Defending the Heiress

by Susan Kearney

  “What about your suit?” he asked.

  “Later.” She reclaimed his mouth and let her hands explore his chest, his stomach, lower.

  She traced his sex with her fingertips, enjoying his length and width, but most of all liking the way he leaped eagerly beneath her touch, causing an answering heat between her thighs. And she was far from done. He’d given her the opportunity to explore him at her leisure and she intended to make the most of her good fortune.

  Sweat beaded on his forehead. “If you keep that up much longer, there isn’t going to be a later.”

  “Just another few minutes.”

  “But—”

  “No begging.” She covered his mouth with hers and continued to touch him, enjoying the power of setting the pace. She’d wanted control over something in her life and he’d given her what she wanted without hesitation. She pulled back from the kiss and promised, “I’m going to give you everything you want.”

  She stood before him, the water up to her waist. “Don’t move, except to open your eyes.”

  He did as she asked, the heat of his stare warming her straight to her toes. Then, ever so slowly, she eased her thumbs under the straps of her swimsuit. Her gaze focused on his, she peeled her swimsuit down slowly, revealing the swell of her breasts, then her areolae and finally her entire torso.

  His breath grew into a rasp of need and her nipples tightened and extended until she ached. He was willing, eager. She could see the need for her in his eyes.

  “You can wait just a little longer, can’t you?” she coaxed.

  His eyes challenged her. “If you make it worth my while.”

  “I might,” she responded, so hot, so tense, so full of need she didn’t know if she could keep going.

  His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed hard. “You’re going to push me over the edge.”

  “Not if you don’t move.” She lowered herself into the water then slowly raised herself until her breasts were at his eye level. She teased him by coming just a little closer. “Do you want to know what I like?”

  Chapter Nine

  “Show me.” Ryker wasn’t going to move and interrupt Daria’s seduction—even if it killed him. At least he’d die a happy man.

  Daria scooped up a handful of water, tilted back her head and poured the water over her neck and breasts. The water trickled downward, leaving a wet trail on her delicate neck, elegant collarbone and delectable breasts. Water droplets clung to the tips of her pink nipples. His throat went dry and he knew only licking her beckoning flesh would quench his thirst.

  Every male instinct told him to release his hands, which were gripping the pool’s edge. Every male instinct built into human beings over the last million years cried out for him to go to her. But he fought down the primitive urge with a savage moan.

  This was Daria’s moment. And he wouldn’t deny her one nanosecond.

  He’d long gone past aching for her. She had a lovely body, but it was her spirit that turned him on. She’d let loose her sexuality in a way so explosive, so powerful that she held him captive with her need. Her need to take control. Her need to be in charge of her own destiny for one moment in her chaotic life.

  So he’d willingly given himself to her, recognizing that she needed not just sexual release but a reaffirmation of life. He gritted his teeth and watched in awe as she revealed the passionate woman she usually kept so well hidden.

  She was sensuality incarnate. So alive. And he wanted her more than he could ever remember wanting anyone or anything.

  Finally she approached him and reached for the towel she’d left by the edge of the whirlpool. For one terrible moment he feared she was going to leave him there, hanging on by his nails to his sanity. But then she held up a foil packet, ripped it open between her teeth and removed a lubricated condom.

  “Where did that come from?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t be sharing this tub with you if I hadn’t already made preparations.” She patted the edge of the pool and he lifted himself out of the water, pleased to know that her feelings weren’t spur-of-the-moment—but planned.

  In absolutely no rush, she gazed at all he had to offer and fondled him before she unrolled the protection over his sex and tugged him back into the water.

  Without hesitation, she climbed into his lap, and when she slowly lowered her hips, finally allowing him inside her, he had to bite his lip not to shout his appreciation. The delicious wait had made him crazy with need.

  Finally he could touch her. And he wanted to do everything at once. He placed his hands on her back, her bottom, her waist. Her skin was so soft, so silky, like slick satin, that he didn’t think he could ever get enough.

  He dipped his head and finally sipped the water from her breasts. She tasted like nectar from the gods, sweet and hot. And when he lifted his head and looked into eyes dilated with passion, she grabbed his shoulders and slanted her mouth over his.

  And then she rode him, hot and hard, her hips pumping to their own rhythm, her breath rasping, their tongues dueling. He slipped one hand between her thighs, caressed her and urged her to take him wherever she wanted to go.

  She shuddered in release, but she didn’t stop riding him and he didn’t stop playing. She wanted to go longer and somehow he stayed with her.

  Blood pumped through his veins. Every muscle clenched in need. His lungs burned with the effort to wait. But he never allowed his fingers to lose the beat.

  Then she spasmed, shouted his name. No words ever sounded so hot. And he could hold back no longer. He gathered her close and held on tight while pure sensation washed over him, blessed release that went on and on until he relaxed in mellow wonder.

  It took a few minutes for him to recover. He pulled her close, tucked her head under his chin. “You were fantastic.”

  She refused to meet his gaze for the first time since climbing into the tub. “I went too far.”

  “You were wonderful. Incredible. Awesome.”

  She trembled in his arms. “You’re the one who deserves the compliments…”

  He chuckled. “Okay. We’re both terrific.”

  “I’ve never…”

  “All that matters is that we enjoyed ourselves.”

  She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Is enjoying ourselves really all that matters?”

  Uh-oh. He didn’t want to go there. Delving into feelings wasn’t his thing. When he didn’t answer, she snuggled against him.

  She didn’t say another word, but he could have sworn he could hear her brain circuits humming. With another woman he would have settled for silence, perhaps urged her into another bout of lovemaking. But with Daria, he found himself oddly curious about what she was thinking. And while he was content to ignore his growing feelings for her, he didn’t want her to do the same, but wasn’t sure why.

  Despite knowing that it was in his best interest to keep his mouth shut, he asked, “What are you thinking?”

  “That we aren’t right for one another.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “I meant in the long term.”

  Uh-oh. Again, he had no idea what to say. So for a response, he grunted.

  Naturally she took that as the go-ahead. “I know it’s the trend these day to have sex and then fall in love or not—but that’s never been my style.”

  “So I’m the exception?” In one way he felt proud but in another disconcerted. And deep in his heart, where emptiness had once ruled, new feelings bloomed.

  “I just don’t…”

  “Make wild, passionate love with a stranger?”

  She frowned at him. “You aren’t exactly a stranger. We’ve spent lots of time together, compressed time. It’s just that I learned a long time ago not to get serious about men like you.”

  “What do you mean? Men like me?”

  “You don’t own a plant or a pet.”

  He hadn’t a clue what she was saying. “Let me get this straight. You don’t make love to men wh
o don’t own plants or a dog?”

  Her expressive face took on a stoic look. “That’s right.”

  He didn’t get it. That’s what he got for trying to understand the female mind. He should have been happy that she wanted him, but for reasons he didn’t understand, lovemaking alone didn’t satisfy him. He wanted more from this woman than lovemaking. He wanted to know what she thought, but she was speaking in riddles.

  “Am I going to have to call my sister to ask her what you mean?”

  She sighed at him as if he were denser than lead. “Men who don’t have time for pets and plants don’t want permanent relationships.”

  “We don’t?” She sure was reading a lot into his personality from one measly visit to his apartment. He was thinking he would enjoy her company for a long time, months, maybe years.

  “What’s the longest relationship you’ve ever had?” she asked, her eyes both sad and mischievous.

  “Two, three months,” he admitted, knowing she would hold that information against him, but he wasn’t yet ready to tell her that she was different, not when he barely understood his reactions himself. So he made a simple excuse. “My work tends to get in the way.”

  “How convenient.”

  How had they gone from the most incredible lovemaking of his life to this absurd conversation? And why was he already thinking that being together this one time would never be enough? “Are we fighting?”

  She splashed him. “Not as long as you agree with me.”

  DARIA WOKE UP in the middle of the night and found Ryker in front of his computer screen. She knew he was eager to do some research, but she hadn’t realized he’d intended to work through the night.

  She came up behind him and peered over his shoulder at a series of commands that she didn’t understand. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

  “A combat nap.”

  “What’s that?”

  He kept typing as he spoke. “Fifteen minutes of deep REM sleep. It’s surprisingly refreshing. With a lot of practice I’ve learned to fall asleep immediately. Saves time.”

  She had to admit he didn’t look tired. His fingers danced in a blur over the keyboard, and he was carrying on a conversation with her at the same time.

  Since her questions didn’t interfere with his work, she saw no reason not to satisfy her curiosity. “Have you found anything useful?”

  “I’ve been e-mailing the Shey Group with requests.”

  She pulled over an extra chair to sit beside him. “What kind of requests?”

  “Logan Kincaid has contacts at the CIA. I want him to find out about Harry’s last missions.”

  She didn’t understand. Maybe she was still groggy. “Wouldn’t the recent poisoning of Elizabeth and Peter discount the theory that someone had been after Harry?”

  “Probably. But I like to tie up all the loose ends. Suppose an agent killed Harry and Fallon then framed you to take off the heat. Since you haven’t been arrested and the case is still open, maybe one more killing would make them appear completely blameless, and you completely guilty.”

  “I see.” She did. In the world he lived in, nothing was what it seemed. He had to look at every detail, suspect every clue as if it might be a false one.

  He cracked his knuckles then went back to typing. “I wanted to do this from your office. But my machine encrypts ingoing and outgoing e-mail and makes decoding almost impossible for anyone unless they work for the Pentagon.”

  She tightened the belt of her bathrobe. “You still think the altered e-mail message on my computer about Passion Perfect’s toxicity to my supplier had something to do with the murders?”

  He nodded. “That your computer disappeared from the police evidence room makes me even more suspicious.”

  “Weren’t you going to get a copy from my Internet service provider?”

  “I requested the information.”

  “And?”

  “They won’t cooperate without a warrant.”

  “So now what?” She tried to keep the frustration from her voice but it wasn’t easy. Everywhere they turned seemed to lead to a dead end.

  “I asked Kincaid how he wants me to proceed.”

  “What are the choices?”

  “He can get me the warrant…or I can hack in.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” She didn’t want him taking risks for her, not the kind that could put him in jail or make him lose his job.

  Ryker stopped typing and faced her. “It’s as illegal as double-parking. I won’t get caught—”

  “Because you’re good?”

  “Because I was taught by one of the best in the business.”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Logan Kincaid.” So much for the possibility of him getting caught and losing his job. Not if his boss was the one who’d taught him. “And he’s one of the good guys,” Ryker reassured her.

  “But suppose you do get caught?”

  “I won’t damage any Web sites. And I’m not selling the information. When no harm is done, the penalty’s a slap on the wrist. Nothing more.”

  “But you’ll wait to hear from Kincaid?”

  His computer beeped, signaling an incoming message.

  She read the message from his boss off the screen. “It’s midnight. No point waking a judge when you can get in. Good Luck. LK.”

  Ryker started typing. Different screens came up and disappeared so quickly that she had no idea what he was doing. “Are you writing a code to break in?”

  “I’m using one that’s already written and stored in a vault. Once I extract the worm, I just have to sit back and wait.”

  She suspected it wasn’t as easy as he claimed and wondered just how many people in the world had his kind of specialized expertise.

  The site asked him for a password but he didn’t even touch the keypad. Whatever he’d set in motion seemed to work of its own accord.

  Then Ryker clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “We’re in.”

  She had no idea if his task was now simple or complex, but suspected the latter. “Aren’t there millions of messages stored in there?”

  “Yes. But every account has a number and the e-mails are dated. However, I’m going to search for ‘Passion Perfect’ and the date of the e-mail from the police report.”

  The screen read “Searching.”

  He opened a new panel, called up another search engine and typed “Harrington Industries.” A flood of references filled the screen.

  Apparently his computer was sophisticated enough to handle more than one search at a time, but the topic took her aback. “Why are you looking into my father’s company?”

  “Curiosity. Do you think Shandra really needed the money she borrowed?”

  Maybe Ryker hadn’t been getting enough sleep. Maybe making love had scrambled his brains. “You can’t believe that my father is killing his children because he needs money? Or that Shandra would go along with it?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m searching. I think it’s more likely that Mike Brannigan’s our guy. But your family’s business operations are extensive. It may take my computer days to search through the pertinent data. So it makes sense to start with the most complicated businesses first.”

  He was making sense. She just had so little knowledge of his area of expertise. She’d known he was smart, but she hadn’t realized that when he focused, he could be intense and talk to her at the same time. His multitasking ability was extraordinary. He could carry on a complex conversation and still type over a hundred words a minute.

  She supposed there were lots of things she didn’t know about Ryker. But she knew the most important thing—she wanted him on her side. And not just because he had a brilliant mind and might solve the problem she found herself facing. He seemed to understand her feelings without her making explanations. He’d understood that her need to make love with him had more to do with her distress and need for comfort and human connection than any special relationship between them.


  Not that she didn’t admire Ryker. She did. But under normal circumstances, she would never have made love to a man with whom she had so little in common. It wasn’t money or social class that made them incompatible. From what Harry’s attorney had told her, the men in the Shey Group were all millionaires several times over.

  And she didn’t consider the way she’d grown up superior to anyone’s upbringing. Her life had been loveless. Without Fallon and then Peter, she might not have survived whole.

  However, the men she had dated were conservative businessmen, who were risk-adverse. Men who liked stability as much as she did. Men who stayed in one place.

  While Ryker made acquaintances easily, she suspected he didn’t have one close friend. He didn’t stay in one place long enough to form those kind of long-term attachments. And she sensed a loneliness in him that made her wary.

  “What’s the computer looking for now?”

  “Breaks in a pattern. The program is preset to look at bank statements. Suppose your father gives Shandra ten thousand dollars a month, every month for household expenses. But if he skips February, my program will notice.”

  “It’s looking at my family’s bank statements?”

  “And phone bills, credit card bills, income tax statements, driving records, criminal records, military records. It can go back and tell me where someone was born, their grades in college and where they married.”

  “I had no idea you could find all that information online.”

  “The difficult part isn’t acquiring the information but sorting through the data and figuring out what is important and what’s not. I’ve given the program certain parameters. Any contact with the law will come up. As will bankruptcies.”

  “How…” She wasn’t even sure what to ask.

  “Each category is given a number. Previous convictions and arrest records are number one. If my program finds that information, it will list it first. But then I altered the parameters of the search for your case.”