They'd met two years ago at a thousand-dollar-a-plate fundraiser, the decorations of which had been designed by her committee. It was a night she'd never forget, because she'd never realized until then that a person could meet someone and feel such instant recognition, as if their souls spoke to one another. After just one conversation with the tall, unbelievably handsome guy in the perfectly fitted tux, she'd known he was the man for her.
Ordinarily someone with his good looks would have made her feel tongue-tied and self-conscious, but it was as if he didn't realize how devastatingly gorgeous he was, and he'd made her feel pretty and witty, too. Then, in the days that followed, he'd given her a rush that had simply swept her off her feet. They'd gotten married four short months later, and Christopher had promptly given up his apartment in Bellingham to move into the Beaumont estate and had exchanged his job for a post in the family business.
He walked over to stare down at her now, and when his golden eyebrows gathered over his nose she thought for an instant that he'd read her thoughts. But apparently that wasn't the case.
"So I'm repeating myself," he growled with a shrug of one muscular shoulder. "So sue me—I know how easily you allow Cassidy to undermine your confidence. But I swear to you, Jess, the instant I concluded my business call, my intention was to head down to breakfast like I told you I would. I didn't anticipate Cassidy waylaying me in the upstairs hall to moan about her dead BMW and an appointment she simply had to make."
"Yet, there she was at breakfast, with all the time in the world to insult our guest." And that didn't even address the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that Christopher's telephone call had given her. When he'd covered the mouthpiece and urged her to go down to breakfast without him, she'd had the uneasiest feeling that he didn't want her overhearing his end of the conversation.
But her husband had a way of allaying all her fears, and he did so now. "What can I say?" he asked smoothly. "It was typical Cassidy bullshit. As soon as I determined her problem was only a rundown battery because as usual she hadn't bothered to make sure the driver's door was fully closed, I offered to jump-start the car. But no; all of a sudden she's no longer in a big galloping hurry and decided she simply had to have breakfast." He ran his fingertips down Jessica's cheek as he gazed earnestly into her eyes. "We both know she's just trying to cause trouble."
And darned if it wasn't working, too, Jessica thought unhappily. She could literally feel all her insecurities kicking in, but she drew a deep, quiet breath, then slowly eased it out again, refusing to let them get the better of her. Helping with the breakfast preparations this morning had made her feel good about herself, and she wanted to hang on to the sensation, to experience again that boost to her confidence. She looked up at Christopher and changed the subject. "Lily said she could teach me how to cook."
"She did, huh? And that appeals to you?"
"Yes." She laughed. "Isn't that silly?"
"Hell, no. Not if it gives you pleasure." He studied her face. "You like her, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. She's nice, and she makes me laugh."
"There's not many who can claim that distinction these days." He sounded almost bitter, but before she could decide if she were imagining things or not, he asked, "What's your take on her relationship to Taylor?"
She looked at him in surprise. "They're lovers," she said immediately. Then hesitantly, "Don't you think?"
"Did she say as much?"
"Well, no, but look at her. Look at him. And there's that… electricity when the two of them are in the same room. I simply assumed—"
Christopher shook his head. "I don't know, babe. I don't deny the chemistry, but he has a way of looking at her that makes me believe they haven't actually done the deed yet."
And just like that, Jessica's feeling of well-being collapsed. "Well, perfect," she said flatly. Stepping back, she pushed her hair out of her eyes with both hands and stared up at her husband in frustration. "Once again my sterling ability to read people and situations shines through."
Bewilderment drew his golden eyebrows together as Christopher looked down at her. "Why would you feel an investment in their love life?"
She blew out a disgusted breath. "Because, helpful me, I arranged for them to be in adjoining rooms."
Braced for rejection, Zach took a moment to change gears. "What d'you mean, okay ?" he demanded, shoving back in order to stare down at Lily. "Okay, as in that's your response to my 'I get the rejection' comment? Or okay, as in yes?"
"Okay, as in yes. I'm curious, all right?" But even as bravado tilted Lily's chin up, she wondered what the heck she was doing. This was sooo not smart and immediately she tried to backpedal. "Look, just forget it. It was one of those impetuous speak-before-you-think things, but it's a dumb idea. An extremely dumb—"
"Oh, no you don't," he growled. "You said 'okay.' Too late to change your mind now." And hooking a warm hand behind her neck, he pulled her away from the wall, lowered his head, and rocked his mouth over hers.
Pleasure splintered through her in amazing abundance, considering it wasn't some deep, wet soul kiss.
Zach's lips were slightly parted, and his mouth worked hers masterfully, but he kept his tongue to himself. Even without it, however— boy , the man could kiss! His lips teased, and then delivered on every promise. They brushed hers lightly… then not so lightly… then firmly rubbed her lips apart. When his mouth suddenly sealed itself over hers and lightly sucked, she came right up onto her toes. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she offered up her mouth for more and impulsively skimmed the tip of her tongue along the slick, inner curve of his bottom lip where it adhered to her own.
Making an uncivilized sound, Zach slanted his mouth over hers with just the slightest hint of roughness and pressed her back against the wall. He spread his thighs and bent his knees until he was on a more equitable level with her much shorter stature, then plunged his hands into her hair to hold her head firmly. His kiss grew more insistent but still remained relatively chaste. Until, with a rumble of frustration, his hot tongue suddenly slid past her teeth to probe her receptive mouth.
Lily fell as if she'd plunged her fingers into a live socket—electricity shot from the damp thrust of Zach's tongue straight to her nipples, her fingertips, her toes. Muscles deep between her thighs tightened. She moaned and kissed him back for all she was worth, chasing the aggressive pump of his tongue with her own until the two slid and retreated from each other in a damp, fervent tango.
Lifting his mouth a moment later, he whispered a ragged curse, turned his head to come at her from another angle, then dove back into the kiss. His fingers tangled in her hair for a second, then slowly slid free to stroke down the sides of her neck, over the curves of her shoulders and along the hollows of her underarms. The heels of his hands lightly skimmed the sides of Lily's breasts, but before she could fully inhale the breath she'd sucked in, his clever hands had already continued on to smooth along her ribcage, to trace the dip of her waistline, then slide onto the fullness of her hips. There his fingers sank in, and he suddenly lifted her up as he straightened to his full height.
With a startled exclamation, she pulled her mouth free and tightened her grip around his neck. But Zach obviously had no intention of letting her slip, and the next thing Lily knew, she was pressed between the hard wainscoting and his even harder body, her feet dangling a good foot off the floor as he recaptured her lips. Not about to hang there like a rag doll, she wrapped her legs around his narrow hips.
He made a satisfied noise deep in his throat, and his hands slid around to grasp the full curves of her bottom. Continuing to kiss her senseless, he made minor adjustments to her position. Then all of a sudden the achy notch between her legs aligned with the hard length of his erection. Nerves sang throughout Lily's entire body, and involuntarily, her pelvis surged forward to maintain the delicious contact.
And control of the kiss abruptly went up in flames.
Zach's mouth turned fierce, and the sheer
pressure against Lily's lips ground her head back against the wall. She barely noticed. All she was truly cognizant of was the taste of his kiss, the heat of his body, and the hardness of his sex rocking, rocking, rocking against hers.
Then, without warning, he ripped his mouth free and, his breath sawing harshly, whispered a foul word. A second later, Lily was dumped back on her feet. Blinking like a mole suddenly flung into the light, she leaned weakly against the wall and peered up at him. "Zach?"
Then she, too, heard what his sharper ears had obviously already picked up. Footsteps tapped rapidly up the stairs. Smoothing her hair back, then nervously running her hands over herself to make sure all her clothing was still in place, she watched as Jessica's bitchy sister raced into view.
"Good, you're here," Cassidy said breathlessly. "The kidnapper just called."
Chapter 12
ZACH SWORE AND HEADED FOR THE STAIRS WITHground-eating strides. What the hell was the matter with him? He was a trained strategist, for God's sake, but when his sister was in the clutches of a kidnapper and he should be manning, or at the very least somewhere in the vicinity of a telephone, what was he doing? Making out with little Lily Morrisette, that's what! It made him furious, not only with himself and the kidnapper, but with her, too, for being the constant temptation that she was.
And yet…
Lily wasn't the one who'd initiated that red-hot necking session. She wasn't the one who'd said "I want to kiss you," and then picked him up and dry humped him against the nearest wall. This one's all on you, cowboy .
Big mistake. Big, big mistake. Yet even so, he found he couldn't completely regret having gotten his mitts on something as purely delicious as she was—no matter how irresponsible. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated, and hearing her clattering down the steps behind him, twisted around.
She caught up in that instant, arriving in his wake slightly out of breath—no doubt from racing after him in those silly-ass shoes. She faltered to a stop one step above him, which put them on a more equitable level than usual, and staring at him, she was all hot pink cheeks, mussed-up hair, and guilty eyes.
He grasped her chin. "You okay?" he demanded, and couldn't quite prevent his thumb from making a brief pass over her bottom lip. It was soft and damp.
She nodded.
"Good." Turning her loose, he then did what years in the military had taught him to do: He compartmentalized, putting her firmly out of his mind as he walked into the parlor.
Mrs. Beaumont was there, once again in hysterics. He gritted his teeth, not wanting the kidnappers to hear her panic. He opened his mouth to shut her up, then snapped his teeth closed when he looked at the phone and saw that wouldn't present a particular problem today.
The receiver was firmly on the hook.
He about-faced smartly to look at her. "What the hell is this?"
"I tried to get him to hold on until you got here," she cried. "I did."
"That's right, she did," Cassidy said, strolling into the room behind Lily. "She told him she was the maid , of all things." She shook her head as if lowering one's standards to such a degree was simply beyond her comprehension, then shrugged and stepped in close to Zach. "She also sent me after you. And let me tell you"—reaching out, she trailed a fingernail from his collarbone to his chest—"I haven't run that fast since… well, I've never run that fast." She lightly traced a downward path over the ridges of his abdomen.
He snatched her hand before it reached his belt and pressed it back against her own midsection. "Lady, don't waste my time."
Ignoring the sudden anger that replaced her seductive expression, he turned his attention back to Mrs. Beaumont. He had some anger of his own to deal with, but he sucked it in. This wasn't the time. In truth, were he to do a quick soul search, he had the unsettling thought he might discover that his own anger had been misplaced just a little too often recently.
He swallowed a curse, then a sigh, and admitted to himself that he hadn't handled this situation very well. He'd been commanding soldiers for so long he'd sort of forgotten that a middle-aged woman wasn't a recruit to be slapped into shape. Standing in front of him was a distraught mother, and he should never have taken her disregard of his sister's danger personally. He was all shook up at suddenly finding himself on the relative-of-the-victim end of the spectrum, and at least he had some experience with the sort of tactics kidnappers used. He could only imagine how terrified they'd made her. So he bit back the harsh words on the tip of his tongue and asked gently, "You attempted to convince him you were the maid?"
"I did. I really tried, Zach, but he said 'don't give me that, you old bitch,' and called me other horrid names, and he kept hammering at me and hammering at me to admit who I was. He told me over and over again what he'd do to David if I didn't confess who I was and start talking to him—if I didn't do exactly as he said. And I got so rattled, I didn't know if I was coming or going."
Her face was deathly white, her breathing too rapid and shallow, and Zach stepped forward and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Take slow, deep breaths, Mrs. B.," he said. "I want you to listen to me. You gave it your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you. Remember what I told you about terror tactics. The kidnapper wants you rattled, so let's work on not letting him win. We can beat him if you don't fail apart on me."
She stared up at him pleadingly, and he said firmly, "We are going to get David and Glynnis back—you can take that to the bank. That's right," he commended as she finally drew in a breath that was deep enough to be steadying and then slowly exhaled it. "Breathe. Now another." Once her respiration slowed and a little color returned to her cheeks, he held her at arm's length. "Tell me as concisely as you can everything that was said. You can leave off the parts you've already told me." he added hastily when her breathing promptly sped up and grew choppy again. "For instance, are we definitely dealing with a man?"
"Yes. of cour—" She gave him a startled look. "That is—I just assumed he was. But he never actually spoke above a whisper."
"So it's not impossible it was a woman?"
"No, but—" She cut herself off, waving her hand as if to push her objection aside. "Never mind. You'll think I'm silly."
"Tell me anyhow."
"Well… it's just that I got the feeling it was a man." Color touched her cheeks. "I told you it was silly."
"Not necessarily. I'm a soldier, ma'am; I never discount the gut. Quite often a hunch, or woman's intuition, or whatever you want to call it, is actually an observation that you can't put an exact name to, but which the subconscious has noted all the same. So, for now, we'll go with your feeling and assume our kidnapper's a man. Did he make any demands?"
Lily's scent curled around his senses a nanosecond before her manicured hand came into view with a cup of coffee that she offered to the older woman. "Here, Mrs. B.," she said. "I poured this from the thermal pot in the dining room. It's hot and it's bracing. Take a sip—the caffeine will do you good."
"Thank you." Mrs. Beaumont wrapped her hands around the eggshell-thin china cup. Although she didn't immediately drink the coffee, she seemed to take comfort from the warmth that emanated from its container. She stared down into it as if mesmerized for a moment, then looked back up at Zach. "He said he wants a million dollars, and he wants it in bills of small denomination. Nothing larger than a fifty."
"Do you have that kind of money?" If she didn't, he could sell off enough of the Taylor holdings so that, between them, they could come up with it.
She nodded. "Yes. But it will probably take a few days to liquidate part of the business in order to put that much together. Christopher and Richard would know more about that aspect of it than I do."
"Did you tell the kidnapper that it would take a few days?"
"Yes."
"And what was his response?" No doubt a recitation of all the painful things he'd do to her son if she didn't produce it sooner. The kidnapper's desire would be to keep her properly alarmed—that was standard opera
ting procedure for these jokers. Zach could swear sometimes that there must be a Kidnapping 101 textbook out there advising thugs to always keep the families of their victims off balance—even if nine times out of ten they fully intended to allow them the time necessary to raise the money.
"He told me we have five days to get it together."
"He told you—" Cutting himself off to keep his incredulity from showing, he said smoothly, "That's good news. Excellent, really."
So why did it give him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach?
Probably because you're a suspicious sonuvabitch by nature, pal. But still… five days? He squared his shoulders and tried to tell himself that just because this differed from the way these scenarios generally played out, it didn't make this one dubious.
But when his gut told him something was wrong, he went with it. And he sure as hell didn't screw around trying to convince himself it was because he couldn't do much until the kidnapper called again.
He paced a few steps away, then turned back to look at her. "Are Richard and Christopher still around?"
"Yes, I'm sure they are."
"I need them down here."
She looked almost pathetically grateful to have something to do and promptly walked over to the telephone. Picking up the receiver, she ran a fingertip down a row of buttons and pressed one.
Watching her, Zach realized for the first time that it was the type of system one usually saw in offices. Very efficient for a mansion this size. Speaking urgently into the phone for a second, she informed the person on the other end that the kidnapper had called, then disconnected, punched another button, and spoke urgently once again. A moment later, she replaced the receiver and nodded to him.
"They'll be down in a minute."
Getting Lucky m-2 Page 13
