Undercover Groom

by Lovelace, Merline

  They were both panting when he took her down to the blanket and slid a leg between hers. His knee slid higher and rode hard against her core. The exquisite torture sent shards of pleasure splintering through Chloe. His mouth and his hands all over her body heated those jagged shards to white-hot. She writhed under him, hungry and hurting and riddled with need.

  Afterward, she could never recall whether she stripped off her shirt or Mase did. Whether he peeled down her jeans first, or she reached for his. All that mattered at the time was the driving imperative to join with him, to find herself in him.

  She would! She’d find herself, and something more, someone more. She waited, almost sobbing with impatience while Mase dug in his jeans pocket for protection. The muscles in his back rippled. His black hair glistened with a faint sheen of sweat at the temples. Against the backdrop of the piercing blue sky, he looked magnificent, as strong and untamed as the mountains that surrounded them.

  When he turned and smiled at her, Chloe’s heart leaped. The door in her mind creaked open. Almost, she could see beyond it. Almost, she could hear the voices calling to her.

  Then Mase fit himself between her thighs, lowered his weight onto his forearms, and proceeded to send every thought, every shadowy image into a never-never land of sweet, spiraling desire.

  With a skill that left her breathless, he primed her. His teeth teased her breasts into aching, burning want. His hand cupped her mound, rubbing, stroking. When his fingers slid to the slick wetness between her legs, Chloe opened for him eagerly.

  “I’ve wanted you for so long.” Muscles taut, voice low and raw, he fit himself against her. “I’ve loved you for so long.”

  “Oh, Mase. I must have loved you, too. I couldn’t feel the way I do now if I hadn’t.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, gasping as he filled her. “You...you were right. The past doesn’t matter. Only this. Only now.”

  Her hips and her heart lifted as one. Joyfully, she drew him in. This was right. This was a memory, a moment she’d hold in her heart forever. Wherever they went from here, this was right.

  He thrust slowly at first, then deeper, harder, faster. The rhythm was like a song—primitive and enduring and endless and perfect. Her neck arched. Her back bowed. The pleasure centered low in her belly, intensified, exploded. She cried out, riding the waves for what seemed like forever, until Mase drove into her a final time and crested with her.

  He buried his face in her neck, shuddering. Eyes closed, body limp, Chloe clung to him. Haze still shrouded the edges of her mind, but she felt like a lone, lost sailor who’d somehow made it through mist-shrouded seas and sailed into home port.

  That sense of slowly finding her way through the fog stayed with her during the incredible hour afterward, when she lay with her head on Mase’s arm, her eyes closed and her face turned to the sun. The same feeling gathered even greater intensity when they made love again, more gently this time, more slowly.

  But it wasn’t until they drove back to Crockett and pulled up in front of the store that the mists parted, finally and irrevocably. Chloe climbed out of the Blazer, intending to help Mase unload the cooler and the remains of their lunch. When the bell above the door jangled, she threw an idle glance over her shoulder at the woman who pushed through the door and stepped onto the porch.

  “It’s about time you got back.”

  At the sound of her smoky contralto, Chloe’s heart stuttered, then stopped. The blood drained from her face. Icy recognition poured through every cell in her body.

  She knew that voice!

  She knew this woman!

  Numb, she watched the tall, elegant brunette hurry down the steps and head directly for Mase.

  Nine

  Hawkins. Pam Hawkins.

  The name cut through the haze in Chloe’s mind like a high-powered spotlight lasering through a midnight sky. Fragments of scenes came sweeping back to her. A sun-filled reception area. A paneled office. This sleek, sharp-featured woman laughing up at Mase while she played with his tie.

  Shocked into immobility by the sudden rush of memories, Chloe stood unmoving as the brunette brushed past her in a cloud of expensive perfume.

  “I’ve got to talk to you, Mase. Now!”

  Her breath lodged halfway down her throat, Chloe waited for him to reply.

  His face grim, Mase dropped the cooler back into the Blazer and went to meet the newcomer.

  “What’s going on?”

  No hello, Chloe noted, dying a little inside. No exclamation of surprise at seeing her here. Only that terse greeting, as if—Her fingers curled into fists. As if he’d half expected her.

  A tidal wave of emotions crashed through Chloe. Like a huge, onrushing breaker, it swept everything along with it, including the shadows that had haunted her for so many weeks. She almost staggered under alternating surges of hurt, savage jealousy, fierce possessiveness.

  The hurt and the jealousy washed away after the first few waves. Only the possessiveness remained, as raw and elemental as the sexes. One thought burned in her brain. One absolute certainty blazed in her chest. Mase was hers. He loved her. She loved him. Whatever had occurred between him and this woman had nothing to do with his feelings for Chloe. Nothing to do with what just happened up at the lake.

  Nothing!

  Or so she tried to convince herself when Pam stopped beside Mase, her face every bit as grim as his.

  “Dexter Greene is in the area.”

  “The hell he is!”

  “He was in Rapid City on Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday! Two days ago! And you’re just telling me about it?”

  “The damned bureaucrats at the Bureau didn’t pass the word until this morning.” Her mouth twisted into a snarl. “I can personally guarantee they’ll be more efficient the next time.”

  “There won’t be a next time,” Mase promised in a tone that raised the hairs on the back of Chloe’s neck.

  Pam threw a quick glance over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. Still stiff, still swamped by the savage possessiveness that rooted her to the spot, Chloe caught a hurried reference to the Chief, whoever that was, and a team standing by for Mase’s orders.

  “We’ve got to get this operation in gear,” the brunette finished in a hurried undertone, slanting another quick look at Chloe. “Jackson’s inside. He can stay with Miss Fortune until you’re briefed, and we’ll work out how we’re going to pick up Greene’s trail. We need you, Mase. Now.”

  The face he turned to Chloe stunned her. This wasn’t the man who’d spent two days with her counting cans of cat food. Or even the man who’d just taken her to a soaring, searing passion. This was a stranger, iron hard and razor-edged. Even his voice was different, as sharp as ground glass.

  “Give me a minute, Pam.”

  “Mase...”

  “Give me a minute.”

  She chopped the air with one hand, as if wanting to argue the matter, then conceded with stiff reluctance. “I’ll let Jackson know we’re leaving Miss Fortune with him.”

  Chloe’s chin snapped up. She didn’t like being “left,” any more than she liked being dismissed by this sleek, too-confident female. Nor did she make the least effort to hide her anger. Her eyes locked on the other woman’s as she made for the steps.

  Pam blinked, her confident stride faltering for a fraction of a second. Then she swept into the store, leaving Chloe alone with the man whose arms had held her so tenderly not an hour ago. He didn’t display the least sign of tenderness now. He didn’t display anything except a tight-jawed urgency. With an eerie sense of déjà vu, she stood as stiff as one of the store’s porch supports while Mase closed the short distance between them.

  “Chloe, listen to me. You’ve got to trust me. I can’t explain what’s going on here.”

  She choked. That had a familiar ring to it. She was still struggling with a fresh surge of memories when his fingers closed around her upper arms. Frustration and a racing urgency showed plainly in his face.

&nbs
p; “I can’t explain because I don’t know what’s going on here. All I can tell you is that we suspect a man named Dexter Greene may be tracking me.”

  “Tracking you?”

  “Stalking,” he corrected grimly. “He’s dangerous, Chloe. Very dangerous.”

  “But how...? Why...?”

  “I need details, need to understand the situation. I’ll come back as soon as I’m briefed and tell you everything I can, I promise.”

  “Everything you can? That’s not good enough.”

  “It has to be.”

  “No.” Her hands came up to ball against his chest. “I’m not settling for a few, carefully selected crumbs. I want it all, Mase. I want every memory, every bit of our past. Every bit of your past. If we’re going to share that future we talked about, there can’t be any more shadows or secrets between us.”

  “We’re going to share more than a future.” His fingers dug into her flesh. “I love you, Chloe. Only you. I want to marry you. I want to make babies with you. I want to grow old and potbellied and gray with you. Trust me, sweetheart. Please. For a little while longer.”

  Chloe didn’t intend to cave. She wanted explanations. Needed explanations. But the urgency in Mase’s voice cut deep into her stubborn determination. The expression in his eyes sliced right through it. Startled, Chloe thought she caught a fleeting glimpse of worry behind the love in their gray depths.

  Or was it fear? For her? For himself? Shaken, she conceded. “All right. I’ll wait a little while longer, but...”

  Before she could add any conditions or caveats, he hauled her up against him. His mouth came down on hers, hard and fast and so consuming that the world seemed to spin right off its axis. For a moment the only real objects in the universe were her and Mase and the endless blue sky above them. She clung to him, needing an anchor, needing his solid strength, needing the bedrock of his love. Far too soon for her peace of mind, he used his grip on her arms to break the contact.

  “Go inside, Chloe. Stay there. Pam will introduce you to a man named Dave Jackson. He’ll stay with you until I get back.”

  She got as far as the porch steps. She turned, wanting to urge him to be careful. The words died on her lips. Gulping, she watched Mase remove a small leather holster from the Blazer’s dash compartment.

  With a swift economy of movement that told her he’d done it many times before, he drew a lethal looking weapon from the holster, snapped out its magazine, checked the load and shoved the clip back in place. Grim-faced, he holstered the weapon and reached into the dash again. He was checking the spare magazine when he glanced up and saw her frozen in place.

  “Go inside, Chloe. Stay there.”

  She went inside.

  Charlie Thomas was waiting for her, a look of confusion on his heavyset face. So was Pam Hawkins and another man Chloe had never seen before. Impatience in every line of her body, Pam introduced a scarecrow-thin individual with a shy smile and a shock of frizzy blond hair.

  “This is Dave Jackson. Don’t be fooled by his appearance. He’s one of our best.”

  “One of whose best?”

  The acidly polite question fell on deaf ears. “Mase will tell you what he can, when he can.” Turning to the man at her side, Pam issued a brusque instruction. “You’ve got your radio. Call me or Mase if you need us.”

  “Will do.” Jackson grinned, his thin face folding accordionlike into well worn grooves. “This is just like old times, isn’t it? The team all together again. You and Mase playing the game hard and fast and rough, the way you always did.”

  The brunette sent Chloe a swift, slanting glance. “Close enough,” she murmured. “Close enough.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Chloe’s low growl surprised her almost as much as it did the other three. As soon as the words were out, though, she knew they were right.

  Like a rush of images on a rewinding VCR, memories spilled through her. She saw herself running from Mase’s office. Running out of the high-rise building. Running for her Mercedes, a loaded weekend bag in her hand and an ache in her heart.

  Well, she wasn’t running anymore. And she damned well wasn’t letting this woman think she could play any kind of games with Mase. She moved forward until they stood toe-to-toe.

  “Nothing’s the same,” Chloe informed the woman in a voice as impenetrable as steel. “Whatever happened between you and Mase in the past, nothing will ever be the same again.”

  Catlike brown eyes narrowed. “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  For long moments Pam stared at her. Chloe had just decided the other woman wasn’t going to respond when Pam nodded. It was a tiny movement, barely perceptible. Her chin dipped only a few degrees. Yet that small movement signaled defeat and a vulnerability that blew away some of the rancor that hovered like a living thing between the two women.

  Chloe saw in that instant that Pam loved him. In her own way, she loved him. The realization gave her the courage to reach out and lay her hand on the other woman’s arm.

  “Be careful.”

  Pam glanced down. When she looked up again, her smile almost reached her eyes.

  “I will.”

  She left in a whirl of expensive perfume and another spate of instructions to Jackson. Chloe fought the urge to follow her and say a last goodbye to Mase. He didn’t need further distractions. He’d come back to her when he could. He’d promised. In the meantime, she desperately craved some time and some quiet to deal with the memories imploding in on her. First, though, she had to check on Hannah

  “I’m sorry we were gone so long, Charlie. Is Hannah all right?”

  The retired postal worker nodded. “She’s fine. A little disgruntled over the fact that she can’t get up to check out all these strangers who’ve come to town, but otherwise fine.”

  “Thanks again for staying with her.”

  Rubbing his jowls, the postal worker measured Dave Jackson from his frizzy hair to his black-toed boots. “I can stay longer, if you need me.”

  “It’s not necessary.”

  When the door closed behind him, the gangly Jackson gave Chloe another shy smile. “You go do what you need to do, Miss Fortune. I’ll mind the store. Pam and I checked it out while we were waiting for you. The living quarters, too. I can get to you in a heartbeat if I need to.”

  With that somewhat dubious assurance ringing in her ears, Chloe threaded through the crowded storeroom to the private quarters beyond. As expected, she found Hannah with her arms folded across her chest and a ferocious scowl on her sun-weathered face.

  “What’s goin’ on here, girl?”

  “I wish I knew.”

  Chloe dropped into one of the armchairs, almost as exhausted by the emotions of the past few minutes as by the hours at the lake.

  “That Hawkins woman flashed an ID under my nose,” Hannah grumbled. “Said she and Mase were trackin’ some kind of dangerous nut. I don’t need any piece of plastic to see that she’s packin’ trouble along with her sleek hair and too slick ways.”

  “More kinds of trouble than you think.”

  Hannah’s sharp ears picked up the strain in her voice.

  “So she’s the one,” she muttered obscurely. Her gaze focused on Chloe. “Do you know this woman?”

  “Me? No. But Mase...”

  She chewed on her lower lip. Despite her brave words to Pam a few minutes ago, doubts began to buzz around her like annoying little gnats. The brunette obviously considered Mase more than a partner. Just as obviously she wanted to rekindle whatever relationship they once shared. Did Mase want that, too?

  Hannah’s snort blew her doubts right out of the air.

  “Any damn fool with eyes in his head could see that Mason Chandler loves you, child. And from the grass and bits of leaves stuck in your hair, I’d say he spent his time up at the lake showin’ you just how much.”

  An embarrassed grin pulled at Chloe’s lips. “I think I showed him a thing or two or three, too.”

&
nbsp; “Hmmmm.”

  Hannah digested that, then pinned Chloe with a sharp look. “Did he tell you that you found this Hawkins woman in his arms? That she’s the reason you ran away from him?”

  Her brief spurt of amusement dimmed. “He didn’t have to tell me. I remembered.”

  “You remembered?” Hannah shot upright on her sofa. “Everything?”

  “Almost everything. It’s coming back to me in spurts.”

  “I knew you’d do it, girl!” Overjoyed, the older woman held out her hand. “I never had any doubt!”

  Chloe slipped off her chair and knelt beside the sofa. Folding her fingers around her employer’s, she raised her hand to her cheek.

  “Maybe you didn’t have any doubts, but I did. At times, the shadows were so thick and dark I thought I’d never find my way out of them. I...I couldn’t have made it through these weeks without you, Hannah.”

  The display of gratitude drew another snort from the older woman, this one of embarrassed pleasure.

  She tut-tutted and pooh-poohed and hmmmmed, but didn’t draw her hand away. Something suspiciously close to tears sheened her blue eyes when she finally told her employee not to act so foolish.

  “You’re tougher than you think you are, Chloe Fortune. You would’ve found your way back to your man sooner or later. Now get up off that floor and go comb your hair.”

  With a smile and wave to Hannah, she retraced her steps to the storeroom. When she caught sight of the haphazardly stacked boxes and jumble of old goods waiting to be shelved, her steps slowed. A frown etched across her brow. Slowly, she trailed a hand along an unopened carton of fruit juice.

  Regaining her memory meant losing the sanctuary she’d found in Crockett. She would return to Minneapolis with Mase, go back to her family and the busy life she’d led before. And leave the woman who’d become her friend as well as her employer.

  Who would carry these heavy cartons into the store for Hannah until her ankle bones knit? Who’d deal with that stack of unpaid bills she pretended didn’t exist? Who’d handle the suppliers and rotate the produce and close up at night?