Love Under Fire
Page 25
Leaning forward, he placed a kiss over the spot where her palm rested, feeling his heart jolt. Loving meant placing your power in another’s hands, but Rowan’s generosity, the way he’d tried to reassure her and give her back her self-confidence, proved her trust in him wasn’t misplaced.
“You no longer have to worry about me anymore. My father gave me the first twelve years of my life and I gave him the next eighteen. Whatever he did or didn’t do, the decisions were his, not mine. Now it’s time for me…for us.”
She slid her hand up round his neck and caressed his nape until he shuddered against her. The physical evidence of his desire burned like a fire against her hip. “Rowan,” she whispered, with a pout of her lips, “take me to bed.”
The effect was spoiled slightly by her squeals as he rose, still holding her in his arms, and carried her down the hall to his room, kicking the door aside, too impatient to let her open it for him.
Rowan placed her in the center of the large, soft-gray comforter covering the bed with its carved teak headboard. Quickly, he shucked off his shoes and peeled back her jacket, holding his breath as a matching red teddy came into view, making all his fantasies come to fruition.
His mouth explored the curve of her breasts, tracing the lace as he slid her arms out of her jacket and tossed it on the floor.
She spread the opening of his shirt apart, baring his chest, touching him lightly with her fingertips as if she couldn’t believe he was real…the situation was real.
Then she repeated his grand gesture and slid his tuxedo jacket off, slapping it down on top of hers, as if to say “snap.” That woman just couldn’t stop keeping score, but before the night was over, he intended batting a thousand.
He took care of his shirt himself, reserving the right to remove the rest of Jo’s clothing. Working from top to bottom he used all the sensual skills at his command.
Every nerve in her body hummed. She felt like a sighing, quivering instrument only Rowan knew how to tune, how to play.
At last he released her and stripped off the rest of his clothes. Her heart tightened at the knowledge that the magnificent male specimen before her couldn’t hide his need for her. His sex stood to attention, obvious and unrepentant.
Rowan. This man who was going to be hers to have and to hold…till death.
Quickly, she made a vow never to get into a situation that put his life at risk again.
Sliding onto the bed, he reached out for her. Then stilled, gazing upon beauty. Upon the woman in his arms. His hand trembled as one calloused fingertip knew the velvet softness of her cheek.
This was real.
This was true.
Rowan brushed his lips across the full red pout of hers.
This was it.
He was simply a man holding the woman he loved.
Who loved him right back.
Epilogue
T he sun burned into Jo’s back as she sat outside a restaurant on the edge of Auckland’s Viaduct harbor. It soaked into her bones, making her want to stretch like a lazy cat. A contented cat. A cat who’d gotten the cream.
And no wonder. In the week since she’d moved in with Rowan, they’d made love endlessly. Exploring each other’s sensual psyches couldn’t be done overnight, at least that was her excuse.
It hadn’t prevented Rowan arranging a hurried wedding for Christmas Eve, or planning a honeymoon aboard the Fancy. Warmth flushed her skin, remembering his reasoning. “I’m taking no chances on you escaping, peaches. This is a life sentence.” For both of them. They’d each captured the other’s heart.
She expected Rowan to arrive any moment. Her skin prickled with anticipation, her smile bordering on sensual. Too caught up in personal romantic flights she didn’t notice the interested glances from passing males. There was no two-note whistle from Ginny to alert her today. Besides, she had her own one-hundred-percent babe, proof in the sparkling two-carat diamond he’d given her.
As she lifted her glass of ice water to moisten her parched throat, a gruff whisper asked, “Starting without me?”
Her pulse stuttered at the sound of his voice but you couldn’t tell from her reply. “I don’t like to play alone.” She fanned herself. “I’d been thinking of you and needed cooling down.”
Rowan’s chest swelled, molding his white T-shirt to it and though his eyes narrowed she could read, “Wanna go home and make love?” in them. So, she was surprised when he sat down opposite her, sliding a thick, sealed envelope in her direction.
She looked at it, puzzled. All the dry legal forms expected before a marriage had been signed and delivered. “What’s this?”
“Wedding present. Open it.”
A note in his voice indicated this wouldn’t be fun. Trying not to let her anxiety show, she ripped the envelope open with no great show of finesse, then scanned the papers she found. Names, dates of service, details of trials and sentences given. Huh?
Returning to the top page, she said, “These men? They were cops at the same time as my father.” His head moved slightly in acknowledgement. “And these.” She pushed the papers under his nose. “These were cases that involved my father.”
She read on. “I recognize this name, Jurgens, Carl, a scumbag drug dealer. My father gave evidence at his trial. I remember him being angry because he thought Rocky had blown it for them, but it seems Jurgens ended up in Paremoremo anyway.”
“He got twenty years and did fifteen.”
“So, he’s out?”
“Three years ago. Guess where he lives now?” Without waiting for an answer he said, “He’s on a farm near Young Nicks Head. Hell, it’s barely fifty kilometers from Nicks Landing.”
“Molly’s drug baron.”
“I’d lay odds on it. What’s the betting Skelton’s swift slide into anonymity was hastened by your father’s death? That he might even have had a hand in it, after his failure to get Jurgens off by bungling his evidence. Skelton’s the type who would have done anything to save his own neck. Look at the dance he led us.
“Another thing, I checked Jurgens’s background. The guy had a sister married to a man named Smale.”
“Oh, my Lord. Jeff Smale got away, but the two brothers had their bail rescinded. They’re under lock and key at Gisborne.”
“Then we start with the Smales.” His brows twitched. “But not until after the honeymoon. They’ll have to keep awhile longer.”
She looked at him with love and reached for his hand. Rowan’s strength flowed from him to her. “That’s the most wonderful gift you could have given me. But how did you manage to get it all?” She looked down at the papers littering the table. “I tried for years but couldn’t get anywhere.”
“My name still has some pull.”
“What, Stanhope?”
“No. McQuaid.”
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0098-2
LOVE UNDER FIRE
Copyright © 2002 by Frances Housden
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office, Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Visit Silhouette at www.eHarlequin.com [http://www.eHarlequin.com]
Table of Contents
Prologue
Epilogue