The tense lines around Ana’s mouth relaxed. She was more anxious than she’d originally thought. If the circumstances were different she was certain she could’ve repelled his advances, because it wasn’t the first time she’d been harassed by someone who’d had too much to drink. Driving a heel into someone’s instep usually got their attention.
Looping her arm through his, she leaned against Jacob’s shoulder. “What is there about me that attracts crazies?”
Jacob pulled her closer. Ana didn’t know how close he’d come to causing the drunk bodily harm. It was as if his protective instincts had gone into overdrive, superseding his promise to her cousin. “Even the crazies have good taste. You have to know you’re hotter than a habanero pepper.”
“Stop it.” The shadow of a blush washed over her face, throat and chest.
“Well, you are. I really got lucky when I got you for a wife.”
Ana closed her eyes. “And I got real lucky when I got a superhero masquerading as my husband.”
Husband.
The word had flowed off her tongue as naturally as breathing. When had she begun to think of Jacob as her husband? She’d always believed she would meet a man, fall in love, marry, have several children and they would grow old together. What had been her predictable lifestyle was now a thing of the past. Even if she were able to return to Florida, Ana knew her life would never be the same because someone else had determined the course of her destiny.
“I’m no superhero, Ana. I’m just a man, a mere mortal who likes you more than he should.”
Turning her head, she gave him a long, penetrating stare. “What you talking about?”
Jacob winked at her. “I like being married to you.”
She smiled. “Same here,” Ana agreed.
“What are we going to do about it? Do we try to stay together or do we call it quits before we get too involved?”
“We’re already too involved, Jacob. We should’ve had this conversation before we slept together.”
“Sleeping together should have no bearing on whether we decide not to annul our marriage. I’ve slept with other women and I knew I’d never marry them, and I’m certain it was the same with the men you’ve slept with.”
Ana blushed again. “Men I should’ve never given the time of day.”
“Don’t beat up on yourself, sweetheart. I haven’t always chosen wisely either. Maybe it took a third party to make a decision we were unable to make for ourselves.”
“You’re telling me this to say what?” Ana asked Jacob.
“I’m asking you to give me a chance to prove that I can be a good husband.”
“You’re already a good husband, m’ijo.”
Jacob clamped his jaw in frustration. Why was Ana making it so difficult for him? For them? “You’re missing the point, baby.”
Ana closed her eyes. She loved him, but doubted whether she was in love with Jacob. She’d didn’t want to be cynical only because she’d heard the word bantered around much too often and loosely. She loved music because it provided an emotional foundation and stability harkening back to her childhood. She loved her parents, her siblings and her extended family. The love she was beginning to feel for Jacob was different, and Ana didn’t want to confuse it with sex or gratitude.
Her eyelids fluttered wildly. “Okay.”
Jacob kissed the end of her nose. “What if we have date night back at the cottage? We’ll order room service, watch a movie, then I’m not going to be responsible for what happens after that.”
Ana gave him a dazzling smile. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 13
Ana sat in the oversize claw-foot tub between Jacob’s outstretched legs. Bubbles from pulsing jets washed over her breasts as she sipped champagne from a delicate crystal flute. Their request to be served dinner in their cottage was nothing short of spectacular. Waiters had arrived with serving carts with table settings for two and dishes from which wafted the most delicious mouth-watering aromas. If Diego wanted feedback on his resort, then she would’ve given the service five stars.
One waiter lingered, serving and removing courses, while surreptitiously keeping his distance to not be intrusive. The roast pork was fork-tender; the steak broiled to the perfect medium-well. The piquant dressing on the mixed green salad with tiny mandarin oranges, plataños maduro—thinly sliced ripe bananas, and a dessert of caramel coconut flan set the stage for a candlelight dinner, followed by a black-and-white Hitchcock thriller, and finally a shared bath surrounded by dozens of candles.
“Do you plan on getting me buzzed so you can take advantage of me?” Ana teased Jacob.
He chuckled softly in her ear. “How did you know?”
“Because you’ve refilled my glass twice, and you know champagne makes me sleepy.”
“All the better to eat you, my dear.”
Staring at him over her shoulder, Ana flashed a lopsided grin. “Not if I don’t eat you first.”
“No, Ana. I won’t let you do that.”
She set the flute on a table next to the tub and managed to turn around without sloshing water over the rim of the tub and straddled Jacob’s muscular thighs. “What are you afraid of, baby?”
His scowl deepened. “Nothing.”
Moisture had curled her hair and spiked her lashes. Pressing her breasts to his chest, she whispered in his ear, “I think you are.” Curving her arms around his neck, Ana rested her head on Jacob’s shoulder. “I’m slightly tipsy.”
Burying his face in her short hair, Jacob kissed her scalp. “Are you ready to go to bed?”
“Yes. But you’re going to have to help me out.”
Setting his flute on the table beside Ana’s, he managed to stand up without dropping her and stepped out of the tub onto a thick chenille rug. Reaching for a bath sheet, he wrapped it around her body, swaddling her like a mummy. Supporting her body with one hand, he picked up another towel, then carried her out of the bathroom and into their bedroom. Ana had tied the mosquito netting to the posts, turned back the bed and adjusted the table lamps to the lowest settings.
“Don’t go to sleep on me, baby.”
Ana smiled, but didn’t open her eyes. “I’m just resting my eyelids.”
Leaning over her, Jacob pressed a kiss to each eye. He undid the towel, smiling. The sun loved Ana. It had kissed her body, the rich brown color of the skin on her arms and shoulders contrasting with the lighter hue on her small, firm breasts.
“Do you golf?”
Ana opened her eyes. “No.”
“Have you ever tried it?”
“The closest I got to golfing is a driving range and I wound up with blisters.”
Jacob dabbed her throat and shoulders. “That’s because you didn’t wear gloves. Will you go golfing with me tomorrow if I get you a pair of gloves?”
“Sure.” Ana closed her eyes again, luxuriating in the feel of Jacob’s hands on her body. “I don’t know about you, but so far I’m giving Cannamore a top rating.”
“I totally agree with you.” Sitting back on his heels, he kissed her belly. “You’re going to have to turn over so I can dry your back.”
Ana sat up, wresting the towel from Jacob’s grip. “Now it’s my turn. Lie down, darling.”
He stared at her under lowered lids. “I’m almost dry.”
“Lie down, husband. On your belly.”
“Aye, aye, wife.”
Waiting until he lay as she’d instructed, Ana blotted droplets from Jacob’s broad, muscled shoulders, down his straight spine and over his hips. His body was lean, strong and beautifully proportioned. She continued drying his legs and feet, lingering to dry between his toes.
She tossed the damp towel on the floor, then lay atop him, her face pressed to the column of his neck. “Am I too heavy for you?”
“You must be kidding. I can hardly feel you. But I do feel something else that’s giving me a hard-on.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes, really.”
&
nbsp; Trailing her fingertips along his ribs, Ana blew in his ear. Jacob bucked under her. “Do you like that?”
“What do you think?” he asked, burying his face in the pillow. “What are you trying to do?”
“I’m seducing my husband. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. But right now you have me at a distinct disadvantage.”
Ana’s mouth traveled downward from Jacob’s ear to his shoulder. “I doubt that, m’ijo. You’re at least a foot taller and probably outweigh me by at least fifty pounds.”
Jacob chuckled. “Try eighty, m’ija. I’m six-three and weigh two-ten.”
She didn’t want to tell him that he was more than ninety pounds heavier than she was. She and her sister had inherited their mother’s body type and metabolism. While in high school Ana was teased by girls who’d claimed she was bulimic; although she’d consumed her share of burgers, fries and shakes they hadn’t known her twice-a-day regimen of swimming laps in her family’s inground pool offset the calorie-laden diet.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, placing tiny kisses down his back. Jacob ignored her warning not to move when her hand slipped between his thighs, cradling his testicles.
A low growl echoed in the room when he suddenly turned over, nearly knocking her off the bed. He caught her before she landed on the floor.
Ana sprang up with the quickness of pouncing cat. She lay on his chest. Once more her hand searched between his legs, but Jacob outmaneuvered her when, using his superior strength, lifted her over his erection. With one sure thrust of his hips he was inside her.
She bit back a scream of ecstasy when she felt every inch of the hardened flesh stretching the walls of her vagina. There was something about this coupling that was so unrestrained and primal that she feared climaxing much too soon. Passion and lust pounded her head, heart and at the apex of her thighs. If Ana had any doubt as to whether she was in love with Jacob it fled at that moment.
What she felt for the man whose name she claimed wasn’t about sex or gratitude. It was about Jacob himself. He was the first man she’d met who permitted Ana to be herself. She was more than aware of her strengths and weaknesses, and one was her teasing nature. There were times when she did tease men to see how far they would let her go. Most of them weren’t as tolerant as Jacob, and for that she was grateful.
Then there were others who’d wanted her to sleep with them after one or two dates. Those who were willing to wait her requisite three months before sex she obliged. Others who claimed they weren’t used to a woman using her body as a bargaining chip quickly moved on.
Her best-laid plans and prerequisites were forgotten when it came to the man making the most exquisite love to her she’d ever known. She loved his strength, the clean masculine scent of his body, beautifully formed hands and feet. Ana loved listening to his deep, soothing voice with a lingering hint of a drawl that indicated he’d grown up in the American South.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she stared at Jacob staring up at her. The carnality in his expression caused her to hold her breath until the constriction in her lungs forced her to expel it or faint.
Lowering her head, she lightly touched her lips to his before devouring his mouth, her tongue tracing the outline of his full, sensual lower lip. There was no teasing as her mouth and hands worked their magic, tasting, exploring and discovering a minute scar on his chest hidden by the mat of hair.
“What happened?” she whispered in his ear.
“Don’t talk, baby. Just love me,” Jacob groaned.
And she did love Jacob not with words but with the most intimate way possible—with her body. A moan slipped past her lips when his fingers tightened on her waist setting a rhythm as old as time when she rose and fell over his blood-engorged sex. In a moment of insanity she forgot about the men she’d met, those who’d cheated on her, and that they were making love without using protection. Her breath came faster and faster, moans escalating until Ana threw back her head and screamed as passion tore through her like a twister, shattering her into a million infinitesimal pieces.
Jacob managed to reverse their position without pulling out. He’d wanted to slow down the passion rushing headlong throughout his body, but the heat from Ana ignited an even hotter inferno. His thrusts grew stronger, communicating his need to possess her totally. If he could he would put her inside of himself if only to savor her essence every second, minute, hour, day, week, month, year, and beyond when both would cease to exist. He felt her hot flesh squeezing his as she climaxed, and unable to hold back his own rising desire he spilled his passions inside her hot, pulsing body.
Waiting until his heart resumed a normal rate Jacob rolled off her body, tucking her bottom against his groin. “Are you all right?”
Ana exhaled an audible sigh. “Yes.”
“I didn’t hurt you?”
“No, mi amor.” A beat passed. “How did you get that scar on your chest?”
“That’s a long story.”
“We have all night,” she said softly. “In fact we have nothing but time. How many people can say that?”
“Not many,” Jacob agreed. “I suppose there are a few things you should know about me.”
“A few, Jacob?”
He kissed her again. “Okay. What do you want to know first?”
“The scar.”
“That happened when I was twelve. A friend found his granddaddy’s pellet gun and didn’t know it was loaded. He pointed the gun at me and pulled the trigger. The pellet struck me in the chest. If it’d been an inch lower I wouldn’t be here talking to you. The police would’ve charged him with reckless endangerment if my dad hadn’t intervened on his behalf. He didn’t want him to have a criminal record. Years later Dad blamed himself for interfering.”
“Why? What happened to the kid?”
“The last I heard he’s serving twenty-five to life for murder. He had a confrontation with his girlfriend’s brother and in a fit of rage shot him in the head.”
Ana shuddered noticeably. “That’s horrible.”
“That’s because some people are horrible.”
She listened intently when Jacob told her about her about his time in the corps. Before being assigned to a Foreign Service post he’d successfully completed a training program with the Corps Embassy Security Group. Her eyelids were drooping by the time he’d mentioned serving three twelve-month tours of duty at embassies in East Africa, Central Europe and South America. She was barely aware when Jacob pulled a sheet over them, then succumbed to a comforting, dreamless sleep.
Sleep wasn’t as kind to Jacob. He’d disclosed things about himself only his parents knew. He turned off the lamps and settled down against the warm body of the woman who’d turned his orderly life upside down. He’d survived being shot, guarding U.S. embassies in regions where Americans were regarded as the enemy, and he’d tracked down fugitives who’d sworn they would never be apprehended alive.
He’d faced death and had confronted the devil several times in the guise of fugitive kidnappers, serial killers and pedophiles and had come out unscathed because of his mother’s prayers. She claimed to have prayed for him every night since giving birth to him and continued to do so. It’d been too long since he’d prayed, and never for himself. It was time he began. And the prayers would not only be for himself but also Ana.
What he refused to think about was the fact she might be carrying his child. They had talked about giving their marriage a trial run, but not children. Jacob knew if this coupling resulted in pregnancy, then there would be no annulment or divorce.
Los Angeles
“Do not tell me you don’t know where she is.” A large vein appeared in Basil’s forehead. His contact at Serenity had dropped the ball. “How can someone just drop off the face of the earth?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Irvine,” came a woman’s voice through his cell phone’s speaker feature. “I told you the office has been closed because we’re relocating.”
“
Where?”
“I don’t know.”
Basil’s hands fisted. “I don’t pay you for ‘I don’t know.’ I pay you well to give me information and right now I need to know where your boss is.”
“If I knew I’d tell you.”
“What about her brother?”
“He closed the office and gave everyone paid vacation. Jason said he’ll contact everyone individually when he wants us to return.”
“Have you spoken to your other coworkers?”
“A few. But they know what I know.”
“Can you contact Jason?”
“I think so. I have his cell number.”
Basil paced the length of the wall-to-wall windows. “Call him.”
“And tell him what?”
He ignored the panic in her voice. “Tell him anything. Just find out where his sister is.”
“I’ll try, Mr. Irvine.”
Basil stopped pacing. “Don’t try. Just do it. You have less than a week to give me what I want, otherwise...”
“Otherwise what, Mr. Irvine?”
“Maybe your boss will discover they’ve employed a snitch. And you know what they say about snitches.”
“I know. They get stitches.” She paused. “I hate that I ever got into this.”
“It’s too late now, baby. You’re a very pretty girl and it would be a shame if someone carved up that lovely face.”
“I have to go now.”
“Remember. One week.”
Basil tapped a button, ending the call. He’d finally rid himself of the annoying, lingering headache, but his obsession with finding Ana Cole persisted. She reminded him of his mother although they’d looked nothing alike. He’d grown up abused and ridiculed by a woman who claimed he’d ruined her life when she discovered herself pregnant with a married man’s baby. And she reminded him every day how much he looked like his father—a man she claimed she hated to her grave. Whenever he said something she didn’t like she slapped him across the face. The taunts and slapping continued until he turned fifteen. By that time he was over six foot and had begun to put on muscle from a regimen of lifting weights. The last time his mother raised her hand to hit him he nearly broke her arm.
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