"That's what I'm hoping."
"Good."
His gaze swept her where she sat in the car. "SO if we understand each other … why are you hesitating?"
Michelle pretended an interest in her purse, opening it and shuffling through the contents, anything to avoid his direct gaze. "You're going to think this is silly, but…" The couple that had walked by was sitting on a bench under a tree at the side of the courthouse. "I don't know. I think this may be the only time I get married, and … even though it is phony, I at least thought I'd wear white."
Jake skimmed her dark slacks and top, then cast a glance toward the sky and cursed. "Why didn't I think of that?" He glanced at her. "We're going to have to be quick about it. We don't have much time before the license bureau closes. All I can say is it's a good thing we're in Ohio. No residency requirements, no blood test, photo ID is all that's required. Pennsylvania has a three-day waiting period, and you have to have a social security card."
Michelle watched in shock as he closed her door and rounded the car. Within moments they were on the road again. Her heart beat a specific rhythm reserved for this one man who didn't question her foolish, dawdling request, merely acted on it. Within an hour they'd scoured the interior of a local department store and a small florist. Michelle had a white dress and clutched a pretty bouquet of vibrant African violets, and Jake wore a gardenia in his lapel and had two simple rings tucked into one pocket and a disposable camera in another.
As they stood outside the license bureau in the courthouse, license in hand, Michelle was afraid she'd faint flat out.
She glanced at the impossibly tall man standing next to her and smiled. "Jake?"
He looked at her, and she felt that noodle-kneed reaction all over again.
"I just wanted to, you know, say thank you for all this."
His grin was dazzling. "I should be the one thanking you for your quick thinking. Pictures of what looks like a real ceremony will go a long way toward helping us with both Edgar and what will surely be an investigation."
Michelle felt the inexplicable urge to whack him with her violets.
* * *
Jake wasn't sure what he'd said, but Michelle had gone from looking like a nervous bride to a woman with murder on her mind within a blink of an eye. He grimaced and looked around the airy courthouse.
Lord, but she looked better than anybody had a right to. He never thought he'd be one to go for the skintight look. In fact, it wasn't all that long ago that he'd openly frowned on such sexy attire. Perhaps it was knowing intimately the treasures clearly outlined beneath the thin, stretchy fabric of Michelle's dress that made him unable to take his eyes off her. He'd be damned if he didn't want to steal her away to some broom closet or supply room and slide his fingers up the hem of that clingy dress and peel her panties down her legs to probe the soft, Slick flesh there.
He fought the desire to loosen his tie and led her away from the license bureau door before he overheated.
"So is that it? Are we married?" Michelle asked, following him outside where he dragged in a deep breath.
Jake took in her stricken expression, and an odd tightness gripped his stomach. "No. We, um, have to have someone perform the ceremony, like a judge. No, no, not a judge…"
Around them the lush green of the courthouse lawn looked unnaturally vivid in the afternoon sunlight. Trees dotted the landscape, and curving walkways led to the three other entrances to the stone, domed, four-square building. He caught sight of the couple who had been standing before them in line. Poised in the shade of a tree—the bride in a yellow smock unable to hide that she was well into her third trimester of pregnancy—they were being married by a pastor.
Jake craned his neck to get a closer look at the man of the cloth. His salt-and-pepper hair said he was well into his prime, but his wrinkled, ruddy features made him look far older. He turned slightly away from the couple, opened his timeworn Bible with a flick of a satiny bookmark, then took out a small tin hidden in a cutout hole. He took a quick sip. Jake nearly burst out laughing.
Michelle backed away from him. "Tell me you're not thinking what I think you're thinking, yes?"
Jake blinked at her. "What?"
"You're not going to ask that … that booze hound to perform the ceremony?"
He grimaced and allowed her to tug her elbow from his grasp. He was struck all over again by how sexy she looked, especially with that pouty frown on her face. "Why not?"
She shifted several times on her towering white heels. "It wouldn't be legal, would it? I mean, the guy can hardly read."
Jake glanced over to catch the old pastor hiccuping. He placed a hand over his mouth and apologized to the young couple, who had eyes only for each other. "Trust me, it's legal enough. Besides, I think it will be fun."
Michelle turned from him, searching the lawn as though another option would pop up at any moment. "There must be someone else."
"We don't have time to find anyone else, Michelle. We've wasted enough time shopping—" He was stopped abruptly by that murderous look in her eyes again. "I know this doesn't look very good, but the sooner we're done with this, the sooner we're back on the road. In the long run, that's all that matters, isn't it?"
The sound of approaching footsteps on the cement walkway pulled Jake's gaze from Michelle. The pastor had finished marrying the other couple and had spotted them. But it wasn't him Jake was concerned about. It was the sight of Edgar bearing down on them from the opposite direction.
"Hidey ho, lovebirds!" the pastor called, fingering his Bible. "Are you looking to get married today?"
"No," Jake said.
At the same time Michelle said, "Yes."
The pastor chuckled. "Seems to me someone's suffering from a mighty case of cold feet."
Michelle stared at Jake, but he didn't have time to explain. Edgar moved closer by the moment. Jake nearly pulled Michelle off those heels as he towed her toward the courthouse, the pastor following right after them.
* * *
Safely installed in a judge's outer chambers, Michelle looked at their witness, the drunken pastor, and smiled, hoping the old man would make it through the ceremony still standing. She turned toward the female judge, who was asking her and Jake to join hands.
She was struck once again by how large and strong his hands looked, then noticed how damp they were. Her gaze flicked to his face. While the pastor looked ready to fall over, Jake appeared ready to bolt
Her smile widened. So big Jake McCoy was afraid of something—namely, matrimony.
Now she understood his desire to be wed by the elderly pastor. The exchanging of vows would have seemed like something out of an American cartoon rather than the real thing. She had convinced him that a judge was the way to go by reminding him that a judge's signature on their wedding certificate would look far better than the pastor's. Practical Jake would never be able to argue that point. Then he'd told her Edgar was in the building.
"Now repeat after me," the female judge said, eyeing them both openly.
Michelle recited the vows carefully, noticing the Way Jake avoided her gaze. She resisted the urge to dig her heel into his foot and instead jerked on his hands, forcing him to look at her. She smiled. He turned a frightening shade of green.
Next came Jake's part. Before following the judge's lead, he cast a forlorn look in the pastor's direction. The pastor had other priorities, though. Turning away from the clerk standing nearby, he opened his Bible and took another hefty swig from the tin. Jake grimaced and solemnly repeated after the judge.
How in the hell did I ever get into this mess? he wondered as he recited his vows.
Jake couldn't exactly define what it was he was feeling. He, more than anyone, knew this was all pretend. The dress Michelle had on, the bouquet she held, the rings he was even now fumbling to get out of his pocket, all of it was show, to prove to Edgar and his superiors at the INS that they were married.
Then why did he bear all the hallmark signs of
a man who had stuck his head into a guillotine? Marc had looked like he was going to toss his cookies when he'd married Melanie two months ago. Then again, the thought of facing Mel's tight-lipped mother, Wilhemenia Weber, across a dinner table at holidays… Jake cringed. Hell, that would be enough to make any man think twice.
And then there was Mitch. He could just imagine what had gone through Mitch's mind when his bride was late for the ceremony … again. At least this time Liz Braden had eventually shown up, unlike seven years ago when Jake had silently nursed Mitch back from a subsequent week-long drinking binge that had left them all the worse for wear.
The clerk snapped their picture in front of the judge. Jake winced. His hands shook as he opened the box that held both rings. He took out the smaller of the two simple gold bands. The smile Michelle gave him as she held out her hand nearly knocked him over. He'd noticed how tiny her hands were before, but now, with one lying against his palm, it looked downright childlike. He touched the ring to the tip of her ring finger, then nearly dropped the blasted thing. He slowly budged it up her finger, sunlight glinting off the narrow band. The clerk snapped another picture.
Michelle held her other hand out. He blinked at it, then at her. "Oh." He fumbled for the box again, then handed the other ring to her.
He gritted his teeth, wondering how he'd let her talk him into buying two bands. Sure, they'd been on sale, two for one, of all things. But all they'd needed was the one. His thoughts seemed to manifest themselves in body reaction. Though the band had slid on easily at the store, Michelle now had to twist and turn it to force it up his finger. It was all he could do not to stop her and toss the thing out the open window.
He knew the instant the ring hit home at the base of his finger. He felt a weird sort of heat, as if she'd fused the sucker there. He stared at the symbolic piece of jewelry and nearly hurled.
"You can now kiss the bride," the judge said with a smile.
He stared at the woman. Was she insane? Kiss the bride? The last thing he felt like doing was kissing…
Michelle's silky soft lips met with his. His gaze was riveted to her face as she stood on tiptoe to slant her mouth against his. Everything he was coming to know as her surrounded him: her sweet smell, her lush body, her soft hair.
He groaned and threaded his fingers through the curly hair over her ears, holding her still so he could kiss her more deeply. The heat that began with the ring steamed toward his groin. God, but this woman tasted better than any one woman had a right to—warm, inviting, downright sexy. The clerk cleared her throat. Jake pulled away, half dazed, and looked toward the sound just as the flash of the camera went off again.
* * *
Chapter 9
« ^ »
Michelle practically had to jerk him from the judge's chambers after the picture-taking and the paper-signing, for all the control he seemed to have over his body, much less the situation. But as determined and wiry as she was, she was no match for his shear size. Ten feet down the hall, she gave up and instead pressed him against the cool wall.
Jake blinked at the decidedly wicked smile she gave before slanting her mouth against his and boldly running her tongue across his lips.
"What was that for?" He practically croaked the words afterward.
She shrugged lightly. "You looked like you needed it."
His grin originated in his chest. "Boy, do you ever have that right."
He brought his mouth down on hers.
Ah, if anything could have taken his mind off the past thirty minutes, this was it. He leaned against the wall and hauled her against him. Despite the difference in their sizes, they fit amazingly well together, her mouth on his, his growing erection pressing against the soft flesh of her lower belly. He launched a full-scale assault on her mouth, marveling at the textures there, the smoothness of her teeth, the rasp of her tongue as she gave as good as she got. He pressed his hands harder against the small of her back, drawing her closer still as she hastily undid the top few buttons of his shirt. He shuddered as she pressed the heat of her palms against the bare skin of his chest.
"There," she said, kissing him again and giving his tie a yank. "That's much better."
The sound of approaching footsteps sent reality crashing in on him. What was he thinking? They were in the middle of a county courthouse, for cripe's sake. He dragged his mouth from hers, then closed his eyes and rested his temple against her soft hair, sucking in desperately needed air.
The clearing of a male throat.
Jake grimaced. The pastor must have followed them out, perhaps looking for more compensation than the tenner he'd given him to witness the ceremony. Michelle shifted to look at their company and went stiff in his arms. Jake opened his eyes to stare at Edgar Mollens.
Jake patted his jacket pocket where he'd put the certificate of marriage. He grinned. "Edgar, old buddy, old pal, old friend of mine."
Edgar's fleshy features darkened. "Get off it, McCoy. I knew there was something fishy about this whole thing right from the start. You, married? And to an illegal alien on high alert, at that?" He shook his head. "I knew there was no way in hell. Everyone at the office knows you'd send your own mother back to Kosovo if you found out she was an illegal."
Jake's spine snapped to attention. He reminded himself that his co-worker had no idea his mother had died long ago. Still he couldn't help saying, "My mother's family came over on the Mayflower, you idiot."
Edgar's brows budged up on his wrinkled forehead. "So the silent one is capable of anger. I'm sorry to say I've lost a bet."
He folded Michelle's hand in his. "Come on, let's go."
Edgar grabbed her other arm. "You can go wherever you like, McCoy—at least until you're scheduled to appear before the review board back home. This one … well, she goes back with me and is on the first plane out of here."
"Keep pushing it, Edgar, and I'll show you just how angry I can get," Jake said evenly, his blood steaming through his veins and roaring past his ears.
"Are you threatening me?"
Jake had at least six inches on the other agent, and he used them now to his advantage by stepping closer. Edgar hesitated, then stumbled, but didn't release Michelle. "No, I'm promising you that if you don't unhand my wife right this minute, I'm going to break your hands."
Edgar's bark of laughter echoed through the hall. The old pastor turned to look at them where he stood near the stairs. "Get off it, Jake. I just had Pauline check every courthouse between here and D.C. You two are about as married as a goose and a dove. That's a cooked goose."
Jake calmly placed his hand on Edgar's right shoulder and squeezed until he released his grip on Michelle, then he slipped the marriage certificate from his pocket. He slapped it against the agent's chest. "Here you go, buddy. Read it and weep." He took Michelle's hand again.
"For crying out loud, you haven't seen the last of me, McCoy!" Edgar called after them.
* * *
Despite what had just transpired at the courthouse, Jake felt as though a Just Married sign complete with tin cans and streamers was posted to the back of his car, for all the giddiness he felt. Which was ridiculous. Because not even an hour ago, he'd been close to passing out dead cold from nerves. And because while he and Michelle were legally married, they weren't really married. Theirs was a marriage of convenience. Not for money. Not for prestige. But because Michelle needed a way to stay in the country long enough to find her daughter, and he needed to give it to her. No matter what Edgar and his superiors might think
The sensation had hit him immediately upon leaving the courthouse. After giving Edgar the certificate. After Michelle had kissed him senseless in the hall. And after she had paused outside the door where prospective jurors were waiting to be called, and tossed her small bouquet over her shoulder. All nervousness had left him. And all he could think about, sitting in the car next to her, heading to the area where Gerald Evans lived, was that he wanted his wedding night. Except in this case it would be his wedding
evening. Hell, he didn't care what it was, and he didn't care that last night he'd had Michelle every which way but loose. He wanted to explore every sweet inch of her, thrust into her slick, hot flesh, watch the graceful line of her neck as she tossed her head back and made those soft whimpers that drove him absolutely crazy.
He wanted to do it now.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly and took deep, measured breaths. It was either try to get a grip or pull over to the side of the road and have at her. Haul her over so she straddled him in that clingy little dress. Launch an oral assault on her pointy breasts right through the lacy material of her dress. Thrust his fingers up to touch her panties, then immerse them in her dripping wetness.
He shifted to ease the discomfort of his semiaroused state.
Before he went giving himself over to needs he'd never thought he possessed, he had some business to attend to.
He reached across Michelle's lap to the glove compartment. He had just opened it when she touched his arm.
He glanced into her concerned face. "You … that man…" She took a deep breath, her fingers tightening on his arm. "After all this is done, you're going to be in trouble, aren't you?" She bit her bottom lip. "I mean more than just getting fired. You might be put in…"
"Jail?" He finished her sentence for her, his throat closing around the word.
She stared at him, wide-eyed.
"Yes. It may very well come to that. Edgar may have that wedding certificate, but it's only a matter of time before he gets the proper documentation to haul both of us in for intense scrutiny by immigration review … or even court." But he didn't want to think about any of that. No. He wanted to concentrate on what needed to be done and try to accomplish it in whatever time they had left.
He punched two buttons and placed the cell phone to his ear.
Two rings, then he heard, "McCoy Place
, David here."
Jake grimaced. Of all the people to answer the phone. "It's Jake."
"For God's sake, man, where in the hell are you? Pops is this close to putting an APB out on your sorry ass. Mitch has been on the horn with some of his old friends at the FBI, and all the provisions I packed for our hike are rotting in my backpack near the door."
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