by Ann Yost
He tightened his grip on her waist and felt, again, that unnerving sense of coming home.
“It’s just chemistry,” she said, dryly.
His answering grunt turned into a moan as a whirling couple bumped into them, knocking her against his agonized body. Heat exploded as he felt the imprint all the way to his soul. Mother of God.
“Get a room,” the man cracked.
Cam didn’t respond. They already had a room.
And if they had to use it tonight, they’d have a very big problem.
Chapter Three
Cam checked his watch and realized it was time for phase two of his plan. He ushered Molly off the dance floor and across the mezzanine to the glass elevator that transported guests to their rooms. He kept his arm around her shoulders. It was important for anyone paying attention to believe they were headed for a night of lovemaking in the marshmallow honeymoon suite.
At the eighth floor they got off and as soon as the elevator doors closed, Cam piloted Molly to the stairwell.
“We’re gonna walk back down?”
He sent her a brief look.
“The alternative is to let Dwight Winston et al see us head down the hall toward DiMarco’s office.”
“Oh. Right. It’s just that it’s kind of hard to manage the steps in these spikes.”
“You could take them off.”
An unfortunate choice of words since his body was still tense from the dance floor. He got a quick mental image of Molly Whitecloud with her shoes off, her legs wrapped around his waist, her voice in his ear. He must have made some kind of bovine noise because she threw him a sharp glance.
“It’s fine. I can make it.”
She tottered a little but held onto the railing. He stayed in front of her. In case she fell he’d prevent her from getting hurt. As a bonus this position meant he didn’t have to touch her. Or even look at her. It should have been a relief.
He reminded himself of his two-pronged goal: Find the laptop and avoid the image of Molly stretched out in that heart-shaped bed.
The stairs ended in a deserted back corridor behind the casino floor. They hurried toward the manager’s office. Cam hoped Big Eddie would stay occupied long enough for them to find the laptop and get out. He quickly picked the lock.
“Not bad,” Molly whispered. “Apparently this isn’t your first breaking-and-entering.”
Cam didn’t laugh. He was well aware of the brigade of well-armed security guards posing as casino workers, It seemed like overkill for a small-time, Indian-owned casino in the Maine woods and there was no doubt that if they caught the intruders in Big Eddie’s inner sanctum they’d been instructed to shoot first and ask questions later.
There was no time to lose.
Shadows filled the empty room except around the desk where a single bulb glowed through a stained-glass dragonfly on a tiffany-style lamp. An oversized, butterscotch faux leather sofa anchored one wall and faced a pink marble fireplace stacked with fake wood. A reproduction of dogs playing poker above the mantelpiece was a curious counterpoint to what was, otherwise, an elegant room. He watched Molly gaze at the picture.
“Interesting choice of art work,” she murmured.
Cam wasted no more time. He picked the locks on all the desk drawers and those of the tall, metal file cabinet that stood in one corner while Molly shadowed him rifling through files and papers. The search turned up nothing. She scanned the room.
“What about a safe?”
It was a good idea. He should have thought of it. Since he hadn’t, he reacted defensively. “Do you see a safe?”
“No.”
There was short silence while Cam rubbed the back of his neck. Every passing second brought them closer to getting caught. Every passing second brought them closer to the need to spend the night in the honeymoon suite. His head felt like someone was turning a screw into it. He’d always suffered from headaches, even as a teenager. Unwillingly, he recalled the way Molly’s talented fingers had worked his temples and the base of his neck. He wished he could commandeer those fingers now. Damn. He needed to get her out of here.
“Let’s go.”
“We haven’t found the laptop.”
“We’ve run out of places to look.”
She headed for the sofa and lifted the cushions.
“What’re you doing?”
“Sometimes people hide things in the most obvious places. You know, like money in your mattress or a gun beneath your pillow.”
“You think he left the laptop under a cushion where someone could sit on it?”
She didn’t get a chance to answer. Voices in the hall reached their ears at the exact same moment. Apparently Eddie had cut his break short.
“It’s too late,” she whispered. Molly looked at him, her dark blue eyes a pair of giant bruises in her heart-shaped face. A wave of fierce protectiveness slammed into Cam as his eyes strafed the room. There was no place to hide. No floor-length drapes to offer a kind of sanctuary. His eyes lit on the butterscotch sofa. There couldn’t be much more than a foot between it and the wall. There was no choice. He didn’t mind facing Eddie but he wanted to do it alone. He wanted Molly out of the way.
He grabbed her waist, lifted her easily and deposited her behind the sofa. She didn’t cry out or struggle. Instead she shocked him by sinking her fingers into his arm and pulling him down on top of her. His big body pinned hers and they were wedged so tightly they could barely breathe, a couple of goddam fish in a barrel.
He could feel her lungs, trapped and smashed by his weight, struggling for air. He couldn’t push away from her. There was no place to go. Worse, his back was literally to the enemy. Eddie could take them both out with one well-placed bullet. He heard the key in the lock and knew there was no longer any choice. All they could do was hold as still as death and pray the fat man would have no reason to look behind his couch.
And that neither of them had to sneeze.
Almost immediately Cam realized he had another quickly developing problem, the same one that had plagued him on the dance floor. The feel of Tiger Lily’s soft curves was triggering a familiar reaction. His violent arousal was most unwelcome to him. She seemed to find it amusing. Their eyes met as they heard the door opening and she winked. Cam’s body jerked and he scowled at her.
“It better be here, Dwight.” The voice was distinctly feminine, high-pitched and querulous. “I want my money. Now.”
“All in good time, baby. First, there’s a little something I can do for you.” Dwight Winston’s voice was thick, his intention clear. Cam bit back a groan.
“Not here,” the woman said. “We could get interrupted. Just give me my reward.”
Cam felt more than heard the hitch in Molly’s breathing. He didn’t recognize Dwight Winston’s companion but he felt certain Molly did. Her body tensed beneath his and questions tumbled through his mind. Was it someone from the rez? Was she a prostitute or a partner in the alleged fraud? Would her wishes prevail? Or was he doomed to listen to another man do what he, Cam, longed to do right now? He shuddered. The last would be intolerable. He prayed for the sound of disappearing footsteps and the close of the door.
“I’m gonna give you a reward, princess,” Winston said. His words were slurred, as if he’d already passed the point of no return. Shit.
“How’s that feel, baby?”
Her opposition seemed to collapse because her voice slowed to a smooth drawl.
“Hot and heavy. God, Dwight. You been carrying that thing around all night?”
“Savin’ it for you,” he murmured. “Help yourself.”
Cam stared into Molly’s indigo eyes and prayed the guy was talking about a candy bar but even before he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper, he knew his prayers would go unanswered.
The butterscotch sofa jerked as Winston and his companion fell onto it, crushing the couple into the wall.
Goddammit all to hell.
“One quick blow,” she said.
A heartfelt male groan triggered a rush of blood into Cam’s groin and his arousal flexed against Molly’s stomach. He saw her lips part, felt her chest expand and knew she was about to let out a gasp. Instinctively, he covered her lips with his.
It was a mistake. A huge mistake. His temperature shot up and his heart slammed against his ribs as his body prepared to launch. She tasted incredible, like mint and coffee, wine and memories. She tasted like Tiger Lily and the worst of it was that she didn’t understand he’d done it just to silence her.
She kissed him back.
Her tongue, sweet and supple and tantalizing slid along the roof of his mouth, behind his teeth, probing, inciting, driving him insane. Cam stopped breathing, unwilling to interrupt the moment of pure joy.
After a moment he became aware of her own wildly beating heart and he tried to shift to give her some breathing room. Another mistake. The movement, like a rushing stream with a small rock, dislodged one of her hands which drifted between his legs. He felt her palm against his hard-on and his whole body surged with desire. He forgot about the present danger, the bitter past and the unprotected future. All he wanted to do was jerk their clothes out of the way, to bury himself in her tight warmth. All he wanted, in that moment, was Tiger Lily.
“Yeah,” Dwight Winston’s voice was hoarse. “Oh, God, yeah. Harder, baby. Tighter.”
Cam fought his awareness of her hand and of the desperate groans of the man separated from him by a few inches of faux leather. He stared into the indigo eyes but it was too dark to read her expression and, anyway, he was in no condition to read. He dropped his head, intending to relieve the strain on his neck but as soon as his lips touched the gentle mound of her breast he drew it into his mouth, surprising another gasp.
Cam froze but Winston was too far gone to hear anything but the throbbing of his own blood.
“I’m almost there,” Winston croaked. “I’m coming, baby.”
God. A play by play.
“Then it’s as good a time as any to take a break,” the woman said.
There was brief, shocked silence before he let out a stream of curses. Winston sounded mad enough to slap her around and Cam wondered if he’d be called upon to rescue the tease.
“Hey,” she said, “chill. I’m not gonna leave you like that but I want my money, Dwight. Is it in the safe?”
Safe. Cam was so aroused he could barely get his mind around the word but he knew it was important. It took all his compromised brainpower just to refrain from sliding his tortured organ into Tiger Lily’s warmth.
Except she wouldn’t be warm or welcoming, not for long. Despite her apparent willingness she’d made it clear, long ago, she didn’t want him for keeps. He needed to keep that in the front of his mind. Her body might want him now. Her heart never had.
The fierce need receded enough for him to search her face and, despite the darkness of the room, despite the danger they were in, despite the arousal that had him on the rack, he saw that she was different. Thirteen years earlier, Tiger Lily’s indigo eyes had welcomed him unconditionally. Now there was a barrier in place, a wall. He might take her body. He would not be given access to her secrets.
Cam’s body was still hard and hot but the fierce drive to join with Molly began to subside.
The sofa shifted and creaked and Winston let out a series of harsh curse, which turned into footsteps and the sound of a tumbler somewhere across the small room. Was the safe behind the picture of the dogs playing poker? He must have extracted the money and handed it to the woman because the next thing Cam heard were Winston’s growled words.
“Here. You happy?”
“Real happy, baby. And now I’m gonna make you happy.” The unknown female gasped. “Hey, wait a minute.”
“I’m done waiting,” the man hissed. Cam heard the sound of cloth ripping followed by a shriek. Shit. He might have to be Sir Galahad after all. He couldn’t let Winston rape her. Cam prepared to shove the sofa back and jump to the rescue but Molly shook her head.
“You’re dripping wet,” Winston’s voice was thick with passion again. “You’re ready for me, doll. C’mon now. Tell me how much you want it.” He grunted and the sofa slammed against Cam. The feel of the feminine curves sent an electric shock of need through him and he could barely hear the companion’s assent.
”Come for me big boy,” she cooed. “Come like a bull moose.”
The sofa slammed into him again and again as Winston, apparently took her advice. Cam tried to protect Molly from the worst of the jackhammering and he tried to still the rejuvenated demands of his own body. He tried to empty his head and just endure until the nightmare was over and he was back in Eden, with his daughter and his family and the woman he intended to marry.
Moments later the other couple left the room. Cam leaned his shoulder into the back of the sofa and created a few more inches of space but before he could get to his feet he felt something light feathering his cheek. It was her fingers. Cam’s heart clenched in his chest and he felt an absurd wish to cry.
Clumsily he got to his feet and held out a hand to help her up. He didn’t know what to say. He made a lame attempt. “Thank God they finally finished.”
She straightened her dress and looked up at him. Her braid had begun to unravel and her cheeks were flushed. “He finished. She was faking it.”
He squinted at her.
“How d’you know that?”
She shrugged. “She didn’t really want him. It was just a business thing for her.”
“Just a business thing, huh? I suppose you know the difference.”
She stared at him solemnly. “I suppose I do.”
****
The safe was, in fact, located beneath the poker playing dogs but Cam couldn’t open it. His picks had no impact on the combination lock. There was, Cam said, another kind of a tool that he’d pick up the next day.
The next day.
Molly’s heart sank.
They were going to have to spend the night in the Romanov’s winter palace that was the honeymoon suite.
She’d rather be shot than sleep in that heart-shaped bed. She’d bunk out in the bathtub.
They didn’t discuss the compromising position they’d found themselves in behind the butterscotch sofa. They didn’t discuss anything and Molly’s heart was heavy as they trudged up the stairs.
“Feet hurt?”
She tried for a lightness she didn’t feel.
“I knew there was a reason I didn’t become a lawyer. Moccasins and Dr. Scholl’s are not good practice for spying in high heels.”
He let out a forced chuckle and she felt a slight uptick in mood. This wasn’t easy for him, either. It was undoubtedly awkward to be thrown together with someone from the past. Awkward and uncomfortable but at least he wasn’t carrying a burden of guilt. She’d done what she had to do all those years ago but she couldn’t bear to think about the way she’d betrayed him earlier this month. What had she been thinking? How had she thought she’d be able to keep something so crucial from him? And what about the child, if there was one? Would she deny the father his baby and vice versa? She’d complicated the life of an innocent man and she’d practically destroyed her own.
“Molly? You okay?”
They’d reached the door of their suite. She dredged up a faint smile.
“It’s like you said,” she lied. “My feet hurt.”
Once inside the door he headed straight for the bar, poured a drink and brought it to her.
“Sit down and drink this,” he said. “I guarantee it’ll help.”
Damn. She couldn’t drink the brandy and she couldn’t tell him why.
“No. Thanks.” She knew she sounded like a prude. “Some ginger ale, maybe?”
His blue eyes were hard, like a couple of marbles but he said nothing. A moment later he handed her another glass. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lit one.
“There’s no smoking here.”
He regarded her with a com
plete lack of interest, inhaled and blew out a stream of smoke.
She realized, suddenly, she’d never pictured him with a cigarette. It didn’t seem to fit the image she had of him as a lean, fit athletic type of guy.
“When did you start to smoke?”
The blue eyes narrowed.
“When did you start to care about what I do?”
She deserved the bitterness. She knew it derived from the unexpected intimacy they’d shared earlier but it still hurt. She wanted to tell him she didn’t blame him for turning her into a pancake of smoldering desire down in Big Eddie’s office. She wanted to tell him she knew his arousal had been because of the situation and had nothing to do with her. She wanted to tell him she was sorry for everything and that she did not consider him vulnerable in any way. She couldn’t seem to come up with the words.
“I just figured you were still a runner,” she said, lightly. “And a health nut.”
“I was never a health nut,” he said, indignant.
“Oh, I guess that guy who carried trail mix in his backpack and refused to eat Twinkies was someone else.”
He wasn’t interested in her pathetic attempt at snack-cake humor.
“Tomorrow we’ll hang out together. Then we’ll have dinner again and spend some time gambling.”
She noticed he didn’t mention dancing. Probably a good thing.
“You’ll leave around midnight. I can take care of the safe alone.”
Her spine stiffened. “This is my investigation. If one of us is going to leave it will be you.”
“Forget it. I promised your husband I’d look after you. I don’t break my promises.”
His words rankled.
“And I do.”
He shrugged again.
“It might surprise you to know that a lot of people on the rez count on me,” she said, defensively. “And I’d like to point out again that Daniel isn’t my husband.”