Mountain Ranger Recon

by Carol Ericson

  Ian pulled into a parking space, killed the engine and rubbed the back of his neck. “That’s why I called.”

  Closing his eyes, Ian told Buzz about Meg’s involvement and her expectations for tomorrow. “I can’t allow her to be anywhere near that ledge when I make my climb.”

  Buzz whistled. “No kidding.”

  “That’s why I need your help. You need to take a red-eye or fly your own plane. Just get yourself out here so you can watch my back while I scale that cliff face and retrieve the suitcase. And I need to do it before Slovenka’s customer sends for reinforcements.”

  “I can get out there tomorrow, but probably not until later in the afternoon. Will that work?”

  “It’s going to have to.” Ian thanked his friend and rolled into his hotel room for a shower and a change of clothing.

  When he got out of the shower, he rubbed a circle in the steam on the mirror. He ran a hand through his damp hair and hunched forward on the vanity. One way or another, he had to convince Meg to stay home.

  He tried on his best seductive smile for his reflection, and blew out a breath, creating more fog on the mirror. He’d better get ready to sweet talk his wife—either that or tie her to the bedpost…or maybe he’d do both.

  MEG PULLED UP to the curb in front of Eloise’s Victorian house. Eloise’s Day Care had been a Godsend for the working parents of Crestville. Large enough so that the kids got some variety in both other kids and day-care teachers, but small enough to lend the right air of intimacy and coziness for the kids.

  Meg knocked, using the brass knocker, and Eloise herself answered the door. “A little late, aren’t you Meg?”

  With her brow furrowed, Meg checked her watch. “Not too late, am I?” Eloise charged extra for each minute a parent picked up late.

  “Not too late, but you’re usually here earlier, and Travis has been antsy.” Eloise waved her into the living room, which she kept off-limits to the kids.

  Meg pressed against the baby gate that separated the toddler play area from Eloise’s living room, and waved to Travis, who was punching his fist into a lump of clay. She grinned. She wanted her son to work out all his aggressions before he came home. She didn’t want to scare off Ian with a two-year-old tantrum.

  “Get your backpack from the hook, Travis. Time to come home.” Only one other toddler occupied the play area, and guilt rolled through Meg like a tumbleweed leaving prickly burrs in its wake. “Oh, I really am late, if Sierra’s the only toddler left.”

  Eloise handed Meg a bag with Travis’s empty lunch containers. “It looks like we may have another toddler joining us. A couple from Colorado Springs dropped by today for a tour, and they’re supposed to return tomorrow to pick up the paperwork. A very affectionate couple, looked more like they were on a honeymoon than shopping for day care.”

  “The more the merrier, and the more loving the better, I suppose.” Meg scooped up Travis in her arms and said goodbye to Eloise. She chattered to him in the car about dinner and Daddy and new friends. By the time she reached home, Travis had conked out. She carried him inside and tucked him into bed for a nap, and then pulled out all the ingredients for chicken enchiladas. Ian liked his food spicy…and his sex spicier.

  Could she win him over with sex? Did she really want to? She knew he had some kind of battle royale going on between his desire for her and his resentment toward her for keeping him away from Travis.

  The lust seemed to be winning out over anger. Most of the time.

  She rotated her shoulder and eased out a breath. She barely noticed the pain now, and she’d removed the bandage and sling, replacing them both with a simple gauze pad. Her wound resembled a rectangle with raised edges on the side. Not serious at all.

  Certainly not serious enough to keep her from climbing tomorrow, if Ian needed her.

  SHE ROLLED THE FINAL corn tortilla around the chicken filling and nestled it in the pan beside the other enchiladas. Then she ladled spicy red sauce over the rows of neatly wrapped tortillas and sprinkled cheese over everything.

  Ian’s lips would be hot tonight. Her own lips quirked into a grin as she shoved the pan in the oven. Guess she’d decided to take the low road and overwhelm him with hot sex so he’d forget all about his hot anger.

  She ducked into the shower and then pulled on a pair of black leggings and a long blue sweater. Ian knocked on the door as she put the finishing touches on her makeup. A girl couldn’t look as fresh as the outdoors all the time. Sometimes she needed a little embellishment for the indoor sports.

  A short breath escaped her lips as she peeked out the peephole. She still didn’t feel completely safe in her house, and she hated it.

  Finding Ian on her doorstep instead of a homicidal terrorist, she swung open the door and her eyes widened at the bouquet of flowers he clutched in one hand and the bottle of wine in the other. Who planned to seduce whom tonight?

  He thrust forward both items. “I know you’re cooking, so I figured I should contribute something.”

  Smiling, she took the offerings from him, musing that he had everything he needed to contribute, right in his tight jeans.

  Stepping over the threshold, he cocked his head. “Something funny?”

  “No. I’m just happy you remembered my favorite flower.” She tilted her chin toward the bunch of lilies emitting their musky scent.

  “Some things I never forget, Meg.” His bottle-green gaze wandered down the length of her sweater to her legs encased in the skin-tight leggings.

  She backpedaled a few steps before spinning around to locate a vase. Looked like that other part of his brain had taken over again. Made her job easy.

  When she popped up clutching a glass vase from the last dozen roses Pete had sent her, Ian had shrugged out of his jacket and was sniffing the air. “You’re cooking Mexican food. I always loved your cooking—straightforward, but with a kick-ass bite.”

  At least her cooking had been straightforward, but she didn’t plan to lead him through the twists and turns of her deception again tonight. She’d have the rest of their lives for apologies, years and years to prove what a good father he could be to Travis.

  If she could get him to let go of his anger.

  “Is Travis sleeping?” Ian jerked his thumb toward Travis’s bedroom door, open a crack.

  “I picked him up late.” Meg tweaked a flower petal and arranged the vase on the kitchen table. “He fell asleep in the car on the way home.”

  “I’m sorry. That was my fault for forcing you to take me to the upper falls.”

  “You hardly forced me. And I think we made an important discovery up there. Someone is definitely hiding something.”

  Ian’s gaze shifted away from hers, and he studied the bottle of wine he still held in his hand. “I brought red. Do you think it will work with enchiladas?”

  “It’s red. The enchiladas are red.” She shrugged. “I told you, I’m not my father’s daughter.”

  He hoisted the bottle in the air and made for the kitchen. “Your father wouldn’t be caught dead drinking the wrong wine, and mine wouldn’t be caught dead wasting it. There has to be a happy medium in there somewhere.”

  Meg came up behind him and reached around him to open the kitchen drawer. “Maybe we’re the happy medium, Ian.”

  He raised one brow. Then she rummaged in the drawer for the corkscrew and dangled it from her finger. He filled two glasses with the ruby liquid and they touched rims.

  Ian toasted, “To the happy medium.”

  The wine pooled on Meg’s tongue before sliding down her throat, warming her belly. Two more sips of the fruity, tangy blend and her muscles buzzed with contentment.

  She held up her index finger. “I think the enchiladas are done.”

  Meg brought the food to the table while Ian set out the plates and silverware. “Isn’t Travis going to join us for dinner?”

  “He had a late snack at Eloise’s. I’m going to let him nap.” Was she a bad mom to hope that Travis would sleep th
rough the night to give her some time alone with Ian?

  A quick change of expression flashed across Ian’s face, too fast for Meg to read. Did he think she’d used another ploy to keep him away from his son? She had the crazy idea that she and Travis would have plenty of time to spend with Ian. Maybe Ian figured, once he found that weapon, he’d be on his way. In that case, he’d want to spend as much time as he could with Travis.

  Meg bit her lip. Had she screwed up? Again?

  “I—I can wake him up if you like?”

  “That’s okay.” Ian pulled out her chair. “The little guy probably needs his sleep.”

  She dropped to her seat, the wine sloshing to the edge of her glass. “Oops.” She licked the droplets off her fingers and grinned. It wouldn’t do at all to get tipsy and try to seduce Ian. He had zero tolerance for drunks.

  THEIR CONVERSATION BUBBLED throughout the meal, and Meg didn’t even need to rely on the wine to loosen her tongue. The witticisms and double entendres flowed smoothly, meeting receptive and fertile ground.

  Ian dabbed her lips with a napkin, touched her hand with his, plucked a lily from the vase and brushed it across her arm. If he wanted to take her on the kitchen table, she’d shove the dishes onto the floor.

  Their teasing came to fruition at the kitchen sink. As she stood elbow-deep in suds, Ian approached her from behind and lifted her hair. He planted a scorching kiss on the nape of her neck. Meg tipped her head forward to invite another.

  His fingers cruised through the strands of her hair as his lips continued a path up to her jaw. Her hips swayed back, and Ian wedged a knee between her legs, pressing against her backside.

  A soft moan escaped Meg’s lips, and she gripped the edge of the sink with soapy hands. Ian slid his hands beneath her sweater and hooked his fingers in the elastic waistband of her leggings.

  He slipped one hand into the front of her leggings, toying with the edge of her panties. She gasped at the ripple of desire his touch ignited along her inner thighs. Wedging her stomach against the kitchen counter, she held up dripping hands. “No fair. I can’t reach for the towel.”

  Growling in her ear, he said, “Don’t think I’m going to get it for you.”

  He ground into her from behind and she felt his rock solid erection through the thin material of her leggings. As his teeth skimmed the dip between her neck and shoulder, he plunged his hand into her panties.

  He shoved his hand between her legs, cupping her. She throbbed against his palm, tilting her pelvis for more contact, and hissed, “Don’t be a tease.”

  His chuckle warmed the back of her neck, but he complied by running his finger along the length of her. She melted and folded over the sink, the ends of her hair skimming the dishwater. Her entire head could duck under the water and she wouldn’t even notice, as long as Ian continued with his magic fingers.

  Her breath puffed out in short spurts, sending soap bubbles airborne, where they caught the light and displayed their rainbows before dissolving. Then she squeezed her eyes shut, oblivious to the bubbles, oblivious to everything except the sweet pressure between her legs.

  Her orgasm shot through her like a spear, pinning her to the counter in one long moment of breathless ecstasy before releasing the nectar from its tip, flooding her body, weakening her knees.

  Ian pulled her back against his chest and then swept her up in his arms. He claimed her lips that were still soft and forming an O as the remnants of her passion popped and dissipated like those soap bubbles.

  He settled on the bed next to her, peeling her leggings and underwear from her hips and sliding them down her legs. He stripped quickly, tossing his clothing over his shoulder into a messy, salacious heap.

  Their foreplay had teased a hard, pulsing erection from Ian, and Meg took him in her hand and then her mouth. Moaning, Ian pulled out and kissed her lips like he owned her. She didn’t even care. At this moment he did own her—body and soul.

  When he entered her, Meg felt their connection like never before. She wanted Ian for Travis, but she wanted him for herself, too. She’d never stopped wanting him. She never would.

  An hour later, with their passion spent, they lay side-by-side, the covers pulled up to their chins in defense against the chilly night that seemed colder after the heat they’d shared. Meg held her breath as she traced the muscles of Ian’s flat belly with her fingernails. Would he jump out of bed like last time? Would the shutters fall over his eyes, blocking the light of love that gleamed from their depths?

  He clenched his stomach and snorted. “That tickles.”

  She smiled against his shoulder, flattening her hand and rubbing circles toward his chest. “I don’t want to make you laugh. You should be getting your rest if you’re going to make a successful climb tomorrow.”

  Ian’s body stiffened. Meg’s hands curled into fists. Uh-oh—here it comes.

  “I’m looking forward to it. Once I get my hands on that case, Farouk and his men will get out of Crestville for good.”

  Meg eased out a breath. “I’m sure Pete will be thrilled.” She tapped her fingers on his chest. “And since we got sort of carried away in the kitchen, we never did discuss our plan for tomorrow. Where do you want me stationed?”

  Ian’s chest rose and fell beneath her hand as he filled his lungs with air and expelled it in a rush. “That’s just it, Meg. I want you stationed right here. I called Buzz in to back me up.”

  Meg shot up, the cold air hitting her body like a blast. All this time she’d thought she was playing Ian…and he’d been playing her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ian tensed his muscles. At his announcement, Meg’s mouth had dropped open, and now her jaw was working as if she couldn’t quite form the words that demanded release. A few inarticulate sounds escaped from her lips before she snapped her mouth shut.

  “Sorry, Meg.” He stroked her arm where goose bumps dimpled her skin. “I can’t put you in that kind of danger. I just found you again. I’m not going to risk the life of my son’s mother.”

  Slumping beside him, she burrowed under the covers. “Travis needs you, too.”

  “I’m expendable in his life. He needs you a helluva lot more.”

  “Stop.” She rolled to her side and braced her palm against his chest. “Don’t dismiss yourself as a father, Ian. You’re not expendable to Travis…or me.”

  Ian cinched her wrist, pressing her hand against his thundering heart. He’d expected her to go off on him for telling her what to do, for ordering her around. Instead, she was trying to convince him how important he was to Travis. Motherhood had matured her.

  And what had fatherhood done for him?

  “I thought…” he increased the pressure on her hand, “I thought you’d be upset about my telling you to stay home.”

  She shrugged and dropped her head on his shoulder. “I know you’re doing it for my safety. I get that.”

  He laced his fingers through hers and planted a kiss on the center of her palm. “I have a confession.”

  “Mmm?” Her warm mouth moved against his skin.

  “Knowing I had to tell you that I’d never allow you to come with me, I seduced you. Figured it would be easier to tell you in bed than sitting across the table from you.” He clenched his gut, waiting for the onslaught of indignation.

  Meg giggled, and the little snorting sounds came from her nose squished against his arm. Choking, she flipped onto her back.

  He drew his eyebrows over his nose, his mouth twisting into a smile. “What? Too obvious? Not obvious enough? You mean you didn’t even realize I was seducing you?”

  “I just thought I was completely irresistible.” She raised her hands above her head and tousled her hair.

  “Huh?” Her movement drew his gaze to her shimmering, strawberry-blond hair and desire stirred in his belly. No wonder he couldn’t follow her conversation.

  “I had the same plan tonight. I figured if I could seduce you, I could make you forget…”

  “Forget?
” The covers slipped off one perfect breast and Ian’s mouth watered.

  She dropped her lashes. “Forget my deceit. Forgive my terrible decision not to tell you about Travis.”

  Ian captured her wrists with one hand, pinning them to the headboard. His mouth hovered above hers. “I have to learn to forgive you, Meg. If I don’t, how am I going to spend my life loving you?”

  Her rounded eyes grew bright with tears and her lips trembled. Looked like he’d said the right thing…for once. He didn’t want to blow it now, didn’t want to talk anymore. Sealing his mouth over hers, he kissed his wife long and hard, as she sighed and melted beneath him.

  He may not know how to be a dad yet, but he had this husband thing down.

  The following morning, Ian got on the phone to Buzz, who was getting ready to board his flight. He knew he could count on his old buddy, just like Jack should know he could count on the rest of the Prospero team.

  Stowing the phone in his pocket, Ian sauntered into the kitchen and tugged on Travis’s hair.

  Travis yelled, “Hey,” and batted away his hand.

  Ian crouched down and went nose-to-nose with his son. “For the amount of sleep you had, you should be in a better mood.”

  Meg laughed and slid a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m always hungry.” He wasn’t even trying to seduce her, but every comment and every touch brought a hint of rose to her cheeks.

  She brushed her hands together and placed them on her hips. “What time are you going up today?”

  “As soon as Buzz gets here. We should be ready to roll by this afternoon.”

  “I hope that suitcase is still there when you get up to that ledge.”

  Ian speared a clump of egg. “We don’t know for sure it’s there, and if it is, Farouk’s guy hasn’t been successful in getting to it yet. I’m going to hike out and keep an eye on that cliff face this morning anyway.”

  “Good idea.” She wiped Travis’s mouth with a damp cloth and unhooked the tray from his high chair. “If you think of any more equipment you might need, let me know. I’m going in to Rocky Mountain Adventures today to catch up on that paperwork I missed out on yesterday. All hikes are canceled for the week though, so it should be slow. I expect just Richard to be in the office today.”