Licensed to Marry

by Charlotte Douglas

  “What’s your theory?” she asked.

  “It isn’t pretty.”

  “Nothing about this business is.”

  You are, he thought, but didn’t say it. She would hate him by the time the investigation ended. Along with the sheriff’s department and the Confidential agents, Kyle would be among those who had proved her father a traitor to his country.

  “And our theory has its flaws.”

  “At least it’s a start,” she said. “Tell me.”

  “Weston, the senator from Montana, is running for president on an antiterrorism platform, and the election is only weeks away.”

  She nodded. “The senator’s been our biggest ally in Congress. We owe almost all the federal support for the Institute to his influence.”

  “What if the terrorists want to make certain he’s not elected?”

  Her magnificent blue eyes widened. “Dear God. You think they’re waiting to use the D-5 to influence the election?”

  “Maybe. If they can wreak havoc and kill thousands in Weston’s home state, they would show the nation the Black Order’s not afraid of him, make him seem ineffective. That might be why they chose to bomb the Montana capitol instead of a more strategic target. To embarrass Weston.”

  She sat quietly for a while, as if thinking. “But couldn’t that strategy backfire? Make people so angry at the terrorists that they’d vote Weston in, since he’s the one who has vowed to get them?”

  His admiration increased. Laura Quinlan was one smart woman. She’d grasped the paradox immediately.

  “I told you the theory was flawed.”

  She raised her hand and caressed his cheek. “You’re no longer a block of ice. How about some supper?”

  His face was inches from hers, and he could feel the warmth of her breath against his skin. The pupils of her eyes widened beneath his gaze, and his own breathing quickened. He wanted to cherish this woman, protect her from the horrors that swirled around them.

  The rum must have lowered his inhibitions and short-circuited his commonsense, and he couldn’t help himself. He dipped his head and tasted her lips. Shifting her onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. In the heat of their embrace, he forgot about his damp clothes, his tired muscles, the incriminating papers in the pocket of his jacket. All that existed in the world was the woman in his arms. Their kiss was long and deep and tender, and when she finally pulled away, her look was questioning with a hint of wonder glinting in her eyes.

  Her luscious mouth quirked into a knee-weakening smile, and her eyes twinkled with mischief. “Was there someone watching?”

  Sizzling warmth and an unexpected happiness flooded through him. “You never know. There could be somebody hiding under the couch.”

  She snuggled against him. “This is nice.”

  And crazy, he reminded himself.

  He shouldn’t care so much for her, couldn’t allow her to care for him. Once she learned of Josiah’s treachery, their relationship was doomed.

  But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t force himself to his feet, couldn’t thrust her from his arms. With a contentment that he knew was temporary and definitely not smart, he held her in his arms while the fire burned low.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Kyle and Laura climbed into the Institute SUV to drive to the ranch to pick up Molly. Bonnie Shapiro had arrived an hour before, and Laura had helped the nanny-bodyguard settle in the guest bedroom. Rick Cope, combination chauffeur and night watchman, had moved into the apartment over the garage. Even so, Kyle had his doubts about removing Molly from the safety of the ranch.

  “Do you really think she’ll be in danger here?” Laura asked.

  He glanced into the rearview mirror at the director’s house receding into the distance. “Slater swears both Bonnie and Rick will protect her with their lives. I’d just feel a lot better if I knew what happened to Dr. Tyson.”

  They approached the gatehouse and stopped before the lowered crossbar.

  One of Slater’s two-man team stepped to the driver’s window. “Identification, please, and pop the rear hatch.”

  Kyle and Laura produced their Institute ID cards, and Kyle watched with satisfaction while the second guard made a thorough search of the vehicle’s interior.

  Their duties fulfilled, the guards raised the crossbar and waved the SUV through.

  “That should make you feel better,” Laura said. “At least no one who isn’t supposed to will get in or out by the gate.”

  Kyle shook his head. “I still have qualms about bringing Molly into this.”

  Laura reached across the well between the seats and placed her hand on his arm. He could feel her warmth through his sleeve, and memories of last night, holding her in his arms before the fire, threatened to distract him.

  “If you aren’t sure,” she said gravely, “perhaps you should leave her with Dale and Jewel at the ranch until the Black Order members are caught.”

  Kyle grimaced. “Catching terrorists isn’t always a speedy process. It could take months. Besides, I don’t want her to be away from me. Not after last night.”

  “What happened?” Laura’s throaty voice rose an octave.

  “She cried when I told her good-night on the phone last night.” Recalling her sobs, her tearful pleas, his heart ached like a broken bone. “She misses me. And I miss her.”

  “Then you’re definitely doing the right thing,” Laura said, “or else you’ll both be miserable.”

  Laura sounded so certain, but Kyle still wasn’t sure. He was already distracted enough by Laura Quinlan. They had fallen asleep in each other’s arms in front of the fire the previous night, just like a real married couple. When they’d awakened, he’d wanted nothing more than to carry her upstairs to the king-size bed in the master suite. He’d needed every ounce of self-restraint to stand and stretch and pretend nothing had happened, that he hadn’t relished sleeping with Laura in his arms, and that he didn’t wish he’d done more than just sleep.

  Laura had fixed them supper, and she, too, had acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, but Kyle knew better. The air between them had zinged with electricity, and he’d had to fight the urge to kiss her good-night. He’d struggled all over again a few hours ago to keep from kissing her good-morning. With Laura attracting him like a flame lures a moth, and with Molly’s safety to worry about, he’d do well to remember his own name, much less uncover what happened to Tyson or track down the traitor at the Institute.

  His situation went from bad to worse when they arrived at the ranch. As they stepped out of the SUV, Molly raced to greet him on chubby legs.

  “Daddy! Daddy! You’ve been gone forever.” Her tiny arms rounded his neck in a stranglehold that almost cut off his air, and she covered his face with kisses.

  “Hey, doodlebug. How’s my favorite daughter?”

  She leaned back in his arms, took his face in her hands and grinned. “Better now, Daddy. I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too, sweetheart.” With Molly in his arms, Kyle turned toward Laura. “You remember Miss Laura.”

  Molly nodded solemnly. “Hello.”

  “Hello, yourself.” Laura opened her arms. “May I have a kiss, too?”

  Molly nodded. Kyle handed her to Laura, and Molly planted a noisy kiss on Laura’s cheek that made Laura’s pretty face light up like a mountain sunrise. She set the little girl on her feet and took one of her hands, and Kyle took the other. Together the three walked toward the main house. Yesterday’s rain had left the air clean, clear and warmed by sunshine in spite of the chilly temperature.

  “Let’s sit on the steps, doodlebug,” Kyle said. “Daddy has something to tell you.”

  Molly sank onto the steps between Kyle and Laura and gazed up at her father with worried green eyes, her tiny mouth pinched in a frown. “Are you going away again?”

  He hugged her to him. “I’m going back to live at Laura’s, but you’ll be coming, too.”

  “Leave the ranch?
” Molly asked.

  “Laura and I were married—”

  “You had a wedding?”

  Kyle nodded.

  Molly’s eyes teared. “Wif’ out me?”

  The little girl burst into racking sobs. Panicked by Molly’s distress, he glanced to Laura for help, but she appeared as unequipped as he felt to deal with his daughter’s unexpected outburst.

  Between them, Molly wailed, “I wanted to be a f’ower girl. Jewel said if you got married, I could be a f’ ower girl.”

  Laura pulled the sobbing Molly onto her lap and stroked her curly hair. “It wasn’t that kind of wedding, Molly. It wasn’t in a church with flowers and bridesmaids. We were married in a judge’s office.”

  “But I wanted to be a f’ower girl.”

  Kyle was out of his element. He’d never seen Molly so distressed, and weddings and flower girls were as foreign to him as outer space. “What can we do?”

  “We’ll have a big party,” Laura said, aiming her words at Molly. “You can wear a special dress, a very pretty dress with bows and ruffles, just like a flower girl’s, and you’ll carry a big basketful of flowers and hand them out to all the guests. Would you like that?”

  Molly’s sobs slowly subsided into sniffles. “What color dress?”

  Laura smiled. “What color would you like?”

  Molly scrunched her face in thought. “Yellow.”

  “We’ll find you the prettiest yellow dress in Montana,” Kyle promised, and shot Laura a grateful look. “But first, we have to move you to our new house.”

  “Is Ribbons coming, too?” Molly’s chubby cheeks were streaked with tears.

  Kyle, fearing more waterworks were imminent, braced himself. “Laura doesn’t have a stable at her house.”

  Molly’s lips quivered.

  “Not yet.” Laura jumped in quickly with reassurance. “But we’ll build a place for Ribbons, and until it’s ready, I’ll bring you back to the ranch several times a week to visit Ribbons and take your rides.”

  Molly wiped tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands and gazed up at Laura. “Are you my new mommy?”

  Laura looked at Kyle with the spooked expression of a nocturnal animal caught in a sudden beam of light.

  “That’s right, doodlebug,” he said. “Laura’s your new mommy.”

  A broad grin stretched across Molly’s face. “Good.”

  Now Laura looked as if she was going to cry.

  With an overwhelming sense of relief, Kyle stood and lifted Molly in his arms. “Let’s load your clothes and toys in the car.”

  A half hour later, Kyle had stowed the last of Molly’s belongings in the car. Bubbly and excited once her initial tears had passed, Molly had said her goodbyes to Daniel, Dale and Jewel. Laura fastened Molly into her child carrier in the back seat, then slid into the passenger seat beside Kyle. He put the SUV in gear and headed down the driveway toward the highway.

  “Is our new house big?” Molly asked.

  “A lot bigger than our cabin at the ranch.” Kyle relaxed now that Molly’s good spirits had returned and she seemed to be looking forward to the move.

  “Bigger than Daniel’s house?” Molly said.

  “Not quite that big,” Laura answered, “but more than big enough for the three of us.”

  For the remainder of the drive, Laura described the house to Molly, paying particular detail to Molly’s room. She also explained that Bonnie Shapiro would be helping at her new home, much like Dale McMurty assisted Daniel at the ranch. By the time they passed through the gate, Molly was bouncing in her car seat with excitement, and Kyle’s reservations about taking Molly off the ranch had dwindled.

  His fears returned in force, however, when he pulled into the driveway of the director’s house and glanced down the road. Deputies were loading a team of dogs into a sheriff’s K-9 van. As Kyle climbed out of the SUV, a deputy approached him.

  “Dr. Foster?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can I speak with you in private?”

  Kyle nodded to Laura who hurried Molly inside the house. With relief, Kyle noted that Molly was skipping and babbling happily the entire way. Once the door had closed behind them, Kyle turned to the deputy. “What’s this all about?”

  The deputy’s expression was somber. “We’ve found Dr. Tyson.”

  Chapter Ten

  Kyle turned the shower to its heaviest pulse, let the hot water batter his aches and tiredness and wished he could cleanse away bitterness and despair as easily. He’d spent the afternoon hunched in a culvert beneath the road that ran behind the lab. His muscles screamed in protest from the prolonged cramped posture, his head reeled with unanswered questions and his conscience goaded him for deserting Molly on her first day in new surroundings.

  Upping the water temperature to scalding, he rinsed the stench of muck and death from his body and wished he could sluice away his problems as well. With a violent flick of his wrist, he shut off the water then stepped from the huge glassed-in shower in the master bath and grabbed a towel.

  He wrapped the fluffy terry cloth around his waist, then used another towel to rub the dripping moisture from his hair. He jerked back in surprise when two green eyes so like his own met him almost on his own level.

  “Hi, Daddy.” Molly, standing on the closed toilet lid, peered through the steam with an impish grin.

  “Hey, doodlebug.” She was wearing her favorite flannel nightgown and hugging the stuffed dog she’d named Scooter. “Ready for bed?”

  She nodded. “Bonnie fixed my supper.”

  A voice rang out in the adjoining bedroom. “Molly, where are—”

  Laura skidded to a stop just inside the bathroom door. Her glance slid quickly over Kyle’s towel-clad torso, then fastened on his daughter. A delightful flush inched its way up her neck and reddened her cheeks, but whether from embarrassment or the sauna-like conditions of the room, he couldn’t tell.

  “Sorry,” Laura said. “I didn’t know you’d come in.”

  “Sneaked in the back,” he said. “Needed to clean up before I was fit for human company.”

  “Come, Molly, I’ll tuck you in while your daddy gets dressed.” Without a backward look, Laura scooped Molly into her arms and headed toward the door.

  “Read me a story,” Molly was insisting as they passed through the master bedroom. “Padd’ton Bear.”

  Kyle watched them go with a catch in his heart. The way Laura interacted with his daughter created a warm glow of contentment deep inside him. He wanted Molly with him, but he wanted to spare both Molly and Laura the horror he’d witnessed that afternoon. He would keep the facts from Molly. She was too little to understand.

  Laura would have to know.

  With a sigh of resignation, he tugged on clean jeans, a fresh shirt and a pair of deck shoes that would have to suffice until he could scour the culvert mud off his boots. Slicking back his wet hair, he tucked in his shirt and headed down the hall toward Molly’s room.

  He drew up short in the doorway, a knot of emotion in his throat. The tranquil scene before him reminded him exactly of why he’d become a cop, why he fought now against the scourge of hatred and terrorism. Laura sat among pillows propped against the headboard with Molly in her lap. His daughter turned the pages of the book as Laura read.

  “What are val’ble chunks?” Molly asked.

  Laura bent over the book with her dark hair hiding her face, but he could hear the smile in her melodic voice as she pointed to a picture on the page. “That’s what Paddington calls marmalade.”

  “What’s marm’ade?”

  Kyle grinned with contentment. It was good to have Molly back, even if she had reached the stage when almost everything she said formed a question.

  “Marmalade is like jelly,” Laura explained. “It’s made from oranges. You can have some on your toast for breakfast tomorrow.”

  “Want me to tuck you in?” Kyle asked.

  At the sound of his voice, Molly looked up and smiled. �
�Uh-huh. And Laura, too.”

  Laura had apparently regained her composure after he’d surprised her in the bathroom. “You look good with your clothes on.”

  Teasing caused a delightful glint in her eyes and tugged at the dimple on her cheek, a spot that looked eminently kissable. He reined in his impulses and assumed a pout. “Are you implying they’re an improvement?”

  “Clothes make the man, or so they say.”

  “They,” he said with an exaggerated leer and a suggestive jiggle of his eyebrows, “have never seen me in a towel.”

  Molly giggled. “You’re silly, Daddy.”

  “And you’re up past your bedtime, doodlebug.” He crossed the room, lifted the sheet and blankets on the twin bed and waited while Molly scrambled between them. Then he tucked the blankets around her, brushed her blond curls off her forehead and planted a kiss there. “Sleep tight, sweetheart.”

  On the other side of the bed, Laura leaned over and kissed Molly’s cheek.

  “Night-night, Daddy, Miss Laura,” Molly said sleepily, her eyelids drooping.

  Kyle turned out the bedside lamp and followed Laura to the door.

  “I left a night-light burning.” Laura headed down the back stairs toward the kitchen, and Kyle trailed along behind. “I don’t want her to be afraid when she wakes up in a strange place.”

  “You’ve been great with her. Especially since I had to take off as soon as we got here. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Bonnie took care of her.” They entered the kitchen, and Laura stopped at the refrigerator door. “They hit it off right away. Here’s the picture of Ribbons Molly drew for Bonnie.”

  Kyle studied the crayon scribble, an indecipherable bubble with stick legs, big eyes and a flowing tail. Picasso couldn’t have done better.

  “You weren’t here this afternoon?” he asked.

  “Not the whole time. When C.J. called from the lab and said they’d found Lawrence’s body, I went over to Zahra’s to stay with her until C.J. finished work and came to relieve me. Melinda Kwan will spend the night there. Zahra’s sister arrives tomorrow.”