The Perfect Lie

by Dinah McCall

  “Jonah, please…I ache for this…and for you.”

  He kicked off his shoes, then tore off his clothes. Moments later, he was beside her, then above her.

  Macie wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “I promise,” she said softly.

  He rose up on one elbow and then rolled his tongue around the tip of one of her nipples.

  “Promise what?” he asked.

  She arched off the bed with a groan, then dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to remember what came next. When he circled her belly button with the tip of his finger, she gasped, then blurted out the words.

  “That this doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  Jonah paused momentarily, then slowly shook his head.

  “No, Macie…it’s too late for that. It already means something…you mean something…to me.”

  Suddenly he was at the foot of the bed and Macie was watching him crawl between her legs. When his head dipped and she felt the heat of his breath on her belly, she closed her eyes and gave herself up to his touch.

  Jonah had accepted why this was happening. Macie wanted the sexual release as a means to forget, but he wanted her to remember—to remember, so that for the rest of her life, the thought of making love brought his face to her mind.

  Seconds turned into a minute, then another and then another. Macie was trembling beneath him, begging in a choked whisper for release, but he wouldn’t let her go. Each time he felt her muscles starting to tense, he would slow down, then pull back, leaving her hanging on the edge of completion.

  Suddenly he raised his head and slid a hand between her thighs.

  There was a moment of cognizance when she felt his fingers center on that tight, swollen bud, and then everything began to blur. It felt as if her body had started to hum, like a perfectly balanced engine running on full throttle.

  He watched her eyes losing focus, heard her breath coming in short, fast gasps. When she suddenly bucked beneath his stroke, he knew she was coming undone.

  Macie called out his name, or at least she thought she did, although there was nothing but the unbearable pleasure and the man who was making it happen.

  One wave of the climax washed over her, frightening in its intensity.

  The second wave came, peeling back the layers of social propriety and leaving her raw and waiting for more.

  The third wave came and took her high, then let her fall—all the way back into Jonah Slade’s arms.

  The last tremors were still rocking her sanity when he lifted himself up and thrust hard between her knees. Suddenly that which had been ending took on a new life. Like the upswing of a kite that was catching a new wind, the climax she’d been riding began to recoil.

  “Oh God…oh, Jonah…I don’t think—”

  She smelled the musk from the heat of his body, then felt his breath next to her ear.

  “Macie.”

  She opened her eyes just as their bodies slammed against each other.

  “Feel that?” he grunted.

  She tried to answer, but the words only came out in a groan.

  He thrust again, harder and higher.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he muttered.

  She kept trying to tell him that she couldn’t even feel her legs, but the words wouldn’t come. Then, somewhere within herself, she found the strength to do as he asked.

  Macie locked her ankles around his waist, and as she did, it not only shifted his power, but the angle of their joining. Within seconds, she knew she was lost. It was there all over again—the need to die and be resurrected in his arms. Screaming his name in her mind, she reached above her head, grabbed the headboard of the bed and let the climax come. It ripped through her in shock waves, shattering both modesty and inhibition.

  When Jonah felt the internal tremors of her climax ebbing and flowing around him, he tried to hold back, to prolong this sweetness, but it was impossible. With a deep, aching groan, he spilled into her, rocking back and forth until there was nothing left of him but the aftermath of a miracle.

  “Baby…ah, baby,” he said, then took her in his arms and rolled, pulling her close against his chest and raining kisses into her hair.

  Macie was dumbstruck. She’d asked him to help her forget, but the request had backfired. That would never happen. Making love with Jonah had been more beautiful and yet more frightening than anything she’d ever experienced. She lay close within his embrace, wondering at the complete and utter stupidity of her sister to have had a man like this and given him up for money. From their first kiss, Macie knew she would have given away her last dime just to keep him. But what they’d just done hadn’t come out of love—only need. It broke her heart to think of the years to come and how lonely she was going to be. This had been the best she would ever have, and with the best man she’d ever known. The day he left her, a part of her was going to die. It wasn’t something she looked forward to, but it was something she’d already accepted.

  “Jonah…I—”

  “Don’t talk,” Jonah said, then brushed the thick tangle he’d made of her hair away from her face.

  Macie sighed, then nodded. He was right. There was nothing left to be said. They’d already said it all—with their bodies.

  Once, in the night, Jonah woke and wondered if Carl French had arrived, but he didn’t care enough to let go of Macie to go see. Later, he dreamed he was in a huge warehouse of a room, and everywhere he looked there were babies. Babies in boxes. Babies in cribs. Babies on the floor on pallets. And somewhere he could hear one baby crying. Only one. And he knew it was his. In the dream, he was running from one baby to the other, farther and farther down the vastness of the warehouse, searching for the source of that one tiny voice. But the farther he went, the fainter the child’s cry became. Then, suddenly, he could no longer hear it.

  Jonah gasped, then sat up with a jerk. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, and when he reached up to wipe them off, he realized his hands were shaking.

  “God in heaven,” he muttered, then slid out of bed, careful not to wake Macie.

  He staggered to the bathroom and began splashing cold water on his face, trying to wash away the remnants of that dream. It had been so real. He reached for a towel and began to dry off, telling himself that it was only a dream—that it wasn’t a portent of things to come. He wouldn’t let himself believe that it was some sort of fatherly instinct warning him that Evan had just died.

  “Jonah?”

  He turned around. Macie was standing in the door.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, and then turned away, busying himself with hanging up the towel so that she wouldn’t see the fear on his face.

  But she’d seen that and more.

  “Jonah! What’s wrong?”

  He swallowed around the knot in his throat, and when he turned around, he was smiling.

  “Nothing but a bad dream,” he said, and reached for her. “Come back to bed.”

  She went, but not because she believed him. She went because, this time, he was the one who needed to forget.

  10

  Macie came to slowly, waking in lazy increments, then stretched languorously, savoring everything, including the tenderness between her thighs. Last night had been incredible and, at the same time, frightening. She was falling in love with him all over again, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  She reached out to the other side of the bed and, as she did, realized it was empty. Disappointed, she opened her eyes and then saw the note on his pillow.

  The covers fell to her lap as she sat, leaving her bare from the waist up. Her eyes were still sleepy, her hair a mess. She looked like a woman who’d been thoroughly made love to, which she had. With a heartfelt sigh, she opened the note.

  I wanted to wake up with you this morning, but Carl French has arrived. Come find me.

  J

  The fact that he hated leaving their bed as much as she hated waking up alone made her feel better. She pre
ssed the note against her lips, then got out of bed and went to shower. All the time she was dressing, she felt a constant urge to rush. If she remembered correctly, Carl French was not only Jonah’s best friend, but he also worked for the CIA. She couldn’t help but hope that this was a good sign. Maybe there was a break in the case regarding Evan. Dear God, if only that could be so.

  Choosing a pair of white slacks and a pale pink DKNY T-shirt, she dressed without once looking in the mirror as Felicity would have done. After pulling her hair back and fastening it with a tortoiseshell clip, she stepped into a pair of thin-strapped silver sandals and hurried downstairs.

  Rosa was dusting the furniture in the foyer as Macie reached the main floor. When she heard Macie’s footsteps, she turned around and smiled.

  “Good morning, Miss Macie. Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Just some coffee and toast.”

  “In the dining room?” Rosa asked.

  Macie shook her head. “Would you please bring it to the library instead?”

  Rosa nodded, then hesitated. “Miss Macie, may I ask you a question?”

  “Of course.”

  “The niño…Mr. Evan…do they have any leads?”

  “I’m on my way to find out. If there’s any good news, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  “Thank you, Miss Macie. He is a fine, strong boy. Just like his father, I think.”

  When Rosa’s gaze suddenly shifted before she hurried away, Macie knew that Jonah must be behind her. Wondering what the “morning after” would be like with this man, she stilled a frisson of nervousness and turned around.

  His expression was unreadable until she looked into his eyes. At that point, she let out the breath she’d been holding.

  “Jonah?”

  He slid a hand beneath the weight of her hair and gently squeezed the back of her neck.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

  “For what?”

  “I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

  She realized she had no idea how to respond to that. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to tell him that last night had been the most amazing night of her life, and that she was falling in love. Instead she nodded and managed a smile.

  “Thank you for the thought, though.”

  When he didn’t offer anything else to the conversation, Macie wanted to scream. The formality between them felt almost insulting. From the way he was behaving, last night had been nothing to him except what she’d asked for: a favor he’d agreed to fulfill. If that was the way he wanted to play it, then she was more than up to the task.

  “You told me to find you, but obviously you’ve found me. You said Carl French was here? Did he bring any good news?”

  Jonah frowned. What the hell had he done to turn her off like this? There was a sudden formality between them again that he flat out didn’t like. He didn’t want her cool and courteous. He wanted her the way she’d been last night, under him and on fire. But what he wanted apparently wasn’t one of the options.

  “Yes, he’s here. Would you like to meet him?”

  Macie noted that he hadn’t answered the last part of her question. Fine, if that was the way he wanted to play it, she would ask the guy herself.

  “Yes, thank you, I would.”

  “He’s with Ruger,” Jonah said.

  When Macie started toward her father’s office, Jonah surprised himself as much as her by taking her arm, then turning her around.

  “What are—”

  Macie never got the rest of the question said. Jonah cupped her face with his hands and then kissed her.

  The sensation of that mouth on her lips, hard and demanding, yet coaxing every sensual feeling in her body into an all-out alert, was staggering. She was on the verge of a moan when he turned her loose.

  “Just so you know…. Just so you remember,” he said softly.

  Macie touched her fingers to her lips. They were only slightly moist, and trembling just a little bit. They didn’t feel hot or scarred, but she felt as if she’d been branded.

  “I remember everything just fine,” she muttered. “But what is it you want me to know?”

  Jonah started to answer, then stopped. Silence lengthened between them.

  “Jonah?”

  Finally he sighed. “Never mind. If you don’t already know, then it does no good for me to tell you.”

  With that enigmatic remark, he took her by the elbow and led her to Ruger and French. She spotted the stranger almost immediately and was taken aback by his open, friendly manner when he saw them come in.

  “Hey, buddy, I wondered where you’d gotten off to,” Carl said, then grabbed Macie’s hand and shook it before she could offer. “Miss Blaine, I assume. I’m Carl French.” Then he added, “So sorry for your loss.”

  Macie nodded as she watched him talking. Although she wasn’t the type of woman to make snap judgments about people, she liked him. His personality was in direct contrast to what she would have expected an agent with the Central Intelligence Agency to be. Then she chided herself, guessing that she’d seen too many movies. CIA agents were just people, too, only with a few more survival skills than the ordinary citizen. At least that was what she told herself as she shook his hand. Then she looked in his eyes and saw depths that his ready laugh and quick smile only thinly disguised. She wasn’t used to dealing with people who were something other than they presented themselves to be. She wondered why she hadn’t had the same reaction to Jonah, then decided it was because she’d known him much longer, and at a time when he had not been a Company man.

  Unlike Jonah, Carl was stocky and not much taller than Macie. He wore his curly blond hair clipped close to his head, and had a pair of wire-rimmed glasses just above a small bump on his nose. And, like most of the men in the room, he carried a cell phone in one hand the way most people would have carried a pen. She took a step forward, shortening the distance between them, then lowered her voice just enough to make her question disarming.

  “So, Agent French, do you have any news regarding my nephew’s abduction?”

  “Please, call me Carl. As for news, I’m afraid I don’t have anything new to add except a list of Miguel Calderone’s holdings in California. We’re checking them out right now.”

  “Holdings…as in companies?”

  Jonah slid a hand on Macie’s shoulder. “He’s got to be holding Evan hostage somewhere. Eliminating the obvious locales is a place to start.”

  “But how do we know if Evan is still in the state? He could be anywhere, right?”

  Carl started to fidget but was saved from answering when Ruger called him to the phone.

  “Excuse me,” he said quickly, and hurried to the other side of the room.

  Macie turned around. “Jonah? What do you know that I don’t?”

  He shrugged. “Not much, and only because I’ve been up longer than you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Carl brought some intel with him that we didn’t know before.”

  “Intel? What’s that?”

  He smiled slightly. “Sorry for the spy-speak. Sometimes I forget there’s another world out here. Intel is intelligence, information. Okay?”

  “Oh, of course. I wasn’t thinking. So what did he have to say?”

  “The reason we think Evan is still alive and in California is that some of our people have seen unusual activity in the Calderone cartel. There are at least a half-dozen of Calderone’s most trusted people who are no longer in Colombia. A couple were spotted entering Central America, then three more were seen at the Mexican border. Carl said that four of those five are now known to have crossed the border into California. As far as we know, they’re still here. Also, his woman and his surviving son, Juan Carlos, have disappeared from the Colombian plantation, although the child Calderone fathered with the woman is still there. If she went somewhere without that little girl, that tells us that she’s probably doing some dirty work for Miguel. God knows she’s capable
of it. Carl also said the authorities have been notified at the Federal penitentiary where Calderone is being held, although nobody’s really concerned. With today’s technology, it’s virtually impossible to stage a prison break.”

  “Okay, so because some of Calderone’s people are in California, you think they’re with Evan?”

  He shrugged. “It’s a better than average guess that they’re the ones who staged the abduction and are holding Evan hostage. And what safer place to hold someone like Declyn Blaine’s grandson than on your own property?”

  Macie needed to believe.

  “So you think Evan is still alive?”

  Jonah didn’t want to give her false hope, but he’d been around Calderone long enough to know that there was a twisted sort of logic to everything the man did.

  “Look at it this way, honey. If Calderone had intended to kill Evan without making some kind of statement first, they would have shot him when they shot Felicity and Declyn. And since we’ve heard nothing, and there have been no demands, then it only stands to reason that he’s waiting.”

  “For what?”

  “That’s the tricky part. My guess is it has something to do with me.”

  Macie’s heart skipped a beat. “How will we know? What—”

  “Don’t. Second-guessing a madman will turn you into the same thing. I don’t know what to tell you, baby…but I do know it won’t be much longer, okay?”

  The tenderness in Jonah’s voice was almost her undoing.

  “I want Evan back. He’s all I have left of Felicity. But I don’t want anything to happen to you, either.”

  He touched her face, then lightly brushed a thumb across her lower lip. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead, just dropped his hand.

  “If it’s humanly possible, we’ll make this all right.”

  Macie frowned. “I don’t know how. This is so dangerous. They’re nothing but butchers.”

  “But I do know,” he said.

  “I don’t understand. How can you be sure?”

  “Because it’s what I do.”

  “Oh.” There was a moment of silence, then she shuddered. “God.”

  Before Jonah could reassure her, Carl yelled at him from across the room.