The Heart Has Reasons

by Martine Marchand

  She linked her arm through his and leaned up to whisper back, “Then it might interest you to know I’m not wearing panties.”

  His pupils suddenly dilated. “Liar.”

  “I wouldn’t lie about something like that.”

  He slipped an arm about her waist and ran a casual hand along her hip, searching for elastic beneath the lightweight cotton of her dress. Finding none, his breath caught. “You are a wicked and cold-hearted witch.”

  “Admit it — that’s what you like about me.”

  He gave her a wolfish grin. “It certainly is.

  * * * * *

  Larissa and Chase peeled off their clothes and climbed together into the shower. As Chase soaped his groin, he remarked, “Ah, Jesus, I’m sore.”

  “You’re sore! You’ve a lot of nerve to complain. How do you think I feel?”

  He grinned down at her. “Let me see if I can make you feel better.” He lowered himself to his knees and, when his tongue found the little nub of flesh, a jolt of pleasure shot through her, threatening to buckle her knees. She threaded her fingers through his wet hair as the water flowed over them both, the sexiness of it intoxicating. Every nerve ending in her body buzzed and tingled, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet.

  When her legs started to wobble, he wrapped his arms around her thighs to steady her. An inarticulate moan of arousal vibrated through her throat as the pleasure built and built. Every molecule of her being sang in ecstasy when her release came.

  The blood was still pounding in her ears, echoing the fading pulse between her legs, when Chase stood and gave her a heartbreakingly slow and tender kiss. He was hard as steel against her thigh. Breaking off the kiss, he gently turned her around so she was facing away from him. She leaned forward, bending from the waist and bracing her hands on the tile. He guided himself to the slippery cleft between her legs and slowly impaled exquisitely sensitive tissues inch by agonizing inch. She uttered an inarticulate moan at the feel of his thick length filling her.

  Gripping her hips, he slowly pulled back until only the head remained within. Then he moved forward just as slowly, until the saddle of his hips pressed tightly against her bottom. He thrust slowly and deeply, trying to make the pleasure last, and each thrust sent fiery jolts through her, lighting her fuse once again.

  As the warm water flowed over them, he gripped her hips tighter and began pounding himself into her. She let out a keening wail as he triggered a second explosion to rival her first.

  When he finally withdrew, she turned to him on wobbly legs and gripped him tightly, her face pressed to his big chest, overwhelmed by the multitude of feelings that flowed over her. “You know,” she said when she could finally speak again, “I’ve never before been able to have more than one orgasm per day.”

  He leaned back slightly to gaze down at her. “Not that I’ve been counting or anything, but you’ve had way more than one.”

  Her smile was dreamy. “Don’t let this go to your head, but I’m starting to wonder if you have some kind of super-human powers.”

  He struck a comical pose, bringing his arms up and flexing his huge rock-hard biceps. “Just call me ‘Orgasm Man’.”

  She laughed and playfully punched him in the chest. “Come on, Orgasm Man. If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be late.”

  * * * * *

  Larissa and Chase arrived at Brendon’s chosen restaurant fifteen minutes early. Popular with both tourists and locals alike, it was already crowded. The hostess added their names to the waiting list, and they took seats at the bar. They ordered club sodas, and joked and flirted with each other while keeping an eye on the front door to watch for Brendon’s arrival.

  Surprisingly, as soon as the hostess called Chase’s name, Brendon materialized from the back of the bar to warily clasp Chase’s hand. The clamor of overlapping conversations that filled the restaurant momentarily crescendoed as patrons recognized Larissa. Ignoring the stares and comments, she trailed the hostess to their allotted table.

  “Where were you?” Larissa asked Brendon once they were seated. “We didn’t see you come in.”

  “I got here early,” he admitted. “I was sitting in the back of the bar.”

  “Didn’t you see us?”

  “He saw us,” Chase answered. “He was covertly observing us to see how I treat you when he’s not around.”

  A faint flush suffused Brendon’s cheeks. “Sorry.”

  Chase made a dismissive motion. “I appreciate the fact that you’re looking out for Larissa.”

  Brendon regarded Chase speculatively. “You know, I have to say that it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Larissa this happy. In fact, I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her this happy.”

  Chase reached over to clasp her hand. “She does have a certain glow about her.”

  The waiter appeared to take their drink orders. Larissa pretended to study her menu, giving Chase and Brendon a chance to get to know one another. Despite Chase’s denial of homophobia, she still had slight misgivings, simply because he was such an extremely macho man. Plus, having been a member of Special Forces for so long, he’d probably not had much contact with openly gay men.

  Apparently secure enough in his own sexuality not to feel threatened, he seemed totally at ease with Brendon as they chatted, and she was thrilled to see her two favorite men getting along so well.

  “While you two were in the bar,” Brendon was saying to Chase, “you all were so wrapped up in each other you probably didn’t realize you were the center of attention. Every woman in the place was checking you out, and every man had his eyes glued to Larissa. Except for the big black man. He was watching you both.”

  Feeling as though someone had poured a glass of ice water down the back of her neck, Larissa lowered the menu. “What big black man?”

  From directly behind her, a familiar voice said, “I believe he means me.”

  Fear pinched off her breath and her cheeks went cold as the blood drained from her face. The voice’s owner extended his hand across the table to Brendon. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Special Agent Jarvis.”

  CHAPTER 43

  Panic surged through Larissa like a douse of ice water. She had told Brendon all about Jarvis, and the FBI agent’s sudden appearance had him clearly nonplused. His handsome face ran through a gamut of expressions as he got to his feet to shake hands.

  Chase had also risen to his feet, his jaw clenched so tight that cords stood out on his neck. The anger and fear wrenching his handsome face frightened her nearly as much as did Jarvis’s presence. He glared at Jarvis with a chilling intensity, as if he desperately wanted to kill the man and might at any second attempt to do just that.

  She understood the feeling. Everything within her seemed to contract into a single cold ball of terror and, with her world about to come crashing down about her, she had the burning desire to kill Jarvis herself. The savagery of the emotion appalled her.

  “Hello, Mr. O’Malley.” Chase’s eyes were as cold and hard as sapphires as he glared at the FBI agent. Unperturbed by the open animosity, Jarvis turned to her. “Ms. Santos, it’s always a pleasure to see you.” He lowered himself, uninvited, into the vacant chair.

  Brendon’s eyes were darting from her, to Chase, to Jarvis, and back to her again. Larissa knew that she herself probably wore that deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression. As her world teetered on the very precipice, the only clear thought in the morass of fear that whirled in her mind was that, now that she’d finally found love and happiness, they were about to be ripped from her.

  The waiter returned with their drinks. “Are you folks ready to order?”

  Jarvis flipped his ID wallet open, flashing his badge. “FBI,” he announced pleasantly in his deep, bass voice. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready to order. In the meantime, please see that we’re not disturbed.”

  The waiter’s eyes were large and startled as he gazed about the table, taking in their individual expressions. “Ye
s, s-s-sir.” He beat a hasty retreat.

  When Jarvis focused his attention upon her, she forced herself not to squirm under his scrutiny. “Ms. Santos, I must say that you look stunning. In fact, you’re absolutely glowing. I can’t help but wonder what has wrought such a change in you.”

  Chase finally seated himself. “Why are you here, Jarvis?”

  “I could ask you the same thing, Mr. O’Malley. In answer to your question though, the airlines were on alert to notify me if you booked a flight. Since both you and Ms. Santos have continually denied an acquaintance, imagine my surprise at finding you together.”

  Chase was still groping for a plausible excuse when she stepped smoothly into the breach. “I can explain why he’s here.”

  Jarvis cocked a brow in a succinct I-can’t-wait-to-hear-this expression.

  Her eyes sought Chase’s, and his stony countenance blurred as tears welled up. She would absolutely die if she lost him now. Blinking back the tears, she swallowed the bitter taste of panic and turned to face Jarvis. “As you know, I was extremely upset that Chase had been wrongfully accused and jailed. After you released him, I contacted him to assure him I’d had nothing to do with his arrest.” She was nervously tapping her fingers on the table and, when she caught Jarvis staring at the motion, stopped.

  Chase reached over to take her hand in his own. “Larissa and I had already met briefly, that time we were accidentally held in the same interrogation room. Despite the bruises, her beauty made quite an impression on me.”

  Jarvis leaned back in his chair. “Apparently, you made a considerable impression on her as well. You never made it back to your motel last night.”

  Chase barked, “That’s none of your goddamned business,” and all around them conversations halted as heads turned in their direction. Larissa gave his hand a warning squeeze.

  “Perhaps not. However, I find it out of character for Ms. Santos to let a man she’d just met spend the night. And all day today, I couldn’t help but notice how close you two seemed to be, as though you’d been acquainted with each other for” — he paused to make a great show of looking at his watch — “well, for more than a mere twenty-four hours.”

  Her veneer starting to crack, Larissa raked a trembling hand through her hair. “Over the past week we’ve spent hours on the phone getting to know one another. We hit it off so well I invited him to Charleston.”

  “In that case, why were you so unnerved when he arrived upon your doorstep?”

  Jarvis had been there watching them? Unable to formulate a plausible response, she launched a counterattack. “Agent Jarvis, you lied to me.”

  “At no time did I ever do so.”

  “You told me Chase was getting married.”

  “I said no such thing. You asked my opinion as to why a man who dated supermodels would kidnap a woman, and I surmised that when Mr. O’Malley couldn’t afford the sort of engagement ring Cheyenne would expect, he decided to take drastic measures.”

  Crap. That was exactly what he’d done, and she’d taken his supposition as fact. “You deliberately misled me. And you lied to Chase about me.”

  “Yes, I did. But Mr. O’Malley was the suspect, not the victim.” Jarvis turned to Chase. “Five days ago, one of the men you assaulted was murdered.”

  Larissa’s heart jumped into her throat as Chase exclaimed, “I had nothing to do with that.”

  Jarvis raised one huge hand. “I’m aware of that, Mr. O’Malley. One of his own homeboys pulled the trigger. We have the man in custody, and he’s made a full confession.”

  She slumped back in her chair, weak with relief that Chase was not a suspect in yet another crime. “Which one got killed?” she asked, then added hopefully, “Was it the fat one with all that gold in his mouth?” Chase squeezed her hand so hard she winced. Realizing what she’d said, her heart thumped so hard her vision jumped.

  “His name was Malik Waddell, and I can assure you the world did not mourn his passing.” Jarvis gave her a wry grin. “It’s odd though that, having never seen him, you described him so accurately.”

  “Chase told me all about the incident with the thugs in the alley. He described them to me.”

  Since Jarvis’s arrival, the constant clatter plates and utensils, conversation and laughter had gradually hushed as the other patrons became aware of the quiet drama occurring in their midst. At an adjacent table, thick porterhouse steaks grew cold as four men in expensive business suits stared, transfixed by the scene. A truculent glare from Chase had them prudently returning their attention to their individual meals.

  Chase turned back to Jarvis, his mouth set in a grim line. “Are you here to arrest me?” This time Larissa’s heart banged against her sternum with such force that she actually gasped and pressed her free hand to her chest.

  “That remains to be seen. Ms. Santos, please explain to me why you would become involved with the man who abducted you.”

  She struggled to keep her temper in check. “How many times must I tell you the first time I laid eyes on Chase was when he stood in the line-up?”

  “Very well, then, we’ll play it your way. Do you still want your abductor prosecuted?”

  Unbidden tears welled up to trickle down her cheeks. “No.”

  Jarvis regarded her with raised brows, then turned to Chase. “Over the past month, Ms. Santos and I have spent a considerable amount of time together, but this is the first time I’ve seen her cry. You certainly seem to have a profound effect on her. But then, seeing as how you took such a risk in coming here, it appears she has the same effect on you.”

  “Larissa has already explained my presence.”

  “Ms. Santos, please explain why you don’t want your abductor prosecuted.”

  Painfully aware of the roomful of scrutinizing eyes, she fumbled her inhaler from her purse with trembling hands and sucked in a huge lungful. Chase regarded her with concern. “Are you having an asthma attack?”

  She shook her head. “My chest just feels a little tight.” She turned to Jarvis. “The man who kidnapped me — and I’m not talking about Chase — made a mistake, a horrendous mistake that he now deeply regrets. Sparrow conned him into doing it.”

  “He told you he regrets it?”

  “He did.”

  “When exactly did this conversation occur?”

  She hesitated before answering. If her kidnapper had expressed his regret to her in person, that would mean he’d still been with her after Sparrow’s death, which would then reopen the question of who exactly had killed him.

  “He called me,” she said finally. “He was extremely apologetic for not having believed me. He swore that he would never have delivered me to Sparrow had he known his true intentions.”

  “And you believed him?”

  “He was clearly consumed by guilt over what he’d done.”

  “When did he call you?”

  It would have to be while Chase was still in jail. “A few days after I got home, after the full story had hit the news.”

  “As I recall, you were terribly concerned that the bureau was holding an ‘innocent man’ in jail. Why didn’t you tell me the ‘real’ abductor had called? The resulting investigation might have led to O’Malley’s exoneration.”

  Why, indeed? Unable to come up with a plausible reason, she simply shrugged.

  “And because he apologized, you’re now willing to grant him absolution?”

  “He always treated me well. I see no reason why he should spend the next twenty-five years in prison for a stupid mistake, a mistake he deeply regrets.”

  “He may not have hurt you directly but, as a result of his actions, you were very badly beaten.”

  “And I’d gladly take another beating to save another life. You’re forgetting that, had he not kidnapped me, Sparrow would still be alive. How many more women would he have killed before the police finally caught him? If they caught him.”

  Jarvis regarded her for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable. Then he shifted in
his chair, turning to Brendon seated at his right. “Mr. Bishop, how long have you and Ms. Santos been friends?”

  Brendon colored as all eyes turned to him. “Two years.”

  “So you clearly know her well. What are your feelings on this relationship?”

  Brendon fidgeted in his chair. “I will admit that at first I had my doubts. But having met Chase, and seeing how happy Larissa is, I can’t help but think they were meant to be together.”

  “A spiritual coupling of two souls?”

  Brendon regarded Jarvis in wide-eyed surprise. “Yes. Exactly.”

  Jarvis nodded, then turned back to Larissa and Chase. “Years ago, before I joined the Bureau, I was deployed to El Salvador to train Salvadoran troops.” Larissa clutched Chase’s hand tighter, confused by the sudden change in subject and wondering exactly where Jarvis was going with this. “My men and I were with a group of Salvadorans soldiers in the jungle, tracking a group of rebels. The rebels ambushed us and, during the firefight, I was seriously wounded by a young woman, who we subsequently captured.”

  Jarvis absently picked up a butter knife from the place setting before him. “Although I’d been in many previous skirmishes, I’d never before received more than a scratch. I was therefore outraged that a mere girl had managed to shoot me, not once, but twice. On the way back to our base camp, I kept close guard over her, determined that she’d stand trial and knowing full well that she’d be executed.”

  His large fingers twirled the gleaming silver utensil with a surprising dexterity and, once again, some indefinable quality about the man reminded her of Chase. “I wasn’t the only one who’d been shot in the ambush, but fortunately no one on our side was killed. We were deep in the jungle and, due to our numerous injuries, the trip back to our base of operations was a long and arduous one, taking nearly a week.

  “Despite the fact that I was in considerable pain from my wounds, I conversed with the young woman, wanting to understand what drove her to be a rebel. She was simply following her own deep, personal convictions and, the more we spoke, the more I realized things are not always black or white. There are many shades of gray in between. During these conversations, we grew to know one another well and, despite my residual anger at her, we developed a grudging respect and fondness for one another. When some of the Salvadoran soldiers attempted to rape her, I stood against them to protect her.”