool, which he usually found soothing.

  Tonight he had too much on his mind.

  He turned at the click of high heels on the hardwood floor, spotted Cassidy walking down the hall in the short black cocktail dress with the floaty little skirt he had seen hanging in the guest-house closet. Thick dark curls bobbed against her shoulders, making him want to grab a fistful and drag her mouth to his for a deep, burning kiss.

  The bandage on her skinned knee had him frowning, but the cleavage displayed by the neckline and those fuck-me heels had his blood running hot. Grateful he was wearing a jacket that helped hide the bulge beneath his zipper, he smiled and started toward her.

  “You look gorgeous.” He bent and pressed a soft kiss on her lips and they parted in invitation. Beau deepened the kiss, taking his time, enjoying the rush of heat. Just as he was settling in, Cassidy pulled away.

  “I’m starving,” she said. “Looks like you’re ready to go.”

  He was ready, all right. But not for supper. He sighed as she took his arm and they started for the car parked in the garage. Her soft breasts brushed his chest and he realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

  Beau slammed to a halt. “You’re wearing your little black dress. What are you wearing underneath?”

  She grinned wickedly. “I bet you can guess.”

  “Jesus. Seriously?”

  She took his arm again and urged him toward the door. “As serious as a heart attack, honey.”

  “Which is what you’re going to give me if I have to sit through dinner imagining you across the table without anything under your skirt.”

  She laughed. “It was your idea.”

  For which he could kick himself right now. He smiled. Later, however, it would certainly make things interesting.

  They reached the door to the garage. When he opened it, a low light came on, dimly illuminating the interior.

  “You have the cleanest garage I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Not a spec of dirt on the floor, not a trace of oil or gasoline. How many times a week does somebody clean it?”

  “My handyman washes the cars and keeps the garage clean. Vehicles like these deserve to be treated with care.”

  She laughed. “That’s right, you think they’re human. I forgot. So where are we going for dinner?”

  He pressed a button and the doors on the Lambo began to slide up. “A place called Antoine’s. It’s a little ways out of town, but the food’s worth the drive.”

  He helped her settle into the car, her dress riding up just inches from a glimpse of heaven. Inwardly he groaned. At this rate, it was going to be the longest evening of his life.

  Beau backed the sports car out of the garage, drove down the driveway and turned onto the street, heading for the little French restaurant owned by a friend.

  Antoine De la Croix ran one of the best restaurants in the Dallas area. Antoine’s was intimate, with only fifteen tables, white linen tablecloths and fresh flowers on each one.

  “It’s lovely,” Cassidy said as he guided her through the door. Pale amber lighting lent a soft glow to the dining room, and French music played softly in the background.

  “Beaumont, mon ami!” Antoine, a big, burly, bearded Frenchman, was a racing fan. Beau couldn’t remember exactly how they had met, but it had something to do with the classic Bugatti that was Antoine’s pride and joy.

  He clapped Beau hard on the shoulder. “It is good to see you, my friend. It has been far too long.”

  “Yes, it has,” Beau agreed. He didn’t come here often. It was a place he brought only his closest friends. It occurred to him he had only brought one other woman, a lady stockbroker he had dated, a woman he still admired and respected.

  “Antoine, I’d like you to meet my friend Cassidy Jones.”

  Antoine, in his usual overblown manner, took her hand and kissed the back. “Such a beautiful woman. It is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Jones. My friend’s taste in women is as excellent as his taste in automobiles. Come. I have saved for you the best table in the house.”

  He led them to a quiet corner. Beau seated Cassidy, then took a seat across from her.

  The big Frenchman beamed. “Perhaps you should let Antoine make the selections tonight so that you will not be disturbed. I promise, my friends, you will not be disappointed.”

  Beau looked at Cassidy, who smiled. “That sounds wonderful.”

  “You heard the lady,” Beau said. “Looks like tonight it’s up to you.”

  Antoine shot him a devilish grin, then turned to one of the waiters and snapped his fingers. “Champagne! The best in the house for my friend and his lady!”

  Antoine strode off and Beau smiled at Cassidy. “He can be a little overdramatic, but he’s a good guy, and his chef is one of the best in Dallas.”

  “I’m looking forward to his selections.” She tossed him a glance from beneath her thick lashes. “I just hope they won’t be too filling.”

  Beau silently groaned. There was no mistaking her meaning or the challenge in those big green eyes. “You are trying to kill me.”

  “Not at the moment.” She grinned. “I can’t promise what might happen later.”

  He felt like tossing down his napkin and dragging her out of there right now. Instead, he forced himself to smile. “If you don’t behave, this is going to be the shortest dinner in history.”

  Cassidy laughed. “I’ll behave . . . for now.”

  God, he liked this woman. She gave as good as she got and never backed down.

  For the next two hours, they drank champagne and ate some of the most incredible French food he’d ever tasted—though both of them were careful not to eat too much.

  They skipped dessert, which Antoine pouted about, but Beau had been aroused for most of the evening and enough was enough.

  He drove Cassidy back to the house, wishing he could just pull over somewhere and satisfy the hunger they both were feeling; would have if the weather had been warmer.

  As it was, he drove into the garage and closed the door, rounded the car to help Cassidy out. Her skirt slid up just to torture him. He set a hand at her waist and urged her toward the house just as her phone began to ring.

  She cast him a glance. Both of them knew it might be important. Cassidy dug her cell out of her little black purse and pressed it against her ear, started nodding and talking.

  “Okay, yes . . . that would be great, Jase.”

  Jase. The big, overprotective cowboy who worked in her office. Irritation rolled through him.

  “I’ll be in tomorrow,” Cassidy said. “We can talk about it then.” She laughed at something Jase said, and Beau’s irritation grew. “Okay, fine, I’ll buy lunch. See you tomorrow.”

  Lunch? No way.

  Cassidy ended the call, stuck the phone back in her purse, and looked up at him. “I left a message on Jase’s phone before we left. He’s going to make a few calls, see what he can find out about Vaughn that might be useful.”

  “And then the two of you are going to lunch,” Beau said darkly.

  “I told him if he found something, I’d buy him lunch. It’s no big deal.”

  “Is that so?” He barely recognized the emotion sliding through him as jealousy, but it made him angry and hot all at once. Cassidy squeaked as he dragged her into his arms and slanted his mouth over hers. She could go to lunch with Maddox, but she’d be thinking about a different man while she was there. Beau intended to make sure of it.

  He deepened the kiss, wanting more of her, all he could get. He thought she might pull away, but her arms went around his neck and she pressed herself more fully against him. He could feel her soft breasts against his chest, moved his thigh between her legs, lifted a little and heard her moan. His tongue slid into her mouth, tangled with hers, and heat rolled through hi
m. He was rock hard and aching, wanting her and determined to make sure she wasn’t thinking of anyone but him.

  The kiss went on and on, both of them making little erotic noises and gasping for breath. His hands found their way inside the bodice of her dress to cup her breasts, massage and caress them. Her nipples were as hard as he was, and he knew she was ready, wanting this as much as he did.

  He nipped the side of her neck as he turned her around, a hand drifting between her legs. “Brace your palms on the hood of the car,” he said softly.

  “What?”

  “Do it,” he commanded.

  Cassidy made a sexy little sound in her throat, bent over and flattened her hands on the still-warm Lamborghini. When he flipped up her little black skirt, the vision of hot, half-naked female against an equally hot car made one of the sexiest pictures he’d ever seen.

  Moving behind her, he lifted her silky dark hair and pressed his mouth against the nape of her neck, gently kissed a bruise he found there. Sliding the straps of her dress off her shoulders, he kissed each little scrape and scratch he found on her back.

  Cassidy whimpered.

  Beau ran his hands over the firm little globes of her bottom and nudged her legs apart. He could feel her trembling.

  “You want this?” he asked.

  “Yes, Beau . . . please . . .”

  She whimpered as he entered her, seated himself and began to move. Cassidy arched her back to take him deeper and he nearly lost it, took a deep breath and fought for control. Gripping her hips, he drove into her, determined to make it good for both of them, make it a ride she wouldn’t forget.

  She cried out as she started to come but Beau didn’t stop, not until she came again. Clenching his jaw, he finally allowed his own release, a hot tide that swept through every muscle and bone in his body.

  When they finally drifted back to earth, he eased her dress back into place, turned her into his arms, and just held her. She felt so good, fit him so perfectly. Such a beautiful woman—his beautiful woman.

  Beau shook himself. What the hell was he thinking? Cassidy wasn’t his woman. No way was he letting himself go where that thought led. He pressed a last soft kiss on her forehead. “You okay?”

  She smiled at him softly. “Way better than okay.”

  “Yeah, me too.” He kissed her one last time. “It’s getting late. We’ve got work to do tomorrow.”

  Cassidy just nodded.

  For a while he’d been able to set his troubles aside and enjoy the evening. He’d thought of nothing but Cassidy and how much he wanted her. Now his worries were back full force.

  Was Malcolm Vaughn behind his father’s murder? And if he was, how the hell did they prove it?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Cassidy started the day with a faint headache. A little too much champagne. But what a romantic night it had been. Romantic and hot. Her face heated at the memory of what had happened in Beau’s garage. She loved sex with him. No man had ever made her feel the way he did. She had a feeling no man ever would.

  It was dangerous to let herself be drawn in any deeper, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  It was late morning when she showered and dressed in the bedroom next to his. For the first time, it occurred to her today was February third—the anniversary of her mother’s death. With everything that had been happening, somehow the date had slipped her mind.

  Despair settled over her. She hated this day. No matter how bright it started out, she couldn’t avoid the sadness that grew hour by hour as her mind filled with memories of the warm, loving woman who had raised her.

  For the last six years, on this day, she had gone to the cemetery to put flowers on her mother’s grave. Being there gave her time to remember the way things were when they were a family, the joys they had shared. It gave her time to appreciate all the things her mother had done for her, a way to feel closer to her mom.

  She headed for the study. Beau was sitting at his desk when she walked in. His eyes swung to hers and heated. He was thinking about last night and for an instant, she thought of it, too.

  But darker memories swept in and her smile slowly faded. Beau must have noticed because the heat dimmed in his eyes and concern replaced it.

  “You okay?”

  She smoothed a hand over the stretch jeans she had put on with a V-necked sweater. “Not a good day for me, I’m afraid. Six years ago today, my mother died.”

  Beau rose from behind his desk and walked toward her. “I’m sorry, baby. I know how that feels.” He wrapped her in his arms, lending his warmth and strength.

  “Sarah was sick for most of my senior year in college,” he said, surprising her. “She died in June, right after graduation. It’s been thirteen years, but I still remember how I felt the day she died.”

  Cassidy slid her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder. Beau had never brought up Sarah before. She told herself it was a good sign. “Sarah had cancer, right? Just like my mother.”

  She could feel the movement as he nodded. “She fought it. We both believed she could beat it, but in the end she lost the battle.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It gets easier as the years pass. Sometimes I forget for weeks at a time. Then it all comes back and it’s like it happened yesterday.”

  She hung on to him a little longer, wishing she could make him forget, knowing he never would. Just like she would never forget the six months she had nursed her mother before she’d passed away.

  Cassidy let him go. “I always drive out to the cemetery, put some flowers on Mom’s grave. Since my car’s in the shop, I was hoping you might let me borrow the BMW.”

  “You want me to go with you?”

  She shook her head. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather go by myself.”

  “I understand that. I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take the Lamborghini? That might cheer you up a little.”

  Her eyes widened. “Really? The cemetery is a ways out of the city. Are you sure it would be okay?”

  “You’ve driven it before. The trip’ll do you good.”

  She threw her arms around his neck. “I’m driving the Lambo! I’m cheered up just thinking about it.”

  He chuckled, eased back, and softly kissed her. “The keys are on the hook in the garage. Go visit your mom. Do whatever else you need to do. I’ve got some catching up to do at the office. I’ll meet you here later.”

  “When I get back, we can finish going through those manila folders we found in your dad’s study. There’s a couple we haven’t looked at.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  Cassidy hurried back to the bedroom and grabbed her jacket, then left the house in Beau’s Lamborghini. It was hard to stay depressed when you were driving a car that felt like you were flying.

  She wondered what her dad would say if he saw it, and made a mental note to call him and her brother Brandon later. Maybe she could Skype Shawn in Afghanistan when she got back to Beau’s house.

  She’d only gotten as far as Lemmon Avenue, heading for Uptown, when her phone rang. Careful to keep her eyes on the road, she pulled her cell out of her purse, saw it was Jase, and found a spot to pull over.

  “Have you found something?” she asked.

  “Maybe. I’m at the office. What time are you coming in?”

  “I’m on my way now. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” She ended the call. She hadn’t reminded Beau she was stopping at the office before she left town. He didn’t like the idea of her meeting with Jase, even though she’d told him there was nothing going on between them. As soon as she was finished, she could drive out to the cemetery.

  Jase was sitting at his desk when she walked in. He and Connie were the only ones there, but with the odd hours they all worked, someone else could show up anytime.

  Cassidy waved at Connie, who was on the phone, then crossed the room and sat down in the chair next to Jase’s desk. “Tell me you got something.”

  “I
got something. Not sure it’ll help.” He leaned back in his chair, shoved his boots out in front of him. “I can tell you Vaughn is connected to some very powerful people, but you probably knew that already.”

  “It’s not surprising, with the big-money loans he makes. He’s getting the money to make those loans somewhere. What else?”

  “His right-hand man is a guy named Clifford Jennings. He’s not on the company payroll. He works directly for Vaughn.”

  “That’s news.”

  “Jennings doesn’t know squat about the loan business. He handles collections, makes sure the money gets paid back. Usually a threat from Jennings is enough to get it done. If there’s a problem, word on the street is Jennings will do whatever it takes to make his boss happy.”

  “Does that include murder?”

  “He’s not a killer. He just handles things. He knows who to call to get it done.”

  “Senator Reese owned a construction and development company. They were building a big set of apartments in Iron Springs when an arson fire burned the project down. Reese collected the insurance money, which went to pay Vaughn. Do you think Jennings could have arranged the fire?”

  “I think he can make just about anything happen.”

  “So Vaughn controls Jennings. Any idea who pulls Vaughn’s strings?”

  “He uses three or four different people to fund those big loans. I don’t know their names, but they’d be able to exert plenty of pressure.”

  “There’s an old saying: ‘He who holds the gold, rules.’”

  Jase chuckled.

  “There’s a chance Jess Milford found out who arranged the apartment fire,” she said. “Good chance Vaughn was behind it. Milford might have tried to blackmail him, and Vaughn had him killed.”

  “If you could get something on Jennings, maybe he’d roll on Vaughn.”

  She nodded, thinking the same thing. “It looks like the senator had only paid back part of the money he owed Equity Advance when he was murdered, but I can’t see Vaughn killing him over the debt. Reese recently retired from politics. He still carried plenty of juice with people in Texas, even kept files with information he used to get what he wanted. He had to have something Vaughn could have used.”