Trick Me, Treat Me

by Leslie Kelly

Gwen hesitated for one second, nibbling the corner of her lip in indecision. Then she dashed over, opened the passenger side door and jumped in beside him. “This is crazy,” she said with an out-of-breath laugh. “We can’t steal somebody’s car.”

  “We’re just searching it,” he said, hearing the note of disappointment in his own voice. “Because unless the driver was a rat-brained moron who left his keys in this baby, we’re not going to be able to go anywhere.”

  She raised a brow and gave him a cheeky grin. “You can’t hot-wire it?” The sparkle in her eyes almost dared him to do it. But before he had to, she reached for the sun visor, then flipped it down. A set of keys fell on to his lap.

  “Looks like the rat-brained moron wants his car stolen,” Miles said, not even hesitating. He grabbed the keys, inserted one into the ignition, and started the car. He almost purred as throatily as the engine. “Ever been on a joyride?”

  “Once or twice as a teenager,” she admitted. “I wasn’t always the model of propriety you’ve been with this weekend.”

  He almost snorted at that one. “If this is you, the model of propriety, I’d be terrified to be with the Gwen who decides to take a walk on the wild side.”

  She grinned, looking pleased. Then she reached for the glove compartment. “I still don’t know about this. Can I just check the registration to be sure?”

  He nodded once, knowing this was a dangerous game they were playing. He didn’t necessarily want to get caught boosting a car that belonged to a cop or something.

  When she turned to look at him, she wore a puzzled frown. “No paperwork. No registration. No nothing.”

  He thought about it. And quickly reached the only logical conclusion. “Gwen, this must be my car.”

  She raised a skeptical brow.

  “I’m serious. I know this car. I’ve been in it. I’ve driven it. I can feel it. It makes sense. If I was trying to keep my cover, of course, I wouldn’t have left any paperwork inside. You said nobody else had registered it.” The more he spoke, the more certain he was of his words. She began to look convinced, and he argued his case home. “Besides, how the hell else could I have gotten here? By parachute?”

  They stared at each other, then burst into laughter, both knowing that was an absolute impossibility. Not with his problem with heights.

  “So you’re the rat-brained moron who left his keys in his sun visor?” she asked with a cheeky grin.

  “Musta been planning ahead in case I needed to make a quick getaway,” he replied, deadpan.

  “Uh-huh. That’s your story and you’re sticking to it?”

  The sparkle in her eyes proved irresistible. “God, I’m crazy about you.” Unable to resist, Miles leaned over, slipped his fingers into her hair and tugged her close for a hot, wet kiss. She parted her lips, meeting the thrust of his tongue, tasting him, breathing him, almost climbing into his skin and becoming a part of him. Hell, he suspected she already was a part of him.

  After he let her go, they stared at each other and each sucked in a few deep breaths. His eyes asked a question. Hers answered a definite yes. They both knew how this ride was going to end.

  Then, charged with excitement, adrenaline and a pure sexual rush, he threw the car into reverse and took off.

  GWEN HAD NEVER been in a car that went so fast, nor one that was so expertly driven. If there had been any doubt before, there was none now. This was definitely his vehicle. Miles almost talked to the thing, communicating with subtle flicks of his wrist on the gearshift, and slight touches on the steering wheel. Just watching the smooth, choreographed moves made her remember the expert way he used those strong hands of his on her body.

  The man drove like he made love. With expert precision.

  Her breathing grew labored. She was intensely aware of him. Wanting him again, though it had only been hours since they’d last made love. That kiss had called to someplace deep inside her, ordering the wicked Gwen out to play just one more time.

  One more night. If he didn’t get his memory back, he was going to the hospital tomorrow. Everything could very well change. If tonight was all they had—all they’d ever have, as Gwen had already figured—she was going to wring from it every fabulous moment she could.

  The memories would have to last her a lifetime.

  She wanted Miles to ride fast and ride hard. Both in the car. And in her. “I want you so bad.”

  He glanced over, his eyes dark and glittering. She knew without asking that he’d been thinking the same thing. Something about having such power, such speed and energy beneath their bodies, was getting them both even more aroused and ready.

  Their ride promised to be exciting. Its inevitable conclusion promised to be explosive.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” she asked, knowing whenever they got to their destination she’d be hard pressed to stop herself from ripping off his clothes.

  “Not a clue. Does it matter?”

  “Not a bit.”

  She truly didn’t care where they ended up. In this case, it was the journey that mattered. Each mile that passed beneath the tires of the car was another stroke to her senses. Each movement heightened the anticipation. Every curve was a caress, every rev of the engine another delicious bit of foreplay.

  The tension was exquisite as heat rushed through her body and blood filled her sex, making her shift on the seat.

  They were alone. They were free. They were away from arms dealers and ghosts, from inns and top-secret agencies. And they were completely in tune with one another, sharing the same urgent, sexual need as easily as they shared the same air in the confined space of the car.

  She couldn’t wait until they arrived, and yet she never wanted the delicious torture of the drive to end.

  Truthfully, she never wanted this night to end.

  “I wish it weren’t so cold so we could put the top down,” she said as she leaned back in the comfortable leather seat. Looking out the window, she watched the miles tick away and the sky begin to clear. What seemed like a million stars came out to play. “What a glorious night.”

  She gave him no directions and he asked for none, seeming to know instinctively where he was going. They drove briefly on the streets of Derryville, then on the interstate, going much faster than the law allowed. She moaned softly, watching the speedometer climb. Her anticipation climbed with it. Finally, after several minutes, she was unable to stand it anymore. She reached across and dropped her hand on to his leg. “I’ve got to touch you.”

  He flinched as if burned, obviously every bit as aroused as she, hanging on by a thin thread of control. “We’re getting the hell off this highway,” he bit out.

  He flicked the turn signal and got off at the next exit, making no sound of protest as she deftly unzipped his jeans. A tiny groan was his only response when she slipped her hand into his pants to trace the outline of his erection through his briefs. He was hard and thick against her fingers, and as she stroked him, she couldn’t contain a sigh of anticipation.

  Once they were off the highway, on a small country road, Gwen could no longer resist. She’d been wanting to taste him since the night before when he’d come into her bed.

  She couldn’t wait any longer.

  Bending down, she ignored his start of surprise. Not giving him a chance to refuse, she pushed his briefs out of the way, pausing for one second to appreciate the masculine beauty of his sex. Then she put her mouth over him and sucked deeply.

  “Gwen!”

  The car swayed a little, and slowed to a crawl, but she barely noticed. She continued tasting him, swirling her tongue over the tip of his erection, licking away the moisture as she stroked the length of him with her hand.

  “Enough,” he exclaimed and the car came to a stop. He pulled her up, catching her surprised, open mouth in a deep, wet kiss.

  When they broke apart, he muttered, “Come on.” He fumbled for the door handle. Before Gwen even had a chance to ask where on earth they were, he pulled her out of the c
ar. She looked around, realizing they were parked in the woods, on a gravel road. She recognized some picnic tables and a playground and knew they’d somehow ended up at some state park. A nearby sign said it was closed for the season. Perfect.

  She sensed he wanted to get out of the car for the same reason she did. The intensity that had been building between them from the start of their ride screamed to be let loose under a million stars and a velvety night sky. Not inside the cramped confines of the car.

  He took her mouth again, his kiss ravenous. Their tongues tangled and tasted, gave and took. She barely noticed his hands unfastening her pants. But when she did, she helped him, kicking her sneakers off so she could push the slacks all the way off her body. The night air was cold, but the blood pounding through her veins was at the boiling point. So hot, so primed, she didn’t notice the outside temperature.

  He watched, his eyes glittering in the moonlight. His own pants were undone, his erection thick and ready, still glistening from the moisture of her mouth. She remembered the way he’d tasted, his smell, the intimacy of what she’d done, and knew she wanted to reenact that particular fantasy another time. If she ever could.

  Their stares held as he pulled a condom from his pocket and sheathed himself. Then, before she uttered a word, he picked her up, backing her against a huge old tree. Still protected by his leather jacket, she didn’t even feel the rough bark. She could only feel him. His warmth. His touch. The almost physical power of his hunger for her.

  All her senses were on overload, from the sound of the wind whipping through the mostly bare trees, to the smell of his cologne, to the taste of him that lingered on her tongue. And oh, lordy, the sight of him, that desperate want he couldn’t hide, nearly made the strength leave her limbs.

  “Hurry, please,” she said, desperate to feel him inside her.

  She had time to wrap her arms around his neck and tilt to rub against his erection, wordlessly showing him how wet, how ready, she was. Groaning, he grabbed her thigh, hooked it over his hip and drove up into her in one deep, powerful thrust.

  All Gwen could do was hold on tight and cry out to the sky as he lifted her other leg and drove into her, deeper, again and again. She’d never felt so frantic, so frenzied, so filled.

  “I’m never going to let you go, you know that, don’t you?” he said with a groan as they both climbed higher and faster toward that ultimate peak.

  Oh, God, how she wished that were true. And for right now, with his hoarse breaths in her ear, his strong arms enfolding her and that thick, hot part of him buried inside her body, she almost believed it was.

  HE WOKE UP the next morning with a startled groan, having been jarred from his sleep by a strange, disturbing dream. Gwen had been reaching out for him, trying to catch his hand while she clung to the ladder outside the third-floor window. He’d tried to grab her, to keep her close and make sure she was safe. But her fingers had turned to mist and slipped through his grasp.

  Maybe the bad dream hadn’t been such a surprise. He certainly hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. They’d stayed at the closed park, curled in each other’s arms inside the car, talking for hours while the night grew old and the stars more brilliant.

  She’d told him about her parents and her childhood. Since he’d been unable to reciprocate, he’d responded by making up outrageous tales of his childhood. She’d joined in and together they’d fabricated an entire history for him. From his birth to a poor but proud farmer in eastern Europe, to his daring defection to the U.S. as a teenager, they’d constructed a background fit for a superspy.

  He smiled, remembering the sound of her whisper, her laughter, the way her eyes lit up when she was happy.

  So unlike the Gwen he’d just been dreaming about.

  He reached toward the other side of the bed to ensure she was there, safe and sound, but realized she was gone. “Gwen?” he called, just as he heard the click of the bedroom door.

  Though he was naked, he didn’t hesitate. He jumped up and rushed to the door, yanking it open to try to catch her before she went downstairs. He wanted to see her with his own eyes, to make sure that disturbing vision of Gwen falling away from him was replaced by the brightness of her good-morning smile.

  Someone was standing right outside the door. But it wasn’t his blond-haired lover. The man stared at him, noted his lack of clothes and grinned. “That’s one way to start the day, running around naked in a public place.”

  “Shut up, Mick,” he snapped. “I have to find Gwen.”

  Then he stopped. Realized what he’d said. And to whom he’d said it. Frozen in the doorway, he blinked twice as he stared at the familiar face of his cousin. The truth rushed into his brain. Somehow, while he’d slept, while he’d dreamed, everything had returned to the proper place in his mind.

  Jared had regained his memory.

  13

  “YOU BASTARD.”

  Jared ran a frustrated hand through his hair as he stared at his rotten, grinning cousin. As soon as Mick had realized Jared had recognized him, he’d pushed him back into his room and shut the door behind them. Jared had taken two seconds to pull on his briefs, then had ordered his cousin to start talking.

  Mick had talked all right. When he was done, Jared again muttered, “You rotten bastard.”

  “You keep calling me that,” Mick said with a tsk, “and I’ll tell my mama you’re casting dispersions on her character.”

  Jared glared. “She’d call you that herself if she found out. I can’t believe you knew all along and you said nothing.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You let me run around like a nutjob investigating some poor SOB—who’s probably a traveling salesman—because I thought he was an international arms dealer.”

  “No harm done,” Mick said, not losing his grin.

  “No harm done! I could have been killed.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  “I was hanging off a third-floor window ledge yesterday afternoon.”

  Mick had the decency to look concerned. “You’re afraid of heights, Jared.”

  “No shit, Sherlock. Had any loving member of my family been around to remind me of that fact, I wouldn’t have tried climbing up that tree outside my window, risking my neck in the process.”

  Mick snickered and looked out the window. “Lemme guess…you, uh, climbed up the tree to spy on the guy upstairs?”

  “Yeah. The one who probably has a trunkful of vacuum cleaners, not weapons.”

  “You were supposed to wait and meet me in the gardener’s shed at noon. I planned to send Gwen out there, too, and lock you in or something.” Mick smiled in reminiscence. “Got sidetracked.”

  “The old gardener’s shed is gone,” Jared snapped.

  “Just as well I got sidetracked then.”

  He still couldn’t believe what Mick had just admitted. His cousin had been here since Halloween night, had seen him in the kitchen after he’d been hurt. He’d known all along who he was. And he’d stood by and let Jared be convinced he was a frigging secret agent. A frigging secret agent with a stupid-ass name.

  Unbelievable. Even for Mick.

  “Dr. Wilson swore you’d be fine,” Mick said. “Besides, I swear, bro, when I first saw you, I thought it was a joke. I was playing along. I thought you were paying me back for something.”

  “God knows I’d have enough reason,” Jared muttered. “When exactly did you figure out it wasn’t a joke?”

  Mick shrugged and leaned against the windowsill, his hands in his pockets. “Pretty quickly.” When Jared frowned, he quickly continued. “I mean, I suspected pretty quickly—when I found that Halloween invitation in your car. And when Anne—Dr. Wilson—confirmed you’d had a blow to the head. But I wasn’t sure. There was always the possibility you were playing me.”

  “The invitation…what happened to the murder party?”

  “Why did you think the party was this weekend? I sent that invitation a year ago. You missed a great time—last Halloween.”
>
  Jared muttered a curse. One more reason to find a better way of handling his mail when he traveled. “I just got it when I came home from Russia on Wednesday. I had no idea it was from last year.” When Mick visibly relaxed, as though he thought he was off the hook, Jared pointed his index finger at him. “That doesn’t excuse what you did. Jesus, Mick, anything could have happened!”

  Mick sat on the end of the bed. “Yeah. You could’ve had fun for a change. Could’ve let yourself be the Jared I once knew, instead of the brooding, reserved one you’ve become.” Mick glanced at the rumpled covers, then at the white satin bathrobe lying at the foot of it. He crossed his arms and gave Jared a half smile. “Gee, you could’ve even gone crazy over a blond-haired innkeeper.”

  “Bite me.”

  “I’m sure she already has.”

  “Watch your mouth,” he growled. “And leave her out of this.”

  Jared leaned forward, with his elbows on his knees, and rested his forehead in his palm. Gwen. How on earth was he ever going to explain this to her? After everything they’d done, all they’d shared, he was now supposed to tell her he wasn’t the mysterious, exciting man she’d come to know?

  “You okay?” Mick asked quietly.

  “How am I going to explain this to her?” He looked up. “You know she’s going to feel like a fool. And you certainly didn’t help, setting yourself up as some local CIA informant.”

  Mick corrected him. “The Shop. I can’t believe that didn’t tip you off, considering how much you used to read Stephen King.”

  “It did sound familiar,” Jared admitted. “Just not for the right reason. Why did you have to bring Gwen into it?”

  “She needed an adventure. Needed it almost as much as you did.” Mick shrugged. “I don’t think you should tell her yet.”

  “Oh, there’s a solution. Let her keep running around thinking she’s got a dangerous criminal in her home.” He snorted. “I guess that makes about as much sense as anything else you’ve ever said.”

  “Admit it. You’re already really crazy about her.”