Bravo, Tango, Cowboy

by Joanna Wayne

  “Make love with me,” she whispered. “All the way. You inside me. Me pleasuring you. Without all those clothes you have on.”

  “Oh, Alonsa, there’s no way you couldn’t pleasure me. I’m so crazy for you right now, I can barely breathe.”

  “Then take me any way you want.”

  He pulled away and put both his hands to the task of rescuing her from the stuck zipper. The wait was pure torture.

  “It’s not budging.” Frustration and desire graveled his voice.

  “Rip it off, Hawk. Please, just rip it off. I have plenty of dresses.”

  He gave a quick jerk. “Mission accomplished,” he announced as it pooled at her feet. He tucked a finger inside the waistband of her lacy purple panties. “What about these?”

  “You decide.”

  “That’s a no-brainer.” He slipped them down her legs, slowly while he kissed her most intimate areas, driving her into ecstasy all over again.

  “Your turn,” she said. “I want to undress you.”

  She unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off his shoulders, but then the hunger rocked through both of them and he wiggled out of his jeans and boxers on his own. Once done, he lifted her and carried her to the bed.

  She kicked back the quilt and rolled onto the lilac sheets and into his arms. The passion was already at a fevered pitch and when Hawk raised and straddled her, she cradled his erection in her hands and guided him inside her.

  He thrust hard and deep, building to a crescendo until the explosions began. Rockets and starbursts and red fiery flares. She trembled and cried out as he carried her to the most intense orgasm she’d ever known.

  When his breathing slowed and he rolled away, he pulled her against him and held her close.

  There were no whispered mutterings of love, but she’d never felt this much a part of anyone before. She found it hard to believe she ever would. Whatever came of their relationship, she would never be sorry for tonight. Hawk Taylor was a man among men in every way.

  More man than even she’d suspected. She was still basking in the sweet afterglow of passion when he was ready to go again.

  HAWK WOKE AT THREE in the morning to the gentle, rhythmic sounds of Alonsa’s breathing and a niggling ache between his legs. He stared at the ceiling, letting the scintillating memories sift through his mind.

  They’d made love three times last night, twice before dinner. Once more after they’d eaten at a nearby restaurant and then walked to the attorney’s office to scope out the lay of the land by night.

  He hadn’t planned to make love with Alonsa last night, but he wasn’t sorry that he had—at least not yet. How could he regret having his body and soul climb to places he’d had no idea existed?

  He wondered now if that deep connection was what real love was all about. He’d never really thought that much about it before, had no basis for recognizing it. He did know what had transpired between them had been on a level that was new and totally unfamiliar to him.

  He reached over and tangled a finger in her hair. He fought the desire to stroke her beautiful breasts and the softness of her belly.

  He imagined waking up with her morning after morning, desire running hot between them, her laughter and dark, hypnotic eyes sparkling in the first rays of the sun.

  Yeah, right. It would be just like that. In a dream world. Hawk didn’t even have the address of that planet.

  He slid his legs over the side of the bed, slowly, careful not to wake Alonsa. He was wide-awake but there was no reason to disturb her. He pulled on his boxers, gathered the rest of his clothes and let himself out. He locked the door behind him and then slipped the thin metal key back under her door.

  Leaving her lying naked in bed just might be the hardest thing he’d ever done, and he regretted the act before he reached his own door.

  THE HOUSE THAT Caroline Wardman had chosen as her place of business was a study in contrasts. The outside was a refurbished, Victorian mansion. Wide porches. Two turrets. Intricate gingerbread trim.

  The inside was twenty-first-century posh with a bit of new age asceticism thrown in for effect. Plush carpets. Expensive etched-glass chandeliers. Abundant leather furnishings and stark black and white lamps and vases.

  Alonsa took a seat in the back of the high-ceilinged waiting room and leaned over to whisper in Hawk’s ear. “The attorney could use a good interior design consultant.”

  “You could volunteer.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Alonsa said.

  “I was only kidding.”

  “I’m not. If I hung around here, I could surely gain access to her files.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  She guessed it would be a waste of time after the comment Hawk had made last night when they were prowling in the dark. He was certain he could disarm the alarm system and let himself into Caroline’s inner sanctum with no one the wiser.

  Last night. Heated memories returned in a dizzying, frustrating rush. They’d made love for the third time and then sometime in the night or early morning hours he’d crawled out of her bed to go back to his own.

  She’d been irritated at what she viewed as renewed rejection when she’d first woken and found him gone. She’d gotten over that quickly enough when he’d shown up a bit later with a bagel and coffee and kissed her good morning.

  And that kiss came after she’d added some rather scary acne scars to her cheeks and forehead.

  He was as full of contrasts as this house. More complex. A million times more exciting. He was all business now and she felt a renewed sense of confidence that a major breakthrough was on the horizon. She prayed it would be today and she couldn’t wait to actually meet Caroline Wardman.

  But wait they did for thirty long minutes before they were ushered into the attorney’s office. The woman didn’t look up when they entered but kept talking on the phone and letting condensation from a glass of what appeared to be grapefruit juice drip onto a 4 X 6 photograph of a newborn.

  The crass woman was capable of the worst crimes against human nature. Alonsa was certain of it.

  HAWK STARTED SIZING UP the attorney the second they walked into her private office.

  “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, finally hanging up the phone and turning her attention to them. “It’s been a hectic morning. One of our adoptive mothers who was supposed to pick up her baby today had an accident on the drive home from work last night and is in the intensive care unit. It throws the paperwork into a tailspin.”

  “What happens with the baby?” Hawk asked.

  “He stays on with Social Services. But don’t worry, if that mother doesn’t work out, the agency I represent has a waiting list of prospective parents. Now how can I help you?”

  “We’re interested in adopting,” Alonsa said, even though Hawk had warned her to let him do the talking.

  He had to hand it to her disguise talents, though. He’d have recognized her sexy walk and the fragrance she wore, a flowery scent that always threw his libido a curve, but her appearance would fool ninety-nine and nine tenths percent of the people who knew her.

  “I don’t know how you got my name,” Caroline said, “but you’ve come to the wrong place. I merely handle the paperwork. You’ll need to visit the agency’s office on Main to file for adoption. I can give you their phone number and address.”

  “It’s the paperwork that concerns us,” Hawk said. “How do we know for certain the biological parent can’t come back and claim the baby after we’ve paid all the money and grown attached to the infant?”

  “The contract’s ironclad. They sign away all their rights.”

  “But what happens if they try to get out of the contract?”

  “They’re never given the names of the adoptive parents. They’d have no way of tracking you down. But if you’re still worried, you should talk to the agency. I’m sure they can address any concerns you might have.”

  “Where do they store all this paperwork? Is it somew
here the real parent can’t just look it up on the Internet?”

  “If you adopt a child, you are the real parent. And I can assure you the files are confidential and not accessible via the Internet. They’re under lock and key at the agency.”

  “Then you don’t store them here for safekeeping?”

  “Not once they’re completed and all parties have signed off on them.”

  Which meant there wasn’t any reason to break in to her office, though from what he’d noted, it would be a fairly easy task. He pretty much had what he’d come for. The woman was in this to make money and appeared to be doing a good job of that. He didn’t see her as the mastermind of a baby theft ring, but he could be wrong.

  He opened his notebook for an additional test now that he didn’t see how he had anything to lose by angering the attorney.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said. “We’re not really looking to adopt a baby. I’m a private detective and I’m trying to track down this woman’s sister.” He nodded toward Alonsa. “She thinks her sister may have adopted a baby from the agency you represent and it’s important that she locate her.”

  Alonsa uncrossed her legs and stared at him from beneath her mousy wig.

  Caroline glared at him openly. “You’ve wasted your time, Mr. Taylor or whoever you are. Anything I know is protected by client privilege.”

  “Just take a look,” he urged. He took Marilyn Couric’s sketch from the notebook and pushed it onto the back of her desk.

  Caroline didn’t pick it up, but he watched closely as her gaze shifted to the sketch. There was absolutely no visible reaction on her part. That settled it in his mind. She had not hired that woman to abduct Lucy.

  They were back to square one. For Alonsa, it would be a long ride back to Dobbin.

  THEY RETURNED TO THE B and B just long enough to pick up their luggage and for Alonsa to shed the wig, wash the scars from her face, put on fresh makeup and change into something more becoming than the drab suit that had made her look downright pudgy. He had no idea how she’d accomplished that.

  Hawk opted to hang out in the back flower garden with the owner, who was adding some bulbs to two of the beds. If he’d gone back to Alonsa’s room while she was changing clothes, he might have wound up paying for an extra night.

  Not that he’d mind, but Alonsa was already antsy to get back to Dobbin and pick up Brandon from the Double M. He could tell she was trying hard not to let her disillusionment with the morning’s outcome show, but he knew her too well to be fooled. She was so desperate to find her daughter that any disappointment hit her hard.

  Two years of waiting, worrying, hoping and praying with nothing but heartache for her efforts. He didn’t know how she did it. A mother’s love. Women like his mother were obviously missing the gene that enabled it. Alonsa must have been blessed—or cursed—with a double supply.

  The man in the earth-stained overalls stood and swiped his hands across the bibbed front. “The missus says you’re from Dobbin.”

  “I am. Just moved there, though.”

  “You like it?”

  “I’m learning to.”

  Up until now he hadn’t enjoyed it nearly as much as he’d enjoyed his evening in the Heights. He was still reeling from the thrill of making love to Alonsa and couldn’t wait to do it again. They would, he knew. They’d crossed a line and there was no going back.

  None of the reasons for avoiding it had changed, but making love to Alonsa was like a drug habit that he’d never be able to break. He wouldn’t have to. Sooner or later, she would.

  He talked a few minutes more to the owner then said a quick goodbye when he spotted Alonsa carrying her bag of stage makeup and fake hair to the truck.

  The owner spotted her too. The guy was probably pushing seventy and openly ogling. “Nice-looking woman. You’re a lucky man.”

  “Damned lucky.” For now.

  AFTER THIRTY MINUTES of rehashing the morning’s meeting with Caroline Wardman, Alonsa chose a CD from Hawk’s case and inserted it in the truck’s dashboard player. Keith Urban’s voice came at them in stereophonic sound.

  She tugged on her seat belt and shifted in her seat. “I think Texas is growing on me.”

  Hawk smiled but kept his eyes on the road. Afternoon traffic heading north on I-45 was a bitch. “Did I hear that wrong or did Miss New York just admit to getting turned on to the Lone Star State?”

  “It’s not the Big Apple but it has its own charm. It’s quieter, especially on the ranch. The winters are great. And Texans are so friendly it’s hard not to feel at home among them.”

  “You certainly hit it off with Linney.”

  “She’s a terrific friend, the closest I’ve had since high school.”

  “That says a lot.”

  “It does. High school was a blast. College, not so much. I was set on being a dancer by then and studying seemed a total waste. I left the University of Arizona midway through my junior year and headed to New York.”

  “That must have incurred some flack.”

  “Dad was livid, but he came around when he saw me in my first Broadway chorus line. Mom always understood. And then I gave it all up for marriage and kids and you know the rest of the story.”

  The rest of the story had left her in a state of perpetual anxiety and heartbreak, searching for a daughter who might well be dead in spite of her unflinching faith that Lucy was alive.

  Hawk was convinced that the answer to whatever had happened to Lucy lay somewhere in the rest of Alonsa’s story. The more he knew about the intimate details of her life, the better chance he’d have of hitting on the one fact that would lead to solving the mystery of the disappearance and the phone calls.

  “How did your parents feel about Todd?”

  “They loved him at first. He was a charmer. People liked him instantly, especially women. He was like you in a way.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Don’t worry. There’s a big difference between the two of you. His charisma was all on the surface. Once you got to know him, you realized how shallow he was. Not that I admitted that to myself for a long time.

  “You, on the other hand, are not only a gorgeous hunk, but you have depth and character. The better I know you, the more enticed I become.”

  “Kind of like Texas.”

  “If Texas were a sensual, exciting, heart-stopping lover.”

  An edgy wariness attacked his gut. She was reading way too much into last night, seeing things in him that weren’t there and never would be.

  “Where are your parents now?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “In Anchorage. I grew up in Phoenix, but Dad got transferred to Alaska while I was in college. It was a big cultural and climate adjustment, but they both love it. Mom spent three months with me helping me cope and take care of Brandon after Lucy disappeared. She hated Texas humidity, but she was a trooper.”

  “What’s your parents’ take on the tormenting phone calls?”

  “I’ve never told them. They’d worry too much about me and about Lucy. I try to spare them that. I’ve told them about you, though. Mom is praying daily for your success in finding Lucy.”

  “Tell her to keep that up.” He needed one good, solid lead. If it came straight from heaven, fine by him.

  Then she changed the subject. “It must have been fun for you growing up on a ranch in Oklahoma.”

  “Tons of fun.” If you were into living with a drunk who mistook you for a punching bag, he silently added.

  “Did you have horses and four-wheelers and ride in rodeos?”

  “All of the above.”

  “This isn’t a game where you have to answer in five words or less, Hawk.”

  “Sorry. Guess I’ve got a lot on my mind. Maybe we should go back to the subject of Texas.”

  She moved her hand to his neck and trailed meandering paths from his ear to his shoulder with her fingertips. “Let’s just say I find more to love about Texas every day.”

  She wa
s definitely reading too much into him. Still he couldn’t wait to take her in his arms again.

  THEY STOPPED FOR A QUICK burger in the Woodlands and it was half past two in the afternoon when they arrived at the Double M to pick up Brandon, Carne and Alonsa’s car. Hawk had planned to stay behind, but Alonsa had other ideas.

  She was taking this Texas thing seriously and she wanted him to take a ride around her ranch with her and discuss what she’d have to do if she wanted to start with a few head of cattle and a couple of horses.

  He just wanted to be with her, even with their three-year-old chaperone around.

  He pulled up right behind her in the drive. Carne bounded from the car the second she opened the back door. His barking was even more excessive than usual. He stopped at the steps to the porch and growled as if he were scaring away demons.

  “Does he always carry on like that when you’ve been away from the house?” Hawk asked.

  “No. He only does that when strangers he doesn’t like are around. I don’t know what’s got into him today. Maybe he smells a possum or an armadillo.”

  “Could be.” But Hawk wasn’t comfortable with taking that for fact. “Why don’t you get back in the car and let me take a look around before you go inside?”

  Apprehension shadowed her dark eyes. He hadn’t meant to spook her, but they were in an isolated area and he’d learned the importance of caution much too well to ignore it now.

  “If you think someone’s in my house we should call the sheriff.”

  “You’d take the sheriff over a navy SEAL?”

  “You don’t have a weapon.”

  “I have a rifle in my truck. I’ll take it in with me, but I could beat out a sheriff even without it.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but it sounded good and he figured it would ease Alonsa’s mind.

  “Go, SEALs.” She handed him her keys, then glanced at Brandon asleep in his booster seat.