by Cara Summers
“Wake up. All the way now.”
The voice was soft, seductive. She struggled against it.
His teeth nipped at her bottom lip. “C’mon, Mac. Wake up for me.”
It was the sound of her name that had her eyes snapping open. All she could see was him, his mouth only inches from hers, his eyes dark and so hot.
“What?” She struggled to think. “Where?”
“Shh.” He brushed his lips against hers. “We’re on my private plane. Remember?”
Memories flooded back. They were flying to California to find Sophie. She was in danger. Mac tried to move and found she couldn’t. His body truly was pressed against hers at every possible contact point. It hadn’t been a dream.
“I figure we must be about forty thousand feet over Kansas right now.”
“Lucas.” The word sounded breathless.
“Shh.” He continued to nibble at her lips. “We have to be very quiet. I don’t think you want my pilot to know what we’re doing.”
She felt the rush of heat flood her face, felt the warmth of his chuckle at her ear.
“You’re blushing, Mac. Did I ever tell you how much it excites me when you blush?” He spoke the words against her skin as he traced kisses along her jaw, down her neck. “And I don’t think that Sally the hooker or Fiona the mermaid are genetically capable of being embarrassed. What’s your expert opinion on that?”
“Stop,” she managed to say. “If this is your way of punishing me…”
“Uh-oh. Now the doc is back. I don’t think she blushes either. She’s always so busy analyzing or planning.” When he scraped his teeth along her throat, she moaned.
“Still want me to stop?”
Even as she struggled to form the word, he shifted his weight. For one moment she felt cold, bereft. Then his hands freed the snap of her jeans, pulling and tugging them down her legs.
“Yes,” she breathed as his clever fingers began to move up her inner thighs. “Oh, yes.” She no longer knew what question she was answering.
Pushing aside her panties, he slipped one finger inside her. “I’ll stop anytime you say.”
“Yes. Don’t…stop.” Pleasure streaked through her as she arched into his hand.
“I’m getting mixed signals here. Why don’t you open your eyes and tell me exactly what you want me to do next?”
She saw his face above hers, his eyes so hot that she was sure they alone were causing the flames within her. Drawing in a deep breath, she tried to bank the fire, tried to find some shred of control. “We were going to lay down some rules.”
She saw his lips curve just before he lowered them to hers. “I’m following the ones you laid down before. It’s my turn, my fantasy.” He was punishing her, Mac thought as he withdrew his fingers and then slipped them inside again. But the pleasure was exquisite, irresistible. She moaned again when he did something with his thumb, and his fingers moved deeper.
“I never did admit to you what my fantasy was,” he murmured as he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw. “My fantasy is just you and me, Mac. Just the two of us alone with nothing to do but pleasure each other.”
She should be able to resist. But she couldn’t prevent her arms from going around him. She knew he didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it, not when he’d been so angry with her. He was just trying to get even. Still, she threaded her fingers through his hair. She couldn’t, she wouldn’t, push him away when she might never have this chance again.
“Just enjoy.” The rhythm of his fingers increased, and suddenly her body grew taut. She lifted her hips from the bed, reaching. Very slowly, he withdrew his fingers.
“Not yet,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her chin.
“Please,” she whispered, gripping his shoulders.
His thumb teased her again. “Look at me.”
When she did, she saw the heat in his and the reflection of herself.
“Tell me that you want me.”
He was giving her a choice. She could say no. In some part of her mind she knew that. Her eyes never wavered from his when she said, “I want you.”
He made a place for himself between her legs. “Look at me, Mac. Say my name.”
“Lucas.”
Even then he didn’t enter her, not all the way. Instead, he leaned down and pressed his mouth to hers. The tenderness of the kiss shuddered through her, melting her. She was trembling, but her eyes were open and on his when he finally pushed into her.
This was the way he’d imagined her. This was exactly how he wanted her—pliant and warm beneath him, her muscles limber. But he hadn’t anticipated the sweetness of her surrender. He hadn’t realized how the piercing pleasure of it would pull at his control. Would it always be this way?
The moment that he began to move, she moved with him, absorbing and matching each stroke. She was his. He tried to keep the pace slow and easy because he wanted to spin out the moment. He wanted to remember the way she looked, her cheeks flushed, her eyes dark with desire.
But each time he sank into her, he was losing a part of himself. He should have been able to slow down or pull back. All he could do was move faster. And still she moved with him. When she ran one possessive hand down his back, he knew he was lost.
“Come with me.” His voice was raspy, raw as he increased his rhythm and they began to race together to the finish. He felt the climax move through her, then heard his name mingle with hers as he held her tight and surged within her.
FOR A WHILE, Mac let herself drift, absorbing the sensations. His head was still buried in her hair, her hand was still tangled in his. She could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Or was it her own?
She’d never been taken so completely by anyone. She’d never even imagined anything like it. In a minute she was sure she would start to form a list in her mind of all the reasons why she shouldn’t have let Lucas Wainright seduce her.
Right now she didn’t care. She didn’t want to think, to analyze, to plan. Outside the window, the light had softened to a glow. Day was teetering on the brink of tumbling into night. And it would. No one could hold off tomorrow. All one could do was cling to the present.
A sudden, enormous thump shook the cabin.
Lucas raised his head. “What the…?”
The plane lurched suddenly and they tumbled off the narrow bed to the floor. Another lurch sent them rolling, and her head rapped smartly against the wall.
“Are you all right?” Lucas asked, holding tight as the plane banked sharply. This time he managed to keep them from rolling, but they still slid into the bed.
Mac made a strangled sound.
“You’re hurt,” he said.
“No.”
When she lifted her head, he saw that her eyes were filled with laughter. She clamped a quick hand over her mouth and turned a giggle into a gurgle.
Relief nearly made him giddy.
“Sorry about that.” Jill Roberts’s voice poured out of the speaker. “The turbulence was a little rougher than predicted or I would have warned you. I hope you had your seat belts fastened.”
“We’re fine.”
Mac buried her head against his chest to muffle a fresh wave of giggles.
“I’m climbing out of it now, but there may be a few more bumps. Keep your belts fastened.”
“Thanks, Jill,” Lucas said. The moment he heard the intercom click off, he gave Mac a shake. “You want to tell me what’s so funny.”
When she lifted her head, her hand was still clamped over her mouth. Lowering it, she took a deep breath, then paused to swallow a giggle. “I just remembered when we fell off the bed. Doing it on a plane—it’s one of the top ten fantasies of men. They even have a club you can join. You must have heard of it.”
“The mile-high club? I still don’t see what’s tickling your funny bone.”
The plane banked again and they rolled into the wall so that he held her pinned against it as laughter moved through her.
�
�Some men even charter a plane so that they can join the club. My question is why? So they can roll around and nearly kill themselves?”
She had a point. He was willing to bet that they’d both have bruises. “On a commercial jet, there’d be the challenge, the added excitement of not getting caught. That seems to be a big factor in your research.”
“Yeah, but it seems to me that the chances of coitus interruptus are greatly increased.”
He laughed then and held her tight. “I don’t think I’m ever going to figure out how your mind works. But I’m going to try. How’s this?” He shifted so that she was beneath him.
She read his intent immediately. “Stop.”
“Just a little experiment, Doc. This is step number one,” he murmured as he slipped into her.
“Ohhh.”
The hitch in her breath sent the heat shooting through him. “Ready for step number two?”
“We shouldn’t,” she managed to say.
“I thought scientists always wanted to find out answers. Why is having sex at forty thousand feet one of the top ten fantasies? Wasn’t that your question? Ahhh,” he sighed as her sleek softness pulsed around him, pulling him deeper. “There you go, Doc. You’re already ahead of me on step number two.”
Her fingers pressed into his hips.
“And three,” he murmured as he began to move.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TRACKER MET THEM at a little all-night diner where the Golden Gate Bridge could just be seen glimmering in the distance.
“Dr. Lloyd, I presume,” he said, shaking her hand with a perfectly straight face. But his eyes were filled with humor.
Mac decided she liked him on the spot. “And you, I’ll bet, are the Shadow.”
His eyebrows snapped together. “The what?”
“That’s what Sophie calls you, because you’re always slipping into them,” she explained. “You frustrate her.”
“Yeah, well I guess you could say that the feeling is mutual.”
“But I think she admires you.”
“That’s mutual too.”
Mac wasn’t even aware that Tracker hadn’t released her hand until Lucas took her arm and nudged her into a nearby booth.
“Were you followed?” Tracker asked as Lucas slid in beside her.
“No. We checked into the St. Francis, then slipped out by way of the delivery dock. We came the rest of the way on foot.”
And her feet were still complaining, Mac thought, wincing. Not to mention her shins. They’d run up a very steep hill before they’d angled their way down again toward the water.
“What? You’re not having fun yet?” Tracker winked at her.
Fun. It only took the mention of the word to have her thoughts flying back to the plane trip and what they’d done in the small bedroom at the back of the aircraft. Heat flooded her cheeks. She’d never thought that lovemaking could be fun. But it had been. Lucas had shown her that. When this was over, when they found Sophie and she went back to her work, she would still have that.
She risked giving Lucas a sideways glance and found that he was looking at her. He ran a finger down the side of her cheek before he shifted his gaze back to Tracker.
“You’re awfully cheerful,” Lucas said dryly.
“I could say the same about you. I guess we both got lucky after I talked to you last.”
“You found out where Sophie is?”
“I hung around the Side Street Grill after I talked to the bartender. Couple of valets came on duty around six-thirty. One of them saw a woman pass out in the parking lot last night, just about the time the bartender says that the redhead disappeared. The kid says it was dark, and he didn’t get a good look at the woman. He wouldn’t have thought much about it. Figured she was drunk. But he had his eye on the car these two guys helped her into, thinking you never know when something could be not quite right. It was a silver RV and he gave me a detailed description of it, including its performance capabilities and a license-plate number. After a little research, guess who I found out it belongs to?”
“Falcone?” Lucas asked.
“Sonny.”
“He stayed at the bar after she left.”
Tracker nodded. “That gives him an alibi. Might have been a perfect plan if he hadn’t used one of his family’s cars to drive her off in.”
“No one said he was Einstein.”
“Can we go after her?” Mac asked.
“We will,” Tracker assured her. And this time there wasn’t a trace of laughter in his eyes. Then he shifted his gaze back to Lucas. “My question is who Sonny thought he was kidnapping? She was wearing a wig and using Mac’s credit card last night. But she wasn’t wearing any kind of disguise when she went out with Sonny in D.C. And my man definitely saw him eat lunch with a blonde on Thursday.”
“Sophie might not have given him her real name,” Mac said, and the two men turned to stare at her. “Last weekend, when we were talking in the tree house, she told me that she wasn’t going to tell the next man she dated that she was Sophie Wainright. Her experience with Bradley Davis had really gotten her down. Then she got a call on her cell phone, and I had the feeling it was from someone she was already seeing. Could it have been Sonny?”
Lucas and Tracker exchanged glances.
“Could she have told this man that she was you?” Lucas asked.
Mac thought for a minute. “No, I don’t think that Sophie would have done that. I mean, she might have pretended to be someone else. But I don’t think…” She let the sentence trail off as she met Lucas’s eyes. “But then I figured she was really at that spa. And I can’t explain why she was wearing the wig and pretending to be me last night. I wish we’d never bought those foolish wigs. If we hadn’t, none of this would have happened.”
For a moment Lucas said nothing. He merely looked at her with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Look,” Tracker said. “None of this makes sense right now. All we know for sure is that someone snatched Sophie out of that parking lot last night.”
“Can’t we go to the police with that much?” Mac asked.
“Right now it would be tricky,” Tracker said. “Sonny stayed at the Side Street Grill until well after midnight. He can always claim that his RV was stolen.”
“And while he’s shielding himself behind his father’s legal team, something could happen to Sophie,” Lucas said. “You think she’s on the estate?”
Tracker waited until the waitress, a woman named Leona, had slapped down mugs of coffee and taken their orders. The moment she waddled back to the kitchen, he pulled out a hand-drawn map and spread it on the table.
“I took a little tour of the Falcone Vineyards this afternoon, along with thirty or so other tourists. Of course, I kind of got lost. Falcone’s security is pretty good, and they weren’t happy when they caught up with me. Before they did, I found the silver RV safe and sound in the garage along with six other cars.”
Pausing, he pointed to one of the boxes he’d drawn on the map. “This is the garage. The main house right next to it has three stories with decks on each level. There seem to be several guests staying there already and all have access to the cars.”
“Do you think Sophie is being kept at the house?” Mac asked.
Tracker shrugged. “I’m not ruling it out, but it’d be tricky with all the people around. What if she cries for help?”
Mac found Lucas’s hand and gripped it.
“The outbuildings where the actual wine is made are nestled together over here.” Tracker tapped a finger on the map closer to the highway.
“That’s even riskier,” Lucas said.
“Yeah.” Tracker took a quick swallow of coffee. “Too many people in and out on the tours. But there are places they don’t let the tourists into. The tents for the party this weekend are being built here.” He moved his finger in a straight line to a point halfway between the winery and the main house. “There’s going to be a lot of traffic to and from this point
tomorrow and Sunday. But the house won’t be open to the public, only to a few invited guests.”
“And we’ll be among them,” Lucas said.
Both men stopped talking as the waitress placed heaping platters onto the table. Mac glanced down at the mountain of eggs, bacon and home fries and wondered where to begin. Lucas and Tracker reached simultaneously for the saltshaker. When their hands collided, Lucas settled for the pepper, and then they switched. Their movements were so smooth that Mac was sure they’d done this before. How similar they were, it occurred to her as she watched them sample their eggs, then reach for the ketchup.
“You’ve worked together before, haven’t you?” she asked.
Both men shot her a look of surprise.
“How do you know that?” Tracker asked.
Mac shrugged. “You’ve shared meals before, and you can practically finish each other’s sentences.”
Lucas looked at Tracker. “The doc has a sharp, analytical mind.”
“Welcome aboard, Dr. Lloyd,” Tracker said as he poured more salt on his home fries. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
They even looked alike, she thought as she watched them attack the mountain of food. Each had the dark good looks of a Brontâue hero. Tracker’s edges were rugged, Lucas’s more polished. But both had a capacity for stillness, and both of them exuded that hint of danger. In Lucas, that threat of danger might be hidden under a more civilized veneer, but it was there, and it had never been more apparent than now when she saw him with Tracker.
Lucas Wainright certainly didn’t fit the profile of the man she’d thought she would fall in love with. She should be afraid of him, but she wasn’t. Perhaps because he had that other side too—that streak of boyish mischief that lay hidden beneath the surface. It was something that he didn’t share very often. She was sure he shared it with his friend Tracker. And he’d shared it with her. In spite of his harsh words, he must still trust her a little. She hugged the knowledge to her.
