by Meryl Sawyer
She hadn’t been born under a lucky star. Kyle was waiting for her when she came out of the recovery room.
“There’s a party for Logan McCord over at Sunset Key. You’re invited.”
Logan McCord. The name rang a bell but she couldn’t quite place him.
“Who’s Logan McCord?”
“The ace on Cobra Force,” he said, and she recognized the elite antiterrorism unit of the Marines. “He knows more about terrorism than anyone around. You may remember reading about him a while ago. The high tech computer at FBI’s Nation Crime Information Center was brand new then and combining fingerprint information from a number of databases. It discovered Logan McCord had been kidnapped as a child.”
“I remember now. Exposé, the news magazine, scooped everyone with a special report on him. Logan didn’t realize he was Senator Stanfield’s son who had been kidnapped when he was very young until the computer matched the fingerprints, right?” she said, and Logan nodded. “Imagine finding out you were someone else at thirty-something. You were really filthy-rich Haywood Stanfield’s son.”
“It’s an amazing story,” Kyle agreed. “Do you want to meet Logan McCord?”
She thought a moment, recalling more about the unusual story. “Didn’t he marry Kelly Taylor, the reporter who scooped everyone?”*
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“Well, she’s the person I really want to meet.”
*See Tempting Fate by Meryl Sawyer
Chapter 16
Jennifer stood beside Kyle at Sunset Pier, waiting on the dock for the water shuttle to the exclusive island Sunset Key. She’d been so excited at the prospect of meeting Logan McCord and Kelly Taylor that Jennifer hadn’t thought about what she was wearing. Since class this morning, Kyle had changed into white linen shorts and a pale blue polo shirt.
Even if his nose was a bit too long and his jaw slightly angular, Kyle looked tanned and devastatingly handsome. There wasn’t a woman they passed who didn’t check him out—twice.
Jennifer’s own clothes were wrinkled and … tacky. She had on beige cargo shorts with deep pockets and a red T-shirt with a funky message:
So Many Men
So Few Bullets
Her hair was a mess. What else was new? And she didn’t have on a stitch of makeup. This morning when she’d rushed out of Thunder Island, it hadn’t mattered. Well, she thought, mentally kicking herself, there was nothing to be done about it now.
“Who is giving this party?” she asked as they boarded the launch for Sunset Key.
The private island was just across the channel from Key West, a stone’s throw away, but it was so exclusive most people never went there. She’d noticed how carefully the attendant had checked his list for Kyle’s name before allowing them to board the sleek cruiser for the short trip to Sunset Key.
“Trevor Adams is throwing the party. He owns Half Moon Bay—”
“Half Moon Bay? I saw that estate featured in Architectural Digest. His home is really impressive.”
“The house is nice, but it’s no better than any of the other homes on Sunset Key. It’s the beach that makes it special. Locals call it Half Moon Bay because of its shape, so Trevor gave his home the same name.”
Jennifer asked, “How did you meet Trevor?”
“I was house-sitting next door. Trevor’s very friendly. He invited me over.” The boat rocked unexpectedly, and he put his arm around the back of her seat. “It’s not usually this rough. Must be that tropical storm south of here.”
The shuttle pulled up to Sunset Key’s private dock where Kyle’s name was again checked against a list before they were permitted to disembark. They left the boat and walked down a brick path lined with colorful flowers and lit by subtle downlights.
“No cars are allowed on Sunset Key,” Kyle told her. “They use golf carts to bring in groceries and heavy stuff.”
“How did they build these houses?” she asked, looking at the magnificent homes, modern versions of the classic Key West homes.
“They bring everything in on barges.”
They walked to a home at the far end of the exclusive key. The double-wide door was open and the festive noise of a party greeted them even though no one was in sight. Without hesitating, Kyle led her into a large foyer filled with sculptures.
“This is new,” commented Kyle as he paused near a bloodred sculpture contorted into a weird shape. “What do you think?”
“It looks like the work of some ax murderer to me.”
Kyle chuckled, a low, sexy rumble that came from deep in his throat.
“Kyle! Kyle!” called a stunning blonde as they walked out of the house onto the terrace where the group was having cocktails. The beauty threw her arms around Kyle and kissed him.
Granted, it was a short, friendly kiss, but something about the greeting made Jennifer’s blood simmer. Get a grip, she told herself as she plastered a smile on her face.
“Jennifer, this is Amy Conroy,” Kyle said, his arm still around the beautiful woman. “I mean Amy Jensen. She married Matthew Jensen.”
Matthew Jensen? The publisher of Exposé magazine. Logan McCord, Kelly Taylor, and now Matthew Jensen. Kyle was on a first name basis with some of the most important, fascinating people in the country.
Amy Jensen rolled her eyes. “Matt and I had twins a few months ago. The little devils, Kyle and Logan are asleep—finally.”
Kyle. The Jensens had named a baby after Kyle. Apparently, they were much closer than she ever could have imagined.
Amy looked directly at Jennifer. The other woman, dressed in a black slip dress, smiled at Jennifer with genuine warmth. Amy Jensen was the type of person you couldn’t help liking—even if she had just kissed Kyle.
“Come on, Jennifer. Let me introduce you to everyone.”
“Lord Almighty! It’s, like, Kyle.” A redhead rushed up to Kyle and threw her arms around him, pressing her body flush against his as she gave him a kiss straight from a porn flick.
“That’s Bubbles McGee,” Amy told her as the kiss continued. “They’re old friends.”
“Right,” Bubbles said, breathlessly breaking the kiss. “I used to, like, sell Alien Abduction Insurance on the sidewalk in front of Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville, but Kyle got me into mud.”
The last word came out muh-ud. Mud? Surely the woman’s southern molasseslike drawl had distorted the word. Bubbles handed Jennifer a card: Club Mudd. Oh, well. This was Key West. Anything goes.
“People come to my spa for, like, a mud dip. Then they dry in the sun. Hunks”—she looked suggestively at Kyle—“scrape off the dried mud. What better way to exfoliate your skin and get rid of, like, the worst toxins on the planet?”
Jennifer found herself nodding even though this was the most hair-brained thing she’d heard in ages. But it was probably expensive and all the rage.
“There’s Matthew with Logan McCord,” Kyle told her.
He steered her away from Bubbles and Amy toward two handsome men standing on the grass with yet another striking blonde. Once again, Jennifer kicked herself for not at least putting on mascara. Then a bell sounded in her brain and she stopped dead in her tracks.
She asked Kyle, “I read about Amy, didn’t I?”
“Probably. Her story was in all the papers. Two women were in an auto accident. Amy was mistakenly identified as the dead woman. No one realized the error including Matthew Jensen, who had known the woman quite well.”
“Didn’t Amy go along with the error because a killer was after her?”*
“Yes. I’ll tell you all the details later, if you like.” He took her arm and guided her forward.
“Hey, Kyle. How’s it going?” asked one of the men, but his eyes were on Jennifer, and he extended his hand. “I’m Matthew Jensen.” He dipped his head toward the blonde. “This is Kelly McCord, and the infamous Logan McCord.”
“I’m Jennifer Whitmore,” she said with as much self-confidence as she could muster.
Logan greeted
her with a nod, then slapped Kyle on the back. “How does it feel to be a civilian?”
“I don’t know. How does it feel?”
Everyone laughed except Jennifer. The men didn’t notice her silence, but Kelly did.
“Kyle and Logan were both in antiterrorist units in the military. Logan was with the Marine’s Cobra Force and Kyle was with the SEALs. They’re both civilians now.”
“I see.”
“Come on,” Kelly said. “Let’s get you a drink.” When they were a few feet away from the men, Kelly whispered, “Male bonding time. We’re outta here.”
As they walked toward a bar set up under a tall palm where the grass met the sandy beach, Jennifer took a close look at the small cove. With its crystal white sand gleaming in the moonlight and the regal ranks of palm trees, it was a postcard vision of paradise.
From behind a dwarf palm, bolted the oddest looking dog Jennifer had ever seen. It was the color of tarnished gunmetal and had part of one ear missing. Chasing the dog was a huge marmalade cat. The pair ran off into the house.
“That’s Bingo hounding Jiggs again,” Kelly told her.
“Jiggs, the half-eared dog,” she said, suddenly recalling a bit more of Amy’s story. “Didn’t he and Amy hide in the trunks of cars to get across the country without some crazy man finding them?”
“Yes. That was just before the horrible accident when Amy had to have all the reconstructive surgery.”
Jennifer looked back at the crowd on the terrace and easily spotted Amy. If she’d required extensive surgery, it had been done by a master.
“I’ve been wanting to meet you,” Jennifer told Kelly after the bartender had handed them each a glass of Chardonnay. “You were the reporter who broke Logan’s story. I wanted to ask how you learned he’d been kidnapped as a young child and had grown up thinking he was someone else.”
Kelly leveled her green eyes at Jennifer. “Do you believe in fate?”
“No … not really.”
“I didn’t either, but now I know better. My husband had been killed, and I thought I would never love again. Then I met Logan.” Kelly smiled wistfully and sipped her wine. “Fate brought us together just as fate brought Amy and Matt together. What about you? Has fate cast its spell on you and Kyle?”
“Kyle? No. We’re …” What were they exactly? “Old friends.”
“Is that right? I must have been mistaken about the look on your face when Amy greeted him, and when Bubbles the Airhead was kissing him.”
There might have been a challenging glint in Kelly’s eyes, but Jennifer ignored it. “I’m engaged to another man.”
A long beat of silence, then, “Congratulations.”
Kyle caught up on his old buddies with Logan. The two were from different branches of the service, but they’d gone through SEAL training together. While Kyle was talking with Logan, he kept his eye on Jennifer.
She had chatted for a while with Kelly, then she’d joined Clive and Trevor, their hosts. The twosome were sure to entertain her, and they were no threat to Kyle. They were gay as were many of the other males at the party. There wasn’t much competition in sight until Brody Hawke walked out onto the terrace and beelined toward Jennifer.
“Who in hell invited him?” Kyle asked out loud.
“I had Trevor invite Brody,” Logan said. “I started a private security firm. You know, high tech corporate accounts. Brody worked on a project for me while he was on leave. I encouraged him to become a SEAL.”
“Hawke’s the most talented of the group I just put through my antiterrorism course.”
“Well, if Hawke was hustling my woman, I wouldn’t stand here chewing the fat with an old friend.” Logan made a circle with his thumb and index finger, the Special Forces signal for “got your back.” I’m covering you.
With a chuckle, Kyle walked toward Jennifer. Too late. Brody was leading her onto the small wooden dance floor set up for the party. The reggae group who usually worked at the Hard Rock Cafe had been hired for the evening and were playing a slow song with a Caribbean beat.
Kyle stalked across the lawn to the bar and ordered his usual, a long neck Corona with two twists of lime. He stood there watching the whitecapped waves slapping the beach, his back to the dance floor. The storm, though miles away, was churning up the seas. He expected the breeze to have kicked up, but it was dead still.
Just as the song was finishing, he put down the beer and went over to the edge of the dance floor and saw Jennifer peering up at Brody as if he were God’s gift to women instead of just another SEAL with a death wish.
“My dance,” Kyle told Brody with what he thought was a smile.
“Yes, sir!” Brody responded with a mock salute.
He pulled Jennifer into his arms, holding her closer than necessary. She didn’t look too thrilled about it, but she didn’t shove him away. The band played another slow tune with an exotic sound. Jennifer moved lightly with the music, swaying provocatively with the beat.
The gleaming moonlight wove silver threads through her tousled ash-blond hair. He slipped his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck and gently rubbed her bare skin with the rough pad of his thumb.
“Don’t,” she warned, but her voice was a little too breathless to be convincing.
He dropped his hand and let it coast down her back while encouraging her soft body to press against his solid frame. Her breasts nudged his chest, the nipples hard, a reminder of their late night swim. An upward surge of heat shot through his groin. Aw, hell. What she could do without even trying.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew all these people?” she whispered.
“Why didn’t you ask?”
The small dance floor was shoulder to shoulder with dancers. Kyle deftly maneuvered Jennifer to the center of the area, letting his knee flex between her legs to the erotic beat of the music. He placed her hand against his chest and used his free hand to draw her even closer. The supple softness of her body sent another surge of desire through his, but this time passion mingled with an aching tenderness he couldn’t remember experiencing until now.
It was the urge to protect, and something more that his body didn’t want to give him too much time to examine. Yet there was no doubt about one thing. He communicated better with her physically than verbally.
He didn’t give a damn about the group around them, didn’t even think of them when he lowered his head to meet her warm lips.
“Don’t you dare kiss me.”
Jennifer was staring over his shoulder at Kelly and Logan who were dancing nearby. Kelly winked at Jennifer. Women. Go figure.
His hand at the back of her neck, he held her still as she parted her lips with a breathy little sigh. They were only swaying slightly now, not even pretending to dance.
Her lips opened even more, seeming to invite him to kiss her. He couldn’t disappoint her. He bent down and touched his lips to hers while his hand slowly inched down her back until he touched the soft flare of her hips.
He pressed firmly, pushing her into the hard heat of his sex. A soft purr rose from deep in her throat. The erotic sound was as powerful as any narcotic. This wasn’t just a kiss. It was the promise of things to come.
The song ended on a long roll of steel drums in a Caribbean finale. The group around them broke up, some moving away, others waiting for the next song to begin. But Kyle and Jennifer didn’t move. They kept kissing until someone bumped into them.
He pulled back, gazing down at the dark gold fringe of her lashes casting wispy shadows on her high cheekbones. She looked up at him, and he noticed minute shards of silver in the depths of her blue eyes. She looked away, obviously trying to hide her emotions. He cupped her chin and gently turned her toward him again.
“You always were a good dancer,” he said, referring to their youth.
Something sparked in her eyes, anger no doubt, but he refused to give her the opportunity to argue. His hand fisted, clutching the silky hair at the back of her neck as he brou
ght his lips down on hers, smothering her response. For a moment, her body went rigid, but he kept kissing her.
In some distant part of his brain, he realized the music had begun again, this time with a more rapid beat. People jostled them, but he kept kissing her, and letting his other hand rove up and down her back, lightly stroking her, encouraging her to relax while they swayed slightly, barely pretending to dance.
A few moments later, her body softly gave in, allowing him to pull her against him as her tongue eagerly mated with his. Heat surged upward in his groin, hard and bittersweet.
So many women had paraded through his life, but never had any kiss been as emotionally arousing as this one. Or as carnal. He wanted her, all of her, not just one lousy kiss.
The song ended and the band announced a break. Come on, Parker. Think fast.
“Let’s call Paws N Claws and check on Sadie,” he said.
“Why?”
He didn’t bother to answer. This was nothing more than an excuse to get Jennifer alone. He quickly led her into the house and took a fast turn into the nearest bedroom. He closed the door behind them and didn’t even bother to flick on the light.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He backed her up against the door. “You know what I’m doing.”
“Kyle, don’t,” she said, but made no attempt to move away.
He pinned her against the door with his body and angled his mouth over her parted lips, but he stopped short of kissing her. He took her face in both his hands and tilted it upward. Enough moonlight gleamed through the open windows in the dark room to see her moist lips, wide blue eyes, and the wild strands of honey-blond hair framing her face. Jennifer wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, but she was the sexiest—bar none.
“You don’t want me to stop. Do you, Jennifer?”
He waited a fraction of a second for her response, the iron heat of his sex demanding action. Then he lowered his lips the scant inch to hers as his arms circled her buttocks and brought her up on her toes flush against his rock-hard erection.