One of These Nights

by Justine Davis

  Ian looked at her for a long moment. “More woman? I don’t think so.” He wanted to tell her there was no one who was more woman, not in his view, but he didn’t dare. And as she looked at him, he had the oddest feeling she wanted to ask what he’d meant, but also didn’t dare. And the thought that there was anything this woman wouldn’t dare to do surprised him.

  He became suddenly aware of where they were, in his bedroom. Aware of the fact that he was barefoot and shirtless. Aware that their chaperon, Rand, wasn’t in the house tonight.

  Aware that what had happened likely meant the threat was over, and there would be no reason for Samantha to be with him any longer.

  The thought made him ache. It made no sense to him, that he could feel this way when he wasn’t even sure yet how he felt about her deception. He was working his way through it, realizing she’d had no choice, but still not sure he could accept how easily she’d done it. Practice, he supposed, but that she’d used her skills on him seemed to taint everything that had happened between them.

  Everything. Including the hot, passionate night they’d spent together.

  The memories swamped him, and he felt an incredible urge to go to her, to begin again, to have at least one more night to remember. At the same time he shied away from the idea, thinking it would only make it more painful when, as was inevitable, she went away. Off to her next assignment, to the next job.

  “Ian?”

  Her voice was soft, warm, and he abruptly snapped out of the haze, focusing on her as she took a step toward him. One single breath-stealing step.

  One more night of memories?

  Should he? Did he dare?

  He stood up. Samantha stopped. She simply stood there, this beautiful, exotic woman he never would have dared think about as he was thinking now had they not been thrown together by circumstance.

  “Ian?” she repeated, her voice husky, as if she were feeling the same inner tightness he was.

  “Go or stay,” he said hoarsely. “But if you stay…”

  “I know,” she whispered, and held her hand out to him.

  He still couldn’t quite believe it, but she was clearly stating her choice, and he wasn’t about to try to change her mind. Not now, not when he doubted there would ever be another night for them.

  A new determination was born in him then; if this was to be the end, it would be the most spectacular he could manage. And he set about making it so, with the infinite patience and exquisite touch of a man used to dealing in millimeters.

  Once more, when she lay naked beside him, he marveled that she was here at all, this beautiful, vital woman who feared so little in the life he found full of reasons to retreat into his work. He let his gaze travel slowly over her, from the pure platinum of her hair to the unexpected fullness of breasts tipped with coral, to the sharp indentation of her waist above hips that flared just enough, the triangle of curls that told him the platinum was indeed her own, and then the legs, those endless, silken legs….

  He began his exploration as if he’d never touched her before, and indeed that’s how it felt to him—still brand-new and amazing. To have this one woman respond to his touch as if he were everything he knew he’d never been was a heady, luscious feeling. He lingered over each breast and nipple in turn, first with his hands, then his mouth. He traced the long, elegant lines of her body in the same way.

  And then, somehow, things turned on him. It began when Samantha reached up and ran her fingers across his belly, causing every muscle there to contract sharply. And then she was touching him as he had touched her, with gentle wonder. Her hands slipped up his sides and over his rib cage. And then inward, until her fingers brushed his nipples and he shivered at the sensation. She didn’t miss his reaction, because she returned and gently dragged her nails over the puckered flesh, making him suck in a breath and shiver again.

  His body, freshly reminded of this long-neglected activity, began to clamor. But he made himself stay still, loving the feel of her hands on him, loving the very thought of her wanting to touch him like this. Because she left him no doubt that she did want this. When she spoke his name her voice was thick with the same sort of awe and wonder he was feeling.

  He loved the feel of her hands, and the sight of her caressing him, so much that he forced himself to lie back and let her continue. And when she moved to straddle him, he groaned aloud, unable to help himself. He could feel her heat and had to set his jaw against the fierce need to move, to lift himself upward those last few critical inches that separated them. Waiting was agony, but he considered it a low enough price to pay when she reached for his swollen flesh and slowly, achingly lowered herself onto him.

  She rode him gently at first, then more urgently, until the steady, rocking motion of her body drove him nearly out of his mind.

  “Samantha!”

  Her name burst from him as she quickened the pace, sliding up and down, pressing herself harder and harder against him each time. Her breasts swayed with every move, tantalizingly, until he simply had to reach up and cup them in his hands. His thumbs slid up to caress her already taut nipples, and to his shock he felt an immediate clench of her body around him. This instant proof of her response to his touch nearly sent him over the edge.

  In the moment when he didn’t think he could hang on another instant, Samantha arched, her head lolling back on her shoulders. It was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, the long curving lines of her body, the feel of her breasts as she pushed them more fully into his hands. He caught the taut crests between his fingers and gently rolled them. They went pebble hard in the same moment her body clenched around him again, this time in a wave of rhythmic contractions, as his name burst from her on a shocked, wondering gasp.

  He had little time to wonder at it; the inner stroking of her slick, hot flesh sent him tumbling after her, and he surged upward violently, grabbing her hips to grind her hard against him as he erupted inside her.

  Trembling, she sank down atop him, breathing deep and fast. Little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through him, and he wondered how he was supposed to go on; how, now that he knew this was possible, he was ever supposed to live without it.

  Chapter 17

  “That’s it?” Sam said incredulously.

  Rand leaned back in the chair in her Spartan living room and nodded. “They can’t come up with any evidence those three have any connection to JetCal or anyone from JetCal. Draven’s sure, and so’s St. John.”

  And St. John, Sam knew, never made mistakes. If he said the three men they’d captured weren’t connected to JetCal, they weren’t.

  “Well, great,” Sam muttered. “So, who are they?”

  “Petty street hoods,” Rand said with a shrug. “Long rap sheets, but mostly misdemeanor stuff.”

  “Then what were they doing—” Samantha cut herself off as Ian walked in from the kitchen. Rand, thankfully, had made the coffee when he’d arrived, and Ian was on his second cup now, as was she.

  “What was who doing?” Ian asked.

  Rand explained what he’d been telling her, adding regretfully, “Ian, I’m afraid Josh wants you under wraps until we get this all figured out.”

  “Fine.”

  He said it so easily, so casually, so unlike his usual protests, that Sam blushed. And she wasn’t even sure why. Not, she chided herself, that she hadn’t had the thought last night that she wouldn’t mind if this went on indefinitely. But sooner or later it would end, and then what? Rare was the man, even in this day and age, who could easily accept her chosen career if he himself had a more…normal life.

  Then again, Ian’s life—or at least his work—wasn’t exactly normal by most standards. But that didn’t mean he would be able to, or even want to continue what they’d found here. And she knew enough about bonding under stress to realize that when the threat was over, there might well be little left of the attraction they’d felt.

  She looked at Rand thoughtfully. He’d been there, once. With a woman who’d wo
rked for Redstone Aviation, someone he’d rescued along with her young son. It had happened before Sam had joined the security team, but one night on a long, lonely stakeout he’d told her about it. By way of warning, she’d thought, like the big brother she’d come to consider him.

  Rand’s romance had fallen apart once the situation was resolved. The woman had married someone else within a few months. Even Rand had admitted he wasn’t sure how much of it had been genuine feeling, and how much of it had been that he’d fallen hard for the little boy.

  “I don’t envy whoever it is when Josh finds out who sent those clowns,” Rand said.

  “What will he do?” Ian asked.

  “Add them to the list of people who sadly regret underestimating him,” Rand predicted cheerfully. “Ticking off Josh Redstone is a sure road to misery.”

  “You make him sound vengeful,” Ian said.

  “No. And that’s the beauty of it. He doesn’t go after vengeance, only justice. He gives them a choice, but makes it very hard for people to do anything but the right thing.”

  “He’s his own kind of irresistible force,” Sam added with a smile that felt a bit rueful to her. Ian looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking, that not being able to say no to Josh was what had both brought them together and put a wall between them that she wasn’t sure they could get past.

  A rather musical beep sounded, and Rand shifted to look at the pager on his belt. Sam saw him go still as he looked at the number.

  “Mike,” he said. “When did you last do a sweep?”

  Sam hesitated. “Yesterday,” she admitted, hoping she wasn’t blushing. She usually did a sweep every night, but last night she’d been quite pleasantly otherwise occupied. She didn’t dare look at Ian; the memories of his quiet but intense passion were already threatening to swamp her, and Rand knew her too well. “I’ll do another right now.”

  Hastily she got up and retrieved the bug detector from the cabinet she’d put it in. Rand hovered over the phone until they knew the phones and the room were clean. The instant she nodded, he dialed.

  “Singleton,” he said into the receiver. Just by watching his expression Sam knew that Mike was giving Rand his usual dose of tech-talk. Rand stood it for nearly a minute before he cut in. “Bottom line, Mike.”

  Rand listened, then frowned.

  “You’re sure?” he asked. Then, after a pause while he listened, he sighed. “All right. Call Draven and let him know. He’ll tell Josh.”

  When he hung up, he looked at Sam and grimaced. “It’s JetCal.”

  Ian frowned. “Are you saying the message the Trojan horse sent to me was from JetCal, but those guys who broke in weren’t?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Which means what, that there’s more than one party involved in this?” Ian voice rang with obvious disbelief.

  “It’s hard to believe there’s one company out there stupid enough to try and pull this on Redstone, let alone two,” Sam muttered.

  “Isn’t it, though,” Rand said grimly. “But unless Draven or Mike made a mistake, and we all know how unlikely that is, it seems we have a whole new ball game.”

  “It’s no mistake.”

  Josh sounded weary, but certain, Ian thought. He also looked as if he’d had a very long day. Rand and Samantha had driven Ian in late this afternoon, when Josh had notified them he had some information for them. Ian had tried not to think about it, since he didn’t want to believe there was still a threat, but it was clear they were acting as bodyguards.

  “JetCal’s got the phony disks, but didn’t send those guys after Ian?” Rand asked.

  Josh shook his head. “Yes. I had a little heart-to-heart talk with Joe Santerelli.”

  Santerelli, Ian knew, was the CEO of JetCal. Samantha had told him there’d been a civil sort of enmity between them since the days Redstone had nearly put JetCal out of business, but that Santerelli would go this far surprised her. But then, she had admitted, anybody going against a man like Josh surprised her. Few ever won, and besides, he was the kind of businessman you rarely saw these days, and Ian tended to agree with her when she said she couldn’t imagine anybody not appreciating him for the wonder he was.

  “And?” Rand asked their boss.

  “He insists they had nothing to do with the attempts on Ian. And that they never initiated any of this.”

  “You believe him?” Sam asked.

  “I do. Because of what he did admit to.”

  Something flickered in Josh’s eyes, something cool and determined. And Ian wondered exactly what he had done, what hammer he had wielded to get the truth out of Santerelli. Redstone by its size and wealth alone could exert a lot of power, but Josh himself could bring to bear even more, by the sheer force of his determination—and the fact that there were people all over the business world who owed him a great deal.

  Rand and Sam both stayed silent, waiting, and Ian followed their lead, sensing this was something Josh needed to get to in his own time.

  “We’ve got a snake to hunt,” Josh said at last.

  Rand and Sam glanced at each other. And Josh’s words, They never initiated any of this, echoed in Ian’s mind, suddenly making sense. As they apparently had to Rand, as well, who said, “A snake? You mean…in-house?”

  A traitor in their midst? Ian thought. A leak was one thing, could even be innocent in a way, incautious words in front of the wrong person, but a traitor? With intent? He felt a rush of emotions, shock, anger, an odd kind of hurt. He could only imagine how Josh felt. The man worked so hard at being the kind of boss people wished for that this must seem the worst kind of betrayal.

  “Someone contacted Santerelli,” Josh said, his expression grim. “Promised they could deliver Ian’s research data, for a price. Sent a sample to prove it.”

  Ian sucked in a breath; when he’d identified the data Josh had shown him, he hadn’t realized where it had come from. Both Samantha and Rand turned to look at him, and he managed to say, “It’s for real, as far as I can tell. The initial stages of the real thing, anyway.”

  Samantha seemed to study him for a moment before asking quietly, “We have to ask, Ian. You know her. Do you think it could be Rebecca?”

  He shifted uncomfortably, grimacing. He didn’t want to think it could be the earnest young lady, but even he had to admit she had, on occasion, acted rather suspiciously. Still, he hesitated. “I can’t really say that,” he finally said.

  Josh sat up straighter. “If you suspect her…” he began.

  “Nothing that definite. I wouldn’t want to accuse anybody,” he said, emphasizing the last word slightly.

  “You’re not,” Rand said soothingly. “You’re just telling us a possible place to look.”

  Still Ian hesitated. This wasn’t his bailiwick, and he knew it all too well after watching Samantha at work.

  “When it’s somebody from Redstone,” Josh said quietly, “you know we’ll work as hard at proving their innocence as proving their guilt.”

  Ian sighed. He knew that was true, that Josh would only accept that someone from Redstone had gone bad when the evidence was insurmountable.

  “We caught her loitering around your house one night,” Samantha said, making him blink.

  “You what?”

  After her quick explanation, Ian felt a sinking sensation in his gut. “Maybe,” he murmured. Then he reluctantly told them about her suspicious actions, her habit of hanging over his shoulder, wanting to get her hands on his work even before he was ready to enter it into the databank, always staying late, often after everyone else had gone, even the occasion when he’d come in and found her sitting at his computer, with that lame explanation of leaving him a note about her dentist’s appointment.

  “We checked that when we first started looking at her as a possible,” Rand said. “She really did have the appointment, but she’d had it for weeks. Could have told you anytime, so why wait until you were gone and write a note, conveniently while sitting at your computer statio
n?”

  “Or she could have told Stan,” Samantha added. “Isn’t that who she would normally tell if she was going to be gone?”

  “She tells me most of that stuff,” Ian said. “And more, things that don’t have anything to do with work, personal stuff,” he added, remembering all the times she’d told him things that had made him vaguely uncomfortable. “I don’t know why. Maybe she’s afraid of Stan.”

  Samantha looked suddenly thoughtful, but said nothing more.

  Josh sat twirling a pen between his fingers, quietly considering, for a long moment. Then he spoke decisively. “I’ll talk to her myself.”

  Ian shook his head instinctively, barely aware of doing it. Josh lifted a brow at him. “You don’t like the idea?”

  “Not you. If it is her, it’s me she’s been stealing from. I should confront her.”

  Josh shook his head in turn. “We don’t know who she’s involved with, if she is, how desperate she may be or what she might do if she feels cornered.”

  “If she sees you, she’s likely to just clam up,” Ian pointed out.

  “I’ll go with him,” Samantha said. “We can go after hours, if that’s when she’s there alone, to minimize my exposure.”

  “Might work,” Rand mused. “She’d likely not see Sam as a threat, and she might open up to Ian more easily than you.”

  Josh dropped the pen. “All right. But only if you’re sure she’s alone. We’re not positive it’s her, and if it’s not, then we don’t want to tip off whoever it really is.”

  Ian drew back slightly; he hadn’t even thought of that. But he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam turned to him and suggested, “Tonight?”

  “Sure. Yes,” he said, feeling oddly flustered.

  “Tonight, then,” Josh agreed.

  Ian could think of other things he’d rather be doing tonight, but Samantha was all business now, and as unapproachable as he would have found her before he’d ever met her. He looked at her, even now finding it hard to believe he’d held that slender, wire-drawn body in his arms, naked and eager. For him. Of all people, of all the men she could have had with a snap of her fingers, him.