Lightning flashed in the room as he took several steps toward her, unable to stop himself even if he’d wanted to. He felt as if the wicked hand of fate was at work, and he was helpless not to follow where it led.
Without saying a word, he approached where she stood with her hand pressed against the fridge. He placed his palms on either side of her on the cool white exterior of the appliance, his arms effectively trapping her in place.
He was wild with want, and couldn’t help but notice that her breasts rose and fell in a rapid rhythm that matched the quickened beating of his heart. Her nipples were outlined against the thin material of her nightgown as if to taunt him, as if inviting his touch.
“Are you drunk?” she finally asked, her voice husky and breathless.
“Apparently not drunk enough,” he replied, and then took her mouth with his as he pressed against her. If she was smart, she’d smell the wildness on him, run from it... Run from him.
But she apparently wasn’t smart, for instead of running away from him, she looped her arms around his neck, pulled him closer and opened her mouth to him.
He was vaguely aware of thunder and lightning and rain beginning to pelt the windows, and then he was conscious of nothing but kissing Marlena.
Her soft floral scent surrounded him, invading his senses to the point that nothing else mattered but her. He would have her tonight. He knew it by the fire in her kiss, by the way her body met his in mindless yearning.
He would have her tonight, and then this desperate wanting of her would finally be satiated, and he’d be done with her haunting his thoughts, invading his dreams.
Chapter Seven
Marlena had known she was in trouble the minute she’d seen him in the kitchen doorway. A primal energy had wafted from him, an energy that fed one inside of her.
She knew what he wanted, and she wanted it, too. From the moment he had kissed her two nights before, she’d known that eventually they would make love. No, not make love, she mentally corrected herself. She’d known they would have sex.
She wouldn’t delude herself into believing that what they were about to do had anything to do with love. He was a man who couldn’t love, but still she somehow knew he could take her to sexual splendor, and at the moment that was enough.
It was the last rational thought she had as Gabriel’s lips plied hers with fire, and he ground his hips against hers, letting her know he was already fully aroused.
There had been instant tension between them from the moment they’d first met, and now she recognized that it had been physical desire, a desire nearly impossible to deny even if she had wanted to.
As his lips left hers and blazed a slow trail down her throat, she tangled her fingers through his thick dark hair and whispered his name.
He leaned back and looked at her, as if expecting her to tell him this was enough, that he needed to go to his room now and stop what they both knew was about to happen.
“Come with me to my room,” she said, taking any doubt out of the situation.
He stepped back from her, his eyes glowing as another flash of lightning momentarily lit the room. “Are you sure?” His voice was taut with tension.
As a reply she took his hand firmly in hers and led him into her private quarters. He stood in the center of the sitting room as she locked the door, and then he followed her into the bedroom, where a small lamp pooled a glow from the nightstand.
She turned, and before she could say anything or draw a single breath, she was back in his arms, his mouth covering hers in a kiss that seared her to her very core.
They fell onto her bed, their embrace unbroken, his mouth still covering hers. The tumult of the storm was personified in her bedroom, barely restrained, as he fumbled with his buttons to remove his shirt.
She helped him, wanting to feel his naked chest, to run her fingers across his warm, firm muscles. When his shirt was finally undone, he broke the kiss, sat up, shrugged out of the shirt and threw it into the darkness beyond the bed.
She watched hungrily as he stepped from the bed, kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks then removed his slacks, leaving him clad only in a pair of black boxers. The light from the bedside table loved his skin, emphasizing lean muscle and wiry strength. With eyes that glittered with unbridled need, he returned to the bed and pulled her back into his arms.
His skin was fevered as his legs wound around hers, and she grabbed hold of his broad, bare shoulders. They kissed again, his mouth feeling as if he touched her everywhere.
He broke the kiss and stared at her, the faint light dancing silver shards in the depths of his blue eyes. “You know that tomorrow it will be as if all of this never happened.”
She heard the words he didn’t say, words to let her know this night meant nothing to him, that it wasn’t the beginning or the end of anything. It just was.
She nodded. “I know, and that’s okay with me.”
It was as if these simple words unleashed the most powerful part of the storm. He grabbed the hem of her nightgown and pulled it up and off her, leaving her clad only in a small pair of matching panties.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, his voice deep and husky as his gaze lingered on her bare breasts. He cupped them with his hands and rubbed his thumbs over her nipples until they were taut and aching. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind.”
When he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, a moan of pleasure escaped her. He teased the tip, licking and sucking as she tangled her hands in his hair and pulled him closer, tighter against her.
In all of her twenty-seven years, she’d never known the need she felt at this moment, never experienced the kind of out-of-control passion she felt now for him...for Gabriel.
As he continued to tease and lick her nipples, first one and then the other, one of his hands slid down the flat of her stomach. Her breath caught as he rubbed his hand over her intimately, the only barrier the silk panties she still wore.
His hand heated the silk, and she arched her hips up to encourage the contact. She was on fire, and he was the only person who could put out her flame.
She reached down and wrapped her hand around his hard length, shielded only by the cotton of his boxers. He released a groan as she squeezed slightly and moved her hand up and down.
He allowed her to continue for only moments, and then rolled away from her and took off his boxers. This time when he kissed her, he started in the center of her breasts and nipped and licked downward.
She stopped breathing in anticipation as his mouth moved along her stomach and then whispered across her panties, warming her with his breath. He removed her panties by inches as she raised her hips to aid him. When his mouth touched her there, she climaxed and cried his name again and again.
As she came back to earth, he hovered between her thighs, his boxers gone, his face taut and beautiful with his need for her.
She grabbed his tight butt and pulled him forward, reveling in his need, welcoming her own. He slid into her with a deep sigh, and then his lips found hers in a kiss of aching tenderness.
He ended the kiss and then began to stroke, slow and deep inside her. Their breaths became pants as his motions became faster, more frantic, and she felt the rise of exquisite pleasure building again inside her.
She clung to him, encouraging the piston of him rubbing against her, into her, until she flew over the edge at the same time he stiffened with his own release.
They remained locked together, their breathing ragged as faint thunder sounded, indicating that the storm had passed. He finally moved off her and stood. He grabbed his boxers from the floor and stepped into them, then grabbed his shirt and pants, as well.
“Just think of this as a dream you had,” he said, and then he was gone from the bedroom. A moment later she heard the sound of the door lea
ding to the kitchen open, then close.
She remained in bed, satiated and drowsy and feeling like it had all been some sort of crazy dream. But the scent of him lingered on her sheets, and her body still retained his imprint.
Reluctantly she got out of bed, picked up her panties and nightgown from the floor and went into the bathroom. Minutes later she was back in bed, but sleep was the last thing on her mind.
She’d awakened earlier and felt hungry. She’d been staring at the contents of the refrigerator trying to decide on a late-night snack when he’d appeared, and any appetite she might have had for food had disappeared.
Her head was filled with Gabriel. Although she had told him she’d pretend they’d never had sex, that this night would mean nothing in the light of dawn, she knew she had lied.
Although she had no expectations from him, understood that this night would remain just a single night of hot sex in his mind, she would hold it tight in her heart to be remembered whenever she thought about how fragile life could be, how haunted she’d felt when Sam and Daniella and little Macy had disappeared.
She would retain this memory inside her mind, inside her heart, because being in Gabriel’s arms tonight had made her feel safe and loved, even though she knew it had been a false illusion.
She awakened before dawn, and after a shower she headed into the kitchen to start the coffee and think about what the men might want for breakfast.
As she got out the ingredients to make waffles, she consciously shoved thoughts of Gabriel from her head. When the coffee had finished brewing, she poured herself a cup and stood at the kitchen window, watching the sun peek over the horizon.
There was no sign of the storm that had passed in the middle of the night, just like she knew not to expect Gabriel to even acknowledge that anything had happened between them, either.
As she sipped the strong brew, her thoughts turned to the people who were missing from the house. She was losing faith in anyone finding them alive, and that lack of faith horrified her.
Like the men working the case, a deep frustration welled up inside her. Who could have taken the Connellys? Why had they been taken?
And when was it time for her and Cory to leave here? There was a part of her that wanted to flee the pain of being here, where shadows of the missing danced in every corner, yet there was also a part of her that felt anchored here. She felt like a caretaker who had been given the responsibility for maintaining this place until Daniella returned.
With each long day that passed, she had a terrible feeling deep in her heart that Daniella was never coming back. She left the window and sat at the table, the last place the family had been before their disappearance.
She looked up in surprise as Andrew walked into the kitchen carrying a cup of coffee from the pot in the dining room. “You’re an early bird this morning,” she said.
He grinned and joined her at the table. “I went to bed early last night and slept deep and hard.” He took a sip of his coffee, leaned back in the chair and looked out the window. “It’s so peaceful here. It’s hard to believe that anything bad ever happened.”
“It’s getting more and more difficult for me to hold on to my faith that they’ll be returned safe and sound,” she replied, the ache in her heart audible in the softness of her voice.
Andrew gazed at her, his brown eyes soft with sympathy. “I think missing persons cases are the worst. It’s like a state of limbo that never ends. Even if they’re gone for good, it would be nice if we could find them and give everyone who loved them a sense of closure.”
“I’d rather get my closure by you all finding them alive,” she said.
He nodded. “That’s what we’d all like to happen.” He frowned thoughtfully. “But I have to be truthful with you—the statistics are working against us with every day that passes and they aren’t found.”
“I know,” she replied somberly. “I’m making waffles for breakfast this morning,” she said, needing a change of topic. “Do you want me to go ahead and whip up some now, or should we wait until your partners are up and around?” she asked.
“Jackson was in the shower when I left the room. Who knows when Gabriel will be up. He went into town late last night for some alone time and a few beers. Thank the Lord he isn’t the type to get drunk and do anything stupid,” he said with a wry grin. “That man is definitely all work and no play.”
Marlena jumped up from the table. “I’ll go ahead and get started on the waffles,” she said.
Special Agent Gabriel Blankenship was all work and no play, except for last night in a dream that she knew she’d never forget.
* * *
GABRIEL WAS IN a foul mood. At the moment he, Andrew and Jackson were headed toward a storage facility where the owner of the property had indicated one of the units was emitting the smell of decomposition.
But that wasn’t what had him in a foul mood. It was Marlena. Last night, he’d thought that he’d rid himself of whatever it was about her that had him itching with the need to possess her. He’d thought that by taking her he’d be rid of her, that she’d be completely out of his mind.
The moment he saw her this morning, he knew he’d been wrong. Just watching her serve them waffles had reset what felt like a ticking time bomb inside him.
Although he’d barely acknowledged her presence, somehow he’d noticed that her peach-colored sundress was cinched at her slender waist, her sandals were gold and she smelled like a bouquet of fresh flowers.
He now clenched the steering wheel tight, trying to erase the night before from his mind. She’d been more than he’d expected, and he had trouble forgetting the taste of her, the feel of her silky flesh against his.
“I sure hope this is a wild goose chase,” Jackson said, pulling Gabriel from thoughts of Marlena. “The last thing I want to find is that family rotting away in some storage unit.”
“That makes three of us,” Andrew said from the backseat. “I feel bad for Marlena. I was having a cup of coffee with her this morning before the two of you got up and we were talking about how these kinds of cases put the people left behind in limbo. As much as I’d hate to find the Connellys dead, at least that would be some closure for the people at the bed-and-breakfast.”
“We all know they’re probably dead by now,” Jackson said matter-of-factly. “It’s been almost two weeks since they disappeared. There has been no ransom demand to give reason for belief that anyone wants to keep them alive.”
“Yeah, but the problem is we haven’t been able to find anyone who might want them dead,” Gabriel replied. Although he, too, believed that the family was dead, he wasn’t willing to give up all hope just yet.
The vehicle was filled with the stale air of frustration that had ridden with them each time they headed into the small town of Bachelor Moon.
Gabriel had utilized all the tools he had at his disposal to check into Sam’s and Daniella’s backgrounds, to see if a red flag would pop up, but there was nothing. He’d checked with Sam’s director at the Kansas City field office to see if Sam had worked any cases that might have come back to haunt him, but the odds of that were slim considering Sam had been gone from the agency for over two years.
He’d called his own director this morning to check in and to admit that they still had no clues, no trail, no way to advance the investigation. He’d been hoping that they’d be pulled off the case, that he’d be forced to leave Bachelor Moon and the temptation of Marlena Meyers behind, but that hadn’t happened.
He’d been instructed to give it more time and continue to seek answers. Gabriel knew he had to forget his preoccupation with Marlena and get back to focusing solely on solving this mystery.
The storage yard was on the west side of the small town, and as Gabriel pulled up to the tiny building that served as the office, he had a bad feeling in his gut.
If they found the family dead in one of these tin-box units, he could only hope that the perp had left behind some kind of evidence that they could use to hunt him down.
If the family had been killed, Gabriel would not only want to find the killer, but he’d also like to know why they were killed. Motives always intrigued him. As far as he was concerned, the intents of criminals were almost as fascinating as the criminals themselves.
The work was what was important to him, and nothing more. Women came and went, and love was a make-believe emotion that sold Valentine’s Day cards and flowers but had nothing to do with his world.
The three of them got out of the car and were met by the manager, a tall, thin older man who introduced himself as Burt Buchannan. “I’m normally not here on Sundays, but I decided after church to come in this afternoon and do a little lawn work. I was weed eating around some of the units this morning and noticed the smell.” His long nose wrinkled up as if recalling the foul odor. “I figured you all would want to know who rents it, so I looked it up in my records, and for the past four years, it’s been rented by a Carl Gifford.”
“We appreciate you calling us so quickly,” Andrew said. “We’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”
Burt shrugged. “Got nobody at home waiting for me. My wife passed three years ago.”
“Sorry to hear that. Do you know Mr. Gifford?” Gabriel asked.
Burt shook his head. “I’ve been working here for over ten years. I had to have met him once when he came in to rent the unit, but I have no real memory of it, and I don’t think I’ve seen him since.”
“How does he pay his monthly bill?” Jackson asked.
“It’s an automatic draft from his bank account, so he never has to come into the office.” Burt gestured toward the official entrance to the storage units. “Everyone who rents a unit gets an electronic card that they swipe, and it opens the gate so people can access their units at all times of the day or night.”
“Do you have keys to all the units?” Jackson asked.
Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2 Page 48
