by Style, Linda
“Just act like you’re crazy about me.” Adam gazed at her with loving eyes, lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “That won’t be hard to do, will it?”
His lips on her hand felt soft and warm, and all she could think about was how they’d feel pressed on other strategic parts of her body. Struggling to redirect her thoughts, she asked under her breath, “What kind of information are we trying to get, my love?”
He turned to her and kissed her brow. “Anything that relates to your brother, sweets.”
Her brother? Ah, she got it. Since Adam had said the boy was her nephew, the guy known as Jack Sullivan would have to be billed as her brother. And if pretending so would help them find him, she could go along with it—even if it meant she had to lie to the priest.
She hated lying. Her mother had lied to her from birth, telling her that her father was a decorated Vietnam war hero who had died for his country. It wasn’t until her mother passed away that she’d found out the truth—and it stung even now. Her father wasn’t dead but had simply left because he didn’t want them. A fact she’d become acutely aware of when she went to live with him. He was a cruel, verbally abusive man.
Still, her mother shouldn’t have lied. A child had a right to know her parents, whatever their flaws.
“Father Martinez says your nephew was staying with a woman who lives about ten miles from here, but he doesn’t know if he’s still there,” Adam told Jillian, his voice at normal pitch now. “And George’s brother is the mechanic who will help with the car.”
Hauling in a deep breath, she looked to Father Martinez and asked, “Do you know if…my brother’s there, too? We haven’t heard from him and I’ve been really worried.”
The priest shook his head. “No, I don’t. But there’s another road that comes into town from the south, so we don’t see everyone who travels through.”
“Jillian wants this to be a surprise,” Adam said.
When Adam said those words, Jillian realized this was it. They may or may not meet Jack Sullivan tomorrow, and if they did, she would know if the man was an imposter or if he was…her husband.
She’d put off thinking about it, shoved it out of her mind, telling herself the man in the photograph couldn’t possibly be Rob. But now she had to acknowledge the possibility. And the effect it would have on her life and her daughter’s.
“More wine?” George asked.
“Yes, please. I’d love some.” She was going to need a lot more than wine to get through this night.
“Adam?” George held up the wine bottle.
Adam declined. He had to stay alert. He noticed, though, that Father Martinez seemed to be enjoying the grape as much as Jillian and soon they were talking and laughing together.
Apparently George collected jokes during his trips to Mirador, where he worked, and in San José, where he traveled to meet with dealers, American and otherwise, who exported the native crafts he brought to them. Jillian looked happy listening to George’s tales interpreted by Father Martinez, and he couldn’t help noticing the way she was looking at the priest with admiration…and something else. Adam shifted in his seat.
So what? She was having a good time. That was great. He liked to see her laugh. But, he had to admit, he wished it was him she was having so much fun with.
Warmth expanded in his chest as he watched her…smiling, laughing. She had a great smile and a laugh that bubbled up naturally. He liked that she was comfortable being herself. Liked that she said what she thought, even though it was sometimes with little regard to the consequences. Would she be the same in bed? Make love with the same abandon?
The pull in his groin told him it wasn’t only his brain that wondered. Hell, no surprise there. He’d wanted to get her in bed from the get-go. But, he’d wanted lots of women in the past.
This, he realized, was different. Not only did he want to make love to her, he wanted to know her. Know what she liked and disliked, and not just in bed. He wanted to know how she danced and sang…whether she could even carry a tune. He wanted to know if she liked rain showers and walking on the beach, what made her happy, sad and fearful. He wanted to really know her… in every way possible.
And that thought, he realized, was almost scarier than meeting the end of a gun in a dark alley.
Professionally, that kind of involvement could only mean disaster. Especially when the woman was married to the guy he was tracking and wanted to see on death row.
A guy he would kill if he had to.
A guy she was still in love with.
He gave himself a mental cold shower and rejoined the cheery conversation.
After dinner Father Martinez, who was also staying the night, excused himself. Then Rosa and George left, as well, with instructions that Adam and Jillian stay and enjoy the flan Rosa had brought in.
“It looks delicious,” Jillian said to Adam when they were alone.
His gaze caught hers. “You’re right. Delicious.”
He watched her as she picked up her spoon, took her first taste of the custard, and then another. It was more pleasurable to watch her than eat his own dessert.
“Mmm,” she said. “That is so good. Try it. It’s fabulous.”
He smiled. “I was thinking the same thing.”
She took another bite and then another until her flan was gone.
He nudged his plate toward her. “You can have mine, too.”
“Oh, no. I couldn’t.” She shook her head. “Really. I’ve had enough. And if you don’t eat it, Rosa might think you didn’t like it.”
“Okay.” He took a bite and swallowed, then put down his spoon. “So, are you nervous about tomorrow?”
She blew out a breath. “Truthfully, I just want to get it over with so I can get back to my normal life.”
He studied her mouth. “And what’s normal for Jillian Sullivan?” He leaned back and waited for her response.
“Taking care of Chloe, helping her with homework, spending time with her, going to work, doing things with friends, buying groceries, making dinner, making sure Chloe sees her grandmother and—” She stopped to clear her throat. “I guess nothing you’d think particularly exciting or interesting.”
“What I think isn’t important. It’s what you think that counts. And if you feel satisfied with your life, that’s all that matters.”
Jillian looked away. Was she satisfied with her life? She’d thought so until last week, but… She reached for his flan, picked up her spoon and took a bite. Being here with him, seeing and experiencing so many different things in the past few days, she’d started to wonder.
He motioned for her to finish the flan, so she kept eating, one spoonful after another. She’d never examined her life so critically before. She’d set goals for the things she had to do, then made decisions on how to reach them, but she’d never really asked herself if those goals were what she wanted. All her life, she’d simply done what needed to be done. To survive.
As a child, she’d pretty much taken care of herself. After her mother died and the few years with a father who wanted nothing to do with her, she’d lived on the street, then become Rob’s wife and then Chloe’s mother, a responsible parent, and then a businesswoman with a shop to run. Then she added more shops and a motherin-law to watch out for.
She’d done what she needed to do to make sure her daughter never had to shift for herself, never had to feel she had no one to count on or that she was alone in the world.
Never had to feel unwanted.
And now she had doubts about her satisfaction with this life. Being here with a man who made her feel…what? Angry? Challenged? Maybe. But also exuberant. Happy. Desired. Alive. She took a deep breath. Being with a man who made her feel all those things had changed her in ways she couldn’t describe.
“So, are you satisfied?” he asked as she polished off the last bite of his dessert.
She set the spoon on the empty plate, taking great pains to place it precisely in the middle.
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br /> “I don’t know,” she finally said. “I thought I was…”
“I hear a but,” he said, and ever so softly, touched his fingertips to her wrist. The gesture wasn’t a caress, but something caring and tender. Intimate. So very intimate.
“But now,” she went on, her voice soft, “being here, away from everything that’s familiar to me, seeing things I’d only imagined or had seen in the movies or on television…well, it makes me feel as if my world was very small. All of a sudden, I want to experience more. Do more.” Feel more.
She looked away. “I guess that’s pretty selfish of me, isn’t it.”
He brought his fingers to her chin and lifted it so that he looked directly into her eyes. “I don’t think it’s selfish at all. And if it’s any consolation, I sometimes feel the same way.” He took her hand and squeezed it.
Desire hummed through her veins and in that moment, everything she’d wanted to experience a second ago narrowed to right here—to him. Only him.
She hoped what she saw in his eyes was a similar desire for her. But just as she thought it, he stood up. Cleared his throat.
“We’d better get some sleep. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
ADAM WAITED FOR JILLIAN to rise from the table, then gestured for her to walk ahead of him.
He wasn’t sure he’d have been able to retain his self-control if they’d carried on the way they’d been going. He wanted her so badly he could taste it. Taste her.
But morning would come soon enough and with it, he imagined a whole new set of problems. He wasn’t about to go for more.
Outside, the saturated air felt like a warm, wet towel against his skin, making him think of hot, sweaty sex, skin against skin. Jillian’s. Moving along, he wiped his brow. How the hell was he going to spend the night in the same room with her without—
“So, how about you, Ramsey?”
Her voice brought him around. “Me? What about me?”
“Are you satisfied with your life the way it is?”She glanced at him, her question sincere, and all he was thinking about was jumping her bones. He regrouped, thought about her question. For years his job had been his life. When he was awarded the Medal of Valor, he’d thought it couldn’t get any better than that.
Then he’d met Kate, and she’d changed everything. She showed him there was more to life than a job. He’d made time for her—and had been sorry for it ever since. Because that’s when everything went to shit.
He wasn’t going to repeat that mistake. Ever.
He had to get back to where he was before his partner was killed and before he had a wife. Back to when he was a good cop, the kind who’d won a Medal of Valor for bravery and courage above and beyond. He carried it with him as a reminder of who he was. He had been that guy. And he wouldn’t stop carrying the small piece of metal until he didn’t need a reminder. Until he truly believed he was that guy, again.
And this trip, if he got what he wanted out of it, just might redeem him in some way.
“C’mon, I answered your questions,” Jillian said when he remained silent. “It’s only fair that you answer mine.”
She stopped at the door, turned, and with her back against it, looked up at him. “Unless you’re afraid to,” she said softly. Sexily.
He laughed. “Darlin’ the only thing I’m afraid of is the end of a gun. And I’m not even sure about that anymore. I don’t know what you think I might be afraid of.”
“I think you’re afraid to talk about yourself. I think you’re afraid to do that because you might reveal something.”
He leaned a hand against the side of the building right above her shoulder. “I’m not that deep, sweetheart. There’s nothing to reveal. My life consists of work, a friend or two and…sometimes family, but they’re so far away, I guess family doesn’t count as part of my normal life.”
“Yes, it does. Family always counts. No matter how far away they are.”
The woman was too honest. With his other hand, he reached for the door, but as he leaned in, he inhaled the scent of her hair…which sent a message directly to his dick…and he kissed her.
Just like that.
As his mouth met hers, she parted her lips. When she wrapped her arms around his back, his blood surged. He moved closer, wanting her warmth against him. Her arms moved up, and her fingers threaded through his hair at the back of his neck.
He’d never felt so aroused.
She knew it. She had to know it. But she didn’t push him away. He liked how well they fit together. He’d never been with a tall woman before and quickly discovered the advantages. Her lips were more accessible, her breasts met his chest in just the right place, her thighs fit nicely inside his, and her hips fit more than nicely against him.
He deepened the kiss, unable to stop from doing what came naturally. Small needy sounds came from her throat, ratcheting up his own need even more. He brought his hands to her backside and pulled her closer, grinding against her.
Suddenly she was moving, wildly waving one arm, which hit his shoulder. He heard a loud buzzing sound and then a loud thunk, then another, and she was waving both hands somewhere in the vicinity of their heads.
She pulled away and covered her head with her arms. “Damn.”
“What?”
“Bugs. They’re attacking us.”
He reached for the door and shoved her inside, swatting at the hard-shelled beetles that seemed to be everywhere. He slammed the door and locked it.
“Gross! That was absolutely gross,” Jillian spat out, shuddering with revulsion. She probably sounded just like Chloe, but she didn’t care.
“Not any worse than snakes or poison frogs.”
“Oooh, yes, they are. Much worse.”
She plopped down on her bed and crossed her legs, yoga-style, then shuddered again, her skin still crawling.
“You plan on doing a little meditating?”
She laughed. “I should. Maybe it would help.”
He stood near the other bed and combed a hand through his hair. “Is there something I can do?”
She paused, then did her best to make her expression and body language convey that, yes, there was definitely something he could do, and it had nothing to do with creepy insects.
She issued her invitation softly. “I’m sure you can.”
He paused, his eyes narrowing, as if he were debating the issue. He must know what she had in mind.
“No, I can’t,” he finally said, then turned, grabbed the top of the bedsheet and yanked it down. “You can sleep here if you want. I’ll take the lumpy bed.”
Heat rose to her cheeks, and stunned at the rebuff, Jillian just sat there. She’d offered herself to him, and he’d rejected her. Mortified and angry, she clenched her hands. What the hell. He’d kissed her. And if she hadn’t stopped…
When he didn’t say anything more, her annoyance grew. How could he kiss her the way he had and then just stop? He’d been aroused. She didn’t have a whole lot of recent experience, but she couldn’t miss that one.
She remembered her friend Patti’s words. If you make the right moves, who knows what can happen? She also remembered that she didn’t know how to make moves. But she had to start somewhere.
“Why can’t you?” she asked.
His hair hung in disarray over his forehead, sun-streaked and sexy. “Because you noticed the bugs and I didn’t.”
He was certifiable, she was sure. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t notice because I didn’t want to stop.”
Oh, my. She pulled in a deep breath.
It didn’t help; her heart beat triple time.
“Maybe I didn’t want to stop, either,” she said, suddenly unable to breathe—again.
“Yes, you did. And you should have. I’ve kissed lots of women, Jillian, in the jungle and otherwise.”
She looked away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.
She didn’t want to know his track record,
she just wanted…what? To make out? Make love? Have a fling? Hell, a few seconds ago, she knew exactly what she wanted. Now she wasn’t sure.
“Well, good for you,” she said, unable to conceal the anger bubbling up inside.
“No, not good for me, and not good for you, either.” He started for the bathroom, stripping off his T-shirt as he went. At the door, he turned. “Do you want to use the john before I take a cold shower, or can you wait?”
Fire rose in her belly. She wanted to know what he meant.
“You might know some facts about me, Ramsey, but other than that, you have no idea what’s good for me or what isn’t.”
He leaned casually against the door frame to the bathroom, his tanned skin glistening with sweat; his eyes, a smoldering pewter, focused on her face. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. I’ve got your MO. Had it from the minute we met.”
He held up his fingers and ticked off each point. “Security. A home in the suburbs. Two point two children. PTA. Little League and family night in front of the television watching Disney movies. Most important, I know you don’t want a night of passion with a guy you’ll never see again when it’s over.”
He waited a second, then added, “Are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”
She wanted to move her lips but they didn’t seem to work. Maybe because he was right.
When she didn’t respond, he said, “That’s all I need to know.” At that, he disappeared into the bathroom and shut the door.
As Adam lathered up, he heard thunder outside and then the light tick of rain against the tile roof. He hoped to hell it didn’t rain into the next day, because if it did, they’d never get out of here. He doubted he could stand much more togetherness.
Mostly, he couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment and hurt in her eyes. It shouldn’t bother him so much. This was a job. Sometimes people got hurt. She was strong, she’d get over it.
But he wasn’t so sure about himself. His body told him one thing, his mind another.
A few minutes ago, she’d looked like a little kid who’d just disappointed her parents. A kid who needed a hug and some reassurance. But if it wasn’t for him, she wouldn’t have been feeling that way in the first place.
