Then the drum stopped, the trance broken. When she glanced over the crowd, her chest heaved, breasts rose and fell, looking for air, and she smiled. She smiled at Nicolas. Michael felt her heat, her power. He’d bet Nicolas did too.
Too damn bad, he said to himself, racing back to his car. Michael wasn’t about to let that thief, his target, touch her. He wouldn’t let anyone touch her. Shoving the key in the ignition, he slammed the car into drive and lead footed it out of there. She was his. And he was hers. Tonight he would make sure she knew that.
Outside her bedroom door, he peered through the panes of glass.
He arrived right after Ruby and Nicolas. It didn’t take but a minute or two to get around the perimeter of the house to the patio off her room, but Ruby wasn’t there. He raked his fingers through his hair and checked his watch. What the hell took so long? She couldn’t have gone to his room? She wouldn’t.
When he saw a shadow, he stopped jimmying the lock with his all-purpose tool. She strode into the room and marched up to the dresser. Something was off. Her face flushed, and her hazel eyes had a gleam. She opened the drawer with a cautious tug. What had happened? What had Nicolas done to her? He had to get in there.
Before Michael crossed the threshold, he saw her take out a blue piece of paper. Damn. The next thing he knew, he stared down the barrel of a handgun at eyes flashing gold and angry. A tense silence enveloped the room.
When the hammer cocked, it broke the deafening quiet. Hearing it startled him into awareness. Ruby stood five feet from him, her breathing shallow and ragged. Her eyes remained fixed but cloudy. The woman he loved held a gun on him, her finger on the trigger, staring down the site but not seeing him.
His heart in his throat, Michael had to tread very lightly. If he didn’t, he was dead. The woman was too good a shot to miss at this distance. He should know, he taught her. Releasing a breathless sigh, he spoke her name. “Ruby.”
Her hand wavered and a whimper escaped her lips, but she didn’t lower the weapon.
“Ruby, it’s me, Mickey. Put down the gun, sweet cheeks.” His hands in front of him, not blocking his face, he waved the gun down.
“Mickey.”
Her voice just above a whisper, Ruby said his name. She came out of the fog.
“Yes, Cat, it’s me, Mickey. Please stop aiming that at me.”
“Mickey.”
He saw her blink, then focus on him, realization flooding her eyes. “Oh, Mickey, I could have shot you. I almost shot you.”
“You still might if you don’t put the gun away.” She didn’t know she still held it. He watched as she blinked again, cleared the rest of the haze, and became instantly aware of him, and the Lady Derringer she held trained on him.
A breath of air whooshed out of her as she lowered the weapon and dropped to the bed as though her quivering muscles could hold her up no more. In an instant, Michael fell to his knees at her feet. He slipped the small, stainless steel derringer from her grasp and pocketed it. Then he touched her. His hands roamed up and down her slender arms, searching, reassuring. She was chilled, not wounded.
“Ruby, what is it? What happened? Is it Nicolas? Did he do something? Did he touch you? Hurt you? Cat, talk to me.” He couldn’t prevent the pleading in his voice. His thumb stroked across her cheek, wiped away the tear about to fall.
“Don’t cry, Cat. It’s all right. I’m here. I’m all right. You didn’t shoot me. Although I’m sure there have been plenty of times you wanted to.” She giggled. Good, she heard him. She relaxed.
Was he trembling or was it her? It didn’t matter. She was safe, unharmed, and here. He wanted to touch her, hold her, and reassure her and himself. He sat next to her on the foot of the bed and pulled her into his arms, wrapped them tight around her, offering his warmth and support.
“I could have killed you,” she whispered into his chest. Her arms snaked around his waist squeezed him. He figured she needed to know he was there and real and alive just like he did.
He clutched her, tighter. “But you didn’t. Cat, look at me.”
With his forefinger, he tilted her chin up from his chest so she could see him. “I’m all right.” He grinned as he peered into those catlike eyes wanting her to see him. Then he kissed her, soft, tender.
When he stopped kissing her, she whimpered. He gazed at her, saw the beseeching glow of amber and a hint of green, and realized she needed him, the touch of him. He needed her. With the back of his hand, Michael caressed Ruby’s cheek, brushed the pad of his thumb across her lips, watched as her eyes darkened to emerald at his touch. His mouth dry, he murmured, “Let me show you.”
He nibbled at her lower lip, heard the moan escape her as her lips parted slightly for more. He crushed his mouth to hers and hungrily delved those parted lips with his tongue, tasted her. She tasted of Mai Tai and sweetness.
“So damn sweet,” he said, when he came up for air. He wasn’t sweet, had never been sweet. He had seen too much, done too much. But, her gentleness, her charm, and caring made him want to be sweet. For Ruby.
He loved this woman. Bursting to tell her, but he couldn’t. The words were too risky. He would show her, make her understand she’d touched him in a way no woman ever had or could. He’d tell her he loved her without the words.
Sliding his right arm under her knees, he scooped her up, and carried her to the side of the bed, laid her on it. He sat beside her, took her hands, felt the crumpled paper, and tossed it to the floor. Then he held her hands in his, pressed against his heart. Brushing stray blonde strands from her face, he implored her. “Ruby, listen.”
He begged her to hear his unspoken words.
She listened, but he didn’t say anything. Looking into his sapphire eyes, Ruby saw Michael. He gazed at her, smiling, the kind of smile that made his baby blues spark. They stirred the embers and ignited a flame. The flame flickered when he kissed her, her toes curled in response as his tongue pressed deep. Her toes had never curled for any other man.
Then he kissed her cheek, her jaw, and worked his way to her ear. “Oh.”
When his tongue caressed her ear, the flame licked higher. Her toes dug into the bedspread, her legs rubbed together in automatic response. His tongue traveled down her neck and Ruby arched up as the heat built. With his tongue, he traced the line of her dress above her breasts. An inch above them, he paused, his breath warm and cool against her skin. The contradiction maddening and exhilarating.
From beneath lowered lids, he peered at her. The blue flashed an intensity she’d never experienced, so powerful the capacity for speech eluded her. Ruby touched him then, a mere brush of her fingertips over his lips. Her heartbeat quickened.
Lowering her lids, she nodded. She understood. Without words, she heard it in her heart. He wanted to love her. He did love her. He needed to show his love.
His arms slipped around her, unzipped her dress. Lowered enough to expose her breasts to him, Michael suckled one then the other, bringing them to hard peaks of pleasure. The feel of his hands brushing against her bare back as he drew it down her body would have made her shatter if he hadn’t spoken.
“Pink.”
Pink? Yes, her dress was pink. Why should that catch his attention, now, when he’d just taken it off her?
When his warm breath flitted against her panties, pink panties, Ruby inhaled and gasped as Michael’s tongue touched her through the lace. A surging heat pooled between her legs, her breathing quickened.
As he continued to travel down her body, nibbling at her inner thighs, kissing the backs of her knees, the arches of her feet, with expert hands Michael removed her pink thong and garter. Before her fever for him lessened, he extricated himself from his clothes.
Beneath lowered lashes, she ogled him. He was beautiful. The moonlight on his body enhanced his magnificence, made him look even more powerful. Ruby reached out to him, opened her legs for him, and opened herself to him in trust, showing him how she felt without words.
He came to her
, lowered his body down to the bed between her thighs. She shivered against him as his warmth engulfed her. He kissed her, nibbled her lower lip, swept his tongue inside her mouth and tasted her. She moaned as his hands explored. She closed her eyes and arched her hips when his fingers entered her, found her wetness. They stroked her again and again, in and out, she met him movement for movement. Like the dance.
He stopped. Panting, out of breath, she ached for release. When she opened her eyes Michael was there, staring at her, a gleam in his gaze and a grin on his face. Then he moved. He drew his tongue down her body, stopping at the spot where his fingers had just been.
His mouth caressed her spot, sucked on it, blew cool air on it driving her crazy. He clasped his hands to hers and buried his tongue in her just like he had his fingers, in and out. Her legs opened, wanting more, more pleasure, more heat, more of Michael. Then his tongue did a figure eight on and around her nub, slow, sweet, and repeated faster and faster. Her hands squeezed his so tight Ruby thought she’d break his fingers.
Before her body erupted into flames, he entered her. She let out a moan and wrapped her legs around him. He was hard to her wet, slow to her fast. The combustible fire between them needed quenching.
Their hands interlaced, their eyes locked, their bodies joined in a rhythmic pattern. He thrust, she rocked. When the tempo was about to hit the crescendo, Michael reached between their bodies and touched her. Her gaze widened, Ruby saw sparks of orange, red, and yellow as the explosion rocketed through them, between them.
TWENTY-FIVE
Michael moved to her side, wrapped his arm around her, and cupped a breast. She giggled and smiled at the possessive gesture. His hard body snuggled against her backside, he spooned her. She could smell him, smell them and their lovemaking. Ruby never wanted to move from his arms.
“Are you okay?”
“Mmmm. I’m wonderful.” She was. Simply, positively, wonderful.
Rolling over in his arms, Ruby faced him. His eyes had reverted from the deep smoky blue of passion to brilliant sapphire.
She shivered.
“Cold?” He pulled her closer giving her more of his body heat.
“No.” No, she wasn’t cold. She was scared. Reality came flooding back to her. The blue paper. The note.
She jumped from his arms and scampered off the bed. “Where is it? What did I do with it?”
“The derringer?” Michael asked, his disapproval dripping from his question.
The gun. Oh, no, the gun. She went to him. On her knees, next to the bed, she touched his face, ran her fingertips across his cheeks, his eyes, his lips. He was real. He was alive. She hadn’t killed Michael and neither had anyone else.
“Oh, Mickey, I almost shot you.” Her voice quivered when she spoke, relaying her fear.
“Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”
She smiled. “I know.” She kissed him over and over, smothered his face with her lips. “Thank goodness. I’m very grateful you’re still here. I would have missed you.”
“Glad to hear it, sweet cheeks.” He swatted her tushy.
Then she gained her feet, searching again.
“Ruby, what are you looking for? The gun is in my pocket.”
“Blue. Paper. Note. Threat.”
The crumpled piece of paper he’d taken from her hand when he placed her on the bed. She was so cute. Unaware of her state, she searched the room naked. He would have kept watching, but she looked frantic in her hurried movement and if he didn’t help her he would have to worry about his own state again.
Reaching over the side of the bed, Michael ran his hand under the bedskirt and felt it.
He held it up in his fingers. “Is this what you’re frantically seeking?”
“Yes.” She all but pounced on him before he pulled it back from her reach.
“What is it? A love note from your new roommate?”
Small knotted fists flew to her hips. Uh-oh.
“Michael, give it to me, please.” It was a demand, not a request. She held her hand out, expected him to obey.
How could he not smile? She stood there butt naked, hair tousled from their lovemaking, avoiding the discussion of her little gun, obstinate and challenging. He enjoyed this woman.
“Let’s see what loverboy has to say.”
He opened the crumpled paper. It wasn’t from loverboy, Nicolas.
The note read, “Treachery is rewarded with death.”
His heart kicked in his chest, Michael’s gaze flew to hers. She was ghostly white. Swallowing the lump, he tasted the bile that clogged his throat. He wanted to kill the man who stalked her, threatened her, and made her tremble in fear.
“Come here, Cat.”
She shook, but came to him. Taking her in his arms, pulling her down to his lap, he held her.
“Is this what you found when I walked in? Is this why you held a gun on me? Were you going to tell me?” He closed his eyes, prayed she trusted him enough to tell him.
She nodded against his chest.
“Yes, to which part?”
“All three.”
Expelling the breath he’d held, a rush of relief and gratitude washed over him. Thank you.
“The note was in your dresser? Was there anything else?” He saw her swallow, and then nod.
“When I first came into the room the book was askew on the nightstand and the shoes in the closet were scattered.”
Disentangling himself from Ruby, interrupting her story, Michael walked to the closet. Inside, the shoes looked trampled on.
“I checked the outer room and then came back to my underwear drawer.”
“Underwear drawer?” He arched a quizzical brow and smirked knowing the explanation would be interesting and entertaining.
“Quit looking at me like I’m a whack job. You told me I had to be able to tell if someone had entered my room and whether that someone searched it. I put quarters under my panties. If someone opened the drawer without worrying about disturbing the contents or rummaged through it the quarters would be disturbed.”
He watched her swallow again, look down at her feet, and gather her composure.
“The blue paper was right on top.”
Just like the note left in his drawer when they were in Florida. She was done. As soon as possible, he would ship her off. His drive to catch the thief, Nicolas La Rue, had clouded his reasoning. If she had been any other agent, he’d have sent her packing long before this. Time was up.
From the bottom of the closet, he hauled out a suitcase, hefted it to the bed, plopped it down, and unzipped it. Not wanting to speak yet, he opened the infamous underwear drawer, lifted out sexy panties of silk and lace, groaned in frustration as he gave himself a woody, and dropped them in the suitcase.
“Until I can get you safely out of Hawaii, you’ll stay with me.”
She pushed to her feet, hands on hips and stared at him. Without a word, Ruby regarded him, giving thought to his words, he hoped.
“You’ll never leave my sight.”
She continued to stare at him in silence, color rising in her cheeks. What the hell was wrong with her? Why was she just standing there?
“Damn it, Ruby.” Frustrated, anger boiled inside him. Michael raked his fingers through his hair. “Don’t you get it? Someone left you a threatening note, left it in your room in Nicolas’s house. How do you know it wasn’t Nicolas?”
“It wasn’t,” she disagreed, her voice flat.
“How do you know?”
“Don’t you think I thought of that? Can’t you give me a little credit? Nicolas didn’t have the time or the opportunity. He was with me all day.”
Her voice tinged with a bit of venom, he shrank from its bite, recoiled and struck.
“Not all day, sweet cheeks. He was alone for a period of time. I recall you, me, and a coffee shop, but no Nicolas.”
Tossing her arms in the air in exasperated fashion, she got in his face. “Fine. You’re right. Happy?”
> “No.” He wasn’t happy, he was furious. Someone threatened the woman he loved, and she was stubborn. He was not happy at all.
“Be realistic. Nicolas didn’t have enough time to leave the office, drive out here, search the room, leave a threatening note, and then meet me back at the office so we could go out on a date. That’s ridiculous, not to mention impossible. We both know who it was. The same person who left me notes in Florida and was at the coffee shop today.”
“Let’s say that’s the case. How did your ex get into this house and this room?”
“The same way you did?” she shot back.
“Yeah. Which means the alarm was not armed, probably because there was staff in the house. He picked the lock on the same door I did, and could do it again.” He emphasized the last word, trying to drive home the point at the same time chase the image of a man creeping into her room out of his own head.
“All right, let’s try this a different way.” Struggling to keep his voice low and controlled, Michael made his demand. “I’m not asking you to leave this house, I’m telling you.”
As soon as the demand crossed his lips he knew there would be hell to pay. Well, bring on damnation, he could handle the heat.
Michael winced. Her gaze pierced him, jolting him with anger. Hazel eyes burned lasers through his soul. What was he to do? He couldn’t leave her here. It wasn’t safe.
If Jake was there at least someone would have been on guard. But Jake wasn’t. A tropical storm caused delays in his flight. Michael emailed Jake the tracking device ID of Ruby’s necklace so when he did appear he’d be on her like a hawk. Every move she made, he’d be there. Then Michael wouldn’t have to worry...as much.
“Before you make a final decision…”
He cut her off. “My decision is made.”
“Then I’ll just show you what I accomplished today anyway.”
“Besides learning the hula?” he jested.
“Where’s Luey?” she asked, ignoring his barb.
Her and that damn laptop. He reached over next to him and tugged on the bag that held the computer.
It Happens in Threes Page 26
