Ben's Wife

by Charlotte Douglas

  “The safest place to hide the mike is between your breasts.” A hoarseness in his voice betrayed his apparent calm.

  She fumbled to open the front clasp of her bra. The sooner she could dress again, the better. Her reactions were too dangerous, too certain to create trouble if she didn’t squelch them.

  Josh’s fingers skimmed the cleft between her breasts as he secured the tiny microphone with medical adhesive tape he had ripped off the roll with his teeth. The trembling of his fingers shot a sympathetic vibration through her.

  She closed her eyes in an ineffective attempt to subdue her defiant senses. Although no man had ever affected her this intensely, her response had to be reflexive. How could she care for a man she didn’t really know or fully trust?

  More gooseflesh erupted when he trailed the attached wire down her midriff to her waist and taped it. More than a foot of wire still dangled loose. He drew back, his breathing as tortured as if he’d run a marathon.

  “What do I do with the rest of this antenna?” she asked, already guessing the answer.

  “We’ll have to snake it inside your jeans.”

  Afraid of losing all control if he touched her again, she hastily unzipped her jeans, lifted her hips and thrust the wire across her abdomen and down her left leg. With equally rapid movements, she fastened her bra and jeans and shoved her arms into her blouse.

  “Morgan.”

  The tender resonance of her name on his lips pierced her with a longing as acute as an illness. To escape the exquisite torture, she wrenched open the door and fled from the car to the shadows of a nearby dune. Stuffing her shirttail back into her jeans, she breathed deeply and tried to regain command of her mutinous heart and steady her quivering body.

  She’d read somewhere that danger was an aphrodisiac. If so, she rationalized, the peril of her situation, not Josh, produced her passionate responses.

  Right, a mocking inner voice taunted, and pigs fly.

  She shivered in the onshore breeze, then jumped in surprise when Josh, whose approach she hadn’t heard, draped her jacket over her shoulders.

  “Sorry if I embarrassed you.” His attitude was all business. “The wire had to be placed.”

  “You’re right. I’m just nervous,” she lied, and slid her arms into her jacket.

  “Let’s go where there’s more light.”

  She walked beside him back to the parking lot and stopped beneath the glow of a low-sodium light. He grasped her shoulders and turned her in one direction, then another as he stared at her chest.

  “The wire’s completely hidden,” he said. “Now we have to test it.”

  “How?”

  He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and extracted a few bills. “Walk over to the diner and order a couple of coffees to go. I can test the equipment and its range, and we can use the caffeine. It’s going to be a long night.”

  She took the bills and strode toward the diner until a worry pulled her up short. She turned back to Josh. “I’m not in disguise.”

  “I doubt Lashner has anyone staking out the Gulf-side Grill.” He gave her a thumbs-up, a heartmelting smile and headed back to his car.

  The closer to the diner she advanced, the more her reaction to Josh troubled her. She had always believed she’d have to love a man before he could turn her on like Josh had. But what was there to love about him, a man she barely knew?

  Her perfidious mind obligingly ticked off the points. His drop-dead gorgeous smile, a physique that turned women’s heads, his willingness to risk his life for her, his loyalty to Ben, the tender way he eased her anxiety—

  Stop it!

  For a moment she feared she had spoken aloud and the mike between her breasts had transmitted her words. She’d have a hard time explaining her exclamation.

  She was Ben’s wife, she reminded herself. She owed her loyalty, affection and any explanations to him. Josh was only an investigator and bodyguard, and that’s all he would ever be.

  Confident the brisk walk and cool air had cleared both body and mind of foolish notions, she jerked open the door of the Gulfside Grill and went inside.

  A blast of steamy air, laden with odors of cooking grease, cigarette smoke and too many bodies assailed her, and the bright blaze of fluorescent lights hurt her eyes. From one corner, a Wurlitzer jukebox blasted out a country-western ballad. She spied an empty stool at the far end of the crowded counter and headed for it, avoiding eye contact with the customers.

  She settled onto the seat. A rail-thin waitress, her dingy white uniform brightened by a garish pink handkerchief pinned to her bodice like a corsage, took her order with a bored sigh and moved away.

  The mike burned against Morgan’s skin and felt the size of a grapefruit. She pictured a neon sign above her flashing She’s Wearing a Wire, with an arrow pointed at the top of her head. The ridiculous image made her smile and calmed her shaky nerves.

  “You sure have got a purty grin, darlin’.” A man on her left swiveled his stool toward her. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

  She glanced quickly at the beefy frame and lumpy, sunburned face of the stranger who’d just tossed her the oldest line in the book. “No.”

  Leaning forward and away from him, she peered behind the counter, where her waitress, empty cups in hand, gabbed with the short-order cook. Morgan drummed her fingertips impatiently on the Formica surface. She would wait another minute, then leave. Josh should have heard enough by now to test his equipment.

  “You’re not very friendly.” Undeterred, the man at her side bent closer and ran his finger down her arm. “Think you’re too good for me, do you?”

  Cringing at his touch, she jerked away and grimaced at the stink of onions on his breath, but she said nothing. A reply would only encourage him.

  He edged nearer, so close his thick lips brushed her hair. “You and me could have us a real good time, darlin’. There’s a place up the road we could get a few beers, have a few dances. After that, who knows?”

  She recoiled from his suggestive laugh. The waitress still chattered with the cook, so Morgan hopped from the stool and headed toward the door.

  She had gone only a few feet when a rough hand grabbed her elbow, lifting her until her feet barely touched the floor.

  “Keep moving, darlin’,” the stranger’s voice rumbled in her ear. “We’ll find my pick’em-up truck and see if I can’t thaw you out a bit. Make you a lot more friendly, if you know what I mean.”

  Morgan attempted to shake off his grasp.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. Take your hands off me,” she said in a low but steady voice. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention.

  The obnoxious man either didn’t hear or didn’t care. Before she could protest further, he had yanked her through the door and shoved her into the parking lot.

  “Let me go!” She was struggling to wrest away, when the possibility the man wasn’t what he seemed struck terror through her. “You’re working for Lashner, aren’t you?”

  “Honey, I don’t know nobody named Lashner. I don’t work for nobody but me. Tonight I’m taking time off for fun. And you’re gonna provide it.”

  “Sure about that, are you?” Josh’s deep voice rang out in the stillness of the parking lot.

  He stood just a few feet away, blocking the big stranger’s path. Josh’s stance was relaxed and easy, and the expression on his face benign.

  “Back off, pal.” The man tightened his grip on her arm. “I saw her first.”

  “Hey, good buddy,” Josh said, mimicking the man’s folksy speech, “sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve got three good reasons why the lady can’t go with you.”

  “Yeah? Like what?” Her captor staggered, slightly drunk. Onions had masked the liquor on his breath.

  “For starters—” Josh ambled closer “—she doesn’t want to go with you.”

  “Shucks,” the big man said, “a few minutes alone with me in my truck, and I’ll change her mind.”

&nb
sp; Morgan jerked her arm, but couldn’t free herself from the stranger’s grasp.

  “Second—” Josh flashed her a warning look and kept coming closer “—she’s married to me.”

  Morgan’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped at the lie.

  The man grabbed her left hand. “Then why ain’t she wearing a ring?”

  “Sweetheart—” Josh shot her a rebuking look “—how many times have I said you’re asking for trouble when you leave your wedding band at home?”

  Still gaping at Josh’s bizarre behavior, Morgan didn’t respond.

  Josh advanced within arm’s reach. His genial facade didn’t alter, and seemingly unruffled, he rocked easily from his heels to the balls of his feet with his hands shoved in the back pockets of his jeans.

  What game was he playing?

  The man dragged her closer. “That’s only two reasons. The third better be good, ‘cause I ain’t heard nothing yet to change my mind.”

  When Josh grinned, a dangerous light flickered in his dark eyes, and she read what he’d managed to hide until now.

  The clod who held her had to be crazy as well as drunk. Was he blind to the coiled strength in Josh’s broad shoulders and muscled arms, the heightened alertness of his long, powerful legs, his weight balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to spring, and the killer glare behind the friendly cast of his brown eyes?

  Josh pulled his hands from his pockets and dropped them at his sides. “The third reason’s too good to waste if I don’t have to. Just let the lady go.”

  The beefy man snorted like an enraged bull and turned away, hauling Morgan with him.

  Josh lunged and clamped the man’s shoulder in a steel grip. “Hey, good buddy. You can’t leave yet. I haven’t told you the third reason.”

  “Huh?” Groggy from drink, the man turned back toward Josh. “Okay, give it to me, so I can get on with my fun.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Thinking she’d imagined Josh’s leashed threat, Morgan bit back her disgust and twisted in the man’s drunken grip. If Josh were any friendlier with the old coot, the pair would soon be slow-dancing in the parking lot.

  “Yeah,” the man said, “show me.”

  Josh shrugged. “Just remember, you asked for it.”

  In the blink of an eye, Josh’s expression changed from genial to deadly. He raised his right hand, formed a massive fist and held it in front of the man’s reddened nose. “This is the third reason.”

  Before the man could comprehend what was happening, Josh landed a jarring punch on her captor’s jaw. The blow broke the man’s hold on her, and he slid to the ground against a nearby car, out cold.

  Dumbfounded, Morgan waited as Josh strode to the diner, opened the door and yelled, “Somebody call 911. A man’s passed out in the parking lot.”

  He pivoted, loped back to her and grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

  When he broke into a run, she raced to keep up with him.

  A few minutes later, she was safely ensconced in the dim interior of the Chevy next to Josh, who appeared as calm as if nothing had happened.

  He wasn’t even breathing hard.

  “Thanks,” she said after catching her breath. “Rescuing me is getting to be a habit with you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His grin thawed his usual aloofness. “Private Investigator Josh, at your service to fend off amorous drunks, deter kidnappers, slay dragons and hang the moon.”

  She nestled against the seat with a contented sigh.

  Slay dragons and hang the moon?

  She was beginning to believe he actually could.

  JOSH WAITED for the hubbub outside the diner to die down. And for his furious blood to cool. As soon as he had picked up the old redneck’s lecherous comments on the transmitter, he had sprinted to the diner, ready to tear the man limb from limb.

  No longer could he kid himself that protecting Morgan Winters was just a job, an obligation he’d accepted on a friend’s behalf. Keeping her safe had become his personal, private crusade.

  And tonight, keeping her safe had just become a whole lot more complicated.

  He had been a fool to expect he could touch the silky smoothness of her skin, skim the rounded contours of her breasts and the warm expanse of her midriff without being stirred. As much as he wanted to deny it, his reflex had been more than basic lust. Deep caring and respect undergirded his desire. He longed to worship her with his body.

  That longing could get them both killed.

  A lot of good his self-lecture earlier in the evening had done. If he didn’t find some way to switch off his fascination with the incredibly brave, beautiful woman at his side, he would be useless in a crisis.

  Even if his infatuation didn’t impede his effectiveness, another major complication hindered any chance of involvement with her. In Morgan’s eyes, Josh would be a first-class jerk if he encouraged her to reciprocate his feelings. Morgan was married to Ben.

  Now there was a hell of a snafu.

  She insisted the marriage was in name only, but he sensed her fondness for Ben and her reluctance to betray him in any way.

  “What are we waiting for?” Morgan said.

  What indeed? For two cents, he would abandon every principle and make love to her like a sexstarved teenager, right on the front seat. Defying a hunger that was almost agonizing, he scanned the distant diner and addressed the real intent of her question.

  “We’re waiting for the crowd to disperse. It shouldn’t take long now. Don Juan de Bubba is conscious and someone’s helping him inside.”

  She shivered, as if remembering the creep’s advances. “I take it the mike works?”

  “Loud and clear. And a good thing, too.” He flashed her a teasing glance. “Unless you were looking forward to a tumble in the back of his pickup.”

  “You are so bad,” she said in mock outrage.

  As he had hoped, his joking made her smile and released the magnetic tension that sizzled between them in the warm intimacy of the Chevy.

  A car, pulling out of the parking lot, swept her face with its headlights.

  “Much better,” Josh said. “Your color’s coming back.”

  Her expression sobered. “The worst is still ahead.”

  “Right.” He squelched his tenderness and returned to business. “All’s clear at the diner. Let’s walk, and I’ll fill you in on the plan.”

  He climbed from the car, waited for her to join him, then crossed the dunes to smooth sands, damp from the ebbing tide. Together they strolled along the water’s edge where a night heron squawked and skittered from their path, and the gentle splash of curling surf accompanied their steps. Velvet darkness surrounded them, alleviated only by myriad crystals of moonlight reflected on the waves.

  “I can’t stress too much,” Josh said, “how dangerous going to the plant complex will be. If you want to back out now, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  She shook her head. “All my life I’ve been afraid of taking risks, like when I didn’t move to Florida with Dad after high school. As a result, I’ve made some terrible mistakes.”

  Her earnestness renewed his tenderness toward her. “Maybe you’re being too hard on yourself.”

  “No. Just realistic. For instance, if I’d dared to come here with Dad, I could have spent more time with him.”

  “You couldn’t know your father would die so young,” he said. “Hindsight’s always twentytwenty.”

  “True, but all my life I’ve taken the safe path—the secure but boring job, a bland but practical apartment, dull but dependable friends. I’ve avoided men who—”

  She bit off the words as if she’d said too much, and trudged on, her hands thrust in her jacket pockets, her navy scarf billowing behind her in twin streamers. Her small sneakers left no indentations in the wet sand, as if she were a figment of his heated imagination instead of flesh and blood, a bewitching contradiction of substance and illusion.

  She stopped suddenly and faced him. “By playin
g it safe, I’ve led a boring life and accomplished nothing. There has to be more to living than that. If going to the plant tonight means I can bring Lashner to justice and stop the sale of that dangerous formula, maybe I’ll make up for what I’ve failed to do in the past.”

  Fervor laced her voice, but in spite of her ferocious declaration to wager on her future, she looked achingly uncertain. Unable to stop himself, he reached out, cradled her face in his hands and lowered his lips to hers.

  She didn’t withdraw. After an inhalation of surprise, she raised on tiptoe and returned the pressure of his lips. Her lips parted, deepening the kiss, and she tasted of salt and sweetness and all the best things that were missing in his lonely life. When she lifted her arms to his neck and twisted her fingers in his hair, he wondered if the same frenzied desire that smoldered in his gut was burning in hers.

  Had he lost his mind?

  He jerked away as if singed, having done the very thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. He withdrew his untrustworthy hands from her face, rammed them into his pockets and set off down the beach.

  Morgan followed, half running to keep up.

  “Sorry,” he said when she reached him. “That was a stupid thing to do.”

  “Should I take that as an insult?”

  He couldn’t tell if her breathlessness came from exertion or hurt. He longed to embrace her again, but didn’t dare. As long as he kept his hands in his pockets and his feet moving, maybe he could keep his head straight, too.

  “You’re one distracting lady,” he said with a flippancy he didn’t feel. “Tonight I can’t be distracted.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who should learn to take risks.” Her soft voice fired through him like a shot of whiskey effervescing in his veins, making him light-headed with desire.

  “With another man’s wife?” He was purposely glacial, distancing himself.

  Her sharp intake of breath indicated he’d scored a hit.

  “As for risks—” he thrust a barrier of cold, hard facts between them “—you’ll be taking risk enough for both of us tonight. Lashner intends to kill you.”

  “My husband,” she threw back at him with feisty emphasis, “has hired you to make sure that doesn’t happen.”