by Lucy Monroe
He grinned and slid her a sidelong glance. “Where do you want to go to eat?”
“There’s a Vietnamese restaurant I like on the west side. If anyone’s following us, we’ll be leading them in the opposite direction of the hotel.”
“I’ve got an even better idea. It’s only an hour and a half to the beach. If you don’t mind Chinese, there’s a great restaurant in Lincoln City.”
“That sounds like fun.” And it did. It also represented a real break from the events surrounding Lester’s death. “Do we get to go walking on the beach after we eat?”
“Sure. I’ll even buy you a kite.”
“Have you ever flown one?”
“No, but it can’t be all that hard.”
She just smiled. “There is a definite technique required. Lucky for you, I’ve got it down.”
“You can teach me.”
“It will be my pleasure.”
“That’s what I’m planning,” he said in a sexy voice that made her thighs clench and insides melt and just that quick, the sexual tension between them came roaring back with even more force than before.
It felt like there were underlying messages in everything they said on the drive to the coast, even though they spent most of their time talking about her classes and how she thought she’d done on her finals.
Once they arrived in Lincoln City, the authentic Chinese food was worth the drive, even without the incentive of a walk on the beach afterward. They both ate with chopsticks and Brett laughed when her tofu kept slipping off hers before she could get it to her mouth.
Finally, he reached across the table with his own chopsticks and fed her a bite. It was intimate, and reinforced the shimmering atmosphere of sexual awareness surrounding them.
“You’re pretty good with these,” she said softly after he fed her yet another bite.
“I spent a lot of time in the Far East.”
“As a Ranger or as a mercenary?”
“Both.” His gaze caressed her as effectively as if he’d used his hands.
She tried to stifle a shiver in reaction and ducked her head to take a sip of her tea.
At some point along the way, Brett had to have decided that sex between them was inevitable despite the things he’d said at Josette’s wedding. He’d been bad for her sense of self-preservation before, but now he was lethal to it.
“You’re done with school now, right?” he asked in a velvet voice that caressed her insides.
“Um…yes.”
“It’s time, Claire.”
And she knew exactly what he thought it was time for. When she looked up from her tea, he was watching her with the intensity of a wild tiger sizing up its prey.
And really, that was too much.
“Tell me about the investigation,” she said in a moment of inspiration. “You promised you would, once my finals were finished.”
His expression didn’t change, but he leaned back in his chair. “All right, but you’re not going to put me off forever. Ethan found out the name of the government agency Thorpe worked for, but it was disbanded twenty years ago.”
“Then, why were the MIB at the memorial service?”
“Someone who knew about the defunct agency and Arwan’s jobs for them must have heard about Queenie’s accusations.”
“You think they knew Lester as Arwan?”
“It’s possible. He had a long career, not everyone in that agency would have been as old as he was when it disbanded. It’s likely that some of them now work for other agencies in high-ranking positions they don’t want compromised by scandal from the past.”
“But who are they?”
“We still don’t know.”
“Do you think it was one of those men who accosted me in the bathroom? He didn’t actually hurt me.”
“I don’t know that, either. It was a gutsy, professional move—or just plain stupid. Could you tell if it was the same guy who tried to smother you?”
“The build was right, but so is that of a good portion of the male population—you excluded, of course.”
“Me excluded?”
“You have the body of a Greek god, and pretending you don’t know that is about as convincing as the thought of you twirling a baton in a tutu.”
He laughed and she grinned back at him.
“He was wearing a ski mask again, but I didn’t see his face. I couldn’t tell if his eyes were the same as the man who tried to smother me. This guy stank of fear, now that I think about it…the man who tried to smother me used an expensive aftershave. One of my professors uses it. This guy could have, too, but I couldn’t smell anything over his sweat.”
“What’s the brand?”
“I don’t know, but we could ask my professor.”
“It’s a long shot and the chances are it won’t lead anywhere, but we have to try.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Gloom and Doom?”
“I’m hitting a lot of dead ends. I wouldn’t mind having the kill book, either.”
“Why did the man in the bathroom think I had it? He already searched my house.”
Brett shrugged. “I guess he’s grasping at straws and doesn’t know where else to look.”
“He said he knew I had it and it sounded like he meant that literally.”
“Are you sure you don’t?”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh right, like I’m going to forget Lester giving me something of that magnitude. I’ve never even seen the thing.” But then a memory assailed her. Lester laying a composition book down in his lap. “Do you think he would have used something as prosaic as a composition book to keep track of his jobs?”
Brett’s blue eyes flashed with interest. “Why not? It would be a lot easier to hide than a leather bound volume. No one would expect it. Why are you asking? Do you think you might have seen it?”
“It’s possible. He had a composition book open and facedown in his lap one night while we were talking. Now that I think about it, that was an odd thing for him to have, you know? But he still didn’t give me anything like that.”
“You’re right. It isn’t something you would have forgotten.”
They finished their lunch, and then he took her to a kite shop as promised.
She’d been in a couple before, but Fanny had always bought kites for the children at discount department stores. So, the plethora of brightly colored kites, wind socks, and outdoor flags caught her immediate attention and imagination. Kites floated from the ceiling and decorated the walls like nylon wallpaper. A gruesome skeleton was right next to a box kite with cartoon characters all over it.
Just like life…bright happiness could come right alongside grief and pain.
“You look thoughtful,” Brett said from beside her.
She shrugged. “I suppose this isn’t exactly the place for a philosophical moment, is it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had them in stranger environments.”
She grinned. “I bet you have.”
The shop owner, a short, round woman with curly gray hair, approached them. “Can I help you find something?”
When she discovered Brett had never flown a kite, she tried to steer him and Claire toward the beginner models, but Brett was fascinated by the diamond-shaped fighter kites, particularly one with a lizard on it and an enormously long tail.
“The deltas and box kites are more reliable for lift, especially for a beginner,” the middle-aged owner of the shop said.
“What about this?” Brett asked, pointing to a reproduction of the Wright Flyer.
Claire groaned and Brett looked at her. “You don’t like it?”
“The idea is to relax. Not battle with a kite on the beach. That one will take so long to build, the sun will be set before we even get a chance to get it in the air.”
“Then maybe we should spend the night and fly it in the morning.”
She shook her head and picked up a delta kite that looked like a giant butterfuly with several tails. “I like this one.”
“We’re celebrating me acing my finals, right?”
“Yes,” he said warily, obviously guessing where this was leading.
“I want girlie.”
Brett grumbled, but he bought the pink-and-purple kite. He also insisted on buying the lizard fighter kite.
Chapter 12
I n spite of the ever-present coastal wind that seemed always to increase as the day wore on, the sun beat down on Claire’s head as she and Brett picked their way down to the beach. They’d driven outside of town for beach access because the municipal parking near the access had been full.
The path between jagged rocks and sand grass was narrow, and she was glad she’d left her shoes on because the sharply bladed grass grew across it in places. But when they hit the beach, she wasted no time divesting herself of her sandals and burrowing her bare toes in the warm sand.
Taking a deep breath of the salt-laden air, she closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun…and listened. Gulls flew overhead, their song mixing with the symphonic roar of the ocean. In that moment, she could truly forget all the ugliness they had left behind in Portland.
This was peace. This was beauty. A timeless place that had extended comfort to weary souls longer than written history could account for.
“Like the beach, do you?” Brett asked, an odd note in his voice.
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Oh, yes. Mom used to bring me here, before she lost her license for driving while under the influence. It was her favorite place and she loved it best in summer, but there’s a stark beauty in the winter I’ve always been drawn to as well.”
“I’ve never been to the beach in winter.”
“Georgia doesn’t really have a winter, does it?”
“Not if you mean cold, no…but storms, yes. We didn’t spend much time at the beach regardless when I was growing up. My parents preferred the mountains.”
“You mean like Aspen every winter?”
“Exactly. My father bought a vacation home there for Mama the year before I was born.”
Their backgrounds were so different. She’d only been to Mt. Hood a couple of times and she’d never so much as bought a ticket for the ski lift. “I guess you can ski.”
“Sure.” He said it like, didn’t everyone?
“I can’t. Not even water ski, but I can fly a kite. Want to give it a try?”
“I’m not flying the butterfly.”
“What’s the matter? Afraid someone will think you’re a sissy?” she said, fighting a smile.
He was the most masculine man she’d ever known. Even with his southern charm, he exuded an aura of menacing strength that was unmistakable. His overachieving tendencies might make him a good fit with his family, but his personality and intimidating presence made him fit right in with his equally intimidating mercenary friends.
He sauntered close, managing to suck the oxygen out of the vicinity even though they were outside. Warm hands cupped the sides of her face and sent electric shocks through her. She shivered in response.
His brows rose in acknowledgement of her reaction. “My sense of masculinity is not in question, sugar.”
“How could it be? You’ve got more testosterone than a room full of Olympic-contender power-lifters.”
“You think?” His grin tugged at her emotions while sending her sensory receptors on overload.
“I…” She had to clear her throat to finish the thought. “I do think.”
She couldn’t say anything more because his mouth was on hers. Smooth, firm lips molded her own and demanded a response she had no hope of holding back.
Her body moved of its own volition into contact with his and she felt the hard evidence of his arousal immediately. Even while her feminine instincts rejoiced at the proof of her effect on this incredible man, the small still-functioning portion of her brain reminded her that they were on a public beach.
She was trying to muster a response to that thought when he broke the kiss.
He put distance between their bodies and rested his forehead against hers. “Kite-flying is not what I want to do right now.”
Her head bowed as it was, she could not miss how his erection strained against his pants in silent, irrefutable testament to his words. A responding throb in the moist, swollen place between her legs avowed that her body agreed with his. However, now that his mouth was no longer playing havoc with her mind, her common sense prevailed.
“It’s all we can do on this beach without getting arrested for performing a lewd act in public,” she said in a soft, teasing voice.
“We could get a hotel room.”
She forced herself to step back from him and break the final contact of their bodies. Their eyes met and amusement warred with temptation inside her.
“That’s the second time you’ve offered. Should I be flattered or worried you’ve got some kind of hotel-room fixation?”
“The only thing I’m fixated on is having absolute privacy for what I want to do with you. Since you’re the only woman I want to do things with that are better left behind the seclusion of a locked door, it’s your call whether or not you should feel flattered.”
Her brain said she shouldn’t. Physical desire wasn’t exactly a higher-level emotion, but she couldn’t help feeling that for a man like Brett to desire her as much as he did was extraordinary. He didn’t want just any woman to alleviate his urges, he wanted her and that made her unique to him. Special.
It boggled her mind that he could crave her when the world was full of beautiful, sophisticated, and accomplished women who would know just how to please a man like him. And who would be more than willing to give it a try.
How long could his fixation with her possibly last?
“What are you thinking?” he asked, his blue gaze probing. “You’re wearing an interesting look I can’t quite place.”
“I’ve decided to be flattered.”
“That’s good.” He took a step toward her, his big body towering over her and emanating sexual intent.
She backed away, a teasing grin on her face even though her heart was beating so fast she should be running a relay. “I’ve also decided to teach you how to fly a kite.”
“Claire,” he groaned out.
She bent down and grabbed the butterfly kite and her sandals before dancing farther out of reach. “Come on. The wind is perfect for flying.”
“I know another way to take you flying, sweetheart, and the day is perfect for that, too.”
She spun away from him, her heart light, and headed down the beach. “Has anyone ever told you that you have a one-track mind?”
“It may have been mentioned a time or two,” he drawled.
“So, you’re always this single-minded when you want sex?” There went her theory of being unique to him.
“No.” The word came out forceful and intense.
She stopped to look back at him.
His eyes captured hers and refused to let go. “Things are different with you, Claire.”
“Special?”
“Yes.”
“You sound like that bothers you.”
“It does.”
“Why?”
“I can give you my body. I can’t give you my future.”
“I know.” It already belonged to a dead woman, and that, more than anything, should be enough to bolster her defenses against his sexual charisma.
Unfortunately, what her head said and her body felt were miles apart and not even speaking the same language.
“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” he gritted out.
“That you want something more than sex from me because you want it so much? Don’t worry.” She turned and started walking again. It was easier to talk about this without making eye contact. “I know I’m not the kind of woman you would make a life with even if you hadn’t made your rule against marrying.”
“That’s not true.”
&n
bsp; It was a kind lie, but she knew better. She wasn’t her mom, who had been beautiful but weak. Claire might be strong, but she was no Cindy Crawford in the looks department. Men like Brett required both in the women they chose to share their lives with.
With average looks and the personality of a computer sometimes, she was so not in his league.
“It doesn’t matter. My plans for the future don’t include white picket fences and toddlers creating obstacle courses in my living room with their toys, either.”
Hotwire heard the words that should have alleviated his concerns, and all he felt was annoyance. “Why don’t you want to get married and have kids? You’d make a great mother.”
“Yeah, right. Every child wants a mom who was trained in the job by a drunk and who relates better to computers than people on most days.” She was still ahead of him, so he couldn’t see her eyes, but her tone was dead serious.
Was she really that clueless about what she had to offer? She would make some very lucky man an incredible wife and any child would be blessed for her to be its mother. The thought of some faceless man laying claim to her heart and body made Hotwire angry, but he knew he shouldn’t be feeling that way.
He should be encouraging her to go find that faceless man instead of trying to seduce her into his own bed, knowing he had nothing to offer her but a lot of pleasure.
Not going to happen.
He’d realized that somewhere between showing up at the hospital to find her bruised and hurting and when he gave her a mind-blowing orgasm to alleviate that pain. He might as well give up the whole noble consideration thing because all it was going to do was make him cranky.
That did not mean he didn’t think she’d make a great mom someday. “You’re selling yourself short, sugar.”
Claire dropped to the ground and ripped open the plastic bag with her kite in it. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“Of course it matters.”
She started fitting the frame pieces into the nylon casings. “Why? What I do with my future, or don’t do with it, has nothing to do with you.”
He lowered himself to the sand beside her and started in on his own kite. “We’re friends.”
