Lambert appeared pleased with the choice. “Excellent.” He turned the book over toward him again to verify which child it was. “Lily. She is a pixie, isn’t she?”
“Pixie,” Mac echoed with a smile on her lips that she knew was mandatory. And then she placed her hand on Cade’s arm, drawing his attention back to her. “Honey, why don’t we give Lily an older brother?” As Cade turned toward her in mute surprise, Mac looked at Lambert. “Could we do that? Adopt the boy as well?”
The process was easier than talking about it. Lambert looked at her face over the rim of his glasses, appearing to scrutinize her. “You want them both?”
She nodded, her enthusiasm growing as she spoke. “There’s just something about that face that speaks to my heart. And they even look enough alike to pass for brother and sister.” Her hand tightened on Cade’s arm, squeezing for emphasis. “What do you say?” She couldn’t read his eyes when he turned toward her. Had she overstepped? Or messed something up? “We’ve certainly got enough love for both. And we’ve waited so long...”
Taylor had finished what was, by Cade’s count, his third drink. He looked a little saddened that he had nothing to raise in toast. Rallying, he lifted an imaginary goblet. “Looks like your wife’s made up her mind.” He laughed at his own joke before sharing it. “And we married men all know what that means.”
“Tough lady to argue with,” Cade agreed.
Inside, he wasn’t anywhere near as calm as he appeared. He couldn’t help wondering if they had overplayed their hand somehow and if the men saw through them. Or did they simply view Mac’s behavior as the reaction of a woman who had just been granted her dearest wish after years of having it denied?
He looked intently at Lambert. “So, is it doable?”
“That is entirely up to you, Mr. Sinclair, but I would certainly say that I believe it is.” Lambert smiled magnanimously as he turned his attention to Taylor beside him. There was just the slightest hint of disapproval in his gray eyes as they flickered over the glass. “Are you sure?”
“We’re sure,” Mac said firmly. She covered Cade’s hand with hers, afraid to look at him. Afraid that too much could be read into their glances.
“All right, then, Phillip will see to the arrangements and give you a call tomorrow morning.” Lambert looked at his Rolex not because he needed to know the time, but because he enjoyed looking at fine things. “Say around ten?”
Ten.
More than twelve hours to live in limbo, Mac thought. More than twelve hours to reside on the cusp of hell. But they had no choice. For the moment, Lambert and Taylor were in the driver’s seat. The additional time could be put to use, she reminded herself. They could alert Redhawk, and he finally could go to his superior with this as evidence. Once they caught the men in the art of literally “selling” kidnapped children, the ring could be cracked wide open. The children could be sent home.
And she could bring Heather back to Moira, the way she promised.
There was a trace of breathlessness in her voice when she told Lambert, “We’ll be counting the minutes.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Whatever else he might have had to say was swallowed up in the shrill, insistent ring of his cell phone. Excusing himself, he took it out. The genial expression on his face melted into one of resignation.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.” He flipped the phone closed. A semiapologetic expression fell into place as he looked at them. “It seems my presence is required to help welcome twins into the world. A week early, I might add.” He sighed. In a rare show of confidence, he added, “At times, I find that the miracle of birth is a highly overrated affair.” He tucked the telephone away into his pocket as he rose from the table. Pausing, he looked at Cade. “You’ll pick up my tab?”
Cade found the question incredibly miserly, coming from a man wearing a suit that must have cost at least four hundred dollars and a Rolex watch.
“Consider it done.” Cade looked at Taylor. “Yours, too, of course.” The bar tab alone would probably be costly, he mused. But it was a small-enough price to pay, considering what was at stake.
Taylor merely nodded his thanks. Apparently becoming aware of Lambert’s prolonged scrutiny, his expression was infused with just a whisper of resentment.
“Maybe I had better call it a night as well. I’ll get back to you in the morning,” he promised Cade and Mac as he rose to his feet.
Hands were shaken, promises made. Mac and Cade remained at the table as the two men left. Mac held her breath, watching them go. After she was sure they had departed, Mac squeezed Cade’s hand. She could hardly believe it.
“It’s happening. We’re going to get them back,” she whispered, looking at him. For a man who was finally in sight of his goal, he looked oddly subdued. Was there something he hadn’t told her, or was this just his reticent way? “Aren’t you excited?”
He was afraid to be excited, Cade realized. “Once I have Darin in my arms again, there’ll be time enough to be excited.”
He’d spent too long in this abyss to be certain that he was climbing out again, even if there appeared to be proof that he was. Things didn’t always turn out the way they were supposed to. Plans went awry. They fell apart. He didn’t want to begin rejoicing just yet. He couldn’t put up with the disappointment after that.
“Do you think they suspect us?”
He thought before answering. “No, but it doesn’t hurt to be cautious.”
Mac had been cautious all her life when it came to certain things. Cautious because she was afraid of falling on her face. Of becoming dependent on something that wasn’t dependable. She knew all about caution. And the pitfalls it brought with it.
“Yes, it does. Sometimes,” she murmured, almost more to herself than to him. “Sometimes being cautious costs you a great deal, and what there is after that hurts twice as much.” Because what there is after that is loneliness, she thought.
But if she was cautious when it came to giving her heart away, Mac certainly wasn’t when it came to believing that they were merely hours away from finding Heather.
The rush she felt wouldn’t abate. She found that it was more than a little difficult to get control over the surging that kept insisting on seizing her body, running madly from corner to corner as it filled in all the spaces. In light of Cade’s subdued reaction, she was vainly attempting to maintain control.
It was a losing battle.
Leaving the restaurant shortly after Lambert and Taylor’s exit, Cade and Mac drove back to the condo. Unable to restrain herself, Mac kept up a steady stream of conversation. It was interrupted only on occasion by Cade, and then only with a noise rather than a word.
By the time they pulled into their parking space, Mac didn’t think she could take Cade’s somber mood any longer, not without an explanation.
Getting out, she swung the door shut behind her. “Do you want to tell me what’s eating at you?”
He hit the combination lock on the door, scrambling the code for the keyless entry. “Nothing.”
Nothing, her foot. “ ‘Nothing’ is what you’ve said for the last ten miles.”
Cade looked at her, mild surprise creasing his forehead. “I answered you.”
She almost laughed out loud. “Grunting is only considered a language by cave dwellers.” And then the reason for his reluctance hit her. “Are you afraid that you’re wrong, that it’s not him?” Cade had seemed so sure when she’d spoken to him in the restaurant.
Cade thought of the face in the photograph. His stomach tightened. “No, it’s Darin, all right. He looks just like his mother. And just like Megan’s projection.” He considered dropping it. There was no reason to share his feelings with this woman. But Cade heard himself doing it nonetheless. “What I’m afraid of is that at the last minute, this is all going to fall apart and I’ll be back to square one.”
So that was it. In her heart, Mac had suspected something like this. “It’s not going to fa
ll apart,” she insisted softly. She followed Cade to the front door and waited as he put in the key.
“We’ll get him back.”
She used the term we as if they were a team, like he and Megan were. And like Sam, Cade thought. But they weren’t. She wasn’t. She was a client, and the sooner he started remembering that, the better off they would all be. “Darin isn’t your concern.”
Mac’s eyes held his. She wondered if he truly believed that, if he thought she could just walk away after what they’d just been through. “Yeah, he is. If we find Heather, then I’ll owe you.”
“The bill will be in the mail.”
The remark stung. She walked into the house. “More than money can ever pay.” Mac turned around as he flipped the locks into place on the door. “And if I help you find Darin, then the debt will be paid.”
“Then I’ll owe you,” he pointed out.
“One debt will absolve the other,” she assured him. She looked around the neatly ordered condo, feeling restless and antsy. Mac took a deep breath. The feeling only intensified. “So what do we do now?”
There was nothing they could do. Cade had already called Redhawk before they’d left the restaurant, alerting him to what had happened. Redhawk had things to do, but they didn’t. They were in the pending mode. “We wait.”
Mac didn’t want to wait, she wanted to jump into action. To go to Lambert’s house and demand the release of her niece and his son. “Part of me—”
Cade read her thoughts in her eyes. “Yes, I know. Me, too.”
They were on the same page, Mac realized, the same wavelength. It amazed her how alike they could be.
“I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight,” Mac confessed. She glanced at the television set. It was the off month, just before the TV sweeps began. Programs were into reruns. Staring at reruns held no appeal to her. She thought about what she’d done in college on the eve of killer finals. “How are you at card games?”
“All I know is poker.”
The word evoked a huge grin from her. A man after her own heart. “Funny you should say that, it’s my favorite card game.”
Cade had trouble envisioning her playing poker. He’d always equated it with something men did in smoky rooms with the smell of beer occasionally piercing the cigar-infested cloud.
“I pictured you as more of the cerebral type. Bridge, something like that.”
Bridge had always moved too slowly to satisfy her. Mac liked something with motion.
“Shows you can never judge a book by its cover.” Standing on her toes, she opened the kitchen cupboards and rummaged around for something to use. She came up with a very poor selection. “You want to play for matchsticks, paper clips or gumdrops?”
Her back was to him. All of her back, with nothing else in the way. Poker became the furthest thing from Cade’s mind. “I think I have something a great deal sweeter in mind than gumdrops.”
Chapter 14
With each pass of his hands, the tension of the day was smoothed away a little more. Pushed further and further back until it was less than an infinitesimal dot looming somewhere on the horizon. Not forgotten, but for the moment, ignored.
And with every movement of his hands, Cade evoked another kind of tension, another sort of anticipation, from deep within Mac’s soul. One that healed rather than destroyed. One that ultimately soothed rather than agitated.
Like a traveler at the end of a thousand-mile journey, Mac rushed toward the light that burned brightly for her in the window, welcoming her home. Welcoming her to a place that she had not understood, until this very moment, actually existed. She embraced it and him with open arms and with no reservations.
At least for now.
Turning in the comforting circle formed by Cade’s arms, Mac surrendered completely to the sensations that so swiftly laid claim to her. Gave herself up to the man who made her feel so many things, so many joys, anticipations and a host of other, equally passionate emotions she had neither the time nor ability to sort out yet. All she knew was that having them made her feel invulnerable. Capable of anything.
Of everything.
This had to be what love was like, she realized. The thought would have shaken her down to her very shoes had she been able to thmk clearly. But thinking was not a priority, only feeling was.
The sound of her breathing, growing more audible with each movement he made, excited Cade beyond his own comprehension. It was as if every breath she took ended in his own lungs, in his own body. Fueling, not sating, the desire that blossomed and grew so quickly.
He wanted to go fast, to take her and make wild, exquisite love before doubts and fears caught up to him, making him back away.
He wanted to go slow, so that every movement, every breath, was firmly and indelibly imprinted on his brain. So that it would last a lifetime. As this would not. He’d had happiness snatched out of his hands too many times to believe that it would last for more than a very fleeting juncture in time. But memories, memories could last for as long as he had breath in his body.
And he was making memories with her now.
Coaxed by his hands, the green dress shimmied down away from her shoulders ever so slowly. The silver threads that were shot through it caught the light, giving it warm life and throwing it back at him.
As if he needed that to catch his attention.
The smile on his lips did not begin to give expression to the awe, to the wonder he felt at being the first man to make love with this woman. How could she have gone so many years and never had someone worship her body with his hands the way he was doing now? How could she have walked the earth, lived her life, and not had men begging to do what he was doing now?
The implications that went hand in hand with the knowledge that he was the first still refused to register in their entirety. But they were slowly beginning to.
He was humbled.
He was hungry.
Hungry for the feel of her, the taste, the scent and the intoxicating wonder of her. He felt as if he were going to die if he couldn’t feast on what he craved.
Heart hammering, his lips sealed to hers, Cade pushed the dress down farther along her arms. The tight sleeves released their hold, finally freeing her hands. The material slid fluidly from her hips, falling to the floor like a deep sigh.
McKayla was nude from the waist up.
Even though he knew she would be, verifying it for himself created sudden, intense waves of heat and passion within him. Moaning her name, Cade gathered her to him, losing himself in the silky feel of her skin, the sweet taste of her mouth, the slight whiff of perfume in her hair.
Passion consumed him, leaving no corner untouched. The more he took, the more he wanted.
The more he needed her.
With each kiss, each caress, each inch she surrendered to him, Mac became that much more empowered. Feeding on his needs, and hers, as if it was actual sustenance. The more she gave, the more she had, until she felt as if the surging sensations within her body would actually cause her to burst.
The safe feeling he’d given her gave way to desire of such huge proportions, she was nearly overwhelmed by it. With no thought to consequences, she allowed herself to be swept away, and by the very act, discovered new territories within herself she’d never suspected existed.
He made her aware of everything. The texture of the floor, the height of the walls, the warmth of the light from the lamp. Everything was better, more intense because of him.
She wanted to remain in this place he’d created for her forever. And yet, she rushed to take each new joy, each new explosion within her body, savoring it as if it would be her last.
Eagerly, she tore his clothing from him, not even aware that she was behaving like some untamed force of nature, not yet civilized by society. Not yet imprisoned by its rules. She bore no resemblance to Dr. McKayla Dellaventura. And she didn’t care.
They made love on the floor, on the table, on the bed. It was as if speed and directi
on, time and space, all had melded into a giant canvas. Lovemaking was the brush that allowed them to paint, to leave their mark not only on the weave of the fabric stretched across the wooden boards, but on each other.
Explosion after lush explosion took her body, leaving her damp, perspiring, desperate for rest. Desperate for more. His hands, his tongue, his very breath on the most intimate parts of her, all contributed to the sensations. All could raise her to a fever pitch that bordered on frenzy.
Clutching at him with fingers that had become all but lax, she drew him up to her, arching her hips invitingly. Silently begging for the union he could no longer deny either one of them.
The groan that escaped as he slid into her was a melding of both their voices. Both their desires. Sheathed within her welcoming body, Cade wove his fingers through hers, holding them high over her head, and slowly initiated the dance that took them, partnered, to a summit meant for only two.
She couldn’t catch her breath. Her mind was spinning. The force of the climax left her dazed, disoriented and delusional.
Because she felt she was in love with him.
Cade literally left her gasping for air as she sank down to earth again, acutely aware of the brush of his body balanced over hers, hardly noting the weight that went along with it. She didn’t want to. move. Didn’t want him to move. Ever.
In a dreamy stupor, she left her arms encircled around his back, content to remain that way indefinitely. Perhaps longer.
From some dark, mysterious place, she discovered a sliver of energy that enabled her to quip, “Well, that took care of the first hour. What do we do for the other eleven?”
Cade had just had her. And wanted her all over again. The realization left him utterly stunned. He almost felt like a spectator in his own life.
With laughter in his eyes, he raised himself up on his elbows and looked at her. Damp hair was plastered to her forehead. He felt his body quickening at the very sight of her. Was this normal? Or was he in the grips of some kind of devilish spell?
His mouth curved as he pressed a kiss to her neck. “Does the word encore mean anything to you?”
Hero in the Nick of Time Page 17
