by Cassie Miles
“She names the place and the time. That’s where we’ll set a trap to catch him,” Burke said. “Can you do it, Nicole?”
She reached over and caressed Dylan’s cheek. “I’ll try.”
“We don’t want to give him too much time to think about what you’re saying. The quicker we pull him in, the quicker we can all relax.”
Dylan looked down upon his wife’s face, marveling that after all these years together, she was even prettier than when they’d first met. “We’ll call you in the morning,” he promised Burke. “Before Nicole contacts Nate.”
“In the meantime,” Burke said, “relax. You’ll be safe in Glenwood. Nat doesn’t know you’re there.”
Dylan disconnected the call. He held Nicole’s face in his hands and studied her. “There’s something else going on with you. Even an insensitive cowboy like me can see it.”
“I talked to Nate tonight,” she admitted. “When I was out on the balcony, I was talking to him.”
“It’s okay.” Though he reassured her, he was a little bit irked. “What else?”
Her hands twisted into a knot on her lap. Sitting on the bed in her pajamas, she looked sweet and vulnerable.
“When I was talking to Nate, the train went through Glenwood. The whistle blew.”
“And he heard it.”
“I told him it was the television,” she said.
Dylan sat back on his heels on the bed. If Nate believed her excuse, they were still safe. If not…“There are trains all over the state. He still doesn’t know where we are. You didn’t tell anybody else we were coming to Glenwood, did you?”
She shook her head. “Not even Maud.”
“And Nate has to be monitoring that GPS tracker that’s still at the house, right?”
“I’m sure he is.” Her voice was tinged with bitterness. “With the tracker and the phone, he’s still got me on his leash.”
“Not anymore.”
He took her hand and pulled her off the bed. He placed her in front of the mirror above the dresser.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Look at that woman in the mirror.” He squared her shoulders. With his knuckle, he lifted her chin. “You’re Nicole Carlisle. You survived seven days of captivity. You’re strong and brave and smart. Do you see it?”
“Not really.”
“That’s a stubborn, determined little jaw. You’re not going to let anything get in your way.”
He stroked the line of her cheek. Her milky complexion contrasted with his rough hands. “You’re like alabaster. Tough, strong and beautiful.”
He leaned down so his face was right beside hers. His straight black hair pressed against her blond curls. “Look at us. We’re different, but we belong together. What do you see in my eyes?”
“Your love.”
“And that’s never going to change.”
“We’ll get through this,” she said. “I love you, Dylan.”
Chapter Sixteen
Nicole melted into his embrace. Right now, she didn’t need sensitivity or analysis. She needed to be loved, and love was what her husband gave her. Steadfast and solid as a hill of boulders, he loved her. In spite of deception and fear, he still loved her.
“You’re the best,” she whispered.
He fitted her more closely against him. “About time you figured that out.”
When she tilted back in his arms and gazed up at him, he started to trail kisses across her forehead. Then down to the tip of her nose. To her lips, where he lingered. Then he kissed along the line of her throat and lower, past her collarbone. When he reached the first button of her pajamas, he deftly unfastened it and nuzzled between her breasts. Another button unhooked. And another. A familiar warm thrill spread across her skin, and she felt herself beginning to blush.
Unlike her, he was fully dressed, except for his socks and cowboy boots. It didn’t seem fair.
Her fingers latched on to his belt buckle. She pulled his shirt from his jeans. She’d bought this fancy cowboy shirt for him and had it tailored to fit snugly against his lean torso. She knew it fastened with pearl snaps. With one fierce yank, she tore the shirt open.
He did the same with her pajama top.
Bare from the waist up, they pressed against each other. Her tight nipples rubbed against the hair on his chest. A delicious sensation of flesh on flesh.
His voice rumbled in the back of his throat. A growl that never failed to arouse her.
“Take off your jeans,” she demanded.
“Would that be the sensitive thing to do?”
“Do it. Before I rip them off with my teeth.”
Laughing, he stripped them both at the same time. There was no need for game-playing. After five years of marriage, they’d seen each other naked plenty of times. Still, she paused to drink in the sight of him. His body amazed her. Long, lean muscles with a trace of dark hair, and a throbbing hard erection.
He lifted her off the floor to kiss her hard. Slowly, inch by inch, she slid down his body.
Turning her head, she glimpsed their embrace in the mirror. Her skin was whiter than his. His arm slung around her waist. His muscles were tight, chiseled. She realized that he was looking, too.
“We’re good together,” he said as he reached lower to cup her bottom.
“I wish I had more of a tan.”
“Your skin glows. Like the pearls in that necklace Carolyn gave you last year.”
“Last year for Christmas,” she said.
He turned her so he could see her back side. “I love the way your waist dips in.”
Turning her head, she checked out the rear view. “I might be too skinny.”
“Darlin’, you’re perfect.”
They kissed again. A long, languid kiss. Gradually, gently, they drifted onto the bed.
Dylan never rushed their lovemaking. Even when they were following a schedule in the hopes of getting pregnant, he made love thoroughly and deliberately. He nibbled at her earlobe, teased her nipples until she was writhing under his touch.
So desperately anxious was she to feel him inside her, she took charge, and straddled him.
He growled his approval as she slid onto him.
“Stay right there,” he said.
His chest heaved as he stared up at her body, rising above him. His need surged up and met hers. They were joined in ferocious passion that grew more urgent with every thrust.
He flipped her onto her back. Spread her legs and drove hard. His strength overwhelmed her. It had been a while since they’d made love with such desperation. They’d been through a lot. They needed release.
She called out his name, wanting him deeper inside her, wanting to be joined with him. He was her husband, the man she adored. Her fine cowboy lover.
They poised together at the edge of climax, then fell onto the sheets, gasping.
Undulating waves of pleasure washed over her, reminding her of the sensual heat of the mineral spring pool.
“You’re right,” she said with a sigh. “We’re very good together.”
“The best.”
Now might be the time to tell him that she was pregnant. Basking in the glow of incredible lovemaking, she felt that this might be the right moment. She cleared her throat. The magical words that would transform their lives were poised on the tip of her tongue.
But he spoke first. “This is the way our life is supposed to be.” He leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek. “In a world of our own. Just you and me.”
“And our baby.”
“Well, sure.” He lay back on the pillows. “If it’s in the cards for us to have a child, that’s what will happen.”
He didn’t sound overjoyed about the prospect.
Resting her hand on her belly, she stared up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to risk ruining this moment. It was better to wait.
THE NEXT MORNING Dylan slipped out of bed around five, leaving Nicole to sleep in. Her nightmares weren’t completely gone. La
st night when she’d jolted awake, he’d held her close, and she’d wept in his arms.
Though he never liked to see her cry, he knew those tears were part of the healing process. She needed to let out the pain. To talk about it. Cry about it. To scream and curse.
Whatever it took for her to get better, he’d be there for her. His love was stronger than ever. Making love to his wife was the best damn part of his life.
In the kitchen of the condo, he wished they were in a five-star hotel where he could call room service for steak and eggs. All he’d had to eat since they got here was a sandwich. He put on the coffee and dug around in the fridge. Maybe he should make her an omelet. Fluffy eggs with cheese on the top. Breakfast in bed would be romantic, and he needed to keep in mind his mother’s advice about wooing Nicole.
But he was starving.
He grabbed a bowl of cereal and scarfed it down while the coffeemaker did its thing. With the edge taken off his hunger, he poured a mug of thick black coffee—nowhere near as good as the brew Polly made at the ranch—and went out on the balcony to watch the morning light extend across Glenwood Canyon. From this vantage point, he could see for miles—beyond the Lodge and the pool to the town across the Roaring Fork River. If he could see that far, it meant that anyone watching could also see him. He stepped back. He’d be a fool to start taking chances now.
Glenwood was at a higher elevation than the ranch, and there was a chill in the air. He pulled his robe more tightly around him. The skies were cloudy. Looked like snow.
But today might be a beautiful day. It might be the day Nate Miller was apprehended. Finally.
Though Dylan would never leave his wife unguarded, he wanted to be back at the ranch, setting up the ambush with Burke. He took out his cell phone and called.
Burke answered right away; he was already awake and planning strategy—probably sitting in the dining room, with Carolyn across the table, adding her opinions.
“We decided on the best place,” Burke said. “When Nicole talks to Nate, she should tell him to meet her at the barn at the Circle M.”
“Makes sense.” Nate would feel comfortable coming back to his own ranch. “But he’s not going to approach if he doesn’t see Nicole and me standing there, waiting.”
This part of the plan had bothered Dylan from the start. Nate wasn’t going to be fooled by one of the ranch hands dressed up in a blond wig to look like Nicole.
“We’ve got the GPS tracker that Nicole left behind the bedside table,” Burke said. “And I arranged for decoy FBI agents to come here and play the parts of you and Nicole.”
Dylan didn’t think it’d be hard to impersonate him, especially since he’d left his favorite hat back at the ranch. But no one was as pretty as Nicole. “What’s going to prevent Nate from taking aim with his rifle and shooting these decoys from a distance?”
“We’ll have enough surveillance to see his approach,” Burke said. “Sharpshooters in strategic locations. As soon as he shows, we’ll take him into custody.”
Dylan trusted Burke when it came to planning logistical strategy. “What kind of timing are we talking about?”
“The earlier the better. Snow is predicted for the afternoon. If it’s heavy, that could complicate things. Have Nicole make the call to Nate at nine o’clock. She should tell him to meet her at the Circle M at ten.”
“Got it.”
Dylan ended the call and went back inside.
Nicole was in the kitchen, sipping the coffee he’d made. Though she typically wore practical flannel nightclothes during the winter, she had on a black silky robe. When she came toward him, the robe gaped enough that he could see she had nothing underneath. Her hair was disheveled. Her cheeks, pink. A rush of appreciation went through him as she went up on tiptoe to give him a good-morning kiss.
“Your lips are cold,” she said.
“I went outside so I wouldn’t wake you.”
“Who were you talking to?”
“Burke. He’s got everything figured out. You should probably talk to him before you call Nate. At about nine o’clock.”
A shiver twitched her slender shoulders. “I can’t believe this is almost over.”
“Would you like me to cook up some eggs? Serve you breakfast in bed?”
She raised an eyebrow. “You? Cooking?”
“I can do eggs.”
“If we were out on the trail, using a skillet over an open fire, I’d defer to you,” she said. “But this is a fully equipped kitchen. I’d rather do the cooking.”
He rested his hand on the silky fabric at her waist. “Maybe we should go back to bed.”
Her eyes shone with a sexy, sultry light. “Much as I enjoy being in bed with you, I’m a little tense.”
“I could relax you.” He nuzzled behind her ear.
“I’ll bet you could,” she purred. “And I could use something to calm me down. Later today, we can go to the hot springs caves. One of the brochures says they offer professional massage.”
“I’m a pro,” he said.
“Are not.”
“As good as a pro. Something I picked up when I did bull riding at rodeos.”
“I see.” She trailed her finger along the line of his jaw. “Why is this the first I’ve heard about this talent?”
Whenever he mentioned rodeos, she gave him a lecture about how the animals were often mistreated. She had no sympathy for the cowboys who got bucked high and landed hard. Nicole hated those cattle prods.
He flexed his fingers. “Let me give you a rub-down.”
For a few minutes more, she put up token resistance, dodging away from him and drawing him closer with her teasing. Then she succumbed to a long, deep kiss. As he’d known she would.
Their robes slid to the tile floor in the kitchen. Damn, he loved his wife.
A FEW HOURS LATER, Nicole sat at the table in the condo and stared down at the notes she’d made while Burke was giving her hints on how to handle her call to Nate. He’d told her to close her eyes and remember her fear so she’d still sound as though she was afraid of him. Not a pleasant prospect, but she was pretty sure she could convince Nate that she was willing to do his bidding. The harder part would be to sound believable when she denounced Dylan and offered to hand him over to Nate.
In real life, she’d never wish her husband harm. Even when she was furious at him, she wouldn’t put him in danger.
Burke had advised her to be brief when she talked about her husband. The more she said, the more her real feelings would seep through.
She looked over at Dylan, who sat on the opposite side of the table. The taste of his kisses still lingered on her lips, even after a bacon-and-egg breakfast that she was managing to keep down in spite of her morning sickness. “I can’t do this.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said.
“Nate’s never going to believe me. I’m not clever enough to convince him. I’m not an actress.”
“Remember what Burke said.” He rose from his chair. “When you tell Nate that you’re sick of me, that’s exactly what he wants to hear. He’ll want to believe you.”
“What if I can’t pull it off?”
“Not a tragedy.” He shrugged. “If Nate doesn’t fall for our plan, we’ll be no worse off than we are right now.”
Except that Nate would be enraged. She feared his vengeance. “I’m scared.”
“Darlin’, I’m right here. I’ll take care of you.”
His hand went to the gun on his hip. When he’d got dressed this morning, he’d fastened the holster and .22 on his belt. A more heavy-duty automatic rested on the kitchen counter. Dylan wasn’t taking any chances.
“I’m not afraid for myself,” she said. “But he’ll go after the people I love. Not just vandalism like with Maud. He’ll hurt them. Dylan, I don’t think I can stand it. What if he shoots one of the horses?”
He leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m going to leave you here alone to make the call. That way, you can say whatever y
ou need to say.”
“Like what?”
“Like what a rotten bastard I am. How you can’t wait to see me dead.” He straightened his shoulders and flashed a killer grin. “Sounds seriously crazy when I say it out loud. A handsome cowboy like me? What sane person would want to hurt me?”
“We’re not dealing with a sane person.”
“You can handle him.”
She watched him leave the room and close the door. She was alone with her cell phone—only a few rings away from her conversation with Nate. If she failed to convince him, it was going to be a problem. Burke had gotten the FBI involved, arranged for body armor and sharpshooters. It sounded as if he’d strategized for the invasion of a small country rather than setting up an ambush for one man.
At least she was being taken seriously. Everyone believed Nate was a threat. The dynamite he’d set to kill Dylan had probably gone a long way toward alerting them to the very real danger.
Might as well get it over with. She picked up the cell phone. Her palms were sweating as she punched in the number.
It was ringing. In her mind, she tried to practice her complaints about Dylan. She had some real issues, like the way he never listened to her, didn’t pay enough attention to her because he was too caught up in his work. But these petty problems sure as hell didn’t merit a death sentence.
The phone kept ringing.
She had to make something up, something that would convince Nate that she despised Dylan. Abuse? She could lie and say that Dylan beat her. Or that he was messing around with another woman. That he had a mistress in Denver.
After twelve rings, Nate still hadn’t answered.
Maybe I called the wrong number. She disconnected and dialed again.
The other-woman scenario seemed like the best bet, even though it was absurd to anyone who knew her husband. Dylan’s middle name was loyalty. He wasn’t the sort of man who messed around.
Again, no answer.
After getting all psyched up to make the call, she felt a huge let-down. What was Nate up to this time?
Chapter Seventeen
