Return to Mystic Lake

by Carla Cassidy

  His lips moved down her throat, lingering as if he loved the taste of her skin. “My sweet Maggie,” he murmured. “I’ve wanted you since the moment you picked me up at the airport.”

  “And I think I’ve wanted you even before I met you,” she replied, knowing it didn’t make sense. But she’d been hungry for a man like him, a man who would challenge her, a man who, with his sexy smile and twinkling eyes, could weaken her knees and make her want him to take her to bed.

  She gasped again as his mouth possessed one of her nipples, his tongue swirling around the hardened tip and creating a river of sensation that shot straight to her center.

  Tangling her hands in his hair, she was aware of his complete arousal, that he was physically ready to take her at any moment. But he seemed to be in no hurry, his mouth attending to one breast and then the other. This raised her desire for him inside her to an unrelenting ache of want.

  She moved her hands to his smooth chest, loving the heat and hardness of his taut muscles. He lay half on top of her, giving himself room to maneuver his hands and lips to explore her body.

  His mouth left her breasts and trailed a blaze of fire down the flat of her stomach. She attempted to lie still but couldn’t, and instead shivered from the sheer pleasure he evoked.

  Reaching a hand down between them she grasped his hardness and he raised his head to gaze at her, his eyes glittering with raw emotion in the nearly dark room.

  With their gazes still locked, he caressed a hand down to touch her between her legs. A moan escaped her as she raised her hips to meet him.

  She was a firecracker ready to fire, and he was the detonator that would make her explode. He moved his fingers a little faster against her sensitive skin.

  She moaned again, this time louder. Heat flooded through her, and every nerve ending in her body tingled with imminent release. And then she was there, exploding into a million pieces and shooting out to space.

  Before she returned to earth, Jackson positioned himself between her thighs and entered her. This time he moaned as he buried himself deep within her.

  He hovered just above her, holding the bulk of his weight on arms that trembled. Taut neck muscles let her know he fought for control as he moved his hips to thrust him slowly in and out of her moist heat.

  He paused a moment, looking down at her, and he smiled that sexy grin that shot straight to her heart. “I feel like I’m finally home, Maggie.”

  She raised her legs to wrap around his back, drawing him in deeper and also trapping him against her. “For tonight you are home,” she replied softly.

  Her words seemed to galvanize him back into action. He stroked in and out of her with a quickened pace, and a new release built up inside her. He was all that mattered at the moment, the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hands on her skin, her hands on his. She was ravenous and he fed her hunger.

  Tears sprang to her eyes as waves of pleasure threatened to drown her, and at the same time he stiffened against her, climaxing with a groan of her name.

  She’d expected him to roll over and out of the bed. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, was finished with her. But instead he rolled to the side of her, leaned up on one elbow and gently stroked a strand of her hair away from her cheek.

  Maybe he was just waiting for her to get up and leave his bed, his room, she thought. She started to sit up, but he pushed her back down.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry,” he said with that lazy grin stretching his lips. “After-sex conversation is almost as important as presex talk. You were amazing.”

  “I never knew it could be like this,” she said as she relaxed back into the sheets. “I mean, I never before...uh... It’s never been so intense for me before.”

  He looked at her in surprise. “You mean you’ve never had an orgasm before?”

  Her cheeks warmed and she was grateful for the darkness that hid the blush. “My previous partner was more interested in his own pleasure than mine.”

  “Then he definitely wasn’t a gentleman,” Jackson replied. “In fact, I believe that makes him an ass.”

  She laughed. “He was kind of an ass. In fact, he was worse than that—he was a boring ass.”

  He reached out and stroked his hand against her cheek. “You’re too much woman for that kind of a man.”

  “You mean I need somebody who aggravates me, who has a ridiculous Southern charm and is totally hot to look at?” she teased.

  “And that would be me,” he agreed.

  “You do realize you’re quite arrogant.”

  “Not arrogant,” he protested. “I’m just good and I know it. I’m confident.”

  “And I’m sleepy now. I think it’s time for me to use the bathroom and say good-night.” She slid out of the bed, not self-conscious in her nakedness after what they’d just shared.

  “Use my bathroom and then come back to my bed.” He sat up, the sheet falling down to expose his beautiful chest. “I’d like to wake up in the morning with you in my arms.”

  She hesitated. There was nothing more she wanted at the moment than to crawl back into his bed and wake up with him next to her in the bed. But her desire for it scared her. He wasn’t supposed to mean that much to her. This was just supposed to be a sex thing, not a warm and fuzzy continuance until morning.

  Desire won over good sense. She went into his bathroom and when she returned to the bedroom he lifted the sheets to once again welcome her into his bed.

  The minute she was beneath the sheets, he pulled her into his arms, spooning her as if they’d been lovers for years. She hated to admit to herself how much she liked the feel of his body against hers, his arm possessively around her waist and the soft warmth of his breath against the back of her neck.

  She didn’t want to admit that he had managed to crack the shell that had encased her heart since the time of her father’s death, that he’d made her not just like him, but love him more than a little bit.

  It was a feeling she didn’t want to have, a feeling she knew would only lead to heartbreak. She knew her partner and she knew his life was far away from her life in Kansas City, not just in miles but in emotional distance.

  She knew their case was in bad shape. They’d been nearly killed twice and yet she felt as if the clearest, most present danger she faced at the moment was the luxury of loving Jackson.

  It was just after seven when Jackson awakened, Maggie a warm pillow he’d wrapped in his arms as he slept. Although he knew they had a hundred things to accomplish today, he was reluctant to leave the bed.

  He’d suspected there was a wealth of passion hidden deep inside her and last night she’d released it all, giving to him the gift of her vulnerability and her fiery need.

  It was funny that she’d been the one to remind him that it was a one-time deal. That was all he’d ever wanted from the women in his life, but he found himself dissatisfied and wanting more from Maggie.

  But, of course, he knew that more wasn’t possible. If he ever bared his soul to her, she’d run for the hills. The sins of the father would come back to haunt him, and he’d rather walk away from here without her ever knowing where he came from and the choices he’d ultimately made that should have been made long before.

  With these thoughts in mind, he silently slid from the bed and padded into the living room where several boxes had been delivered at some point during the morning.

  He opened one of them to find underwear, a pair of jeans and a polo shirt all in his size. He carried the items into Maggie’s suite, where he showered and dressed without awakening her.

  Once showered and dressed, he called room service for coffee, deciding to wait for Maggie to wake up to order breakfast. He hoped she slept late. He had no idea what time they’d eventually gone to sleep, but he knew it had been the wee hours of the morning.

  He stoo
d in front of the expanse of windows in the living room and stared outside, trying to keep his mind off Maggie and instead focused on the work that had to be accomplished that day.

  If they went through with his plan to return to Maggie’s house, then the first thing he had to do was arrange for a state-of-the art security system. He wanted outside monitors so they could see who might approach the house from any direction. He wanted to arrange for extra firepower besides their two handguns.

  Last night’s attack had led him to believe that somehow things were coming to a head. The assailant had taken a million chances in chasing and shooting at them on the open highway. Witnesses might have seen him, somebody might have recognized his motorcycle. Somebody was getting desperate to quiet him and Maggie.

  But surely whoever was behind the murder attempts could reason that even if he killed the two of them, more FBI agents would take their place.

  That meant either their perp wasn’t that bright or something deeper was at work. Either scenario worried him, and this morning he was filled once again with the frustration of the entire case.

  Two people missing now over two weeks, no clues, no bodies. What were they missing? The frustration was a familiar one, the same that he had felt while working the case in Bachelor Moon.

  A soft knock on the door announced the arrival of coffee. He opened the door, handed the man dressed like a butler a twenty-dollar bill and took the tray from him.

  He carried it to the table, noting in satisfaction that there were two cups and the silver coffee carafe was huge. He poured himself a cup and then returned to the windows where he stared unseeing outside.

  Maybe he should stash Maggie someplace safe and use himself as bait. The instant the idea entered his head he knew he was thinking like a protective lover and not as a professional agent. Besides, there was no way she’d agree to such a plan. She would want to be involved as a trained FBI agent on the case, not tucked away like a delicate piece of china.

  While he didn’t regret a minute of the night before, it concerned him that making love to Maggie had only made him want more from her. He knew they were ill-fated lovers at best.

  As if drawn from her sleep by his thoughts, she appeared in the living room, clad in the hotel robe. “Ah, coffee,” she said, beelining toward the table where the carafe and a cup awaited her.

  “And a good morning to you, too,” he replied with an amused smile.

  She poured the coffee, took a sip and then flashed him a bright smile. “Now it’s a great morning.”

  He gestured for her to sit at the table, and he joined her there. She took another sip of her coffee and quirked one of her eyebrows upward. “Where did you get the clothes?”

  “It’s amazing how accommodating the concierge at a hotel can be when persuaded with cash.” He pointed toward the sofa. “That box has fresh clothes for you.”

  She sighed in obvious relief. “Thank goodness. I was really dreading having to pull on the stiff, torn, dirty clothes from last night.” Her eyes gleamed as she held his gaze. “You better not have ordered up some red silk cocktail dress for me to wear out of here today.”

  He grinned. “It crossed my mind, but I figured why start the day on a bad note after such a great night.”

  She eyed him over the rim of her cup. “It was a great night if you forget the motorcycle maniac and the trek through the rain. So, what are the plans?”

  “First up is breakfast.” He moved a room service menu in front of her. “Personally, I’m going for the Woodbridge special—bacon, eggs and toast with pancakes on the side.”

  “I’ll take the same without the pancakes,” she replied. “I seem to have worked up an appetite overnight.” Her eyes twinkled teasingly.

  Jackson placed the order and then returned to the table. “After we eat, and we’re ready to check out, you can call Agent Forest and see if he can get us a car. I noticed out the window that there’s an outdoor restaurant named Willie’s, with a dedicated parking lot about a block away. Tell Agent Forest to leave the car there with the keys under the mat.”

  “Okay, and then what?”

  “First thing we do is drive to Mystic Lake and get the list of motorcycle owners from Roger, and then how do you feel about heading back to your place and setting us up as bait?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “I like it. You’re banking on whoever is after us being able to find us at my house. And we’ll be waiting for them.”

  “Exactly. I’ll use some of my own resources and see to it that by the time we get back to your place, we’ll have a security system in place.” He stopped talking as a knock fell on the door. “That should be breakfast.”

  The food was delicious, the conversation not so much fun as they discussed the pitfalls and perils of their plan. “I’ll make sure we have monitors to give us vision of all areas of your yard. If anyone approaches we’ll see them before they get too close.”

  “The monitors will have to be watched 24/7,” she replied. “We’ll have to take shifts.”

  “We’ll do whatever we need to do.” He poured a liberal dose of syrup over his stack of pancakes and then cut into them. “We’ll put everything in place, but what I’m really hoping is that once we see that list of motorcycle owners Roger has prepared, we’ll have the name of our suspect, or at least more people to seriously look at.”

  “I’m glad we’ve decided to do this. I’d much rather take chances and work the case than hide out somewhere and let others do our job for us,” she said. “I want this solved, Jackson, and I want to be a part of the solution.”

  She got up from the table. “I’m going to shower and get dressed and then we’ll get out of here and back to work. I might just like being a worm dangling on a hook waiting for a shark to bite.”

  He watched her as she grabbed the box from the sofa and then disappeared into her suite. He took a bite of his pancakes, but his appetite was gone.

  Was this a mistake? Intentionally placing themselves in a spot where a killer might come to call? He didn’t mind taking the risk himself, but the idea of anything bad happening to Maggie set his heart plummeting to the ground.

  He just hoped that when or if the time he might need to save her came, he would be the agent he thought he was, the man he believed himself to be.

  Chapter Twelve

  Purple. He’d bought her a jewel-tone purple blouse and black jeans that hugged her legs as though they’d been tailor-made for her. In the box there had also been a lilac bra and silk panties.

  He was incorrigible, she thought as she pulled on the clothes after having taken a long, hot shower. She’d thought she wouldn’t like him. She’d believed that within two days his charming talk and easy ways would force her to strangle him. But instead, he’d captivated her.

  Despite all her intentions to the contrary, she knew without doubt that Jackson Revannaugh was going to be her very first heartbreak, and she might as well prepare herself for it now.

  Once she was dressed and they were ready to walk out the door, she made the call to Adam Forest to arrange for the car, and at the same time, Jackson spoke to somebody about the security system he wanted installed at her house. “We’ll meet you at Maggie’s in half an hour or so to let you inside,” he said.

  With plans made to begin their day, they left the luxury suite of rooms and headed out of the hotel. “By the way, you look gorgeous,” he said as they walked side by side to the restaurant where they’d pick up the new car.

  “Thanks. I’ve never had silk underwear before.”

  He shot her a glance that threatened to melt her into a puddle of goo. “Don’t even talk about it—the image I get in my brain will force me to throw you down right here on the sidewalk and have my way with you,” he teased.

  “One-night wonder, that’s what we were,” she replied lightly, needing to remind n
ot just him but herself that what they had shared the night before wouldn’t happen again.

  Once again the late-July sun beat down with unrelenting heat, although the air wasn’t as humid as it had been the day before.

  They walked briskly. With their plans made for the day, Marjorie just wanted to stay focused on the work and not on how hot Jackson looked in his tight black jeans and white polo shirt. He wore the shirt untucked, with his belt and gun making a slight bulge on his side.

  She’d always felt safe in her home, but Jackson was right—if somebody wanted to find out where she lived all it took was an internet search. She’d worked enough cases that she was surprised she’d never considered how easily somebody could find her for some sort of retribution before.

  She should have had a security system in her house a long time ago, but money was so tight and she’d never felt the need for one until now. And when this case was over, she’d figure out a way to keep the security system in place.

  She’d made arrangements with Adam to leave a black rental car at the farthest end of the parking lot from the restaurant. She was surprised, when they spied the car, to see Adam sitting behind the wheel.

  He got out of the car when he saw them approach. Adam was a handsome man, with slightly long blond hair and pale blue eyes that looked cold and distant.

  Marjorie knew he was anything but that. He was definitely one of the good guys, a talented profiler who loved research and was brilliant with a computer.

  “I thought you were just leaving the keys under the mat,” she said as they reached the car.

  He nodded a greeting to Jackson, and then looked at Marjorie. “I just wanted to make sure the two of you were okay. You both had your phones off last night.”

  “We had a little encounter with a Mad Max character who tried to kill us,” Jackson explained. “We decided to take the night and lie low. Was there a reason you tried to call?”

  “No, just a check-in.” He held out the keys to the car. “It’s rented in the name of Charles Bachman and paid up the next two weeks.”