Mio Dio but he was gorgeous. Perfect symmetry. Her vision of her Searching Man come to life.
She ran a finger over the bare flesh on his chest, circled his nipple. She wanted to smooth her hands over his skin everywhere, explore the flesh that had haunted her for years. Not even realizing what she was doing, she’d sketched and sculpted Dale from memory. Her Searching Man, the image she thought she’d conjured from her imagination, was Dale. She needed to taste him.
She took his nipple into her mouth.
Dale groaned and placed his hands on her hips as if to steady himself.
She lowered a hand and stroked his erection through his jeans.
He jerked against her fingers as he sucked in a breath. She looked up to see his face. He smiled.
“I didn’t remember that you liked so much foreplay,” Dale whispered.
“And I didn’t remember you being so hesitant,” she said. Her voice trembled.
“I’m not hesitating,” he said.
“No?”
“No way, Frannie. You don’t think I’ve dreamed of making love to you again?”
Tears blurred her eyes at his words, words she had longed to hear for so long. “You did?”
He lost his smile. “You have no idea.”
“I thought you forgot me.”
“Never.” He brushed hair away from her cheek. “I want to enjoy every minute of this. I intend to take things slowly.”
Still on her knees, Fran jerked her own T-shirt over her head, revealing her lacy black brassiere. “How slow?”
Dale smiled, reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. She shrugged the lacy confection off, and it fell onto the bed between them. Cool air flowed across her flesh as her chest rose and fell. She trembled in expectation of his touch.
When he cupped her breasts, she closed her eyes, reveling in the sensation. This was what she had longed for. And then his warm moist mouth was on her right breast, sucking, and she lost the ability to do anything but feel. And want. Oh, mio Dio but she wanted Dale. She had always wanted Dale. Had never wanted any other man.
She had dreamed of this, of how he had made her feel. She thought she had imagined how good it had been. She had told herself nothing could be as good as her memory.
She had been wrong.
He moved to suckle the other breast.
“Dale,” she breathed. “Mio Dio.”
He covered her mouth with his, cutting off her words. She didn’t remember what she wanted to say, but she knew what she wanted to do.
She reached for the button on his jeans.
He broke the kiss. “You’re still in a hurry?” he asked, his voice as breathless as she felt.
“Yes,” she said. “I want to see you. All of you.”
Wearing a crooked grin, he released the button and stepped out of his jeans and white briefs. His erection jerked between them. He moaned when she wrapped her hand around him. So hard yet the flesh was silky and warm.
Wanting to sear the memory of how he looked at this moment into her brain, she released him, stepped off the bed and circled his magnificent body. Far better than my Searching Man.
“What are you doing, Frannie?”
“Looking at you.”
“You’ve seen it before,” he said over his shoulder. She detected humor in his tone.
She smoothed a finger down his spine and then cupped his firm buttock. “Oh, but you are different now.”
“So are you.” He swallowed hard. “At least what I’ve seen so far.”
“Turn around,” she said.
When he turned, she locked her gaze on his, unzipped her slacks and stepped out of them. She faced him wearing nothing but the flimsy bit of black lace covering her private parts. He didn’t speak as he took in her almost nude body.
Did he still want to take things slowly?
To tease him, to make him want her, she twirled in a slow circle letting him see all of her. When facing him again, she ran the tip of one finger along the elastic of her panties and lowered them.
She did not want to take things slowly.
Completely exposed to him, she moved back to the bed and sat on the edge. Following her movements with his intense gaze, Dale turned to face her. She took his erection deep into her mouth, and he moaned her name, placing his hands on her head.
When she thought he was close to coming, he stepped away, breathing hard, his eyes never leaving hers.
She scooted back on the bed and lay down, throwing a hand over her head. That motion lifted her breasts toward him.
“Take me, Dale,” she murmured. “Make me yours again. Please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
He found a condom in his suitcase, sheathed himself, and lay beside her on the bed. She turned into him and he gathered her close, his body warm, inviting, hardened with muscles that had not been there last time. He kissed her again, long and deep, and she wrapped a leg over his hip. She wanted to crawl inside him, to be closer to him.
He rose, positioned himself between her thighs and thrust into her. The pleasure of his entry swept through her, making her boneless, nothing but melting flesh. Mio Dio but he filled her completely. She closed her eyes at the joy of a union so long in coming and met his thrusts with her own, building to a crescendo that made her cry out when it broke.
Breathing hard, Dale collapsed onto her. She welcomed his weight, ran a hand down his back, slick with sweat. Maybe they could stay cocooned in this room forever. Make love until they ran out of strength.
* * *
DALE ROLLED AWAY from Frannie and disposed of his condom. When he returned to their bed, he stared down at her. She met his gaze, her breasts rising and falling with her still labored breathing. He didn’t have the ability to articulate what he was thinking or feeling. He’d fantasized about making love with his Frannie so often...especially during those hot, dry days in Iraq when the memories of their time together were what kept him alive.
And now here she was. Telling him she’d never stopped loving him. Could that really be true?
Maybe because of their tortured history, what they’d just shared had possessed an intimacy unlike any lovemaking he’d ever experienced, even with her.
But this Fran wasn’t the teenaged girl he remembered. This was a mature woman whose lush curves pushed all his buttons in all the right ways. Yet this was his Frannie, the only woman he’d ever loved, a wild, free spirit who had once shown him fun and passion and art, everything that made life worth living.
Losing her had seared him in ways that he hadn’t understood. That loss had challenged him, changed him. But now she was back, giving herself to him with an abandon he hadn’t expected, making him remember the unashamed, uninhibited girl he had fallen desperately in love with.
And he was falling for her all over again. The connection they’d forged seemed impossible to break. But hadn’t he believed that before?
Was he setting himself up for more pain?
He pushed that thought away. What they had just shared was worth the pain he’d already endured times three. Times a hundred.
This was how it had always been with Frannie, what got them into so much trouble. She’d made him feel like the most important man in the world, like he was some kind of a superhero who could do anything. What man didn’t like feeling like that?
He climbed into bed beside her. She snuggled close and placed her head on his chest. As he held her, a sense of wholeness washed over him.
“Mio Dio, that was wonderful,” she murmured. “I have missed you.”
“I could tell,” he said.
She took his nipple into her mouth and bit gently.
“Oow,” he complained, although he felt no pain. Far from it. Fran could bite him like that for the rest of his life.
She released him and rubbed her cheek against his
chest, making little noises that sounded to his ear very much like satisfaction.
Did he need to tell her he’d missed her, too? She knew it. His lovemaking had made that abundantly clear. Now they needed to forget the past and move on from here. But could they forgive each other? Even if they found Bella, what did the future hold for them? He had his career in Miami. She had her life and work in Italy.
Perhaps too much time had passed for them to start over. How would that even work? He rubbed his hand up and down her arm, loving the feel of her velvet skin, and listened to her breathe. He didn’t want to obsess about an unknown future right now. Now was the time to enjoy the physical connection that had been recreated between them. He wanted to make love to her again, and would in just a few minutes.
He had his Frannie back—at least for a while. Even if the bliss couldn’t last, he intended to make the most of whatever time they had together. And maybe their happiness could last. Maybe they could make it work. Why not?
She claimed to have never stopped loving him.
He sighed and closed his eyes, knew he could drift off in a heartbeat.
Fran’s shoulder trembled beneath his arm. Was that a drop of moisture on his chest? He lowered his chin.
“Are you crying?” he asked.
She turned away from him.
“Hey,” he said, coming up on an elbow to see her face. Her eyes were squeezed tight with tears oozing out of the edges.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I am fine, more than fine. But I should not be.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It is my fault,” she said on a sob.
He brushed hair away from her cheek. “What is, honey?”
“Bella ran away to find you because I was a horrible mother.”
“Fran—”
“No, it is true.” She flipped onto her back and stared at the ceiling. “I used my art as a crutch. I hid inside my creations.”
“Don’t do this to yourself.”
“Did I ignore her? I did not mean to. It did not seem like I did.” She met his gaze and looked away. “Maybe I do not deserve to find her. Maybe I am being punished.”
“Stop it. You aren’t being punished. Our daughter sounds like a rebellious, spirited kid. Like you were.”
She closed her eyes again and shook her head.
“Do you love Bella?” he asked gently.
“So much,” she whispered. “She is the light of my life.”
“Listen to me. Everyone copes with loss in different ways. You created beauty. I buried myself in soldiering, then in my police career when I got stateside again.” And in a steady stream of women. “That doesn’t mean you are a bad mother.”
“Maybe,” she murmured, sounding unconvinced.
“I know what this is about,” he said. “Why you’re feeling like this.”
“What?” she asked.
“You’re feeling guilty because you actually felt good, normal for a brief time.”
She shot him a look, but quickly glanced away. “Do you think so?”
“You know I’m right,” he said.
She met his gaze, held it this time and shifted toward him. “Then make love to me again, Dale. I feel whole when you are inside me.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He lowered his mouth to hers.
CHAPTER TWELVE
NURSING A LUKEWARM cup of coffee, Dale sat before a computer monitor in the Tampa FBI headquarters waiting to review the surveillance video from the Havanabia Restaurant. It’d taken a while to narrow the parameters to the relevant time frame, but he’d stopped the image at the moment he and Fran had entered the establishment. The mysterious man should appear on screen following them inside within a few minutes.
Like most surveillance, the feed was jerky and far from clear, making it hard to distinguish facial features. He sat back and took a sip of coffee. Fran had gone to the ladies’ room. They’d start the review when she returned.
He smiled, thinking about how they’d exhausted each other last night, exactly what they’d needed. Afterward, he’d fallen into a deep sleep, the best rest he’d had since Fran reappeared in his life. A wake-up call had roused them both, and they’d made love again. Whether it was the sex or the sleep, he felt one hell of a lot better today.
Hopeful even.
Things had changed between them, and for the better in his opinion. The relationship—if he could call it that—had shifted after they’d become intimate. Not back to how they’d been in high school, but they’d become more comfortable with each other.
He and Fran had been like a married couple this morning, packing their suitcases, brushing fingers and smiling at each other as they’d removed clothing from the closet. They’d held hands on the walk to the lobby for breakfast. She’d gotten him a second cup of coffee and had remembered he liked it black.
He had no clue what would happen next between them. How could he with what was going on in their lives?
Besides, he’d been down this road with Fran before and knew better than to plan on anything permanent. Jeez, permanency and Fran? A week ago the thought of Fran in his life forever would have been impossible, although once upon a time that’s all he wanted. Yeah, and the idea of them staying together was a fairy tale.
What the hell. Whether with or without Bella, she’d go back to Italy. He needed to get a grip, not allow his thoughts to wander off in such a dangerous direction. For now, their focus had to remain on finding their daughter. One day at time, pal.
Agent Button stuck his head in the room. “You need anything?”
“I’m good,” Dale said.
Fran appeared in the doorway.
“Ms. Scarpetta,” Button said, stepping out of the way. “I’m sorry we didn’t find your daughter yesterday.”
“I am as well,” she said. “But thank you.”
She entered and sat beside Dale. He nodded at her, drinking in her appearance. He’d rather kiss her, no matter how inappropriate. He turned his thoughts away from how she’d looked last night, her face flushed with the aftermath of their lovemaking, and focused on the video screen and the frozen image of the arched entrance to the Havanabia.
“You ready to do this?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said.
He clicked the mouse and started the feed. Button remained in the doorway to watch. Fran crossed and uncrossed her legs. Dale felt agitation flowing off her, and shot her a look. Maybe she was less happy about last night than he. Could he be wrong about how she felt? She met his gaze and smiled.
“You okay?” he asked.
She tucked a lock of hair behind an ear. “I am fine.”
Doubting that, wondering what was up with her, he refocused on the monitor as a series of patrons entered the restaurant. He didn’t have long to wait. The square-jawed man who’d watched them strode into the feed. The camera got a good view of his face, but he quickly disappeared inside the restaurant.
Button made a noise and stepped closer. “Play it again.”
Dale backed up and reran the footage.
“Freeze it,” Button demanded.
Dale complied, halting the video with the best image of the man’s face he could manage.
“That’s him?” Button asked. “That’s the man you claim was watching you?”
“Yes,” Dale said. “Fran? Do you agree?”
Fran nodded. “Definitely the same man.”
Button shook his head. “You are looking at Joaquin Zarco.”
* * *
WANTING TO SCREAM, Fran sat very still, staring at the image on the computer monitor. This was the scum who had stolen her daughter? This man looked nothing like the video of the man in the coffee shop in Rome. That man wore eyeglasses and had short auburn hair.
“This mutt is Zarco?” Dale demanded. “Ar
e you certain?”
Button moved closer to the computer. “Yeah, I’m certain. Damn, we assumed he’d left the country.”
Fran fisted her hands until her nails pierced her skin. Mio Dio, last night she had been sitting less than thirty feet away from the monster who had abducted Bella. If only she had known.
And he had been watching her. Why? Did the predator know she was Bella’s mother?
Fran wanted to claw her way through the computer and scratch out Zarco’s eyes. No, that wasn’t good enough. This man had taken her daughter. I want to kill him.
She shook her head, trying to pull herself down from the white-hot rage that consumed her. She looked at Agent Button.
“How do you know this is Joaquin Zarco?” she demanded.
“Believe me, I recognize Zarco. I’ve been trying to nail him for years.” Button punched numbers into a cell phone. “The whole Bureau has. He’s slippery, seldom appears without disguise.”
Button barked orders into his phone and hurried from the room.
“Maybe Zarco is too smart,” Fran said.
Dale leaned forward, his focus on the computer monitor. “We’ll get him. Zarco made a mistake by following us. Criminals always do.”
Fran gazed at the image on the screen again. “So what does this mean?”
“Button will mobilize FBI resources and try to locate Zarco. Hopefully, he’s still in the area.”
“Yes, yes, but that’s not what I mean. Why did Zarco follow us into the Havanabia? What did he want with us?”
When Dale didn’t answer, Fran shot him a look.
“What are you not telling me?”
He shook his head and sat back. “I’m not sure.”
“But you have a theory.”
“Yeah, I always have a theory.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just a theory. I have no proof.”
“Come on, Dale.”
“Okay.” He sighed. “I think you rattled Zarco’s cage. Your art is well known in Italy. Maybe your insistence that law enforcement track down your daughter both here and in Europe got his attention. Hell, you even got the state department involved.”
Her One and Only Hero Page 20
