by Lora Leigh
She should have been embarrassed. There were possibly three hundred people who were going to know in a matter of minutes that Macey had made off with her for some fun sex in the sun. Somewhere. But she wasn’t embarrassed, she was invigorated, energized. She could feel the emotions she had given free rein to grow inside her, filling her, pushing away the loneliness and lighting those dark places with happiness and a sense of freedom.
It was hard not to enjoy the freedom Macey gave her. The freedom to touch him, to revel in his arms surrounding her and the love growing between them.
Two weeks. It had been two weeks since Pierce Landry had tried to kill both of them. Two weeks since Macey had bulldozed his way past her shields to steal her caution and replace it with hope.
Her arms tightened around his waist as they entered the treeline and began moving deeper into the thick forest that covered the March property. She had forgotten how many hundreds of acres the senior Marches owned, but it was vast. Once a thriving cattle farm, it was now rich farmland warming beneath the sun and cool forests shadowed with secrets and a mysterious sensuality. She could imagine living here, hearing the birds sing every morning, watching the deer graze on rich, lush grass as rabbits scurried to and fro.
Maybe she wasn’t the city girl she thought she was.
“Here we go,” Macey called out as he parked the four-wheeler under a strand of thick trees.
“And what is this?” She kept her arms wrapped around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder as she breathed in the scent of him and felt her hunger rising.
“Look up.”
She looked up and her eyes widened in surprised pleasure.
“It’s a treehouse.” Her smile widened at the size of it. It was built between two huge trees, the lumber weathered with age, but not with rot. It looked sturdy, natural. A part of the trees that surrounded it and comfortable with its surroundings.
“Come on, I want to show you.”
Macey helped her from the back before swinging from the four-wheeler himself and leading her around one of the largest trees where a ladder had been folded down.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed. She had always wanted a treehouse, but hadn’t had a tree when she was younger to build one. It always seemed like such a cozy idea, the thought of the trees embracing a small shelter that embraced her. And now, Macey had one. “How long has this been here?”
“Since we were boys,” he told her. “Up you go. We checked it out earlier this morning for squirrels and stuff. It’s nice and safe.”
Emerson glanced back at him as she moved up the ladder, nearly laughing at the piercing look he was giving her butt. He seemed particularly enamored of her breasts as well as her rear.
She giggled as his muttered “Have mercy,” reached her. The sound was filled with hunger, admiration, and warmth. That warmth was what stole her heart. It wasn’t just lust. It was something that was just right.
Reaching the small balcony that surrounded the treehouse, Emerson stood and stared out around the forest beneath them. God, it was beautiful here, quiet and peaceful, sultry and warming. She loved it.
“Let’s go inside.” Pulling up beside her, Macey ducked into the opening and drew her in, and her heart stopped in her chest.
A queen-sized mattress was laid out on the floor, surrounded by tapered candles. An ice chest sat in the back corner, but the mattress held her attention.
It wasn’t an air mattress. It was a deep, old-fashioned feather mattress covered with quilts and heaped with pillows.
“You did this?”
“You wanted a treehouse to sleep in.” He looked around the small area in satisfaction. “My brothers and I built this when we were teenagers. I wanted to share it with you.”
She lifted her hand to her lips as tears filled her eyes. He was giving her so much. So many dreams, so much happiness, and now, he was giving her one of the things she’d longed for as a child. A treehouse.
“I love you, Emerson,” he whispered, pulling her to the mattress and kneeling beside her. “I love you until sometimes I think I’m going to go insane if I don’t hold you.”
She shook her head, a tear falling as she stared into his face. This big tough guy, rough and ready to fight, and here he was kneeling in front of her, love shining in his dark eyes and tough face.
He lifted her hand and she stared down in shock as he slid the ring on her finger. The Ring. She knew what it was. The garnet, her birthstone, gleamed fiery burgundy and curved into a rich, lustrous emerald. Macey’s birthstone was emerald.
“They fit,” he whispered, his thumb smoothing over the stones inset in the gold band and curving into each other. “Like we fit. Fit me forever, Em. Belong with me forever.”
Her lips trembled, and tears fell from her eyes. “I like forever.” Her voice shook as she met his eyes and saw all the love, all the hope and joy she could have ever prayed for. “Forever suits us.”
“Belonging suits us.” His head lowered, his lips taking hers with a hunger that she knew should have shocked her, but instead, it met her own.
She laid back on the mattress, their hands tearing at each other’s clothes. Their lips, teeth and tongues devoured every drop of passion and pleasure they could find.
Clothes were discarded. Naked flesh met naked flesh as desperate moans mingled and hungry hands stroked. Sweat built on their flesh, making her breasts slick, heated as his lips slid over them. When his lips covered a nipple and sucked it deep and hard, her back arched in pleasure.
She pressed the mounds together as his lips began to devour both nipples. Sucking and licking as she writhed beneath him in passion.
“I’m hungry for the taste of you,” he moaned, moving from her breasts down her body.
His tongue stroked through the narrow slit of her pussy, and before Emerson could make sense of anything else she was drawn into a world of sensual hunger, heat and longing that only built and rose until she was screaming with her orgasm and begging for more. Begging for his cock rather than his lips and tongue, pleading for him to fill her.
When he filled her, he took her with long, slow strokes, worked the pleasure to a crescendo that flung her into the heavens in a burst of brilliant, fiery waves.
It was like this with Macey. Sometimes hard and hot, sometimes slow and hot, but always hot, always building, and always drawing her deeper into the magic of his touch.
Later, as the sun began to cool and shadows began to draw deeper into the treehouse, Macey moved. Champagne and two glasses were lifted from the ice chest along with a platter of cold finger foods.
They fed each other. Drank from one glass, and as darkness descended they loved again. Loved for hours until Emerson knew where she belonged, where her heart lay, and trusted in tomorrow.
In Macey’s arms.
DESERT
HEAT
CINDY
GERARD
ONE
“IT’S FOR A GOOD cause. It’s for a good cause. It’s for a good cause.” That was Assistant DA Elena Martinez’s mantra and she was sticking to it.
Of course, she thought, as she followed Seth King, the sulky Flagstaff police detective, down the steep rock slope under a blazing April sun, the view was almost worth it. And she wasn’t just thinking about this leg of their trek into the magnificence of the Grand Canyon.
Her female colleagues in the DA’s office called Seth King eye candy of the highest caloric content. Yeah, Elena admitted grudgingly and adjusted her visor to block the morning sun’s glare. “Detective Dreamy” was easy to look at; she couldn’t deny that. He had the requisite poster-boy broad shoulders, narrow hips, rock-hard abs and thick buzz-cut black hair. Not to mention that his face, all hard angles and intriguing planes, elevated the drool factor to new levels. That amazing face and impressive, bare, oiled chest had launched last year’s Flagstaff Police Force calendar benefiting the children’s wing at the hospital—and Elena would never think of January as cold again.
Yep, sh
e thought, carefully stepping over a pile of loose stones, easy to look at. He was also a good cop. A clean cop. She respected him for that. Too bad he not only had a great ass, but could also be a monster pain in the ass.
King was one of the rare people who made her want to yell—she never yelled—and the fact that she’d come close to giving into the urge a few times with him didn’t set one bit well.
So why was she here? Simple. She’d needed a break from the constant crunch at the office. This hike could have been a peaceful, energizing experience. Would have been, if the luck of the draw hadn’t paired her up with King for this year’s annual law enforcement benefit event.
Signing up for the two-day Survival Scavenger Hunt in the Grand Canyon that had started at six this morning and ended at six tomorrow night had been a no-brainer. Elena loved the Canyon. Relished the exertion and the amazing scenery. Plus she needed to get out of the office and see something besides government-gray walls, crime and courtrooms. Since she’d scored her promotion a year ago, she’d done little besides work.
Not backing out after she’d found out Seth was her partner, however, fell dead center into the “What was I thinking?” category.
And the utterly disarming sensation that she was being watched—which was as ridiculous as letting King shake her—was taking what was left of the fun out of the experience.
“You’re awful quiet back there, Martinez,” King tossed over his shoulder as he hiked along ahead of her at a comfortable pace. “How’d I get so lucky?”
“Just hike,” she sputtered, and told herself she wasn’t one bit impressed by the tan muscular thighs visible beneath his drab olive hiking shorts. Or by the way his snug white t-shirt hugged his chest beneath his backpack or by the bulge of his biceps as he dug his walking poles into the steep, downhill grade of Kaibab Trail. Or by the fact that two hours into the hike, carrying at least fifty pounds of water and gear, he hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “And save the sarcasm for someone who appreciates it.”
“Just out of curiosity, if you didn’t want to do this, why did you sign up?”
Elena planted her poles for balance while stepping over a sun-bleached log. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to do it. I just didn’t want to do it with you.”
He stopped, twisted at the waist and grinned back at her from beneath the brim of his red and blue Arizona Wildcats cap. “Are we still talking about the scavenger hunt?”
Leave it to him to spin her remark into a sexual innuendo. “You have a highly overinflated opinion of yourself, you know that, King?”
He chuckled and started back down the steep downhill grade. “If that’s the case, why are you always checking out my ass, Martinez?”
Following him, she grunted, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was right. “Get over yourself. And while you’re at it, get over the Devine case. I’m tired of your grumblings filtering back to the DA’s office.”
That stopped him short. Literally. She almost ran into him. When he turned to face her this time, his mouth was set in a line as hard and unforgiving as the Kaibab limestone walls of the canyon at this elevation. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his aviator shades, but she had no doubt that pale blue had transitioned to deep indigo. She’d seen that shade plenty during the course of the Devine case. He hadn’t been happy about the way she’d prosecuted Joey Devine, the son of Clyde Devine, a bad-ass piece of crap and the head of the local drug syndicate.
She waited while he transferred both of his walking poles to one hand then reached for the tube on his CamelBak. He took a long drink, all the while watching her face.
“Let’s just clear the air once and for all, okay?” she pressed, staring him down. She was beyond weary of his anger at her over the case, and she was feeling just enough physical stress over the arduous hike that her guard was down.
“What’s to clear?” He recapped the drinking tube and tucked it away. “I had the little bastard nailed for murder one. The case was solid, Elena, and you copped for voluntary man.”
“Yeah,” she agreed. “Your case was solid.”
“And yet, you, in your infinite wisdom, let him plead to the lesser charge. It was bogus and you know it.”
Elena was confident about the job she’d done on the Devine case. On all of her cases, for that matter. It pissed her off when King questioned her. She’d worked damn hard to get where she was and she hadn’t moved up in the ranks because she didn’t know what she was doing.
“Look. It got Devine off the streets, didn’t it? And with the plea bargain he gave up the goods on Evans and that put another lowlife behind bars. I’ll go for a twofer any day of the week.”
King snorted. “That’s bullshit reasoning. Crank Evans was small potatoes.”
“Tell that to the parents of the kids Evans supplied,” she said, then drew a quick breath to check the disturbing urge to raise her voice around him.
“Tell that to the school district where he’d set up his trade,” she continued, back in control. “I think they’re damn glad the trade-off of a voluntary man conviction for Devine also netted the Evans bust. As of last week another predator is off the streets.”
“Yeah, well,” Seth squatted down on one knee to retie the laces on his worn hiking boots, “I guess it’s a moot point now, isn’t it?”
Elena took the opportunity to readjust the straps on her backpack and resettle its weight. “What do you mean, a moot point?”
Silence.
The kind of silence that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. She saw by the expression on King’s face that he knew something vital.
He stood, stretching to his full six-plus feet and cocked his head. “You didn’t hear?”
“Hear what?”
He gave her a hard, troubled look. “Joey Devine is dead. Knifed in the prison yard yesterday.”
“Jesus,” she said, stunned.
He pushed out a grim grunt. “I doubt very much that Jesus was in play on that deal.”
Man, Elena thought. Joey Devine was dead. Despite the furnace blast of heat welling up from the interior walls of the canyon, a chill whipped through her. It wasn’t that she felt remorse over Joey Devine’s death. He was a murderer and a drug lord; the world was a better, safer place without him. But she couldn’t help but replay Clyde Devine’s whispered threat as she left the courtroom after Joey’s conviction.
“You’ll pay, bitch. For taking my son from me, I promise, you will pay. And you’d better hope nothing happens to him in stir or when I come after you, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born.”
“Hey—you okay?”
She glanced at Seth. Realized his eyes were full of concern. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” she said with an absent nod.
But she wasn’t okay. She was shaken. She’d never told anyone about Clyde Devine’s threat. Figured it was just gang-mentality bravado. Now though … now that Joey was dead—another shiver rippled through her. Well, now that Joey Devine was dead, she was going to have to watch her back when they got back to Flagstaff.
Head down, focused on the trail, she tried to push thoughts of Devine from her mind as she followed Seth down the rough pass.
She never noticed the glint of sunlight bouncing off a pair of binoculars from the ridge of a switchback above them.
TWO
SHE WAS TOUGHER THAN he’d thought she’d be, Seth admitted around nine A.M. Who knew that hidden beneath the boring, mannishly tailored power suits she wore to court, interviews and depositions, that pretty, prickly Elena Martinez had an athlete’s body. A curvy athlete’s body to boot.
Despite the fact that they often butted heads over the way Flagstaff’s newest assistant district attorney prosecuted his cases, Seth had often wondered about her hidden assets. Well, he didn’t have to wonder anymore. She’d started out the cool morning with a long-sleeved red jersey shirt and long pants tucked into her hiking boots. Hadn’t taken long for the sun to warm the canyon walls and she’d zipped the le
gs off the pants to make shorts and packed the shirt away in favor of a sweet, yellow tank top.
Thank you, sun.
Her arms and legs were a sexy honey-colored hue, slim yet surprisingly well-toned. The lady apparently lifted something other than stacks of legal briefs. The lady had also been carrying concealed. Nice rack. Sweet little ass. While that heavy mass of chestnut hair was still twisted up in a snug, prim knot on top of her head, he had a feeling that when she let her hair down—if she ever let her hair down—it’d be silky and sleek and sexy as all hell.
A vivid image of that thick, lush hair trailing over his belly played through his mind like a wet dream.
“You’re a dirtbag, King,” he muttered under his breath as he rounded yet another switchback and maneuvered over some dead fall. She already thought he was a pig. If she knew what he was thinking, she’d shove him off a cliff. Lord knew she’d have plenty of opportunities before this scavenger hunt in the canyon’s desert terrain was over.
The trouble with Elena was she was too smart and too stubborn. He generally preferred a woman who wouldn’t be such a challenge, although, on too many occasions, he’d wondered how she’d be in the sack.
The truth was, he grudgingly admired the hell out of her professionalism—as well as the package it was wrapped in. She just pissed him off sometimes was all—especially when she pulled something like she had in the Devine case. As far as he was concerned, the DA’s office made too many plea bargains and let too many scumbags back on the streets. He’d seen one too many murderers find a way out of prison only to kill again. That’s why he was determined to make it difficult for the DA to do it with his cases—even if the DA, or in this case, an assistant DA, tripped the kind of triggers Elena Martinez did.
“Let’s take a breather,” he said when he rounded the next switchback and discovered an overhanging ledge that would provide them with a nice little pocket of shade. “You need to rehydrate and we could both use some salt and protein.”