The Baby Pursuit

by Laurie Paige

  Horse and rider flowed as one, a single ripple sailing down a clear stream. She spoke softly. The horse shook his head as if refusing a request. Dev heard her speak again. He realized that she was having trouble.

  The horse balked at a jump, rearing into the air and shaking his head as if throwing off flies. The rider leaned forward. Only her feet in the stirrups kept her on the animal. Beside him, Cruz cursed the horse, but made no move to intervene.

  “Is she in danger?” Dev asked, his heart squeezed down to the size of a walnut.

  Cruz shrugged.

  “Dammit, is she in danger?”

  “She’s in control.”

  Dev swore in frustration. “If she gets hurt, I’ll shoot the horse, then you,” he heard himself say.

  For a moment he had the oddest sensation—as if he were above the scene, watching the horse and rider, the trainer who didn’t seem concerned, himself as he fought the need to rush into the arena and get her off the animal.

  Yeah, Kincaid to the rescue, he mocked the need as the sensation passed. He was suspended in that confusing state that came from having had a dream so vivid he couldn’t quite tell if it had been fiction or real.

  The horse trumpeted, rising in the air and shaking his head again, seizing control from the human who clung so doggedly to his back.

  “That horse is wild,” Dev said, an accusation.

  Cruz turned a cool glance on him, then studied the pair in the ring again. “His dam was wild, part mustang, part Thoroughbred. I bought him at auction in Arizona. Everyone was afraid of his temper. Stallions can be unpredictable.”

  “You put her on a wild stallion?” Murder came to Dev’s mind as the trainer turned back to the ring.

  The horse leaped forward in an all-out run when he brought all four hooves back to the ground. He swerved at the fence, then raced around it. Dev saw that Vanessa was urging him on with swishing strokes of a riding crop along his flanks.

  “Watch,” Cruz advised. He climbed on the top rail. The horse ran and ran. When he slowed, Vanessa pushed him on. Finally, the horse showed his teeth. He dropped his head and made a few snapping motions. Then, sides heaving, he stopped.

  She slipped off him, her body slender, flexible, confident. Leaving the reins tied over his back, she waved the crop at the horse. He ran, then fell into a trot. Finishing the circuit of the ring, he stopped again.

  Dev observed, puzzled, as Vanessa turned her back on her mount and walked toward the center of the ring. She plucked at one of the hay bales, keeping her back to the stallion. He walked a few steps toward her.

  She laid the quirt on the bale and dug something out of her pocket. The horse snuffled at her neck. She hunched her shoulder and turned away again. The horse nudged her back a couple of times. Finally she turned to the stallion.

  A knot formed in Dev’s throat at how tiny she appeared next to the stallion. She talked quietly and gently stroked the shiny length of the stallion’s neck. The horse dipped his head as if agreeing.

  She gave the horse a tidbit to eat. Then she climbed into the saddle once more.

  This time the stallion behaved much better. He let her set the pace. He took each hurdle straight-on with no balking, no prancing and no angling into them. They made the round without mishap.

  Her face was shining when she rode past them toward the barn. “Isn’t he a beaut? He’s going to be great, Cruz.”

  “Right.” Perez shoved his hat back off his forehead when horse and rider rode on. “She’s good,” he said in a satisfied tone. “Almost as good as me.”

  Dev considered coldcocking the man, but thought better of it. He would be taking his anger out on the wrong person. He strode to his vehicle and returned to the house.

  Going to the breakfast room where coffee, tea and snacks were available at nearly any hour of the day, he poured a glass of tea and drank it down. It didn’t cool his temper. He went to his room and took a shower.

  When he finished, he could hear the water running next door. He pictured the room, which backed up to his. From there it was only a jump to other images, those of her naked and wet, hair streaming around her shoulders in wild disarray, eyes daring him to reach out and take what she so boldly offered.

  In a rare loss of control, he banged his fist against the adjoining wall. The water stopped abruptly.

  He dressed then paced the length of the room. He’d give her ten minutes to dress, then they were going to have a long, serious talk.

  Vanessa listened, but didn’t hear anything else. She worried about the mysterious thump in Dev’s room. Had he fallen? Maybe hit his head? Was he lying on the floor, bleeding?

  She wrapped a towel around her hair turban-style and pulled on a thigh-length terry robe. Going to the door between their rooms, she listened again, then knocked.

  “Dev? Are you okay?”

  From the other room, she heard the slide of metal against metal, then the door opened. Dev glared at her.

  “I heard something. Did you fall?”

  “No,” he said.

  Hmm, he was definitely snarling. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes. Everything and then some. Why wasn’t this door locked?” His glare was enough to melt rock.

  “It was. You—”

  “I don’t mean on my side. Why wasn’t it locked on yours?”

  She gave him a wicked grin. “What for? I never intended to lock you out. You’re the one who wants distance.”

  “I need to talk to you.” He stepped into her room, backed her into a chair, then stood over her. “Who did you tell about the ransom note?”

  She looked at him blankly.

  “The date we found,” he snapped. “And that the clippings came from the Leather Bucket Weekly.”

  “No one.”

  He raked a hand through his hair. She noted that it was damp. The scent of his talc and shaving lotion drifted around her. She inhaled it like a starving man at a feast.

  “Don’t give me that. The sheriff just had a confession from some old man who knew that the note had been cut from the Leather Bucket Weekly during the early part of April. You must have mentioned the facts to one of your girlfriends recently…over a friendly lunch, perhaps?”

  She shook her head. The towel loosened and she tucked the end in more securely.

  “Look, I know you didn’t mean to, that it slipped out—”

  “No, it didn’t,” she spoke up, angrier than she’d ever been with him. “That was probably Hubcap Johnson. He confesses to every crime he hears about.”

  “Yeah, but this time he had facts. He said he overheard some girl mention the ransom note.”

  “And of course you thought it had to be me.” She stood, returning glare for glare, their noses no more than six inches apart. “It could have been the deputy’s girlfriend. After all, her father owns the motel. She knew about the kidnapping, the date the furniture was damaged, that you checked the place for fingerprints, the whole bit. It could have been the maid who cleans the room. It could have been the owner’s wife or girlfriend. It could have been anyone!” She lowered her voice. “But it wasn’t me. You got that?”

  An eternity went by, then another.

  “You swear you haven’t mentioned it to a soul?” He gave her one of his narrow-eyed stares.

  “Yes.”

  “All right.”

  “All right? Just like that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Huh.”

  He grinned at her indignant huff. It was so engaging, she became flustered. Dropping her gaze from his, she saw he was barefoot. A smile popped out of her anger, frustration, yearning, and all the other emotions he engendered in her.

  “It seems odd to be grilled by a barefoot FBI agent,” she murmured, giving him a teasing, oblique glance.

  He glanced down at his feet, then at hers. Slowly his gaze wound its way along her legs, to her thighs and the robe that had gaped so that nearly all her thigh was visible. Her breath shortened as he paused, then moved ever so
slowly along her body, stopping again at the deep vee of bare skin visible at the neckline of the robe.

  Suddenly self-conscious at her skimpy apparel, she crossed the lapels more securely and tightened the sash.

  “No,” he said.

  A frisson rushed along her nerves. His voice was deep, husky, vibrant, alluring, sexy.

  His gaze darkened, became slumberous, hot, hungry, moody.

  She had to open her mouth and gasp at what air she could force into her lungs. Her legs felt as if they would collapse at any moment.

  He reached out and caught a strand of hair that had escaped the towel. He fingered it, then reached up and slowly pushed the towel to the back. It fell with a soft plop. She felt the quick rush of air as it hit the floor behind her.

  Then all was still.

  He closed his hand in her hair, taking a fistful as if it were precious gems he had discovered.

  “I’ve wondered how this would look spread out over my pillow every night from the first…from the first moment we met.”

  “Yes.”

  His voice sank to a deeper, rougher level. “You’re a temptation no mortal man can be expected to resist forever.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ve never had this problem before.”

  She was silent, letting him sort it out.

  “Why, dammit?”

  She waited.

  “Why?” He sounded angry, perplexed.

  “Because,” she whispered, the yearning breaking through to unbearable longing. She would die if he didn’t kiss her.

  “Yes, because,” he agreed, a smile barely tucking up the corners of his perfectly chiseled mouth, the touch of amusement acknowledging the futility of fighting the attraction a moment longer.

  Everything in her tightened—her breasts and nipples, someplace deep within her body, her soul.

  This time she wasn’t the one who took the necessary step to bring them together. He did it. He slipped one bare foot between hers, and his arms gathered her close.

  Heaven. It was heaven.

  She laid her hands on his waist, needing support as his lips ravaged her face in gentle forays. She turned her lips to his, but he evaded her, moving instead to the side of her neck, then drifting down the line of terry cloth to the point where the material met.

  Her breath hung in her throat while her heart looped and circled and plunged like a kite.

  “This isn’t going anywhere,” he muttered.

  “No,” she agreed hazily, sliding her hands under the soft cotton and onto his skin. Oh, bliss… “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

  “I know.” He dragged his mouth upward, flitted by her lips and nuzzled her temple. “It was in your eyes. Every day. Every night. You drove me crazy.”

  “That’s fair. You drove me crazy, too.”

  “I’ve never wanted like this. It’s…painful.”

  “Yes.”

  He lifted his head and gave her a long, questioning perusal. “I wonder if you know.”

  “I know what it is to want.” She slid her hands over his back, loving the warm feel of him, the latent strength she sensed in the broad expanse of flesh. He was only an inch or so taller than the men in her family, but he seemed much larger to her. He filled her whole horizon.

  And her heart.

  A cynical glitter appeared in his eyes. “Yeah, right. You have only to reach and whatever you want is in your grasp.”

  “Not always. Life hasn’t always been that easy.”

  “Huh.”

  She smiled at his usual snort of disbelief. The smile fled when he moved even closer. She opened her legs and embraced him with her thighs. The robe shifted and fell aside. His thigh pressed intimately against her.

  A gasp of pure need escaped her. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at him, at the intimacy between them. Dizziness washed through her.

  He caught the belt on each side and slowly the knot slipped apart, then fell away to dangle at her sides. The robe shifted, then hung in a straight line down her body, the lapels barely touching at the exact center.

  “Nothing is going to happen,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “I’m not going to let it.”

  She wasn’t sure they could stop.

  He bent and placed one kiss in the indentation between her breasts. She breathed deeply, lifting toward him.

  “You want more?”

  “Yes.”

  “This?”

  He slipped his hands inside the robe and clasped her waist while his mouth roamed over the further exposed flesh. The robe clung to the fullness of her breasts, barely hiding the erect nipples.

  “This?”

  With the gentlest of love bites, he moved downward until his lips touched the spot just above her breast. Then he pushed the material aside.

  She nearly fainted when he enclosed her in his mouth and rubbed his tongue over the sensitive tip. Never had she known such bliss. “Never,” she whispered.

  Caught in a passion she hadn’t previously experienced, she reacted instinctively, rubbing and moving against him, feeling as sinuous as a cat.

  She was passion-flushed now. Heat throbbed in every part of her. She wanted the robe off. She wanted skin on skin. “The bed,” she murmured, needing to lie down, feeling she would fall if she didn’t.

  “No bed,” he growled. He moved to her other breast and repeated all the wonderful things he had just done.

  “I’m going to fall,” she warned, and grabbed his waist, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of his jeans. She found they weren’t snapped. It was an easy job to slide the zipper down and discover he wore no briefs.

  He raised his head, saw the easy chair and in one smooth motion settled into it with her on his lap. Then his mouth was on hers, delighting, demanding, taking, giving.

  Her hands were captured and held against his chest. “Please,” she murmured. “I need…to touch you.”

  “No. If we go further…no, we can’t…”

  “Why not? Take your shirt off.”

  He let her tug his shirt up, then he helped her push it over his head and out of the way. He groaned when she leaned into him. Her breasts swelled and engorged, feeding on the heat generated by their bodies.

  “It would be too good.” He enclosed her in a tight embrace, trapping her hands between them.

  She opened her eyes and stared at him, perplexed.

  “Much too good. We’re ready to explode right now. Just touching…here.” He slipped a hand between them and took her breast into his palm.

  He kneaded each breast, then slid his hand down onto her thigh. She gasped and held her breath.

  “You want more. You want all the touching, all the kissing, all that comes after that. And it would be so damn good…to be in you, all the way…”

  “Mmm,” she said impatiently.

  “But that could cause problems…”

  “No.” She touched his cheek, ran her fingers down his throat, through his hair, over his shoulders. Touching him, just touching him. For the moment, it was enough.

  “I’m on a case. You’re involved—”

  “How?” She sat up, startled.

  He shook his head. “Not with the kidnappers. It’s… You’re the daughter of the house, a very rich house. I’ll be moving on in a few days, a week or two at the most.”

  His eyes were oceans deep, mysterious and darkly compelling. The call of something fierce and wild and forever drummed in her breast.

  “Just for tonight, let me look at you. We won’t go all the way, but for tonight…just this far.”

  He slipped the robe off her shoulders and tossed it aside, then he smoothed the tangles of damp hair around her face, laying the strands over her breasts, then pushing them to her back as if he couldn’t bear to have that view obstructed.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” he said in a low, hoarse voice.

  His fingers trailed over her breasts, down
her side, over her hip. He caressed her leg to her knee and back.

  “There are a thousand things I’d like to do to you.”

  “Then do them,” she offered simply.

  “No. That’s too dangerous.”

  He pulled her back into his arms and slowly—so slowly she thought she would die—he kissed her. And it was everything she’d dreamed bliss would be. They explored each other thoroughly.

  “If we stop here, there’ll be no regrets,” he murmured eons later. “If we stop now.”

  Six

  “If you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”

  Dev knew they had reached the point of no return. He was past caring. His conscience had burned up long ago in the hot passion they shared, sometime between when she had explored his body as thoroughly as possible after he’d shucked his jeans and this moment when he’d at last allowed himself to touch the soft, dewy petals of her womanhood.

  He rose with her in his arms and carried her to the queen-size bed, which was already turned down, and laid her on the sheet. He stood there, giving her a chance to back down, to tell him to get out of her room.

  She smiled up at him, all the promises of springtime in her green eyes. He gritted his teeth as a yearning for all the things he’d missed and longed for all the days of his life spiraled through him.

  Were the promises real?

  He shook his head slightly. Damned if he knew.

  “This is…” he muttered. “This is real.”

  “Yes,” she murmured, moving over to give him room.

  He carefully lay beside her and propped himself up on an elbow. He slid his leg over hers, not to hold her—or maybe that was the primitive urge behind the act—but he wanted to feel her, too. He wanted skin against skin, the tactile sensation of her flesh on his.

  “You’re real. And yet you’re a dream.”

  “So are you.” She shifted so that she could sandwich their thighs together, and ran one hand over his chest.

  “Every man’s dream,” he continued, “that ever saw you.”

  Her grin was quick, surprising, amused. “But only one man’s reality. Yours. As you are mine.”