Pillow Chase

by Jeanie London

  “Done. The gear is in the rental?”

  “Everything you asked for.” She glanced behind him, presumably to see if Miranda was around, then her expression stilled and grew serious. “Thanks again for last night. Given the circumstances, it’s not very comfortable when we all get together. I’m sure it wasn’t what Miranda expected on her second honeymoon, but I do appreciate the effort on both your parts. If you’ll let her know.”

  Troy appreciated her honesty. “Sorting out this family stuff will turn out to be good all the way around.”

  “Your mouth to God’s ear. Now have a good time today. Do you know where you’re going?”

  He nodded.

  “Then enjoy your picnic. Bruno whipped up something special.”

  “I’m sure we’ll enjoy every bite.” And every second of a day spent away from this hotel.

  He thanked Laura again, saw her out, then mentally reviewed his plan. Today’s mission objective involved getting Miranda away from this hotel and all thoughts of her sister and Laura’s investigation. He’d pushed her hard yesterday by agreeing to participate, but she’d adapted quickly and gracefully. Their meeting in Laura’s suite last night had been a success.

  Today would be a tactical retreat from her family while he forced her to deal one-on-one with him minus the distractions of preplanned events. He’d drawn a parallel between Laura’s sunrise fishing expedition and the fishing expedition he was on with his wife and realized they hadn’t watched a sunrise together since their trip to Hawaii.

  They were going to watch one today. He wanted to remind Miranda of their first honeymoon, the intimacy they’d shared before the stresses of this war had started pulling them apart.

  He wanted to veer them from their schedule, too, to keep her reacting spontaneously instead of giving her time to measure her responses. He didn’t want to make it easy for her to retreat, wanted to keep her guessing.

  Today’s trip away from the hotel should do just that.

  Making his way into the bedroom, he circled the bed to where she lay fast asleep. The mattress sank as he sat beside her, and his eyes adjusted to the darkness and the sight of her.

  Miranda always pulled her hair up while she slept and some had escaped during the night, leaving tendrils curling softly around her face. Her skin had been freshly scrubbed and lotioned before bed, and she looked so lovely, as if her dreams were sweet, and she didn’t have a worry.

  With her lashes forming dark crescents against her cheeks and her mouth softened in sleep, he saw the woman as she’d always been with him alone—relaxed and natural and at ease.

  The way she’d been before letting her defenses creep up between them.

  “Wake up, Miranda.” He slipped a hand around her jaw, thumbed her cheek, unable to resist the lure of her skin, needing a physical connection to his sleeping beauty.

  She exhaled a drowsy sigh that whispered through the darkness, and Troy smiled.

  “Time to wake up.”

  Her peaceful expression melted into a halfhearted frown. She gave a breathy, “Uh-un,” then turned and buried her face in the pillow.

  He’d expected to meet opposition. “We need to get on the road. I want to watch the sunrise.”

  It took a while for his words to penetrate but when they did, she said, “Sheet party.”

  “Change in plans. I sent word that we couldn’t make the design your own sexy sheet set party. We’ll talk later to decide whether to delay it or cancel.”

  “Why?”

  “So we can go fishing.”

  That got her attention. One eye cracked open, and she stared without lifting her head off the pillow. “Fishing?”

  “Yes.”

  Her face turned until he found himself staring into her shadowed blue eyes. “As in poles and worms?”

  He nodded, gave her an encouraging smile.

  Shifting up onto her elbows, she tried to shake off sleep. “I don’t understand. You begged off the sheets party?”

  “I told Laura we couldn’t make it.”

  “So we can go…fishing?”

  He nodded, brushing a stray tendril from her temple, unable to resist touching her when her guard was visibly down and she was so clearly trying to make sense of what he’d done.

  “What time is it?”

  “Just after five.”

  Her gaze narrowed, but she didn’t reply.

  “Come on,” he said. “If you get up and throw on your clothes, we’ll make it in time to see the sunrise over the ridge. I heard it’s something we won’t want to miss.”

  “I didn’t pack anything to wear fishing.”

  “All taken care of.”

  “Laura?”

  He nodded, visibly watching her drowsiness melt away as her expression grew more deliberate, composed.

  “And when did you make these arrangements?”

  “Last night when we were playing one big happy family.” He thumbed her lower lip, sorry to see her luscious mouth tighten. “Specifically while you were checking out the lagoon after Victoria mentioned she wanted to get everyone ‘straightened out’ so she could invite Aunt Suzanne and Uncle Russ to her wedding.”

  Miranda had slipped away while they’d cleaned up after the meal. Troy knew she needed a few minutes to get away from the group and compose herself. Under normal circumstances, he would have joined her, but last night he’d put his time to better use by asking Laura to arrange this outing.

  “Why didn’t you mention it?”

  “I wanted to surprise you. After everything that happened yesterday, I thought you’d enjoy getting away from the hotel.”

  “To go fishing?”

  “And watch the sunrise like we did in Hawaii.”

  “Where?”

  “North of town. That’s all I’ll say.”

  He wasn’t about to tell her he’d gone to her sister and Laura for suggestions about where to go. Turned out that Victoria had the perfect place—property of a friend’s where they could hike down a ridge and get rustic.

  Miranda was obviously less than enthusiastic about this change in plans, but he couldn’t tell how much less. She retreated behind that impenetrable mask and seemed reconciled when she asked, “What about a shower? And coffee?”

  “Shower later. We’ll grab coffee downstairs and drink it on the way.”

  “I will not leave this room without makeup, Troy. Not negotiable.”

  Standing, he dragged the covers off her, treated himself to a prime shot of her curves sheathed in a barely there silk nightgown. “Then get a move on. I’ll call the restaurant and tell them to start pouring.”

  Without another word, she slipped out of bed and headed to the bathroom. He watched her go, then made his way to the phone and arranged for coffee pickup. He might be willing to push Miranda out of her comfort zone, but he wasn’t crazy enough to wake up his beautiful bride at 5:00 a.m. and not provide caffeine.

  THE DAY WASN’T TURNING out to be as hellish as Miranda had expected. They’d caught the sunrise from the ridge, and dawn had broken over the forest in shafts of glorious color that flooded the valley with light. Troy had wrapped his arms around her, and they’d stood in silence, enjoying the sunrise and being together.

  She’d managed to rally her enthusiasm and focus on enjoying the day. She wasn’t entirely sure what Troy had up his sleeve, but she’d go along if it made him happy. Since he’d graciously consented to play her Tease and Torture game, she could endure fishing or whatever else tickled his fancy. A good marriage was give and take, a balance, and if her husband wanted to fish, she’d make the best of it.

  But so far, accommodating Troy’s love of the great outdoors wasn’t proving to be much of a chore. She could handle getting up at the crack of dawn and hiking down a mountain on a morning as refreshing as this one. The mist hadn’t burned away yet and a nip chilled the air as they followed a path down the ridge.

  Troy took the lead, brushing aside branches and helping her through rough spots in the tr
ail, and the forest swelled up around them as far as she could see, lush summer foliage shielding them from the rising sun. Wildlife chirped in the trees and rustled—hopefully not slithered—in the underbrush, and with Troy marking the trail with his broad shoulders and sure strides, Miranda didn’t mind following.

  “So how did you hear about this place?” she asked. “It’s not a local conservation preserve, is it? I thought all the land around here was privately owned.”

  “It is.”

  “Are we allowed to be here?”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t land us in jail.”

  She just smiled. He might not want to share the details, but it didn’t take much of a leap to guess this must have been another collaboration with Laura, the hostess with the mostest.

  “Like I told you, I wanted to get you away. The hotel’s gym and par course is all right, but not especially challenging.”

  No surprise there. Troy maintained a rigid training schedule, and Falling Inn Bed’s facilities couldn’t compare to the extreme conditions he was used to. Nor did this wilderness hike remotely resemble her own fitness center back home, which was an upscale spa much in line with the Wedding Wing’s new full-service facilities.

  Her spa didn’t have swarms of gnats that suddenly appeared out of nowhere every time she turned a corner. And her spa was climate controlled with filtered air, so when sweat happened, she wasn’t treated to dirt, bits of twigs and corpses of no-see-ums sticking to every inch of exposed skin.

  “Have you given any thought to your game plan with the senator?” Troy asked.

  Miranda used her sleeve to dab her face. “I’ll just ask him about my grandmother and why she changed her name. Keep it simple. If I stick with the cover story and tell him Victoria stumbled across the information while looking into our family history, I might not put him off.”

  “Sounds like a plan. He might appreciate the warning. A little goodwill wouldn’t hurt right now.”

  “That’s for sure. There’s probably a very good explanation.”

  “I’m surprised he hasn’t told your mother already.”

  “For all we know he has. Maybe she just hasn’t told us.”

  “You think so?”

  Miranda considered it. Her mother almost never discussed her childhood. Out of deference to her father maybe, or habit. She’d only been six when her mother had died. A lot of years had passed since to sort out her feelings on the subject. “I don’t know. It wouldn’t surprise me if she didn’t know. Grandfather isn’t very forthcoming about things he considers private.”

  “My guess is that’s a side effect of his career. Anyone attached to the government has to put on a show. I see it with my dad. He’s entirely different in his uniform.”

  Miranda wouldn’t argue the point. Not only had she seen as much with her father-in-law, but with Troy as well. In uniform, her smiling husband who took such pleasure in blindfolding and torturing her with icy sex toys turned into an imposing officer used to giving and taking orders in a rigid chain of command. She knew from his teammates he was well liked, respected and trusted as a good man to have at one’s back.

  It was the only thing that had been keeping the witchy wives in line. They always managed to be civil when their husbands were around, and Miranda couldn’t deny a perverse sense of satisfaction whenever they were forced into different social situations where they had to chitchat politely.

  “To be honest, Troy, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my grandfather take off his suit and lighten up. Even when he’s with his friends. They’re all as imposing as he is. They talk politics and economics, smoke cigars and drink cognac, but they’re very private people. I can’t recall ever hearing them talk about their families unless it was to announce who got accepted into what college or some other such accomplishment.”

  Troy crouched down so the fishing rods he wore strapped to his back cleared some low-hanging branches. “Watch your head,” he cautioned, making a path so she could pass through. “I’ll continue surfing when we get back to the hotel. What time are we due to meet Tyler for our dinner interview tonight?”

  “Seven.”

  Letting the limbs swing back into place, he paused to rearrange the fishing rods that extended a few feet over his head before moving on. “We should be back in plenty of time for me to get online for a while.”

  Miranda hoped. Casting a glance back over her shoulder, she tried not to think about the return trip. Hiking downhill had to be easier than hiking back up.

  “What do you think we’ll be able to find out? I was completely flipping out last night with all that talk about classified orders and legal documents. Are you going to be able to find out about Grandfather without anyone getting curious about what you’re doing?”

  “We only need to know when and where he was stationed during the time we suspect he hooked up with your grandmother. We don’t need to know what his orders were. Relax.”

  Good advice that Miranda knew from experience was easier said than done. But she found herself distracted as their hike wore on, and her backpack seemed to be swelling. The straps dug into her armpits and ribs, and she hitched it up, only to have it drag down again, chafing her skin beneath the cotton shirt that was supposed to be absorbing sweat.

  She’d be glad once they reached the pond, lake or whatever body of water Troy expected to fish in, so she could end her stint as a pack mule. And eat. Her coffee had worn off long ago, and she’d worked up an appetite that made her stomach growl.

  Miranda’s spirits improved dramatically when they finally reached the bottom of the ridge and a rapid-running stream with a grassy bank where Troy dropped the gear and made camp.

  Slipping out of her backpack, she refused to acknowledge how her husband looked as if he’d barely broken a sweat. She was beyond clammy, not to mention hungry and ready to take a nap before she could even contemplate the next phase of this trek.

  Fishing.

  She broke out a canteen of water from their gear as Troy hacked off a tree limb, stripping away leaves and plunging into the stream. He picked his way over slimy stones that broke the swift-running current into a series of whitecaps, stabbing the stick into the water to test the depth.

  “This is going to be great,” he said.

  She reserved opinion, but couldn’t deny that watching him traverse a surefooted path through the water with the sun glinting off his blond hair made the hike down the ridge almost worth the effort. Almost.

  “I really wish I could appreciate this whole Tarzan of the jungle thing you’ve got going on, Troy, but I’ve got to eat before I faint.”

  “Food’s in the backpack,” he said. “I’m not sure what, but Laura swore we wouldn’t starve.”

  Miranda glanced inside to find a thermal cooler stuffed with a variety of neatly wrapped finger foods perfect for a picnic. Sandwiches. Salads. Scrumptious-looking iced minicakes. Even plastic cutlery and plates that would be easy to repack for the return journey.

  She made do with a few bites of a tastily seasoned pasta salad, returned the containers underneath the ice-packs and went to join her husband, who had unloaded the tackle and now hung a hook on a fishing rod.

  “Ready to try your hand at casting?” He smiled when she approached, his crystal gaze raking over her appreciatively when she knelt by his side.

  “I feel better knowing we’re not going to have to cook and eat what we catch. I was worried. I’ve never seen this mountain man side of you before.”

  He laughed. “My father used to take us fishing all the time while we were growing up. Even when we were stationed in Hawaii. Then we’d go out on boats and do the deep sea thing.”

  “Even Marietta?” Somehow she was having trouble imagining his devil-may-care, jet-setting sister Marietta standing knee-deep in a stream with the sun pounding down on her carefully styled curls.

  “Even Marietta. She wouldn’t bait a hook or touch anything she caught. And forget about cleaning a fish. But she loved to get on the bow of
the boat and play sun goddess.”

  “Now that sounds like the Marietta I know and love.”

  Lying on this grassy bank, tanning in the midday sun sounded like an ideal plan, too, but all things considered, Miranda didn’t find fishing so bad.

  True, Troy had her standing knee-deep in a stream wearing boots, but the food and the cool water had gone a long way toward refreshing her mood.

  Especially when he slipped his arms around her to teach her how to cast her line. She almost forgot about what slimy things might be brushing up against her legs, or the fact that they still had to trudge back up that hill to get back to the rental car.

  It was hard to think at all with Troy’s body surrounding her, his muscles playing as he guided her arms up and back for the cast, his hips locked against her bottom to secure her against him.

  All in all, fishing wasn’t so bad when she had her handsome husband to distract her, and she found herself growing aware of the sensual promise in their closeness.

  The way he rested his chin comfortably on the top of her head. The sound of his deep even breathing as he instructed her to move slowly to not disturb the water. The way the breeze rippled across the current, carrying with it his familiar scent and proof she hadn’t been the only one sweating.

  His hands surrounded hers, guided her to toss out the line then draw in the slack. A bright round ball bobbed on the water’s surface and then stilled, waiting. Troy showed no signs of letting her go, so she shifted her weight until she balanced against him, enjoying the feel of his arms, his thighs molding her backside.

  It was a pleasant moment. They all too seldom had time to enjoy each other anymore, and she remembered back to when they’d been dating. They’d spent lazy days enjoying each other, in bed, out of bed, watching movies, feeding each other—two lovers caught up in the magic of being together.