A Forever Kind of Hero

by Marie Ferrarella

  He indicated the door. “All right, let’s go.”

  Megan looked at him. What was he up to? “You’re coming with me?”

  How could she possibly think otherwise, after what she’d just pulled? he thought. “Damn straight, I am. I’m not letting you out of my sight again until this goes down.”

  There were a lot of hours from now until then. “What if I really have to go to the bathroom?” The question was baiting him, and she knew it, but she couldn’t resist asking.

  His look was steely and left no room for mercy. “You’ll hold it.”

  Megan stared at him in disbelief. “Until tomorrow night?”

  Until a week from now—if it took that. “You should have thought of that before.”

  “What are you so angry about?” she demanded. “I wasn’t going to ruin your operation.”

  “And you’re not going to get a chance to,” he informed her tersely. “Now let’s go find this maid so you can give her back her clothes.”

  What he didn’t add was that it wasn’t the operation he was worried about. It was the thought of her being killed that made his blood run cold.

  Chapter 14

  Megan rapped twice on the utility closet door, then stood back as it opened a crack. She smiled encouragingly at the woman who looked at her with large brown eyes. “I’m back, just like I promised.”

  The woman looked enormously relieved.

  “Be right back,” Megan tossed over her shoulder at Garrett before shutting the door behind her.

  Despite the fact that she’d just disappeared into a utility closet, Garrett considered checking it out for another possible exit. He wouldn’t put anything past Megan.

  Folding his arms before him, he leaned against the wall and waited. He didn’t need this sort of aggravation, he told himself. At this point in his life, he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that he did need, but it didn’t include constantly being challenged, constantly having to be on his toes—because of a woman. That was guaranteed to wear him out before his time.

  As he waited, his thoughts began to stray again. Garrett smiled, then sobered when he realized what he was doing.

  When the door opened again, Megan walked out first. Following in her wake was the maid, who looked at Garrett nervously. Megan caught the woman’s wary expression.

  “Don’t mind him, he scares everyone. Here.” She pressed the hundred dollars that Velasquez had given her into the woman’s hand. “This is yours.”

  The woman looked down at the bill uncertainly. All signs of wariness faded a moment later. Her smile was wide, electric.

  “Thank you, miss,” she said haltingly.

  Garrett caught a glimpse of the bill’s denomination before it disappeared into the maid’s pocket. Taking Megan’s arm, he ushered her away from the closet and toward the elevator. The sooner he got her back upstairs, the better he would feel.

  “Is that the going rate for borrowed uniforms and carts these days?” Leaning over her, he pressed the button for the elevator

  Megan felt his arm brush against her chest. It was enough to stir memories. She shut them away. There was no place for them in her life. “I already paid her. That was what Velasquez slipped into my hand before I left.”

  “What?” He looked at her sharply. “You spoke to Velasquez?”

  She couldn’t put a name to the emotion behind his tone, and it made her uneasy.

  “He spoke to me—as the maid,” she emphasized, in case Garrett thought she’d blown the operation. “Said his mother had been a cleaning lady.” She shrugged, looking up over the elevator bank to watch the progression of numbers. The closest car was five floors away. “Maybe he felt guilty.”

  That would be the day, thought Garrett. “The man doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t have a humane bone in his body. Maybe he just liked being a big shot,” Garrett contradicted.

  “Maybe,” she agreed.

  She didn’t feel like getting into an argument with him over the dealer’s motives. That was the least of her concerns. She was still frustrated that she hadn’t been able to get Kathy out of the suite.

  “How did you talk the maid into that?” Garrett wanted to know. “This kind of thing only happens in movies.”

  “Life imitates art,” she answered glibly. The elevator finally arrived—empty. Megan stepped in ahead of him. “Besides, money does go a long way in convincing people to do things. I told her that I wanted to play a joke on my fiancé.”

  Garrett pressed for their floor. “And she believed you?”

  It was evident to Megan by his expression that Garrett wouldn’t believe anyone.

  “I have an honest face.” She raised her chin and pasted on a broad smile.

  Garrett laughed shortly. “Only if you stretch the concept.”

  The elevator stopped on the next floor, and a tourist family walked in. The conversation was put on hold.

  Getting off on their floor, Garrett took her arm and marshaled her down the hall.

  “I can walk,” she protested.

  “You can also run,” he countered tersely. Opening the door, he ushered her in before him.

  Megan looked around. Harris and Langtree were gone.

  “Where are your friends?”

  “Busy.” The less she knew, the better off everyone would be—including her. Garrett saw the annoyed look in her eyes. “You want an agent-by-agent rundown?”

  She waved the sarcasm away. She didn’t care what they were up to, as long as in the end she got Kathy out safely.

  Restless, Megan moved around the suite. Each time she entered one of the other rooms, Garrett shadowed her movements, staying close behind. Exactly what did he expect her to do—disappear into thin air?

  Hands on hips, she swung around and confronted him. “You’re not really serious about not letting me out of your sight, are you?”

  “Never more serious about anything in my life,” he said mildly.

  She saw that he had picked up one of the take-out containers and was eating from it. It had to be stone-cold by now.

  Seeing her eye the container, Garrett held it out to her. “Hungry?”

  She was too keyed up to think about eating. “What is it you think I’m going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” He followed her back into the front room. “I don’t know what you’re capable of, Megan. I didn’t think you’d actually go waltzing into their suite, but you did.” Finished with the container, he set it down on the coffee table with the others. “It’s better for everyone all around if I just keep you close.”

  The uneasiness she’d been feeling began to grow, feeding on things that had no name, no form. On memories of a night that was best forgotten by both parties involved. “How close?”

  Slowly, a smile curved his mouth as he looked down at her. The lectures, the reprimands, the anger—all faded. “That all depends.”

  A smart person would have known enough to retreat. And Megan had always considered herself smart. But maybe not tonight. Tonight she was also inexplicably fascinated by this man who refused to be pigeonholed. “On what?”

  By now, there wasn’t enough room between their bodies to wedge a paper cut. “On you.”

  Megan found that she was having trouble swallowing. She was an idiot—there was no other word for it. A certified, addle-brained idiot. She knew exactly where this was going.

  Exactly where she wanted it to go, without actually acknowledging the fact to herself.

  But she had never been one to just drift along with the tide, never been one to allow things to sweep her away. She’d always made choices, cold hard choices. Even if she didn’t admit it to herself at the time.

  There were no accidents in Megan Andreini’s life.

  She wanted to be here, in this room, with this man.

  He held his breath, waiting for her answer, for some indication that she wanted this as much as he did.

  Megan glanced toward the door. There was no one here now, but that could change at
any moment. She didn’t relish the idea of someone walking in on them.

  “Doesn’t it depend on your friends?” she asked pointedly.

  His mouth curved a little more, teasing her. Making her pulse flutter. He shook his head in response to her question. “I’m not into things like that.”

  He would give that meaning to her words, she thought, just to rattle her. She frowned slightly. “I mean—when are they coming back.”

  “They’re not coming back.” He saw the surprised look in her eyes. “At least, not until the morning. They pulled a different detail.”

  She looked at him knowingly. “How convenient.” A thrill passed over her.

  They both knew he was in charge of the case. “Just efficient, that’s all.”

  God, but Garrett wanted to kiss her. To hold her and feel her against him again. He should have been thinking of the operation, of what was at stake, but all he could think of was her.

  Garrett placated his conscience with the fact that everything was in place. The drop wasn’t scheduled to happen until tomorrow night, and there were agents everywhere in the city, alert and watching the drop site, as well as all possible exits to and from the hotel.

  With that many eyes watching, it was all right if his were distracted for a few minutes, feasting on something else.

  She cocked her head, studying his face. The man could twist words with the best of them. She had to remember that, and not allow herself to get carried away.

  But when he touched her shoulders, resting just the pads of his palms on them, she had trouble breathing normally.

  “Is that what this is going to be?” She searched his face for a sign. “Efficient?”

  “There is no name for what this is going to be, Megan,” he told her.

  Because what Garrett felt right now had no name—none that he was willing to ascribe to it. It wasn’t lust, because he’d known lust: hot, flashing and then gone. And it wasn’t desire—at least, not only desire. Desire consumed whatever it touched until the moment it was sated. But there had been no satiety—not with her. There had only been a need for more, even in the wake of complete exhaustion.

  Something like that had no name. It just was.

  “No name, huh?” Her eyes smiled. He was just as lost in this as she was. Knowing that helped. The next moment, her breath caught in her throat again as he began undoing the buttons on her blouse. “Sounds as if we’re on the brink of some scientific discovery.”

  His eyes on hers, Garrett continued working away the buttons, undressing her. “Maybe we are.”

  Excitement drummed urgent fingers through her, urging her to action. She hurried through two of his buttons, then undid one for each one of hers that he worked free.

  When he drew the sleeves down her arms, she mimicked the movements with his shirt. The two articles of clothing tangled as they fell to the floor together.

  “Think they’ll name it after us?” she asked, her voice low, desire throbbing deep in her throat. “They always name things after the people who discover them.” Megan bit her lip as she felt his hands on her hips, urging her skirt down a few inches at a time before slipping in. Goose bumps formed instantly as she felt his warm flesh touch hers.

  “Then we’ll have to argue over whose name comes first.” He drew his breath in as he felt her fingers slide the zipper of his slacks down, then press ever so slightly along his body. Along his growing desire for her.

  The woman looked like an angel and had the soul of an old-world courtesan.

  What was worse, he realized, though he was unable to do anything about it, was that she had his number—down to the last digit.

  “We don’t have to argue,” she whispered, pressing her lips to his throat.

  The taste of his pulse jumping beneath her mouth lit a torch to her excitement.

  “How would you like to settle it?” he asked with effort.

  With a flick of his thumb and forefinger, the hook on her white bra came undone. He looked down to watch. The fabric hovered along her skin, held there by memory, before it drifted away as well. He cupped her breasts in his hands, his fingers slowly caressing her.

  Garrett felt Megan’s smile against his cheek. “Two throws out of three?” she proposed

  The feel of her fingers—gently moving, touching, skimming, dipping low beneath his briefs before she drew them away altogether—threatened to bring him to his knees.

  Breathing as hard as if he’d just run a mile to establish a new world record, Garrett caught her wrists. He raised her hands over her head, bringing her breasts up tantalizingly high against his chest.

  In a heartbeat, he was the prisoner—not she.

  The slight brush of her nipples along his skin was exquisite agony. He fought to keep from devouring her here and now. They had the night before them, he reminded himself, and he knew it would be their last. He wanted to savor it—to savor her—for as long as it was mortally possible.

  With every movement, every breath, she undid him a little more. He’d never known anyone like her, never dreamed anyone could brand him so indelibly.

  He kissed her eyes, her mouth, her cheeks. “Show me what you have,” he urged, his breath enflaming her.

  The effort to keep her mind on what he was saying and not what he was doing was a losing battle. “I thought I was.”

  “More,” Garrett prompted urgently against her neck, feathering light, teasing kisses along her jawline. “Show me more.”

  He wanted to taste her passion, feel her desire. He wanted Megan to give him what she’d never given anyone else.

  Megan almost sank down then, her legs turning to liquid as the heat of his body melted hers. In an effort to bring him down with her, she slanted her mouth against his, her hands fisting in his hair, her body sealing itself to his.

  It frightened her that she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anyone, anything. It frightened her that she was powerless to shut off this need, this desire. That she was powerless to turn away from it, even though nothing could ever come of it.

  But for now, there was nothing else—only Garrett. Garrett and the fiery passion that he aroused within her. A fiery passion that she had not known had existed before he entered her life.

  Unable to hold back, unwilling to even try, she peaked the moment his fingers dipped between her legs, and twisted against him as she tried to absorb the feeling deep into her core. She twisted more as she tried to absorb the feel of his hand along her body.

  The feel of him.

  He wanted all of her at his mercy, for he was completely at hers. At the mercy of a woman who had no idea of the kind of power she held over him. Seeking to imprison her, he’d managed to slam the bars on himself as well. He was in this cage with her, held fast by a desire that was so large, so unwieldy and untamable, that it felt lethal.

  It wasn’t in his nature to be imprisoned. He had always sought to escape and to remain free—no matter what the price.

  But his nature changed that evening. And whatever it became, he set it in her hands, to do with what she would. As long as she made love with him. As long as he could feel her lips racing along his body. As long as he could taste her body in kind.

  He sold his soul to her.

  Over and over again, he took her, bringing Megan from peak to fantastic peak, assaulting her with his tongue, his lips, his hands. His eyes.

  Making her feel beautiful.

  Making her feel.

  Hot, panting, and still so desperately needy, Megan pulled Garrett down to her, afraid that she would expire before he joined with her. Her eyes were cloudy as she looked up at him. “Does this place come with a fire extinguisher?” Every inch of her was on fire, deliciously, wantonly on fire. If she could choose the moment that she was to leave this world, it would be after a night like tonight.

  Framing her face in his hands, he kissed her before answering. Then, because one kiss fed on another, he kissed her again until he could hardly form his question. “Why?”

>   “Because I think we’re going to need it, Wichita.”

  With her body outlined by sheets that were already hopelessly tangled, Garrett shifted his body over her. He threaded his fingers through hers, his eyes hazy with feelings, his body barely restrained from taking the final moment. “Garrett.”

  She didn’t understand. “What?”

  “Call me Garrett,” he told her. “I want to hear you say my name.”

  Megan’s chin lifted stubbornly, but there was mischief in her eyes as she held her ground. “Let’s not get personal, here.”

  He kissed first one corner of her mouth, then the other, before his lips surrounded her chin, sucking gently, bringing it down again. “Say it.”

  Megan opened her lips, as if to acquiesce, then she raised her head quickly, capturing his mouth. Capturing the moment.

  His protest died as he felt her open for him, taking him into her. There was no room for argument, for protests. There was only room for the exquisite excitement that came of their joining.

  Sealed together, they took the moment and each other, shuddering as the final explosion racked their bodies in unison.

  When it was over, and when the pleasure receded into something that was less overwhelming, Garrett held her to him tightly, swearing to himself that all he felt was physical and that he could take it or leave it—and her—at will.

  Cursing her for the lie he was telling himself.

  Holding her close and drawing in the beating of her heart against his.

  Damn, when had life gotten so complicated?

  Very slowly, his breathing returned to normal, bringing with it his pulse and, belatedly, his senses. With a sigh, Garrett shifted onto his elbows, pulling his body away from hers.

  Megan felt the chill instantly but told herself she didn’t. That it was only the air against her skin and nothing more. She reached for the sheet and drew it over her. It didn’t help.

  Garrett looked at her for a long moment. Even in the supposed throes of passion, she’d defied him, unable to do something as simple as saying his name when he’d asked. Her refusal irked him. And it shouldn’t have.

  “You have got to be the most stubborn woman I ever met.”