Rocky Mountain Maneuvers

by Cassie Miles

  “I’ve ordered a dinner,” he said. Time for the next phase of his plan. “Why don’t you relax? I could draw you a nice bath.”

  “I can run my own water,” she said. “And I already took a shower at my house.”

  “To relax,” he repeated.

  “I’m fine.” She flung herself onto the sofa, kicked off her high-heeled shoes and stretched out her long legs on the cushions. “Here’s me. Relaxing.”

  Adam fiddled with the sound system. Classic rock ’n’ roll blasted through the room. “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” by the Rolling Stones.

  This was definitely not the mood he was going for.

  Molly sang along. Boisterously.

  Flipping through channels, he found a quieter station with Tony Bennett singing about leaving his heart in San Francisco.

  “Leave it there,” she said.

  “You like the oldies.”

  She grinned. “I like you, don’t I?”

  “I’m not that old.”

  “I seem to recall a fortieth birthday party with black balloons and enough candles on the cake to start a forest fire. Doesn’t that mean you’re officially over the hill?”

  “Life begins at forty.”

  She regarded him pensively. “How old do you think Gloria is?”

  He shrugged. “I’m not good at guessing ages.”

  “I’d say she’s closer to the big four-oh than thirty. A dangerous time of life for a woman.”

  “How so?”

  “She starts thinking about how she’s going to manage in her elder years. How she’s going to pay the bills. Might be a time when a woman like Gloria could be tempted by a get-rich-quick scheme.”

  Operation Cupid’s Arrow was floundering badly. Adam hadn’t wanted to get sidetracked by talk about their investigation. Tonight should focus on them. He suggested, “Gloria’s age might be a good thing for you to think about in the bathtub.”

  “What is it with you and the bath? I know I don’t stink because I put on perfume.”

  He’d noticed her scent. Unlike a lot of women, Molly didn’t stick with one special fragrance. Right now, she smelled like cookies—something vanilla.

  She rose from the sofa and went to the complimentary fruit basket where she grabbed an apple. “Gloria is at the center of this. She’s like a big, nasty spider in the middle of her web.”

  With a resigned sigh, Adam sank into one of the chairs beside the sofa. Operation Cupid’s Arrow had been strategized for everything…except Molly. He should have known she’d be obstinate. The only way he’d get her into the tub is if he threw her over his shoulder and carried her in there. Somehow, that seemed to lack romantic finesse.

  “I don’t want to talk shop,” he said. “All we can do now is wait. The note said the crime would take place tomorrow.”

  “One thing we haven’t considered,” she said, “is the identity of the person who wrote the anonymous note.” She paused for half a second. “I think it was Ronald.”

  “Why?”

  “I talked to him on the phone this afternoon, and he had something to confess, but he was afraid to tell me.”

  “I could put more pressure on him.”

  “No way. He’ll clam up if you push. He doesn’t want to go back to jail.”

  Right now, Adam didn’t care about Ronald or the investigation. “Let’s drop it. There’s nothing we can do. We don’t even know what the crime is.”

  “Obviously, it’s a plan to steal the antique diamond necklace from Heidi’s wedding,” Molly said. “When Pierce was talking to you, he said this was about glitter. To me, that means diamonds.”

  “It’s not so obvious,” Adam said with a resigned sigh. He had considered a variety of possible crimes. Maybe if he got through them, Molly would drop this conversation and get back to the real purpose of this evening. “Forget the glitter and concentrate on Ronald. He could be selling fake IDs. Could be blackmailing someone with his wedding photos.”

  “Oooh.” Her mouth formed a pretty O. “I like blackmail.”

  “As we’ve considered before, it could be Stan Lan sky,” Adam said. “Pierce figured out that he was the magpie, and Stan lashed out to save himself. And now, he’s going after the necklace.”

  “Could be,” she said. “And Denny Devlin has money troubles that could lead to criminal activity.”

  “Therefore,” Adam said, “we can’t eliminate any of our suspects.”

  “It all hinges on Pierce’s loft,” she said. “Something is going on there, and we haven’t figured out the clues.”

  Earlier today, at the CCC offices, Molly had tried to track down details on the company that rented the loft—the Sylvan Company. There was no paper trail. The checking account had only one signatory—a guy she’d never heard of. “I still think it’s Gloria. She rushed to Pierce’s bedside so she could run Heidi’s wedding tomorrow. Why is that so important?”

  “Don’t know.”

  She watched as Adam grabbed his suitcase and went into the bedroom, presumably to unpack. Thus far, she’d purposely avoided the bed. Though they’d come here for a romantic evening, she wasn’t in the mood. There needed to be candlelight or something.

  Over the radio, Tony Bennett was singing “My Way,” a song that always reminded her of Adam. He did things his way. That was for sure. When he first started Colorado Crime Consultants, most people in law enforcement considered him to be a nuisance. They didn’t think they needed advice from outside experts. The cops had been proven wrong. Time and again, CCC volunteers uncovered vital clues to solving cases.

  And people loved to volunteer. From Liam MacKenzie, who used his freelance piloting business for aerial surveillance, to David Crawford, the reporter whose knowledge of serial murder was encyclopedic, the CCC volunteers were happy to share their expertise.

  When Adam emerged from the bedroom, she said, “Isn’t there a CCC expert we could contact for answers on this case? Somebody who would provide the final clue?”

  “Pierce would be our expert on all things wedding,” he said. “And he’s not talking.”

  “Wedding details are central,” she agreed. “The murder weapon was a gourmet knife a caterer would use. The tailor, Stan Lansky, is probably the magpie thief. And there’s your idea about Ronald and blackmail photos.”

  “But who is he blackmailing?”

  An idea struck her. “Somebody who’s very mysterious. The guy who rents Pierce’s loft and hides behind the Sylvan Company.”

  Adam paused for a moment, then he nodded. “Good deduction, Molly. What’s his name, again?”

  “Phil Prath.” It was an odd name without obvious ethnic origin, and she presumed it had been shortened from something else. Another disguise. “If we find out who he really is, we’ll have our answers.”

  Adam came toward her. His gait was slow and careful as though he was stalking her. His approach made her a little nervous.

  “You’re good at this,” he said smoothly. “Figuring out the details.”

  “I like details.”

  He stood only a few paces away from her. Her brain was on amber alert, telling her to run and hide. But she’d agreed to this night at the Brown Palace.

  Earlier, Adam’s kisses had convinced her that there might be something more than friendship between them, and she was ready to explore the possibility. She’d packed her sexy black negligee.

  “You’re smart,” Adam said.

  “I should be. We’ve been doing this long enough, bouncing clues back and forth. It’s what makes us good partners.”

  “I’m glad you think of us as partners,” he said. “When you first started this field investigation, I wondered if you wanted to establish your own private investigation firm.”

  “I could,” she said. “My contacts are excellent and I—”

  “You’d never leave me.”

  “Don’t be so sure.” She was half teasing and half serious. “I could set up my own private eye agency.”

  “But you
won’t,” he said.

  “Why not? Don’t you think I could handle it?”

  “It’s the other way around.” He came one step closer. The gap between them narrowed. “Molly, I can’t handle being without you.”

  His nearness took her breath away. “Really?”

  “If you weren’t there in the office, I wouldn’t bother showing up. I’d be sitting alone in the dark. You’re the light in my life, Molly. The sweetness in my coffee. The warmth on a winter day.”

  She was melting. Her insecurities washed away. “Really?”

  “I need you.”

  She stepped into his waiting embrace, and his arms closed around her. Her nervousness vanished, and she felt very, very safe. She belonged here, after all.

  When he kissed her, all thought faded from her mind. She was pure sensation. Pure excitement. Her spirit soared. She was weightless, flying. His passion—his need for her—carried her higher and higher until oxygen ran thin and she thought she might pass out from sheer euphoria.

  Gasping, she ended their kiss but didn’t move away from him. Now was the time. She was ready to take this attraction to the next level. She wanted to make love. “I brought a sexy black nightie.”

  “Not necessary,” he growled.

  “But I want to be extra pretty for you.”

  Adam smiled and kissed her forehead. “I thought I needed a romantic strategy.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “Flowers and candles and champagne.”

  “And?” She tilted her lips up, greedy for another kiss.

  “All I need is you.”

  He kissed her again—so deeply and thoroughly that her knees were weak. Resistance was no longer an option. She would never say no.

  Gently, he scooped her off her feet and carried her into the adjoining bedroom where he placed her on the king-size bed. Slowly, he unbuttoned her blouse, trailing light kisses on each inch of newly revealed flesh.

  When her blouse was completely opened, he sat on the bed, gazing down at her.

  “What?” she said. Was something wrong?

  “You’re just so damn beautiful.” He traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. “This is a perfect face.”

  His caress slipped down her throat to her breasts.

  Molly had never been one to lie passively. She was anxious for more. More touching. More of him.

  She rose up on the bed. It was her turn to touch his body. She wanted him undressed. Now.

  Though she started with his buttons, her need overcame common sense. Grabbing handfuls of fabric, she ripped his shirt open, tearing the buttons apart. Her fingers stroked his naked chest. She nuzzled the springy black hair. As far as she was concerned, Adam was the truly gorgeous person in this room. His body was strong and well-proportioned.

  In a burst of energy and raw need, they tore off their clothing, ripped apart the bed and collapsed together on the soft sheets.

  “Slower,” Adam said.

  Her hand slid down his torso, and she grasped his hard erection. “You’re ready.”

  “I want this to be good for you.” His voice was husky with desire. “It takes a woman longer.”

  But she was already tingling all over. “Adam, I’ve been waiting for seven years. That’s long enough.”

  He didn’t need further encouragement. His subtle caresses became insistent. His kisses set fire to her wanton lust. She was greedy, voracious, demanding, caught up in an overwhelming passion.

  Adam, always in control, sheathed himself with a condom, and when he entered her with a thrust, she thought she might explode. He drove harder and harder. Waves of pleasure rocked her body. Yes! This was better than she’d ever imagined. Yes, yes, yes!

  Suspended in a state of pure ecstasy, she felt as if she were floating six feet off the mattress. And then, like a feather on the wind, she settled back down to earth. Her eyelids opened, and she gazed over at the incredible man who lay beside her.

  “Adam,” she whispered.

  “Yes, Molly.”

  Mere words were incapable of expressing her fulfillment. She took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

  Without warning, he snatched his hand back. He was out of the bed. Adam stood at the door to the bedroom. Naked. Gun in hand. He stepped into the doorway and aimed with both arms straight out.

  Just as quickly, he darted back. Before he closed the door, he called out, “Carry on.”

  “What’s happening?”

  “Room service,” he said as he slipped back under the covers beside her. “I ordered a few things.”

  “When? You haven’t been on the phone.”

  With a rueful smile, he said, “Operation Cupid’s Arrow.”

  “And what does that mean?” She lightly ruffled the hair on his chest. “I’m really hoping that Cupid’s Arrow isn’t your special name for your—”

  “No way.”

  “Explain, Adam.”

  “I wanted everything to be perfect for you. So I called ahead and made arrangements for food and flowers and stuff. That’s why I wanted you in the bathtub—out of the way while final preparations were put into place.”

  “That’s crazy,” she said. “And so very sweet.”

  “I didn’t count on you being such an obstinate mule, refusing to get into the bath.”

  “Don’t apologize,” she murmured. “Everything worked out for the best.”

  He grinned. “I’ll need to tip that concierge extra. I might have startled her when I jumped into the doorway waving a gun.”

  “Waving a gun and naked,” Molly said.

  “Not good form,” he muttered.

  “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with your form. But I would recommend a really huge tip.” Her hand glided down his torso again. “Speaking of which—”

  He caught her hand. “Not yet. I went to a lot of trouble to be romantic, and you need to see it.”

  She left the bed and dressed, belatedly, in her sexy black negligee.

  Adam slipped into his Army-green briefs. “I was going to be wearing my tuxedo. No woman can resist a tuxedo.”

  “You’re irresistible exactly the way you are.”

  She loved that he’d made all these preparations. If he hadn’t been such a manly man, Molly would have told him that he was cute.

  When she stepped into the outer room of the suite, she was amazed. A meal was laid out on the table. Around the suite, candles flickered. Roses were everywhere.

  Inexplicably, she felt tears stinging the back of her eyelids. He thought she was special.

  Adam gestured broadly. “Operation Cupid’s Arrow.”

  “I’m touched.” She wiped the tears away. All he had to do to get her into his bed was to tell her that she was needed. “This is fantastic.”

  “If you’d taken a bath when I’d told you to,” he said, “it would have been more impressive.”

  “Everything is perfect.”

  They dined on one of her favorite meals. Lobster with drawn butter, asparagus and green salad with raspberry vinaigrette dressing. The flavors were absolutely sensual. Even more sexy was the fact that Adam had noticed, after all these years, what she liked to eat. By candlelight, they sipped fine, fizzy champagne.

  As she licked the last bite of chocolate mousse from her lips, Molly whispered, “I think the bed might be getting cold.”

  “I know how we can warm it up.”

  “Take me.”

  And he did. Twice more.

  Afterward, they lay quietly side by side, allowing the enormity of what had passed between them to settle.

  Molly wasn’t ready to question or second-guess their lovemaking. She didn’t care what it meant in terms of greater implications. For right now, at this moment, she was as close to happiness as she’d ever been.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Adam finally got to wear his tuxedo when they left their hotel suite the following afternoon. As he escorted Molly to the grand staircase leading into the Brown Palace lobby, he knew he was looking good in spite of the bulge f
rom his shoulder holster.

  And Molly was fantastic.

  Back in their suite, he’d enjoyed watching her as she got ready for the wedding reception. She piled her hair on top of her head and added another chunk of matching blond curls on top. Her bright blue dress had a thigh-high slit and a plunging neckline. She was wearing pearls. Lots of pearls. Three long necklaces and a huge bracelet of pearls with several strands circling her slender arm.

  Slowly, they descended the staircase. Heads turned in their direction, and he was proud to be with the most beautiful woman in the room—the most beautiful woman in the world. He leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You look great.”

  She gazed up him. Her eyes were still that dreamy shade of blue that came with making love, but her voice held a teasing note. “Finally, you know the right thing to say when I’m all dressed up.”

  He’d always thought she was pretty. Until now, it hadn’t seemed right to tell her. “I’m not making a compliment because I’m supposed to. You’re truly lovely.”

  “And you’re very classy in your tux,” she said.

  He nodded. It was a good thing that Operation Cupid’s Arrow hadn’t worked out exactly as he’d planned. If he’d worn his tux last night before they made love, Molly might have ripped off all the buttons.

  His memory of that moment lingered in his mind like the taste of Courvoisier. Making love to Molly had temporarily quenched an unassuageable thirst, a thirst he had not even been aware of. And now, he was ready for more. He wanted to make love to her every day and every night. To live with her. To have children with her.

  Whoa! Adam did a quick mental backpedal. Living together? Having babies? That sounded a lot like marriage. It might be prudent to take more time before he considered that step.

  For most of his life, he’d been a bachelor. His brief marriage hardly even counted because he’d been out of the country on duty during three quarters of the time he’d been wed. His sensibilities were those of a bachelor, and he was even more set in his ways than most men. Adjusting to the constant presence of another person—even if that other person was Molly—wouldn’t be easy.

  He knew they’d maintain the teasing that had been part of their relationship for years. But would their differences turn into arguments? His greatest fear was that Molly would turn into his mother, and he would become his father.