Well, he had one more ace in the hole that might help his case. While Kieran hated shooting blind, a man had to use the weapons at hand.
He shifted on the bed, wishing it were larger. He ought to move to the front room, now that Samantha lay sleeping, but his eyelids had grown impossibly heavy.
Kieran lay back, gratefully detecting a faint breeze from the window. In its soothing caress, he fell asleep.
*
He was never sure when the dream ended and the reality began. In the dream, Kieran and Samantha were bathing in the hot springs. He wore his pajama bottoms, which mysteriously avoided getting wet, and she was lounging in her silky nightgown.
Like a mythological goddess, she climbed onto the rocks and lifted her arms to the sky. Then, slowly, she pulled up the negligée, baring slender legs and a tapered waist. The nightgown continued rising of its own accord, revealing the orbs of her breasts and finally flying off into the night. In the strange light of an alien moon, her skin glowed.
She held out her arms to Kieran, and he joined her on the rock. His hands tested on her hips; she cupped his face in her palms, and their lips met.
Afterward, he could almost swear that it was at that moment that he awakened to find Samantha leaning over him, her mouth against his, her fingers exploring the stubbled expanse of his jaw.
"What?" he murmured. It began as a protest, but Kieran was too foggy to remember why he shouldn't enjoy the tantalizing pressure of her tongue against his teeth.
Samantha's body molded to him, the peaks of her breasts pressing against his chest and her legs entwining with his. Primitive desire roared through Kieran. An urgent masculine need made him roll Samantha over and hoist himself above her, ready for the moment of union. Before that, though, he intended to claim every inch of her.
He heard Samantha gasp as his tongue traced her throat. Sliding up the filmy cloth, he framed her inviting breasts with his hands and nibbled at the tips until she moaned and wriggled against him. Not yet, he thought. First she must want him beyond endurance. She must belong to him in every sense.
As his knee parted Samantha's thighs, she stroked the pajamas down from his hips. Nothing lay between them; she opened to his arousal.
Reveling in her spontaneous response, he drew his tongue over Samantha's stomach. She arched, demanding fulfillment. Kieran could hardly contain himself, hardly postpone that moment of domination and surrender, yet he elongated this moment of perfect anticipation.
He tasted her private recesses and felt her shudder with passion. He had become a lion, and Samantha was his savage accomplice. Both huntress and prey, she stalked him with the rhythm of her movements until he could no longer fight his instincts.
When he drove into her, heat transformed him. His body ceased to belong to Kieran French, civilized man, and became a ravaging flame.
Samantha cried out in ecstasy, but he could no longer distinguish her response from his own. They had become a force of nature, merging and parting, her heat tempering and honing his hardness.
He plunged into her with the mounting rhythm of a blaze racing across the landscape. In the pure white-hot fusing of two souls, they melted together. Samantha's great shudder of satisfaction rocketed through Kieran's body, echoed and magnified in his climactic cry.
His arms closed around her and they lay in shallow waters, slowly sinking once more into the dream.
*
When she woke, Samantha vaguely recalled that something had happened, but only gradually did the mists clear. That hadn't been a dream. She'd known it, of course, but had taken what she wanted, buoyed by her half-dazed state.
She gazed at Kieran, sleeping beside her with one arm thrown over his eyes. He wore neither covers nor pajamas, his bronze torso unapologetic in its power. His muscles lay dormant, but she could feel the tension beneath the surface, ready to claim her again.
Sitting up, Samantha rested her chin on her knees. If there was anything she hated thinking about, it was consequences. She'd decided long ago that it was useless to worry about things you couldn't change.
They'd agreed to keep things temporary. Becoming lovers hadn't really changed that, had it? she mused. She was taking birth control pills, and while that didn’t protect against everything, it helped.
Now they wouldn't have to endure the next few weeks in an agony of frustration. It ought to be fun.
*
Kieran hardly spoke during breakfast. He was having trouble sorting out his thoughts.
His body radiated the heat of last night's encounter. He didn't want to drive to San Diego today; he’d much rather throw Samantha across the bed and ravish her again.
He glanced up from his cereal at the woman who sat across the table leafing through a magazine. He was grateful that she'd picked up supplies yesterday so they didn't have to eat in the dining hall. In their current state, they’d be poor company—and no doubt spark plenty of teasing.
Kieran cleared his throat. "Well." That seemed like a good beginning, but what came next? "I suppose we'd better get this over with."
"Get what over with?" Amber eyes regarded him above the magazine. The front cover featured a woman in a tiny bikini and the legend: How To Drive Your Man Crazy This Summer. "Well, shoot."
He swallowed. "I’m going back to sleeping on the couch."
She lowered the magazine. “Why?”
“For one thing, you might start believing we’re really married.” He didn’t mean that the way it sounded. “Not that, if things were different, we might not…”
“If you're worried that I'll refuse to sign the quitclaim, let me set your mind at ease,” Samantha said steadily. “Hidden Hot Springs is a great place, Kieran, but I wouldn't try to cheat you."
He hadn’t seriously thought she would. But one never could tell. "Let's just say that you've been known to change your mind."
"The way you did last night?" she teased.
"Who was it that begged me to stay in her room?"
"You're supposed to be immune to my feminine wiles," she shot back.
"Hey," he said. "You knew I was a man when you married me."
They both laughed, and Kieran realized with a start that the dynamics had shifted between them. It wasn't only the union of their bodies, but a sense of being on the same side of the joke.
Dangerous ground. "The truth is, I never changed my mind."
"Oh?" said Samantha. "I thought you were determined not to consummate our marriage."
"We didn't," he said, grasping at straws.
"Didn’t we?" Her eyebrows rose.
Kieran tried to think like a lawyer. Heaven knows, he’d had enough dealings with them over the years. "We didn't because we had no intent to consummate our marriage," he improvised. "We were both half-asleep and recovering from a shock."
Pathetic. You’d never convince a judge. A jury would award her both your ears and your tail, if you had one.
Samantha stood so abruptly she jolted the table, which clunked into place amid the rattle and chink of dishware. "Well, fine. We didn't really sleep together last night because both of us are mentally incompetent, especially you. Does that satisfy you, Mr. French?"
"It’ll do," he conceded.
She stalked into the bedroom, the hem of her robe flapping angrily in her wake. Embarrassed by his behavior, Kieran cleared the dishes and gathered the information for his lawyer. The papers detailed the progress of construction, the status of loans and the agreements made to the men. And one more sheet of paper, one that might do the trick if all else failed.
When Samantha returned, he noticed that her camp shirt was tied at the waist, baring a delightful stretch of skin. She'd worn jeans instead of shorts this morning. This must be her idea of dressing up for the city.
Fine with him, Kieran mused, and dug through the closet for a suit.
Chapter Ten
"This marriage business won’t change things, I'm afraid," Joel Phillips said after he finished congratulating them.
; “Not even a little?” Samantha asked, disappointed for Kieran’s sake.
“It does eliminate one possible line of attack,” he responded. “But the weight of her argument remains.”
The lawyer was a slim, quick man with an office on the third floor of a five-story building. Samantha gathered that he was an old friend of Kieran's who, like the other associates, was working for a share of the project.
"I have something else to show you," Kieran told Joel.
Samantha regarded him quizzically but, when he didn't explain, she let the matter drop. He'd made it clear this morning that she shouldn’t expect to get too involved in his business or his life. She didn't understand why the guy had to be so stubborn. As for consummating their marriage, Samantha had no idea of the technicalities, but they'd sure as heck made love.
Well, so what? In a few weeks she'd be off to the Caribbean, or elsewhere. She’d put Kieran out of her mind permanently.
He seemed to relax after she signed the quitclaim, but Samantha could see that he preferred to talk to Joel alone. That was fine with her. "When is Beatrice showing up?" she asked.
Joel glanced at his watch. "In about fifteen minutes."
"Until then, I’d like to go make a few calls.” She’d bought a disposal phone earlier today. “Is there an empty office I could use?"
Joel directed her to one down the hall. Samantha hurried past the elevators. Having a phone of her own restored her sense of being in control.
Earlier, after finding one of Kieran's tires flat. they'd driven her red sports car into San Diego. As it turned out, they needn’t have worried about taking time to change the tire. Thanks to light traffic and her fast driving, they’d arrived early,
They'd stopped at her post-office box—nothing there but junk mail—and then at a shopping center. While Kieran bought an air mattress at a sporting-goods store, Samantha had loaded up on nonperishable foods, a few pots and pans and a disposable phone. With a few minutes to spare, she’d ducked into another store for ready-made kitchen curtains. She didn’t understand the urge to improve the cabin, except that she liked to leave a place better off for her presence
Reaching the empty office, Samantha dialed the district attorney's office. Mrs. Gray informed her that Hank was still free.
"Aren't you guys going to do anything about it?" Samantha demanded.
"I'll give Mr. Enright another note," the secretary promised, “but don't expect immediate action. He's a very busy man. You wouldn't believe the number of cases on his desk."
"How long does it take to ask a judge to revoke bail?" Samantha strained to keep her tone polite. "If Hank catches up with me, there won't be any case."
"We're working on it," Mrs. Gray assured her. "And the police have some leads to that accomplice. But we need a way to contact you if anything comes up."
"Just a minute." Samantha fumbled in her purse for the card she'd taken from the lawyer's office. "You can leave a message for me here."
Mrs. Gray wrote down the number. "Is this where you're staying?"
"No, I'm only here for the day. Joel Phillips is an attorney. He can reach me."
She hung up rather than vent her frustration on the hapless secretary. No wonder the criminal justice system was such a mess, when jerks like Hank were let out on bail.
Her next call was to Speed West Airlines. When she reached Mary Anne, Samantha noticed immediately that her friend's voice had lost its customary lilt. "What's wrong between you and Pete?” she asked.
Mary Anne sighed. "I don't think he likes me."
"What gave you that impression?"
Although Pete had promised to call every day, he'd only called once. Granted, he'd urged her to visit the next weekend, but Mary Anne didn't believe he meant it.
"Why shouldn't he mean it?" Samantha insisted. "Guys get busy and forget to call. What's the big deal?"
"I’ve been examining the situation. He didn't exactly choose me. When he got to the dance, I was the only girl left."
“He invited you back, didn’t he?” To Samantha, her friend’s attitude reeked of insecurity, an emotion she considered unproductive. "Give him a chance. What's one weekend? You can't expect him to fall madly in love unless he gets to know you better."
"We're not like you and Kieran, or Beth and Lew," Mary Anne protested. "Your personalities dovetail. Pete's outgoing and friendly, while I can hardly put two words together."
Samantha decided not to touch the absurd notion that she and Kieran fit together. “You're talking fine right now."
“That’s because you’re my friend.”
“Then listen to your friend’s advice,” she said. “Give the guy one more chance."
"I'll think about it," said her friend. "Gotta go. I hear Alice in the hallway, and you asked me not to let anyone else to know that we’re in touch."
"Take care of yourself." Samantha hung up, determined to bring Mary Anne back to Hidden Hot Springs if she had to drag her friend there by force.
She glanced at a wall clock. A few minutes past twelve. The appointment with Beatrice must have started.
Hurrying down the hall, she discovered that the conference was indeed under way. A brittle female voice echoed loud enough to be heard through the closed office door.
"You must be joking!" the woman snapped. "Do you think I care about your loans or your buddies? That's my land you're developing without my permission. You have no right to any of it. As for your being married, my uncle didn't mean some woman you picked up five years after he died."
The persuasive tenor of the lawyer intervened, but Samantha couldn't discern the words. She sighed, wishing she had a magic wand to zap the woman into the ether.
Much as Kieran's occasional high-handedness annoyed her, Samantha respected the way he'd developed this project. Maybe Beatrice was legitimately entitled to a share, but certainly not to the whole thing.
She let herself into the outer office, which stood empty with the inner door ajar. The secretary must be at lunch.
Peering cautiously into Joel's office, Samantha spotted a tall female with sharp bones and a sallow complexion that wasn’t flattered by her black skirt and jacket. When the woman tossed her head, her dark hair cut the air like a scythe. "I don't care how long it takes or how much it costs to litigate, what's mine is mine."
"It's not yours." Kieran's reply came low and angry. "You abandoned your father and you didn't give a damn about Hidden Hot Springs until I poured years of work it."
"Prove it!" jeered his cousin.
"Please," said the lawyer. "Arguing isn't in anyone's best interest."
Through the half-open door, Kieran caught sight of Samantha. Tight-lipped, he shook his head in warning.
She slipped into the hall. Joel had been right; the marriage didn’t make a difference. But Kieran had indicated he had another trick up his sleeve. Had he played it yet?
A hollowness in her stomach reminded Samantha that she had dried fruit and sweet potato chips in her car. No point in starving.
As she descended on the elevator, she wondered why the thought of Beatrice taking Hidden Hot Springs annoyed her so much. It didn't seem fair, she supposed. Besides, the woman would ruin the place. From what Kieran had said, his cousin lacked all the qualities required for success: management skills, patience, dedication and a capacity for hard work. She would destroy everything Kieran had struggled for.
Somebody ought to stop her. Samantha hoped Joel Phillips was up to the task.
She hurried through the lobby into the parking lot. The black-glass building had been landscaped with tall tufts of pampas grass and palm trees that provided a measure of privacy to the parking bays. The effect was charming but not very safe, Samantha thought as she strolled around a clump of the tall grass.
She halted in dismay. Two bays ahead, someone hovered near her sports car. She drew out the phone to call the police, then hesitated. After all, she hadn’t witnessed a crime.
Concerned, Samantha moved past a minivan and
a station wagon for a closer look. When her shoe scuffed the sidewalk, the man's head jerked up. She was staring into Hank's narrow eyes.
Samantha's mouth dropped. How had he found her?
His jaw worked, and then he leapt toward her. It was a scenario out of Samantha's worst nightmare.
Oddly, she didn't feel as frightened as when confronted by the mountain lion. This man could be bested in battle. She hadn't taken a self-defense class for nothing. Dropping her purse, Samantha crouched in a fighting stance.
Hank stopped a few yards away. "Give me your keys."
"Come get 'em."
"You got no brains, do you, babe?" The words emerged in a snarl.
"I'm not giving you my car or anything else. Leave me alone." She hoped he couldn’t hear her knees knocking like woodpeckers.
"I offered to share my life with you. Lots of women would beg for the chance." Those thin lips, once so quick to utter compliments, curled into a sneer.
Yeah, sure they would. In broad daylight, sans toupee, Hank reminded Samantha of a weasel, from his thin face to his skinny chest. "I don't see anyone kneeling in the street."
"Shut up." Fists clenched, he advanced on her. "Shut up now, like you should have shut up the day you saw the ring.”
He meant to silence her. If only someone would come along…Kieran…But she refused to count on a white knight riding to her rescue. She had to rescue herself.
"How did you find me?" she demanded.
“Shut up,” he repeated, swaggering toward her. Sure of his victory. Anger at the man’s arrogance burned away her fear.
Samantha waited until precisely the right moment, as she'd been taught. Then she thrust her shoulder into Hank's midsection, prepared to hoist him and toss him to the pavement.
That was the way it was supposed to work. That was the way it had worked with her self-defense instructor. But that wasn't the way it worked with Hank.
She got stuck around his solar plexus. The air whooshed out and he staggered against her, but she couldn't lift him. His center of gravity was in the wrong place. Samantha didn’t remember where it was supposed to be, but definitely not around his ankles. What was he wearing, lead weights in his shoes?
Run, Run, Runaway Bride Page 11
