A Burning Obsession

by Susan Kearney

  In the harbor, sail-and-motor boats turned into a light breeze, their bows all pointing northward. Seagulls slept atop upright dock posts and waves lapped against the rock shore. Every indication was one of quiet and peace.

  Yet, a sixth sense told Jason that someone else was out here. And that someone was taking more than a casual interest in their activities.

  He saw no one. But he trusted his instincts.

  Kimberly clicked the life-jacket straps shut and picked up the paddle. “It’s lighter than I expected.”

  “You’ll do fine. Step into the center of the boat and ease into the seat slowly.”

  She eyed the narrow watercraft warily. “Suppose it tips?”

  “We’ll get wet.” He stepped into the back seat where he could steer most easily and sank to the seat, prepared to counterbalance her weight if necessary.

  She lowered herself to the seat lightly. When she wasn’t nervous around men, her clumsiness disappeared, so her natural balance and grace didn’t surprise him. With those lithe curves, her body was made for…athletic activity. And he knew just what kind of activity would suit him best—and it damn sure wasn’t paddling a kayak.

  He shoved off, amused but not surprised that his thoughts kept turning to sex. He hadn’t been around a woman who intrigued him as much as Kimberly in a long time. He found her combination of sass and reluctance refreshing. He admired that she remained suspicious of him and yet dared to plunge into a relationship. And although she’d let him take the lead in tonight’s adventure, he suspected that if he made one wrong move, she wouldn’t hesitate to set him straight.

  Heading toward the harbor’s mouth, he still hugged the shoreline where rows of cottages and small hotels dotted the scenery of thickly wooded areas. He heard no voices, no boat engines. Not even a car.

  “Dip one end of the paddle, then the other. I’ll match your rhythm. If you get tired, feel free to rest.”

  She grunted and he could sense her concentrating. It didn’t take her long to catch on. Soon the kayak was skimming over the surface.

  Between paddle strokes, she spoke in a normal tone. “Are we staying so close to shore in case we tip?”

  “Voices can carry a surprisingly long way over the water,” he warned her, then answered her question.

  “But we’re hugging the shoreline so I can stop to answer a call of nature.” Another lie. They rolled off his tongue so easily, and she would soon learn about this one—but there was no help for it, unless he wanted to inform those watching him of his plans—which he most definitely didn’t.

  When he found a likely landing spot, he steered the craft toward the rocky shore. When the bow touched the beach, he waded to land, merged into the shadows, then returned after a suitable amount of time with two large rocks, one hidden in each hand. From a distance, in the darkness, any curious onlookers would remain unaware of his activity.

  Up close, Kimberly was about to comment. “Jason—”

  “Shh, darling.” He leaned over and planted a kiss on her mouth, then pulled back, amazed at how difficult it had been not to deepen the kiss. “You’ll have what you want soon enough.”

  After gently placing the rocks inside the boat, he turned the kayak around, floated it into knee-deep water, then climbed aboard. He steered around the harbor’s jetty and the wind kicked up. Tiny whitecaps rolled atop cresting waves. He pointed into the wind. “Can you keep us headed that way?”

  “I’ll try.”

  Now that they were out of sight of land, he removed his jacket and unwound her wet navy suit that he’d wrapped around his arm. From a pocket, he took out the incriminating wig. He kept everything in his lap and tied the suit and wig around the rocks. Using a minimum of motion, he dumped it all overboard under the guise of rinsing his hands in the sea.

  He resumed his seat. “We’re all set. If you want, we can turn back now.”

  From atop the jetty, a flashlight suddenly shone out of the darkness. A man’s voice blared over a bullhorn. “Ahoy the boat.”

  “Something we can do for you?” Jason called out, pleased that the suit and wig had sunk so quickly. Unless someone immediately dragged the sea bottom, an expensive and time-consuming proposition, Kimberly had nothing to worry about.

  “This is the police.” At the order Kimberly froze in the seat in front of him. “Please return to the dock immediately.”

  “Is something wrong?” Jason asked, paddling steadily, heading back to shore.

  Kimberly looked over her shoulder at him and whispered, “Could they have—”

  “No. I suspect this is just a routine inspection. In the States, the U.S. Coast Guard stops watercrafts all the time. Maybe they just want to check our life jackets. It’s possible they suspect we’re smuggling, but highly unlikely that they’re working with the police investigation on the stolen book.”

  Kimberly sighed and started to paddle again. “And maybe they think you’re James Bond—not that I’m complaining.”

  He grinned at her sarcasm. “I’ll think of a way for you to thank me later.”

  She chuckled, her laughter warm and husky. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  JASON TOOK CARE of the authorities’ questions in the same smooth manner he took care of everything else. They’d asked simple questions like where they’d come from and where they were headed before letting them go about their business.

  After Kimberly had debarked the kayak, Jason had flipped it over, soaking himself and partially filling the small craft with seawater. She was fairly certain he’d done so deliberately.

  But why?

  She hadn’t had a chance to ask him until they’d left the inquisitive policemen behind and headed back up the cobblestone road to the hotel. Without a blouse under her jacket, she shivered slightly in the nippy night air. In his wet clothes, Jason must have been freezing.

  “Are you cold?”

  “That depends,” he teased.

  “On what?”

  “Whether or not you’re offering to warm me up.”

  She sighed. “The police kind of put a damper on my mood.”

  A few weeks ago, she’d been stopped by customs when she’d tried to smuggle those rocks in her bra. And now look at all the trouble she’d gotten into by researching how to steal the Book of Celts. She had to think like a criminal when she was completely innocent, a thought process that she found much more natural when she was at her keyboard writing about her characters, instead of when living her own life.

  She was glad that she needn’t think about any of the suspense elements of her script for a few more days. However, she still had to add those love scenes that Quinn had requested. She recalled the delicious foot massage during her bath and realized that Jason had thrown enough kinks in her plans to shred her normal inhibitions.

  But now commonsense had been restored—funny how quickly that occurred when the man wasn’t kissing her or touching her. The practical side of her nature once again had her weighing the pros and cons of pursuing the notion of having a European fling with the mysterious and sensuous Jason Parker.

  Did she want to make love to him?

  Yes.

  When he kissed her, he made her forget that they had known one another for less than twenty-four hours. When he held her in his arms, her thoughts centered on making love. In fact, around him, she seemed to have a permanent case of shortness of breath and pulse-pounding tension of the sexual variety. Her body’s response to his was bold, brazen, burning.

  But her brain kept telling her that no matter how many times Jason had saved her today, he was a stranger, with motives she couldn’t determine. She didn’t buy his oh-so-flattering lust-at-first-sight story that he’d agreed to accompany her and be her lover merely because Quinn had shown him her picture. No man in his right mind would make that kind of a deal—maybe for a Playboy centerfold. Clearly, there were things he hadn’t told her.

  Yet it was hard to resist her body’s demands to fall into his arms after the way she kept heati
ng up from his attention. And he’d just helped dispose of evidence against her as he’d done earlier when he’d erased the security tape at the library—breaking who knew how many laws on her behalf.

  Clearly, his protective instincts toward her were in full force. And she couldn’t help liking how amusement colored the way he assessed her situation. Where Terrence might have berated her for being so careless about the suit and wig, Jason hadn’t once criticized or complained. Instead, he seemed determined to use the opportunity to get to know her better.

  But back in her room, the very moment that she’d been about to say yes to sex, he’d insisted on leaving the hotel to get rid of her disguise. He wasn’t putting his own pleasure first, and she found that endearing.

  “You mean all my hard work to become irresistible has fallen by the wayside?” he teased, interrupting her thoughts.

  She ignored his question. Remembering they could still be being followed, she glanced anxiously to the right and then the left.

  “No one’s following us,” he assured her.

  “How do you know?” Once again her suspicious instincts went on alert. For a movie consultant, Jason seemed to deal with the police way too easily. Her parents had had that same knack for avoiding trouble. She’d grown up hearing their stories, and she suspected those stories had fueled her screenwriting career. Maybe that’s why she liked Jason so much, his air of competency in handling unanticipated situations impressed her. And yet his skills also made her leery of trusting him.

  “I’ve always had keen hearing.”

  “And experience whether or not the police are tailing you?”

  “I picked up a few things in the service,” he told her in that offhand manner he used when talking about his past.

  “Like what?”

  “Sorry, it’s classified.”

  “Which branch of the service—”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. That’s classified, too.”

  “All right.” She reined in her aggravation. “Since you refuse to tell me anything about your past, let’s stick to the present.” She glanced at him to see if he would avoid making eye contact and when he didn’t, she snuggled against him. “Why did you tip over the kayak? And, by the way, I appreciated you waiting until after I got out.”

  He placed his arms around her as if he sensed she needed reassurance. “I didn’t want to risk leaving any forensic evidence.”

  “Huh?”

  “Those rocks had dirt on them. While I could have explained that the dirt was from the soles of my shoes, not the rocks I used to weigh down your clothes, I still couldn’t risk them finding any stray fibers from your suit—either in the boat or on my clothing.”

  “But since I don’t have the book, don’t you think those were extreme measures?”

  “Lots of innocent people end up in jail on circumstantial evidence.” His arms closed more tightly around her. “If you ended up in court and the police showed a jury those clothes, if the guard identified you and they proved you got in to see the book with a false ID, you could have been locked away for a long time.”

  “And you really think the cops would have searched the kayak that carefully?”

  “It was a risk I didn’t want to take.”

  “So you dunked yourself for me?”

  He slipped his hand under her chin to look into her eyes. “Do I get a reward?”

  She allowed her mouth to turn up at the corners. “You want more than my thanks?”

  “Much more.”

  “Tomorrow, we head to Ireland, right?”

  “Yes.”

  All evening her subconscious had been at work on those love scenes she had to write. And now the thoughts came front and center fully blown into place. “There’s a scene in Dublin that I believe you could help me with.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I was thinking about writing a love scene on the River Liffey.”

  “And?”

  “Could you make the arrangements?”

  “Let me get this straight,” Jason shot her his pirate’s grin. “You want us to make love on the River Liffey so you can write about it?”

  “I thought that would give us both inspiration.”

  “Why do I need inspiration?”

  “I was hoping you would be…creative.”

  “Hmm. This is where your two protagonists are playing chess?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Suppose we change the game from chess to Go?”

  “Go?”

  “It’s a board game. Each time a contestant’s Go pieces are surrounded, the winner gets to remove an article of clothing from the loser. Sort of like strip poker with a lot of touching.”

  At the idea of playing out that scene, heat and anticipation spiked straight to her core. “That could work for me.”

  6

  JASON ESCORTED Kimberly to her room, then headed to his own for a hot shower. If he hurried, he could still make his phone call to the States and catch Logan Kincaid at a decent hour. Actually, no matter what time he called, the legendary leader of the Shey Group would be as wide awake as if he never slept.

  “Kincaid here,” his temporary boss answered.

  Jason had been previously assured by a Shey Group expert that the cell phone he used was digitalized, scrambled and in cipher mode, so he spoke freely. “I searched her room, thoroughly. She didn’t have the Book of Celts.”

  “Maybe she ditched it? Or passed it on to a partner?”

  “She’s working alone.”

  “Have you been with her every minute?”

  “No,” Jason admitted. “But following her is a waste of time. This woman gets nervous and shows it too easily to be any kind of agent.”

  “Is it possible she’s fooling you with her innocent act?” Kincaid picked up the nuances without him having to fill in the details, and Jason appreciated how sharp the other man was.

  Sharp enough to be the only man ever to catch you, boyo.

  Jason shoved that uncomfortable thought aside and considered how Kimberly had assumed the persona of Dr. Johnson as easily as she’d slipped into that enticing green bra, and swallowed back a groan of frustration. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d wanted a woman this badly. “I don’t think she’s acting the innocent.”

  “You don’t think? That’s not good enough. In our business, we have to know for certain.”

  “I understand, but I’m telling you that I’m watching the wrong person.” Jason wanted to break off this mission. Right now he had no choice but to stay close to Little Miss Innocent who turned him on hot enough to go off like a skyrocket. Jason preferred to seek out the kind of experienced women he was accustomed to. He didn’t want to like Kimberly or admire her or worry over her feelings. He most certainly didn’t want to form any kind of attachment to her. There could be no future in that since he was a man who played the percentages. And the odds swayed toward a hot fling and then a permanent separation where they’d return to their own lives.

  But Kincaid didn’t seem inclined to release him from this assignment. Jason tried again. “She’s researching her script, just like she claims.”

  “The best covers are the simplest ones.”

  Like a master thief doesn’t know that? Jason recalled learning that lesson at the advanced old age of ten. He’d caught the chauffeur who drove him to school rifling through his mother’s jewelry chest, which he’d pilfered from their safe. And Jason had found the shared excitement so engaging and addictive that he’d turned the episode to his advantage. In return for not reporting the man’s activity to his parents, he’d asked the thief to teach him the exhilarating tricks of the trade.

  An apt pupil, who had soon surpassed his teacher, Jason had had an outwardly normal childhood, but his nighttime activities had been what he’d lived for. Oh, yes. He, better than anyone, knew the value of a simple disguise. For years, his disguise had simply been the guileless schoolboy that everyone who met him saw.

  On the street
, he’d grown up fast and Jason had learned to read people. He’d suspected from the first that Kincaid had only told him what the other man thought he needed to know. For the U.S. government to have hired the Shey Group to watch Kimberly Hayward so closely, there had to be more information that hadn’t yet been shared.

  “Do you have any evidence against her?”

  Kincaid must have realized that a man like Jason—one accustomed to an initial stage of intense planning followed by a quick adrenaline-high strike—needed motivation to stay on a case. Like an expert fisherman baiting a hook, Kincaid doled out a tidbit.

  “Kimberly Hayward’s parents died suspiciously in a scuba-diving accident when she was eighteen.”

  Jason winced. He hadn’t seen his folks since he’d been eighteen, either. They’d had their hearts set on him entering the family business and couldn’t understand why he’d chosen any other lifestyle but theirs. Their lack of understanding, the recriminations, the fights, had chased him away. But he could always make a quick trip back. It wouldn’t happen, but at least he had the option. “What was suspicious about the Haywards’ deaths?”

  “Both parents had implants under caps in their teeth. The pressure changes in atmosphere from a deep dive would have been too painful for them to have taken up the sport.”

  Both parents had dental problems? Jason didn’t think so. “What kinds of implants were under their teeth?”

  “Poison.”

  Jason let out a whistle, his mind analyzing and evaluating the new information. “You’re telling me her parents were spies and died from the poison, but that their deaths were made to look like a scuba accident?”

  “Yes. Forensics confirmed it.”

  “Does Kimberly have this information?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “So what do their deaths have to do with Kimberly?” The story Kincaid was telling him seemed so far removed from the woman who’d reluctantly shared her bath, the woman whose life seemed wrapped up in writing successful screenplays. The woman with whom he wanted to share a love scene. Just the thought of touching her again, kissing her lush mouth again, had him semiaroused.