by Cassie Miles
“Right here.” He sat her on the edge of the tub. “I want to see you.”
The breeze through the window raised goose bumps on her skin as he moved in close for another kiss. She wrapped her arms around him. The feel of his sleek, wet, muscular backside aroused her even more.
As he glided her back into the warm water, he parted her legs. Gently, he stroked her, and she felt herself coming undone. She hadn’t expected this to happen, hadn’t thought she’d see fireworks behind her closed eyelids, hadn’t dreamed of this passionate release that sent shock waves through her entire body.
He gathered her into his arms, and she rested her head on his shoulder. Making love had never been this amazing.
They floated for a moment before he helped her out of the tub and toweled her dry. When she reached for her nightgown, he took it away from her. “You don’t need that. I’ll keep you warm tonight.”
“My hair.” She reached up to touch the damp tendrils that had fallen from the ponytail.
“It’ll dry.”
In the bedroom, he pulled back the linens on the king-size bed. When they’d first entered the suite, she’d intended to discuss the sleeping arrangements with him and to request that he sleep on the sofa’s fold-out bed, but that seemed ridiculous now. She slipped between the sheets, and he joined her, nestling against her backside with his hand resting possessively on her belly.
It occurred to her that their passion had been one-sided. She’d gotten all the pleasure and really ought to reciprocate. Before she could make a move, a sweet lethargy overcame her and she slept.
Chapter Six
In the morning, Troy was awakened by a kiss and a not-so-subtle caress. Without opening his eyes, he responded, sliding his hand over the lush contour of her belly. Her skin was smooth and slightly moist, reminding him of the hot tub.
“Don’t make a move,” she whispered. “I want to give you a very special start to the day.”
“But I like to move.”
“And how do you like this?” She raked her fingernails down his chest to his belly button and lower.
“Keep going,” he growled.
This was, without doubt, the number one best wake-up
call he’d ever had in his life. Give the lady a trumpet and let her play reveille. He kept his eyes closed, using his sensory memory to record every kiss, every caress and every stroke. He memorized her scent and the taste of her sweet lips. When she’d driven him nearly crazy, he returned the favor.
Afterward, they lay side by side on the king-size bed, breathing hard and very happy. When it came to sexual compatibility, they were a good couple. No, make that a great couple. They had chemistry out the wazoo. Not a bad foundation for a relationship.
He turned his head and opened his eyes to study her profile. Her nose, though small, was well-defined. The corners of her mouth naturally turned up, and when she smiled, her eyes crinkled. He didn’t know her expressions well. Watching her was still a revelation to him.
“It’s after eight o’clock,” she said. “I told my sister that we’d be in Denver for lunch.”
The drive from Keystone was a couple of hours, but he was in no hurry to get moving. Swimming through the undercurrent of tension between Olivia and her parents wasn’t going to be fun. Plus, Troy was uncomfortable about being the guy who was responsible for getting Olivia pregnant before they’d even had a real date.
Hoping he might find an ally in her family, he asked, “What’s your sister like?”
“Bianca is the favorite daughter who does everything right. She graduated from Yale Law at the top of her class, and she’s a third-year associate at one of the most prestigious firms in Denver. Last year, she bought a terrific house with some help on the down payment from my parents.”
“You mentioned her boyfriend.”
“He’s out of the picture.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Us Laughton girls don’t seem to do well with long-term, committed relationships.”
Lying on his side, he propped his head on his fist, enjoying the rolling view of her belly and breasts under the sheets. “How come?”
“Bianca would say my problem is being a hermit who hides in her mountain lair every time she sees a man coming. And I’d say she’s a lawyer, trained to pick everything apart.”
He didn’t think of Olivia as a hermit. She’d come to him on the night they’d made a baby. Since then, she’d avoided him, rejected his proposals and made it clear that she was a totally independent woman.
Though he didn’t understand, he wasn’t ready to go that deep this morning. Things between them were going well, and he wanted to keep it that way. “Why do you think your sister is the favorite?”
“Our parents had high expectations. They truly believe that their girls are destined for greatness. When I showed an interest in medicine, they assumed I’d become a doctor. They don’t understand why I chose to be a midwife.” She turned her head to look at him. Her blue eyes held a challenge. “Do you?”
“Do I what?” He had the sense that he was walking into a minefield.
“Do you understand why I’d want to be a midwife?”
He considered for a moment. If he answered wrong, she’d lump him into the category of insensitive jerks. “I know you like helping people. That’s why you volunteer with my brother at the clinic. I think, for you, being a midwife is a calling.”
She nodded. “What else?”
“Delivering babies usually has a positive outcome. I get that part, for sure. At the end of labor, you get to be with a happy mother and a brand-new infant. That sounds like a great job to me.”
She rewarded him with a smile. “You’re smarter than you look.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A guy who’s as pretty as you shouldn’t—”
He gave a snort. “Don’t call me pretty.”
“Let’s just say that you don’t look like a nerd.” She leaned toward him and kissed his forehead. “Can we call room service? I’m starved.”
They took their time getting ready, lingering over the menu and talking and eating. Though they seemed to be settling into a comfortable pattern, she started getting twitchy and tense when it came time to get dressed. Finding the right outfit to meet her parents seemed to be a real big deal, and she changed clothes a half dozen times.
It was after ten when they checked out. Outside, he crossed the small parking area at the front of the resort and unlocked the back of a new rental SUV for the bellman. While their suitcases were being stowed in the back, Troy went around to the passenger side to open the door for her.
“What are you doing?” Her gaze was puzzled. “This isn’t our car.”
“It is now. Range Rover SUV. It’s a decent ride.”
After he got behind the wheel and drove toward the exit from the lot, he felt her staring at him, staring hard. When she spoke, her tone was cold. “Aren’t you going to tell me why we changed cars?”
“A precaution,” he said. “I didn’t notice anybody following us last night, but that doesn’t mean there’s no more threat. The intruders might have spotted our vehicle. Last night, while our rental SUV was parked, they could have planted a bug or a tracking device. So I contacted the rental place and got a replacement. This Range Rover is clean.”
“Seems paranoid,” she muttered.
“It’s called strategy. Being one step ahead of your opponent.”
He loved strategy. After he retired, he’d probably turn into a Civil War reenactor or one of those guys who built miniature models of Napoleon’s defeat at Waterloo. Unfortunately, in the current situation, he didn’t have a whole lot of options when it came to planning strategic maneuvers.
Troy usually worked with trained troops. Protecting a pregnant woman was a whole different story. He couldn’t take risks to draw the bad guys into the open; his focus was to avoid potential danger.
“From now on,” she said, “I want to be in the loop. I want to know your plans before you make a
decision.”
“I’ll keep you informed, but these decisions aren’t up for discussion.”
“Why not?” Her voice took on an edge of irritation. “Don’t I get to have a say?”
“Chain of command doesn’t work that way.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.
“Command?” Her jaw tensed. “Who do you think you are? The master and commander?”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“Just like my dad. Trying to run my life and pretending it’s for my own good.”
There was no point in arguing with this stubborn woman. He shifted the subject. “Which route should we take to Denver?”
“The Eisenhower Tunnel is faster,” she said tersely. “We’d have to drive back to Dillon to get on the interstate.”
Returning to Dillon was counterintuitive. Even if they’d managed to lose the intruders who broke into her cabin, the bad guys could still be hanging around and watching the roads. “We’re closer to Loveland Pass.”
“And it’s a prettier drive.”
The old road that climbed over the Continental Divide was a more likely place for an ambush—a less-traveled route with a lot of twists and hairpin turns. He sat at the stop sign. Left or right? Dillon or the pass? Brilliant summer sunshine lit up the forests and glinted against windshields of other vehicles. On a day like this, it was hard to believe that someone might be following them.
“If you’re worried about driving the mountain roads,” she said with phony sweetness, “I’d be delighted to take over the wheel.”
He could have told her about his extensive training in defensive driving techniques or his escape in a Hummer across the rugged terrain in Afghanistan or the time he went over a hundred and twenty miles per hour in a Ferrari on the German autobahn. But there was no need to brag. “I can handle Loveland Pass.”
Taking the high road turned out to be a good plan. The panoramic mountain views seemed to calm her nerves. After they crested the summit, he tried to ease himself back into her good graces. “I like the outfit you’re wearing.”
“It’s too plain.”
He heard a grinding note of hostility and proceeded with caution. “You made a good choice. It’ll be hot in Denver. You’re practical to wear shorts.”
“Here’s a hint, Troy. Telling a woman that her clothes are practical isn’t a compliment.”
“The colors are nice and bright,” he said. “I like the black-and-yellow striped top. You remind me of a bumblebee.”
“Again, not a compliment.”
He tried again. “The way the material drapes—”
“Over my giant belly?” She was determined to find fault with anything he said. “My massive, watermelon belly?”
“Damn it, Olivia. What do you want me to say?”
“You don’t have to flatter me. I know I’m gross and pregnant. Either tell me the truth or be quiet.”
“Here’s the truth,” he said tersely. “You look sexy as hell. Your bare legs are tan and firm and I want to lick from your toes to your hips. That shirt gives me a peek at your cleavage—your amazing cleavage. And that round, beautiful belly turns me on.”
Her lower lip trembled. Three small gasps turned into a sob. “Thank you.”
“Are you crying?”
“No.”
But she was. Crying. Damn. “All right, I take it all back. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.” She raked her fingers through her long hair and shook her head. “It’s the hormones.”
His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. The rocky slopes and distant peaks faded into the background as he stared at her. She was the center of his world. “Does this happen often, this crying thing?”
Her hiccupping sob turned into a giggle. Was it possible to be crying and laughing at the same time? She swabbed her cheeks and looked at him. “Yes, I have these unreasonable outbursts. And I can’t really tell you if they’re going to get better or worse. I’ve never been eight and a half months pregnant before.”
“Is it the stress?” he asked.
“Could be. Seeing my parents is never easy.”
“I was talking about the possible kidnapping.”
Her lips spread in a grin. “Oh, yeah. That, too.”
Her smile worried him. He didn’t think she took the potential for danger seriously. Hell, he didn’t understand her at all.
* * *
ON I-70 APPROACHING Denver, Troy checked his rearview mirror for the third time in as many minutes. Shortly after they’d passed the Evergreen exit, he’d noticed two vehicles staying in close proximity to their Range Rover. One was a black SUV. The other, a sedan with dark tinted windows.
“Something wrong?” Olivia asked.
“It’s hard to tell on the highway. I’m going to slow down and see who stays with us.”
His foot eased off the accelerator, and their speed dropped to forty-three miles per hour. The SUV passed them on the left, moving too fast for Troy to catch a glimpse of the driver. The sedan hung back on their tail.
Olivia twisted around in the seat to see out the back window. “That car with the tinted windows hasn’t speeded up. Do you think he’s following us?”
“I had my eye on that car and the SUV that just went by. I might have been wrong about him.”
Three miles down the road, he spotted the SUV parked on the shoulder. As they passed, he pulled out to follow them.
“That’s the SUV,” Olivia said. “You weren’t wrong.”
The use of two vehicles usually indicated a plan for a pincer-type maneuver. One would move in front of them while the other closed in on their rear. In a synchronized move, both cars would slow, forcing Troy to stop. But a four-lane highway with other traffic wasn’t a good place for that move. These two cars could be maintaining contact to keep an eye on them. “This could just be a coincidence. These cars could be headed to Denver like we are.”
“Or not,” she said.
He needed to find out if this was purposeful surveillance. “I’m getting off at the next exit. We’ll see what they do.”
Maintaining the legal speed limit, Troy turned the steering wheel, swerved without signaling and drove onto the exit ramp. The sedan trailed behind their Range Rover.
“He’s still there,” Olivia said.
“Can you see the SUV?”
“Not yet.”
The exit dumped them into the outskirts of Denver—a good thing because it meant they weren’t in a deserted area. The downside was that the sedan could have a legitimate reason to take this route. At the first intersection, Troy drove into a suburban development with beige two-story houses, nice lawns and skimpy trees.
The sedan stayed with them as Troy made a series of turns and double-backs through the development. At one quiet corner, Olivia warned, “I see the SUV.”
His doubts about surveillance disappeared. These two vehicles were purposely staying close. “Hang on tight.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Lose them.”
He drove out of the development. With the SUV creeping up on his tail, he punched the gas and took off. On the two-lane road through the foothills, there was just enough traffic to make it difficult for their pursuers. He dodged around a truck and another SUV. The Range Rover was going over sixty as they approached an intersection with a stoplight. It turned amber.
He couldn’t race straight through. There were too many other cars waiting for the light to change; they’d be broadsided.
The light was red. He hit the brake, simultaneously cranked the steering wheel and slammed into a right turn, barely avoiding collision.
In the rearview mirror, he saw their pursuers get stuck at the light. This was his chance to put some serious distance between them. The Range Rover flew down the road. This SUV handled nicely for a heavy vehicle on a solid wheelbase. If he could make it to the next turn, they’d be in the clear.
“Olivia, are you okay?”
&n
bsp; “Fine.” Her voice was a squeak.
“I promise not to do that again.”
“Good.”
He heard the wail of a police siren. Red-and-blue lights flashed behind the Range Rover. There was no choice but to stop. He pulled onto the shoulder.
“Do we tell the police what’s happening?” she asked.
Explaining surveillance and attempted kidnapping would be complicated. Since Troy wasn’t officially on a mission, he didn’t really have the authority to drive like a maniac. “I’d rather not.”
“No problem,” she said. “Leave this to me.”
When the patrolman appeared at their window, Olivia let out a ferocious scream. “My God,” she yelled. “The baby’s coming.”
Covering his own surprise, Troy looked at the startled cop. “My wife is in labor.”
“Now.” Olivia flailed. She arched her back and her belly heaved impressively. “It’s coming now.”
“We’re headed to St. Luke’s,” Troy said.
Olivia grabbed his arm and peered up at the cop. Her face was flushed. Her voice was desperate. “Help me, please.”
The cop leaned into the car. “No need to worry, ma’am. I can handle the delivery.”
“No,” Troy said sharply. “She needs a hospital.”
“With all due respect, I have training.”
“Triplets!” Olivia shouted. “I’m having three babies.”
The cop took an involuntary step back. His jaw dropped. His face went pale. “Three?”
“We need to get to the hospital fast,” Troy said.
“Right,” the cop said. “Follow me.”
Olivia continued her wailing until the police car pulled in front of them. With lights flashing, he led the way into the city, cutting through traffic.
She gave him a grin. “Scared you, didn’t I?”
“What made you think of it?”
“Going into labor?” She patted her bulge. “Let’s just say it’s been on my mind.”
Duh. He should have known.
She continued, “I probably should have run my plan by you. Keeping to the chain of command and all.”
“I think we both know who’s really in charge.”
