by Rita Herron
He moved to the door, his heart aching as he listened to her sob. He wanted to go to her, pull her into his arms, comfort her, assuage the agony she was feeling.
He ordered himself to walk away instead.
But her crying grew louder, and he lost his restraint.
He pushed open the door and slipped inside. She stood at the window, her hair damp, her body trembling.
He closed his arms around her and pulled her against him, then held her tight.
* * *
MILA SANK AGAINST BRAYDEN, soaking in his warmth and strength. His arms felt like a safe haven, one she desperately needed at the moment.
Images of Izzy, terrified and crying for her, bombarded her, making her feel weak and helpless, chiseling away at her hope.
Brayden murmured soft, comforting words, his calm, gruff voice full of understanding.
She purged her emotions until she was exhausted with the tears. God, she’d never been a crier, had always been tough and took charge of things like her mother.
Struggling for control, she wiped at the moisture on her cheek, then lifted her head and looked into Brayden’s eyes. She expected pity, but saw compassion.
She ordered herself to pull away. But she wanted so much more.
Selfish as it was, for just a brief moment, she wanted to feel his lips against hers. Anything to drive away the pain and worry.
His eyes flickered with something dark. Sexy.
A passion that lay beneath.
His chest rose and fell against hers, and she stroked her hand over it, absorbing the solid strength in his embrace. He thumbed a strand of hair from her cheek, then heaved a breath and started to pull away.
She caught his arm and drew him back to her. Their gazes locked, heat flaring between them. He’d run into a flaming building tonight to search for her daughter, had risked his life.
Brayden Hawk was honorable and caring and a damn good man, just like his brothers. The Hawks were the most loving family she’d ever known.
Hunger blossomed inside her, and she lifted her hand and placed it against Brayden’s cheek. He sucked in a harsh breath.
“Mila, you should go to bed,” he said in a gruff voice.
The need in that voice and in his eyes mirrored her own. She couldn’t resist. She rose on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his, melding their mouths in a sensual kiss.
Sex appeal oozed in his touch. He was a cowboy—rugged, tough, a fighter. A man who loved the land.
He ran his hands up her back and tangled them in her hair, moving his lips across hers. First gently. Then desire spiraled, and he deepened the kiss.
She welcomed his tongue and teased him with her own.
Passion spiked inside her, and she moaned, then pushed at his T-shirt, desperate to feel his hot, bare skin against hers.
Suddenly he wrenched away. His breathing was erratic, his eyes hot with passion. “Mila, we can’t.” He rubbed her arms. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
He spun away from her, then walked outside onto his deck.
Tears of humiliation burned the backs of her eyelids, then she realized what he’d said. Not that he didn’t want her.
He didn’t want to take advantage of her.
Even in the face of her throwing herself at him, Brayden Hawk was doing the honorable thing.
His honorable intentions made her want him even more.
She inhaled a deep breath, then joined him on the deck. “It’s not taking advantage of me if I want it.”
* * *
BRAYDEN’S HEART POUNDED. More than anything he wanted to turn around, drag Mila into his arms, carry her to bed and make love to her.
But he forced himself to remain still. If he looked out at the ranch long enough maybe he’d forget the desire he’d seen in her eyes.
He’d tried to do the right thing. He cared too much about Mila to hurt her or take advantage of the moment.
But it was damn hard to deny that he wanted her.
“You’re vulnerable now,” he said, forcing out the words. “What kind of man would I be to ignore that?”
Her footsteps sounded behind him, then she eased around to face him. Anger flared in her expressive eyes. “Either you’re trying to be chivalrous, which isn’t necessary since I’m a grown woman and can make decisions for myself, or you really just don’t want me.”
He released a pent-up breath. Then he made the mistake of looking into her eyes. Raw need darkened the depths, triggering his own hunger to override his reservations.
She parted her lips, then traced her finger over his lips, and resistance fled.
“You’re sure?” he growled as he yanked her to him.
A seductive smile tilted her mouth, and he kissed her again, this time with all the need he’d tried so hard to squash earlier.
She slid her arms around his neck, and teased him with her tongue again, driving him mad with hunger. Taking her cue, he traced her lips with his own tongue, then delved inside.
She tasted like sweetness and desire and raw need all at the same time. Her hands pushed at his T-shirt, and cool air brushed his belly. Realizing they were still outside, he broke the kiss long enough to coax her inside, then swept her into another embrace.
Their hands grew frantic, pushing and tearing at each other’s clothes. Lips and tongues melded and danced in a sensual rhythm that ignited a burning fire in his belly. He wanted her naked, her skin sliding against his.
He wanted her in his bed.
She shoved his T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the couch, and he grabbed her hand and tugged her to his bedroom. She pulled at his belt, and he ripped it off, then slowed her by slipping a finger beneath the hem of her shirt.
She made a soft sound in her throat, then removed her shirt and threw it to the floor. Heat darkened her expression as he gazed at her beautiful breasts spilling over tiny scraps of black lace.
Black lace—just as he’d fantasized.
Her lustrous hair dangled over bare shoulders, inviting his touch, and he threaded his fingers through the silky strands and yanked her to him once more. She moaned as he kissed her again, then raked his tongue and teeth along her ear and down her throat.
He backed her to the bed, and they fell on it in a tangle of arms and legs and frenzied passion. Her jeans came next, then his. He groaned at the sight of that thin strip of lace covering her femininity.
Another deep kiss, then he trailed his mouth down her throat again to her breasts. He tugged the lace aside with his teeth, then closed his mouth over one turgid nipple. She moaned and moved against him, drawing him into the V of her thighs. His sex hardened, his body pulsing with sensations as he stroked her heat with his erection.
He teased one breast, then the other, suckling her until her body quivered against him, then he dipped lower to lick and kiss her belly. His fingers toyed with the edge of her panties, his mouth watering for a taste.
She threw her head back in abandon, offering herself, and he tugged her panties off, parted her legs and dived into her honeyed sweetness with his tongue.
Passion overcame him as she fisted her hands into his hair, and he teased and tormented her with his tongue until she cried out in pleasure with her orgasm.
* * *
A SHIVER RIPPLED through Mila as erotic sensations engulfed her. Her body tingled all over, the connection so intense that she clawed at his back to keep him from leaving her.
She wanted more.
She wanted Brayden.
He started to move off her, but she grabbed his arms and flipped him to his back. Surprise lit his eyes, and he traced a line down her throat to her breasts. Her nipples hardened to buds, begging for his mouth.
But it was time to give him pleasure.
She kissed him again, then lowered her body on top of him and s
troked his thick length against her warm center. She wanted him inside her.
He kissed her deeply, then gently pushed her away.
“Brayden?”
He held up a finger, then reached into his nightstand and snagged a condom. Relieved he wasn’t ending their lovemaking, she snatched the foil packet, ripped it open and rolled it over his rigid length. He grew harder, thicker, and a low growl escaped him as she finished.
“You’re torturing me,” he said in a husky whisper.
She climbed on top of him, angled her head for another kiss, then impaled herself. Inch by inch, he filled her, stirring her arousal again. He traced a finger over her nipples, then ran his hands over her hips and yanked her harder on top of him.
Passion flared, and a frenzy of need overwhelmed her as they increased the tempo. Skin against skin, lips against lips, bodies dancing in rhythm together... Titillating sensations built within her until they erupted in a firestorm of colors.
Brayden groaned her name, then rolled her to her back and plunged inside her, over and over until he called her name as his own release overcame him.
Mindless with pleasure, they rocked back and forth until the sensations ebbed and slowly subsided. Even then, he wrapped his arms around her and held her so close she could feel his heart beating.
When their breathing steadied, he slipped into the bathroom. A minute later, when he returned he dragged her into his arms again. She curled next to him, taking solace in his strength.
Thoughts of DiSanti threatened, and she kissed him once more, then crawled down his body to take his length into her mouth. Brayden groaned and protested, but she brought him to arousal again, then he rolled her to the side and made love to her.
This time when she came, emotions and exhaustion mingled, and she collapsed against him.
As long as she closed her eyes and felt him next to her, she could convince herself that everything would be all right.
Eventually, she fell asleep, a deep sleep where she dreamed that Izzy was home and that Brayden was in their lives and they were a family.
* * *
BRAYDEN LISTENED TO Mila’s labored breathing for a long time. She had to be exhausted from the emotional strain of the last couple of days. Making love to her had been mind-blowing.
He cradled her closer, willing her to rest. And for tomorrow to bring them good news about her daughter.
God knows he’d wished this same thing for years where Chrissy was concerned. He prayed for a better outcome with Izzy.
Then what? Mila would return to her life with her daughter. And he would go back to his life. Alone.
Except the thought of that disturbed him.
He liked Mila. He wanted her to have her daughter. But he wanted to be in their lives, as well.
Would she have room for him once Izzy was returned?
And what if he couldn’t deliver on his promise to bring Izzy home safely?
He had to...
For hours, he lay in bed contemplating what he should be doing differently on the case. How he could find DiSanti.
Hours later, he drifted to sleep, but a loud knock jerked him awake. He blinked, confused for a moment, then saw Mila asleep in his bed, and memories of the night before returned. Sweet, blissful, erotic memories of lovemaking that he wanted to repeat.
The pounding sounded again.
Mila stirred, but he pulled the covers over her, and crawled from bed. He yanked on jeans and a T-shirt, then padded into the den. Another knock and he swung open the door.
Lucas.
He looked angry.
“What’s going on?” Brayden asked as Lucas stormed past him.
Lucas spun around, arms folded, dark intimidating eyes filled with suspicion. “You tell me.”
Brayden scratched his head. His eyes were blurry from lack of sleep.
“Mila has been lying to us,” Lucas said through gritted teeth.
Brayden glanced at the closed bedroom door, where Mila was still warming his bed. “What are you talking about?”
“The analyst at the Bureau can’t find any record of Izzy’s birth or of Mila having a child,” Lucas said with a dark scowl.
“What? There has to be a mistake,” Brayden said.
“Yeah. The mistake is in believing Mila. She’s been playing you, Brayden,” Lucas said grimly. “Mila isn’t just afraid of DiSanti because he threatened her. I think the bastard is Izzy’s father.”
Chapter Twenty
Brayden stared at his bedroom door, his stomach knotting as Lucas’s statement echoed in his head. “What makes you think he’s the father?”
“When I saw Izzy’s picture,” Lucas said, “the similarities struck me. I can’t believe you didn’t notice.”
Because he’d been blinded by Mila.
“So I had my analyst start digging for information. Mila was actually volunteering in Colombia at the same time DiSanti was there four years ago.”
Brayden’s mind raced, putting the pieces together. If DiSanti was Izzy’s father, then Mila had had a relationship with the man.
Had slept with him.
The idea of that monster’s hands touching her made him want to punch a wall.
Had she crawled in bed with him last night as a distraction to keep him from discovering the truth?
She’d said Izzy’s father was dead—which had obviously been a lie. No wonder she’d been secretive and uncooperative when Lucas had arrested her.
Had DiSanti known all along that Izzy was his daughter and taken her because she belonged to him?
Had Mila lied about being coerced to perform the surgery, too? Had she helped DiSanti escape because they had a child together?
A sense of betrayal cut thought Brayden like a sharp knife. He was a fool. Had done the very thing he knew not to do—he’d fallen for a client and been used again.
Brayden made the mistake of glancing at his closed bedroom door, and Lucas paced in front of the fireplace. “Good God, don’t tell me you slept with her. What the hell were you thinking, Brayden?”
That I wanted her and admired her and thought we might have something special.
Idiot.
The door to his bedroom squeaked open, and Mila appeared, her hair tousled. She had dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, and dammit, she looked beautiful.
But her wary gaze met his. Had she heard their conversation?
“Dr. Manchester,” Lucas said, eyebrows arched in question. “Maybe you should join us.”
Mila gave a little nod and entered the room, her expression wary. “Did you find Izzy?”
Lucas shook his head no. “But I did learn some interesting information about your daughter’s father.”
Brayden held his breath, hoping Lucas was wrong. That there was another explanation other than Mila being with DiSanti.
But she heaved a breath and averted her gaze for a brief second, and he had his answer.
“You...and DiSanti,” Brayden said, the harsh words erupting. “You lied to me, used me.”
Mila shook her head and walked toward him, but he threw up a hand, warning her to stop. She halted, then lifted her chin. “It’s not what you think.”
“What I think is that you had a relationship with that bastard, then helped him escape to protect your little girl’s father.” Disappointment mushroomed inside him. “How did you meet and get involved? Did you know who he was and what he was doing when you were together?”
Mila glared at him and then Lucas, then folded her arms. “You have it all wrong. I wasn’t involved with DiSanti.”
Brayden simply waited. “But you—”
“I told you it’s not what you think,” Mila said flatly.
He and Lucas exchanged confused looks. Then a sickening thought occurred to Brayden. “Mila...he didn’t...force you, did he?”
Mila’s face turned ashen, and she walked to the French doors and looked out at the back deck. Brayden’s heart hammered. Lucas stood still, his body tense as they waited.
Brayden crossed the room to Mila, took a deep breath and gently turned her to face him. He braced himself for the gory details. “Tell me the truth. What happened?”
“It wasn’t me,” Mila said in a low voice.
He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, it wasn’t you?”
“DiSanti didn’t rape me,” she said, emphasizing the word me.
“I don’t understand,” Brayden said.
“Just tell us the truth this time,” Lucas interjected. “We’ve wasted enough time on your lies.”
Mila swayed backward as if she’d been punched. Brayden was angry, too, but he gave his brother a warning look. Mila might have lied to them, but the terror in her expression was real. “Please, Mila, I told you that you could trust me, and you can.”
Indecision warred in her eyes. “It’s complicated.”
“Is DiSanti Izzy’s father?” he asked through gritted teeth.
Mila closed her eyes as if pained, then opened them and gave a wary nod. “Yes, but I’m not her birth mother.”
Shock slammed into Brayden. That was the last thing he’d expected to hear.
And it complicated everything. If Mila wasn’t Izzy’s mother, then who was? Worse, DiSanti had kidnapped his own child, meaning they had no legal recourse to take her from the man.
* * *
MILA’S HEART ACHED at the look of betrayal on Brayden’s face. She’d never wanted to lie to him, but she had to protect her daughter at all costs.
But now her secret was out.
What would Lucas and Brayden do with it?
Brayden suddenly swung away from her, disappointment and anger radiating from him. “I need caffeine.”
Lucas remained pensive as Brayden started a pot of coffee, making her even more antsy. She had no idea what was going on in that head of his.
Brayden poured coffee in mugs, then brought Lucas and her one. She sank onto the sofa and cradled the cup between her hands to warm herself as she struggled to find a way to begin.
Brayden returned for a mug for himself, then joined them, the tension thick.
