“Speaking of the wedding,” she said. “Have you set a date yet?”
“Three weeks from tomorrow.”
Shannon gaped at her.
“And before you ask—no, I’m not pregnant. We just decided—Dylan, Jack and I—that we didn’t want to wait any longer to become a real family. And we wanted to make sure we had the wedding before you left for Paris.”
She didn’t want to think about France or the fact that her new job didn’t fill her with the same excitement it had only a week earlier.
“If you’re still planning on going to Paris,” Natalie said, somehow following her sister’s unspoken thoughts.
“My plans haven’t changed.”
“Oh.” Natalie’s smile couldn’t mask her obvious disappointment.
“But I wouldn’t miss my little sister’s wedding for anything,” Shannon promised her.
“Will you be bringing Michael to the wedding?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Why not?”
Because as tempting as it was to think they could have a relationship, it wasn’t realistic. They’d been thrown together by the threat to Shannon’s life. Now that the threat was gone, there was nothing to keep them together and a whole bunch of factors pushing them apart. Not the least of which was the three thousand miles between Pennsylvania and Paris.
But she didn’t share any of those thoughts with her sister, saying instead, “For starters, you just told me when the wedding is. He could already have plans for that day.”
“Even if he did, I’m sure he’d change them,” Natalie said. “It’s obvious to me—even after only two minutes in the room with both of you—that he cares about you.”
“He feels responsible for me, because he was hired to protect me.”
“He feels a lot more than that,” her sister insisted.
“Whatever he feels—whatever I feel—it could never work.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a Courtland.”
Natalie shook her head. “It’s his name, not his identity. And you’re not shallow enough to judge him on the basis of his wealth just because Doug made you feel like you couldn’t fit into that world.”
“Maybe I am.”
Her sister’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe your feelings for him are a lot deeper than you want to admit.”
“And maybe you need to accept that not everything in life leads to a happily-ever-after,” she chided her sister.
Natalie pouted. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I’ll be happy when I get out of here.”
Shannon couldn’t sleep.
After spending only a few nights in Michael’s bed, she was finding it next to impossible to sleep without him.
She knew he wasn’t far away. He’d only gone down to the police station to check in with Detective Garcia and get an update on the search for A.J., but she wished he was here.
Tomorrow she would be on her way back to Chicago.
She’d anguished over her decision to leave, but in the end she’d decided she should go. She’d intended to discuss her plans with Michael, and she’d been willing to be persuaded to spend another couple of days—even another week—with him.
But when they’d gone back to his room after dinner in the hotel dining room with Natalie and Dylan, Michael had turned around and walked out again. Abruptly and inexplicably.
So Shannon had booked her flight, deciding there was no point in delaying the inevitable. But she wanted this one last night with Michael. Another night of memories to take with her when she was gone.
At last she heard the soft click of the door opening and then closing again.
He didn’t switch on any of the lights, probably assuming she was sleeping. She listened to the comforting sounds of his presence, deeply attuned to his movements—the clink of glass on wood, the splash of liquid into the glass, the deep swallow, the long exhale.
“Did they find A.J.?” she asked softly.
The clink of glass on wood again, silent footsteps, then the dip of the mattress as he sat beside her, and the gloriously welcome feel of his fingers brushing over her cheek.
“You should be sleeping.” His voice was tight, strained.
“I was waiting for you.”
“I posted security outside the door so you wouldn’t need to worry,” he reminded her.
“I wasn’t worried.” She sat up to wrap her arms around him. “Just waiting.”
“Oh.”
She let her head rest on his shoulder. “Are you coming to bed?”
“Yeah.” But he moved out of her embrace and returned to the other side of the room again to down the rest of his whiskey. “They arrested A.J.”
She exhaled slowly and climbed out from under the covers. “I was afraid they wouldn’t find her. That I’d never know for certain it was over.”
“It’s finally over,” he told her.
But she heard the undercurrents of anger and frustration in his voice.
“You were right.” He picked up his glass again, frowned to find it was empty. “That whole unlikely scenario about A.J. choosing to seek revenge through you because of me.”
The anger and frustration suddenly made sense. “You saw her?”
“Yeah. And she admitted that she couldn’t ignore the irony of my being with you.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault, Michael.”
“She wanted revenge on your sister—she probably wouldn’t even have considered you a worthy target if I hadn’t been there.” He slammed the glass down so hard she was surprised it didn’t shatter. “You were almost killed. Rachel was almost killed. Because of me.”
“We were almost killed because of A.J. We’re alive because of you.”
He remained silent, unconvinced.
“Your sister sent up a bottle of champagne,” she told him. “With a note that said ‘Get over it.’”
His chuckle was strained. “That sounds like Rachel.”
“It sounds like pretty good advice to me.” She lifted herself on her toes, ignoring the twinge of the stitches pulling in her foot, and pressed her lips to his.
He resisted, for about two seconds. Then, with a shuddering sigh that reverberated through the length of his body, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tight against him and devouring her mouth with his own.
As his tongue plunged deep into her mouth, she tasted the heady tang of the whiskey he’d drunk and the even more intoxicating flavor of his desire. His hands were hard, his fingers gripping her hips. She felt the press of his erection low against her belly, grinding into her, and the answering flood of heat through her veins.
It was only now, experiencing this fierce and almost violent need, that she realized he’d been holding back all the other times they’d made love.
Not that she’d had any complaints. In fact, she’d marveled at the contrast of torturously gentle caresses and endlessly slow kisses from a man of such physical strength and take-charge personality. She’d never felt so completely loved, so thoroughly cherished, as she did with him.
And she’d never guessed at the depth of passion he’d kept under tight control until it was unleashed.
It was both staggering and empowering to be wanted with such intensity, equally startling to realize that she could want as much. It was a whole new—and wholly arousing—experience.
Until, as quickly as he’d lost control, he pulled it back again.
His hands gentled and his mouth eased from hers. Exhaling a long, unsteady breath, he stepped away. “You said something about champagne.”
Emotions welled up inside her. Disappointment. Frustration. Anger. Need.
He’d given her just a teasing glimpse, a tantalizing taste, of something that was so much more than what they’d already shared, and then he’d taken it away. Because he didn’t think she could handle it.
Yes, she could read the reason as clearly as the desire that still smoldered in his gaze. And while unders
tanding tempered her anger, it fueled her frustration. He’d been making decisions for her for too long now.
“Dammit, Michael. I’m not fragile.”
“I think you’ve proven that more than once over the past several days.”
“Then stop treating me as if I’m going to break.”
She closed the distance he’d put between them, then took his hand and brought it to her breast. “I want you to touch me.”
His eyes were dark, dangerous. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know exactly what I’m asking.” She started to undo his shirt, wanting—no needing—to feel the heat of his skin against hers. “I’m asking you to make love with me, this time with no holding back.”
She’d only managed the first three buttons when his hands stilled her movements.
“I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you, Shannon.”
She heard the strain in his voice, knew that his rigid control was costing him.
Her own throat tightened. Had anyone ever considered her needs before their own? Had anyone ever taken so much care with her?
“You won’t hurt me.” She made the statement with absolute trust and complete confidence. “So long as you don’t turn away, you won’t hurt me.”
He’d been terrified for her.
It was something Mike would admit only to himself, only now.
When he’d realized she was no longer in her hotel room, that she’d gone to meet A.J., he’d thought he was going to lose her. He’d forced his mind clear of emotion and focused his thoughts on doing what needed to be done.
Now, more than twelve hours later, A.J. was in prison and Shannon had been released from the hospital. But he couldn’t forget that he’d almost lost her today. If any one of a dozen variables had gone wrong, she would have died. If he’d been mistaken about her being at the warehouse. If he hadn’t got there in time to get the remote detonator from A.J. If he hadn’t neutralized the balance switch.
She was finally safe, but there was still a lot of unresolved fear and frustration churning through his system. He was sure he’d never experienced such violent emotions as he had today, and he knew he wasn’t in control of them yet. If he touched her now, if he took what she was offering…
He couldn’t.
Despite her assurance, she couldn’t possibly understand what she was asking of him. She didn’t know what he was capable of right now.
Shannon was watching him, waiting for his response.
“You’re really starting to annoy me, Michael.”
There was a hint of steel beneath the softly spoken words that set off warning bells in his mind. But he was still unprepared for her next move, was stunned when she took hold of the two sides of his shirt and tore it open.
The sound of popping buttons and rending fabric tore at the last of his restraint. The touch of her hands, searching and eager on his bare skin, obliterated all reason. Need—primal and unstoppable—took over.
He crushed his mouth down on hers, hot and hungry.
She didn’t hesitate to respond, meeting his demands with her own.
His hands slid over the silk nightshirt she wore, then under it. He filled his palms with her breasts, his thumbs stroking over the peaked nipples. He swallowed her moan.
She already had her hands inside his pants, reaching for him. He felt the coolness of her fingers wrap around his heated arousal and nearly lost it.
He broke the kiss only long enough to whisk off her nightshirt and shed the rest of his own clothes.
Then their mouths fused again and they fell together, a tangle of needs both indescribable and undeniable.
She rolled on top of him to straddle his body, then lowered herself to take him deep inside her. His vision hazed. He gripped her hips, a desperate and futile attempt to restrain her movements, establish some control.
But control had already slipped away, leaving only a desperate and greedy need. He thrust upward as she glided down, their bodies no longer their own but two parts of a whole locked together in a frenzied race to the final peak. Faster and faster, until he felt the tightening of her muscles around him. The rhythmic spasms of her release were more than he could stand, and he leaped over the edge with her.
They were still on the floor.
Shannon was still on top, nestled against the hard length of Michael’s body. She was thoroughly satisfied and completely spent.
“I think there’s a bed over there somewhere.” She lifted a hand to gesture vaguely in the darkness.
“We’ll find it later.”
She smiled at the lazy contentment in his voice.
A heartbeat passed, then two, then he asked, “Should I apologize for ravishing you on the floor?”
“Only if you want to annoy me.”
She felt the vibration of his chuckle beneath her cheek.
“Okay, what if I thank you for letting me ravish you on the floor?”
“Better,” she said. “Although I’m not really clear on who ravished whom.”
“Good point.”
She sighed blissfully as his fingertips traced a slow path down her spine. He had the most incredible hands. And the most amazing body. A body that even now was beginning to show signs of renewed life. Definite signs of life.
She felt the stirring of arousal deep in her own belly and pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “Do you want to ravish or be ravished this time?”
He chuckled again. “I think this time we’ll try something a little different.”
“Oh?” She lifted her head to look at him, definitely intrigued by his suggestion.
In a movement so quick she wasn’t sure how it happened, she was in his arms and he was carrying her toward the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“I think I’ve already shown you how much I want you and need you. This time—” he kissed her softly “—I’m going to show you how much I love you.”
The words weren’t new. He’d said them to her before. But this time, with her body warming from the heat of his touch and her mind fogged by his kisses, her heart came perilously close to believing.
Damn him, she thought furiously. She didn’t want the complication of emotions—his or her own. She was perfectly content with the reality of her life.
Or at least she had been, until he’d come along.
But now, in his arms…suddenly she wanted everything he was offering. And more.
Chapter 17
Mike awoke again with the uncomfortable feeling that something wasn’t quite right. Not really alarm, but a niggling sense of unease. This time, however, he knew what the problem was as soon as he opened his eyes.
Shannon was hovering by the desk, pen in hand, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She was fully dressed, and a quick survey of the room revealed her suitcase by the door.
“Should I be grateful you were at least going to leave a note?”
She started guiltily. “I, uh, didn’t want to wake you.”
“Why not?”
“Because it was late when you came in last night and—”
“And later still before either of us got to sleep,” he reminded her.
Their lovemaking the previous night had been unlike anything he’d ever experienced. It wasn’t just the joining together of their bodies, but the forging of an emotional connection between them. A connection that had obviously scared the hell out of her.
“That’s why I didn’t want to wake you. I knew you’d be tired and—”
“I am tired,” he interrupted. “And pissed off.”
She winced.
“Where are you going?”
“To the airport. I’ve got a two-o’clock flight to Chicago.”
He peered at the bedside clock. It wasn’t even 8:00 a.m.
“I was going to stop by my mom’s on the way,” she said, answering his unspoken question.
“You made these plans last night?”
She nodded.
“And you di
dn’t bother to tell me.”
“Because I was hoping to avoid exactly this kind of confrontation.”
“You’d rather run away than face your feelings.”
She sighed. “My life has been complete chaos for the past week. How can I even know what my feelings are?”
“By listening to your heart.”
He was disappointed, although not surprised, when she shook her head. Emotions were too messy and unpredictable for her. Shannon the scientist wanted more empirical data, hard proof.
But he’d already put his heart on the line—there wasn’t anything more he could say or do. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to beg. If she was determined to go back to Chicago, he wasn’t going to stand in her way.
“I’ll take you to the airport,” he said shortly.
She shook her head. “That’s not necessary—”
“I’ll take you,” he said again, sliding out of bed and heading into the bathroom. “Give me ten minutes to shower and dress and we can go.”
She was going to have to introduce him to her mother.
She was thirty-three years old and she was nervous about taking a man to meet her mother.
She would keep it brief, Shannon decided. A quick hello and goodbye, drop off the gift, and head to the airport.
Except it wasn’t her mother but Deborah’s new husband who answered the door.
“Hi.” She forced a smile, decidedly uncomfortable facing a stranger who was now her stepfather.
“Shannon.” Ray’s smile was quick and easy as he reached for her hand to draw her into the house. “Your mother will be so pleased to see you.”
Before she could protest that they couldn’t stay, he called over his shoulder, “Deb, your daughter’s here. With a friend.”
“Um, this is Michael,” she said, deciding that friend was as appropriate a description as anything else. “Michael, this is Ray Sutherland.”
The two men shook hands.
Then Ray said to Shannon, “Deb’s been so worried—we both have.”
She shifted guiltily. “I should have called, but I didn’t think you’d have heard about what happened and I didn’t want to worry Mom.”
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