Born in Mystery

by Susan Kearney

  She ignored the heat curling in her stomach at the sound of his voice. Thankful he couldn’t see her nervous gesture, she drummed her nails on the vanity. “Tell me what?”

  “You sure you won’t eat something?” he coaxed.

  “I’m bushed. I thought I’d take a nap. Maybe have a bowl of soup later in front of the TV.”

  “You aren’t sick?”

  “I’m fine. The babies are fine. What was it you wanted to tell me?”

  “The police didn’t find any prints on the gun except yours.”

  After he hung up, she was sorry she hadn’t gone to dinner to distract herself from the disappointment of his news. From what she was planning to do. The lovely room seemed empty. Contemplating what would happen later had her muscles in a coil. She threw herself on the bed, never expecting to fall asleep. But she must have been more tired than she’d realized.

  She awakened at midnight with the full moon shimmering through the window, the scent of roses in the air, her pulse fluttering. It was time.

  Now or never.

  Time to go after what she wanted. Eager to put her plan into action before she lost her courage, she tossed back the covers and stood.

  Had Craig returned to his room and fallen asleep? She’d curl up and die if she walked into his room as bare as a nudist while he was awake.

  She’d never in her life done anything as bold as entering a man’s room while he slept. Uninvited. The moonlight coming through the window bathed her in its soft white glow. A breeze prickled her skin. She’d never felt so naked, either.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she let out the air slowly.

  There’s a first time for everything.

  Pride held her shoulders and back erect as she walked to the door separating their rooms. She reached for the knob. Hesitated. She couldn’t move. Her feet grew roots. If panic hadn’t overwhelmed her, she would have dived back under the covers.

  You can do this. Stop acting like a terrified virgin.

  But suppose he refused her?

  Suppose he didn’t?

  She had no idea how long she stood on icy feet, her heart pounding, goose bumpslining up on her bare skin. If she stood still much longer before going to him, he’d think an icicle had climbed into his bed.

  She’d enticed him once before by playing the beguiling temptress, and she could do it again now that the stakes were so much higher. Only this time, she wouldn’t be pretending she wanted him.

  This time, her love was real.

  She yanked open the door, wincing at the tiny squeak. Except for the antiques, his room was identical to hers. He’d even drawn back the drapes, and moonlight was flooding the room.

  Focusing on the dark shape on the bed, she approached on tiptoe. He lay sleeping on his back, one arm flung over his face, the other resting on his stomach, the sheet covering him from the waist down.

  Slowly, ever so carefully, she scooted onto the mattress.

  He smelled so good, clean and male and exotic, like a fresh-mown lawn under a forest of pine with a hint of incendiary balsam.

  She rubbed her hands on her hips to warm them before she dared touch him. Where to start?

  In the moonlight, his face was a contrast of light and shadow. His dark hair spiked against the whiteness of the pillow, and she delicately ran her fingers through it. God, he was hot. Heat radiated off his flesh, and for a moment she feared he was sick, then her chattering teeth told her she was cold.

  She snuggled her head against his chest, and his heated skin was a delicious contrast to her cool flesh, stirring singing desire. Lying beside him felt so right. Even asleep, Craig seemed to agree. The arm that had been resting on his face slipped down to curl over her shoulders, drawing her near. His breathing remained even, and she briefly wondered who was with him in his dreams.

  Not that it mattered. She was here. In his bed. Letting nature take its course.

  Nature couldn’t show him how she felt. She’d have to do that herself. She skimmed her fingers along his jaw, down his chest and stomach. Lower.

  Craig might still be sleeping, but one part of his anatomy was most definitely awake. She trailed her fingers over his sex, pleased when he leaped at her delicate caresses.

  A smile on her lips, she pressed tiny kisses to his shoulder and chest. He moaned softly as if asking for more. She was ready to give him more, ready to give him everything she had without qualifications, without reservations.

  She let her lips follow the path her hand had taken. He let out a glorious sigh, and she gave herself up to waking him in a way that would bring him the most pleasure, in a way he couldn’t refuse.

  Kissing him deeply, hungrily, unhurriedly, she cherished her feminine powers. This was a side of herself she’d been fighting because she was afraid of how she felt, afraid she would lose control, afraid once she began she wouldn’t be able to stop no matter how much she tried. But love wasn’t something to be controlled. Love had set her free.

  She reveled in the tightness of her stomach, the chanting heat in her blood and in the pulse-pounding certainty that she wanted to spend her entire life with this man.

  His hands tightened in her hair, and she sensed he’d awakened. “How . . . what . . . ?” He groaned. “You feel good.”

  When he didn’t send her away, she shivered, and an electrifying frisson of satisfaction surged through her. He confirmed he wanted her by softly kneading her neck, caressing her shoulders.

  “Come here,” he commanded in a voice throaty with need that drew her upward. She straddled his hips, wiggled and failed to get him inside her. “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “Don’t move,” he told her. “Or I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

  Pleased she had him on the brink, she did as he asked. He reached for her breasts, and the heat from his palms licked a fire all the way to her heart.

  “Tell me why you’re here,” he crooned huskily, while his magical hands excited and pleasured her breasts.

  “I can’t concentrate when you touch me like that.”

  “Good.” She sensed his smile from his tone, his need from his ragged breathing.

  She gyrated her hips in a blatant attempt to capture his heat.

  He plucked at her nipple, shooting aching need between her thighs. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

  “Because I want you.”

  His hands returned to stroking her breasts. “Why?”

  “I feel good when I’m with you.”

  He was driving her wild with his teasing hands, his difficult questions. She’d never felt so excited or frustrated in her life. Being so close to having what she wanted created a humming tension. His arousal pulsed beneath her parted thighs. So close, but so far.

  He dropped his hands from her breasts and caressed the insides of her knees. “So this is about my skill as a lover?”

  “No.”

  “You don’t like what I’m doing to you?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I can’t think when you touch me like that.”

  He inched his fingertips along, drawing slow circles on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Each feathery caress advanced a little farther, a little closer to where she waited for him, open, vulnerable, trembling.

  He’d already touched her heart. Now she would give him the rest of her.

  She no longer had a choice. As she took in his wonderful scent with every breath, every nerve ending fired with longing.

  When she didn’t think she could wait another moment, he fondled her where she most wanted to be touched. His intimate caresses had become as necessary as breathing. Nothing had ever felt so wonderful. The tension pressing her lungs, tautly constricted. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her head reeled.

  He planted
a searing kiss on her nipple. His hot fingers teased and burned. Every inch of her buzzed with sizzling electricity. With a moan of surprise, she spasmed in mind-blowing pleasure. When his fingers kept up their tempo, combustible heat left her gasping. She hadn’t known she could feel so hot, so joyous, so filled with passion.

  “I’m not done with you.”

  “Good.” She lifted her hips, knowing with Craig there could be still more. “I want you inside me.” He granted her wish a moment later, filling her completely. They joined as close as man and woman could come. His hands moved over her bottom, helping her find a rhythm. She marveled how free she felt to take what he had to give, how he accepted all she was willing to offer.

  The tempo increased. Rational thought fled with the fullness of him inside her, under her, stroking her. He let go of her bottom, and his fingers found her core. She exploded again. This time, the pleasure left her dizzy.

  She collapsed atop his chest, and he embraced her, his hands smoothing the hair off her face, caressing her shoulder and stroking her back. Snuggling against him, triumphant and happily exhausted, she knew coming to him had been the right thing to do.

  He kissed her. Kissed her as if she was the most important thing in his world. “That was a fantastic way to wake-up.”

  “I was afraid you would refuse me.” She heard him choke back a chuckle and grinned. “Gran knew better.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “What do you mean?”

  A woman had to keep some secrets. She had no intention of admitting that she’d climbed into his bed at Gran’s urging. “Gran gave me a little advice.”

  “And what was that?”

  Bianca giggled. “I can’t remember her exact words.”

  “Try.”

  “She encouraged me to go after what I wanted. And what I wanted was you.”

  He tipped up her head for a kiss. “Well, you certainly had me.”

  “Craig, I was scared of being legally tied to a man so I changed my name. I put the scheme in motion before I knew you. But I never, ever intended to keep your children. But coming to you isn’t just an apology--”

  “I like the way you apologize,” he teased.

  “I want to start over.” She whispered into his mouth. “No more lies.”

  “Agreed.”

  CRAIG PACED restlessly in Gran’s small living room. Last night had been incredible. He didn’t believe Bianca because she’d seduced him. He didn’t even believe her because of her explanation. He believed her because if she was capable of loving her grandmother, if she believed she owed her grandmother for all she’d done, then she simply wasn’t the kind of woman who could scheme to steal his children.

  On the couch beside her grandmother, Bianca sat curled up with the Siamese cat on her lap, her incredible legs tucked beneath her. In his tennis whites, Fred sat opposite the women. He kept glancing at his watch as if he didn’t want to be late for a lesson.

  “Gran, are all of my mother’s things packed away in storage?”

  She had told Craig after she’d decided to move out of Gran’s house, Gran had moved here. Bianca couldn’t bear to sell their old home, so they’d rented the house and put most of their possessions in storage.

  “I’m afraid there’s not much left after all these years,” Gran said.

  Fred picked up his tennis racket, and his fingers plucked the strings. “What about all that junk in the attic?”

  Bianca smiled at Fred. “You remember when we used to play up there when we were kids?”

  “Sure do. You’d dress in your mom’s clothes and pretend you were a queen.”

  “The two of them spent hours up there,” Gran told Craig.

  Someday, Craig wanted a little girl just like Bianca, who played dress up. After the way she’d responded to him last night, he thought she was finally ready to listen to what he had to say.

  Right now, as she petted the cat, she looked more content than he’d ever seen her. The tight wariness had lifted from her eyes, replaced by a soft, shimmering sparkle. Her lips smiled more easily, and as he recalled just where those lips had been and how they’d felt, he knew he had to leave before he embarrassed himself.

  Bianca should be safe with her grandmother. Even if Fred left for a lesson, security had been instructed not to let anyone into the building without checking identification before buzzing open the door. The neighbors had been alerted to strangers who might use sneak tactics to worm their way inside.

  “While you all try to figure out where Bianca’s mother hid the stock certificates,” Craig said, “I have a few errands to run.”

  Fred rose to his feet. “I’ve got to leave, too. My eleven o’clock is waiting.”

  Bianca nodded to them both. “Go on. We’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll be back soon.” Craig bent and gave her a goodbye kiss. “It shouldn’t take long to drive to my office, sign the new import contracts and return.”

  Bianca handed the cat to Gran and walked the men to the door. “Don’t worry. I won’t open the door for strangers, and I’ll lock the door behind you.”

  Craig waited for the dead bolt to click before he hurried out of the building. He looked at his watch. Just enough time to do a little shopping and surprise Bianca.

  From the sunlit parking lot, he counted up two stories and the requisite number of windows over to find Bianca and her grandmother standing at the window and waving a cheery farewell. He waved back and opened his car door. And halted.

  A premonition shook him. Perhaps he shouldn’t leave Bianca alone. He rubbed a kink out of his neck, reminding himself she was with friends, behind locked doors. He was being overcautious. She wouldn’t take any chances. She’d be fine.

  Chapter Twelve

  A FEW MINUTES after Bianca waved goodbye to Craig, someone knocked on the apartment door. She inhaled sharply, cast a quick glance at the locks, then checked the peephole. Fred stood in the hall, a sheepish grin on his face.

  Relieved, she unlocked the door.

  “I must have dropped my building key in the bathroom,” he said, hurrying across the den.

  Gran rolled her eyes at the ceiling and shrugged. “He locks himself out a few times a week. The security guards don’t appreciate the extra walk to the back door to allow him in.”

  As Fred disappeared into the bathroom, the front door burst open. Now what? She hadn’t locked it behind Fred. With him in the apartment, she wasn’t too concerned.

  Uncle Bob barreled into the living room, knocked into the couch and staggered. She realized from his wild expression that even Fred might have trouble making him leave. Bob’s face was alarmingly red, his eyes glazed.

  Bianca gagged on the stench of sour wine but saw no cause for alarm. “How did you get past security?”

  “Maybe I have a key,” he slurred.

  Gran scooted the cat off her lap and stood. “No, you don’t. Only residents of this building have keys.”

  Knowing her uncle would never reveal who’d unlocked the door for him, Bianca folded her arms over her chest. “What do you want?”

  “My stock. You have it, and I want my share.”

  “Oh, piddle.” Gran rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “Not this again.”

  With a shifty look, Bob lurched toward Bianca. “You’re holding out on me. Just like your mother did. You’re not getting away with—”

  Bob flung out his arms and lunged at Gran. Bianca screamed as the two of them went down in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Before she could step forward to help Gran, Fred charged out of the bathroom. His powerful thighs carried him to the middle of the room where Bob sprawled beside his sister, shouting obscenities. Fred snatched a lamp off the table and slammed it over Bob’s head. The man collapsed without a sound.

  Her heart thumping, Bianca knelt
by Gran and brushed broken lamp pieces from her hair. “Are you all right?”

  “Just peachy. Get the big oaf away from me, and I’ll be even better.”

  Fred grabbed one of Bob’s arms and roughly pulled him aside. “I’m glad I came back for my key.”

  If Fred hadn’t returned, Bianca wouldn’t have unlocked the door, and the problem could have been avoided. After all Fred had done to help, mentioning he’d been as much instigator as savior would have appeared ungrateful. As she searched Gran’s eyes, she thought she glimpsed her own reservations mirrored there. However, after noting Fred’s concern for Gran, all of her qualms fled.

  Bob moaned. Fred’s blow had injured him, but not too badly. His limbs moved, and he appeared likely to regain consciousness at any moment.

  Gran straightened her blouse. With Bianca’s assistance, she rose to her feet and clutched Fred’s arm for support. “Thank goodness you were here, Fred. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “Let’s put you to bed,” Fred murmured solicitously. “After all this excitement, I think you should lie down.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  It wasn’t like Gran to be this docile. Normally, she’d be shouting at Uncle Bob and calling security to have her brother thrown into the street. Going meekly to bed just wasn’t her style. Either Gran was more shaken than Bianca suspected or she was up to something.

  Bianca peered at Gran’s wan face. “Are you sure you aren’t hurt? Perhaps we should call your doctor.”

  “I just need a little rest,” Gran assured her testily. “At my age, being tackled just ain’t the fun it used to be.”

  Together, Fred and Bianca helped Gran into bed. While Bianca tucked her in, Fred brought her a glass of water and her pills. “Here you go.”

  Gran sipped, then lay back weakly against her pillow. She looked older, smaller, worried. “If you have to leave for any reason, write me a note.”

  “Sure, Gran. Get some rest. I love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Bianca had no intention of leaving the apartment, but when she returned to the living room, Fred picked up the phone. “I guess you’ve found your stalker. You want to call the police or should I?”