Family Secrets: Books 5-8

by Virginia Kantra

  It hadnt happened.

  Oh, Marcus had followed her. And hed been hot. The first thing he did when he came into the kitchen was break out a bottle of water from the fridge.

  Hed been urgent. It seemed he couldnt wait to get that big ugly fish gutted and scaled. And after that hed boarded up the broken window, and after that hed tinkered with the plumbing and wiring in the house, and after that hed encouraged her to take a walk with him along what he explained was the old riding trail. He was inventing activities for her like a reluctant baby-sitter with a bored toddler.

  There was no denying their easy, sunlit ramble had restored her spirits and awakened her appetite. All her appetites, darn it. She felt awake and aware, relaxed and alive. But after dinner Marcus had pushed her off to play by herself while he did his homework.

  She spent some time at the old upright piano, working to restore some flexibility to her fingers as she attempted her old favorites, Fur Elise, Clair de Lune, some Joplin tunes. But she was out of practice and one of the keys stuck. After an hour or so she gave it up and wandered back into the kitchen.

  She stood in the doorway, watching Marcuss tanned, long-fingered hands play over the computer keyboard. She might still question his actions in abducting and holding her here. But any doubts she had about his motives or his character had been laid to rest. His restraint in their bed, his attention to her safety and his concern for her comfort had convinced her of the strength of his honor and the goodness of his heart.

  Samantha nibbled her lower lip. Maybe he was a little too honorable? A tad too restrained?

  Marcus glanced around. The glare from the computer screen lit half his face with a weird, greenish glow.

  Sounded good, he said.

  She smiled. Obviously you dont play. I had to really pound the E above middle C.

  He raised one shoulder in a half shrug. Did you want something?

  Yes. You.

  She blinked. No, IDid you check in with DS?

  Yeah. No change in the status of your case. We cant go back.

  In more ways than one, she thought. She missed her work, missed the challenge, purpose and importance it brought to her life. She didnt miss the stress and emotional isolation. She wasnt ready to go back to what shed had and to who shed been before Marcus barged into her life. Not now. Not yet.

  Then well have to move forward, she said.

  Marcus looked at her in alarm. We cant go anywhere. Its not safe.

  She raised her eyebrows. Scared, Lieutenant?

  He pressed a few keys and shut down the computer. Maybe. Are you flirting with me, Ambassador?

  She smiled wryly. Not very well, apparently, since you have to ask.

  He tilted the kitchen chair back on two legs. Youre doing just fine. Assuming, of course, you want me walking around hot and horny for the next couple of days.

  Her body shivered in response to his words, but her face bloomed with heat. I didnt meanI dont want to be a tease.

  Hey. He set the chair straight. Take it easy. A little frustration never killed anybody, no matter what the guys in high school used to tell you.

  She remembered Matt Tynans earnest, inexperienced attempts to talk her into the back seat of his stepmothers Porsche, and laughed.

  Marcuss eyes narrowed. Tell me his name, he ordered. So when I meet him I can kill him.

  She didnt approve of territorial male violence. But there was something darkly thrilling and mildly amusing about Marcuss reaction. You dont have to. I said no. Anyway, were still friends.

  Tell me his name anyway.

  She considered. She was old enough to know a wise woman didnt kiss and tell. But after twenty years, she was pretty sure there had to be some kind of sexual statute of limitations. Matt Tynan.

  The White House guy?

  The presidents political advisor, yes.

  Does he have Secret Service protection?

  A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. No. And be nice. He just got engaged to a very sweet girl.

  Okay, Marcus decided. Then he can live.

  The president will be relieved, she said dryly. Please notice Im not threatening your high school girlfriends.

  Girlfriend, singular. Kimberly Williams. And yeah, I noticed. Actually, my feelings are kind of hurt.

  Samantha was amused. And yetOnly one? You must have been serious.

  I was.

  She heard his slight stress on the first syllable. And she wasnt?

  Marcus shrugged. Kim wasnt too happy I turned down a football scholarship to join the SEALs. She went to the University of Maryland. She was really smart, he added, as if that excused or explained something.

  Not that smart, Samantha said.

  He frowned in question.

  Well, she let you go, didnt she?

  His frown cleared like the summer sky after a rain, leaving her breathless. You bolstering my ego, babe?

  Your ego seems to be in fine shape. Greatly daring, she let her gaze skim his muscular torso. Along with the rest of you.

  His hands clenched on the tables edge. What do you want from me? Because whatever it is, you can have it.

  Her whole body tingled and tightened. I want She didnt know. I guess I want to be in high school again. Remember? I want long kisses and long talks and long make-out sessions that dont go anywhere.

  A muscle jumped in his jaw, but his eyes were kind. You sound like one of the good girls. Were you a good girl, Samantha?

  She nodded, embarrassed.

  His chair scraped back from the table. Come here, he said huskily. Well only be a little bit bad.

  She stared at his lap, transfixed by his invitation. His thighs looked strong and solid. His jeans did little to hide his straining arousal. A smart woman would march herself right out of this kitchen and upstairs to safety. A smart woman

  Her own words confronted her. Not that smart. She let you go, didnt she?

  Samantha sucked in her breath and sat on his lap quickly before she changed her mind.

  His hands steadied her at the waist. He pulled her outside thigh more firmly onto his lap. His other arm cradled her back. He kissed her temple and then her ear.

  So is this, like, our third date yet? Because Ive got to know the rules. Since youre such a good girl and all. His warm voice caressed her. His warm hand stroked lightly up and down her arm, his thumb brushing close to her breast.

  He was very good at this.

  Im beginning to think I dated the wrong boys back in high school, she said, trying to seem amused and sophisticated and sounding wistful instead.

  Dont you believe it, honey, said Marcus. Ive learned a lot since then.

  Oh, goodness.

  His voice was husky. Of course, if I had known you in high school, I still would have made a play for you. By the third date, Id have tried something. This. His long fingers traced her nipple through her shirt, making it pucker and push against the soft fabric.

  And this. He kissed her softly and then not softly at all. Warm, wet kiss
es. Hot, urgent kisses that made her melt. He teased and licked, sucked and rubbed, until they were breathing into each others mouths and she squirmed on his lap.

  The hot, hard ridge of his arousal pressed against her bottom. But they still had all their clothes on, so it felt wonderfully wicked and innocent at the same time. Safe. She snuggled and wiggled against him.

  And if you do that, he whispered against her lips, Ill do this.

  His mouth glided down her throat and closed over her breast. He suckled her through the soft cotton, blew against the tingling tip and kissed her when she moaned.

  He lifted his head a fraction. Are you going to let me touch you again? Because I really want to.

  She wanted him to, too. It had been a long time, but she still remembered the rules of conduct formulated at slumber parties and tested in the back seats of cars. Good girls could pet above the waist.

  So she didnt object when his warm hand found its way beneath her short shirt. And when he pushed shirt and bra up under her armpits and bent his head to her breasts and licked and laved, she forgot all about being good. Her heart pounded. Her body pulsed. Drenched in pleasure, she closed her eyes andstarted to slide off his lap.

  Marcus hauled her back with a strong hand on her thigh. He kept his hand there, between her legs, moving it up and down, rubbing and stroking her through her jeans. His touch was firm and sure. He kissed her mouth. He kissed her throat. He bent her back over his arm and plundered her breast, and she clutched his shoulder and his short, smooth hair and came apart in a series of little explosions like hiccups.

  His hot mouth stilled on her breast. He raised his head, his eyes gleaming.

  Wow, he said. That never happened in high school.

  She was nearly bursting out of her skin with satisfaction. She was flooded with it, filled, relaxed, replete.

  It certainly didnt, she agreed.

  And darn few times since then. She stretched, feeling every muscle ease in celebration, and felt his arousal rock solid against her hip.

  Oh, goodness.

  She lowered her arms, guilt seeping in to replace her satisfaction. Are youWhat about you?

  His face was flushed. His eyes were dark. Im fine. Frustrated, but happy.

  Could she believe him? She reached for the elastic of her bra. I dont want to be a tease.

  Youre not. Youre a good girl, remember?

  She stopped tugging and looked at him uncertainly. Am I?

  He smiled into her eyes, and the sweetness of it warmed her through and through. The best.

  She bit her lip. Can I ask you something?

  Anything.

  Will you sleep with me again tonight?

  His arms tightened around her. You want to sleep?

  She knew what he was asking. She wished she knew what her response should be.

  I She hesitated. Never mind. Its not fair.

  Forget fair. Is that what you want?

  She buried her face against his shoulder. He smelled clean and warm and male.

  This is completely insane, she muttered. Why dont I just have sex with you?

  Because youre not ready? His voice was amused and just a little bit strained.

  Its not that I dont want you, she said. Because I do.

  Yeah, well, the feeling is entirely mutual. Which you probably noticed.

  Shed noticed. The hard evidence, as it were, was right there under her hip.

  Guilt prompted her to say, Its only a year since Stan died.

  Marcus was silent. He didnt hold her closer, but he didnt let her go, either. You loved him a lot, huh?

  I did. We had our problems. They had argued bitterly in the last year about her desire to adopt. But I couldnt imagine my life without Stan. We were closer than many couples. Maybe it was because we didnt have children. Maybe it was because my life revolved around his career. He used to say I was all the family he needed.

  Okay, well, that sounded fairly pathetic. No wonder she never talked about her marriage. She drew a deep breath so she could get it over with. And then one morning Stan left to address the Delmonican board of trade, and a driver coming the other way lost control of his truck, and Stan wasnt there anymore. To her horror, she felt her eyes flood with tears. Hell never be there again.

  She stared at her knees and Marcuss arm, heavy across her lap, and thought if he had any sense at all he would drive her back to Washington tonight. Right now.

  Im here, he said into her hair. Im here all night if you want me. Even if its only to sleep.

  And even though she told herself she had no right to ask and lots of good reasons to say no, she whispered, Thank you.

  But sleep was a long time coming that night for both of them.

  Samantha lay awake in bed, listening to every creak and sigh, conscious of every twist and touch: his foot, his hand, his arm. The room was warm, and Marcuss body radiated heat. It was ridiculous, being this close to him, knowing all she had to do was roll over and ask, and she could have

  What do you want from me? Because whatever it is you can have it.

  She dozed in fits and woke in starts. Once she thought Marcus had given up, gotten up and gone downstairs. But then his weight depressed the mattress and his arm came around her waist and he pulled her into the curve of his body. His legs brushed hers. His hand closed possessively on her hip. His breath stirred the hair at the back of her neck.

  She felt the rhythm of her own breath slowing and deepening to match the rhythm of his until, nestled like two spoons, they slept.

  It was a shame she had to die.

  But the man moving silently through the shadows did not have the luxury of mercy or of choice.

  She was an enemy. The Enemy, although a part of him was dimly aware there had to be worse threats to his cause, and another part insisted there were better ways for her to die.

  If he met her in these woods he could slit her pretty white throat or drill a bullet between her wide clear eyes in seconds. He had a black Ka-Bar combat knife strapped in a sheath to his leg and a .40 caliber Glock 22 pistol in a holster at his waist.

  He was familiar with killing. He was good at it.

  But he could not touch her in her bed.

  He glided through the barred moonlight toward his objective. Maybe he would not touch her at all. This was an old farm. They were surrounded by old things: broken, rotten, derelict, dangerous. It was extremely likely his target would simply meet with an accident.

  He stopped by the moon-silvered door. Particularly if he arranged it.

  When Samantha woke, she was alone.

  Nothing new there, she told herself, fighting disappointment. For the past thirteen months, shed awakened alone. Correction: for thirteen months minus one day. Because yesterday when shed opened her eyes shed been up close and personal with Marcus Evanss naked chest.

  She missed his chest.

  She missed Marcus. Simply looking at his powerfully muscled body and chiseled chin made her as breathless and dizzy as Lois Lane flying over Metropolis in the arms of Superman.

  Samantha winc
ed. It was like some embarrassing revelation on a tacky television talk show: Sex-starved widow lusts for U.S. Navy SEAL.

  Except her feelings went deeper than that. She admired Marcuss competence and dedication to duty. She liked his undemanding company and occasionally corny humor. She loved his uncomplicated loyalty and his gentleness and understanding.

  She frowned at the dented pillow beside her. So if he was so loyal and uncomplicated and understanding, why wasnt he here?

  A prickle ran over her skin, two parts frustration and one part unease. Where was he? If she really was in danger, then he was in danger, too.

  The memory of his words came back to her. I can take care of myself. You cant.

  The farmhouse was very quiet.

  He could be making breakfast. He could be in the barn. He could be buying fresh milk and eggs for their up-and-running refrigerator.

  But she didnt smell coffee. The farm didnt have animalsnot livestock that required tending, anyway. And when Samantha shook out yesterdays jeans and wandered to the bedroom window, she saw the car, minus whatever vital part hed removed the night of their arrival, still sitting in the yard.

  She pressed her lips together. This was not a problem. Marcus could be lots of other places. He could belying under a bush somewhere, the victim of a Rebelian sniper.

  She fought a shiver. No, that was silly. No one even knew where they were.

  She borrowed another one of Marcuss T-shirtsif they stayed, she was going to ask him to hook up the washer and dryerand shoved her feet into her new sneakers.

  The door to the bathroom across the hall was open. No Marcus. Her heart thumping, she went downstairs.

  He wasnt in the shabby living room or in the kitchen. No note propped against the sugar bowl told her where he had gone or when to expect him. Samantha smiled wryly. Should she be glad Marcus wasnt in the habit of leaving morning farewells for his lovers? Or should she be discouraged by his lack of domesticity?

  Glad, she decided. He was domesticated enough. All around her, the scarred countertops and battered appliances gleamed. Hed even managed to scrape a layer of grime from the floor. All the kitchen needed to appear completely homey were flowers on the table and childrens artwork on the refrigerator door.