Jo's stomach hollowed at her first glimpse of his flat belly and broad chest fuzzed with gold-tipped brown hair. A faint line traced along one rib, spidery white against his saddle-leather tan.
"How did you get that scar?" she murmured, suddenly avidly curious, wanting to know everything about him.
"I got kicked by a bull calf who wasn't anxious to become a steer," he answered, grinning. "I have to admit, I felt some sympathy for the critter."
So did Jo, but only for as long as it took Deke to join her on the sueded bedspread. He stretched out beside her, his mouth sinful on hers and his hands busy on the buttons and snaps that kept her clothed.
Within moments they were naked. The sweat Deke had promised took a little longer.
But not much.
Jo splayed her hands on his shoulders, exploring the sweep of clean muscle and skin, delighting in the heat in his palm as he shaped her breast.
"You don't have any idea how many times I unzipped your flight suit, peeled it down, and did this," he muttered, contorting to fit his mouth to her nipple. "And this."
Jo gasped, arching her back as he tugged gently.
The memory of Alex's painful bite burst into her mind for an instant, then vanished forever in the exquisite sensations of Deke's mouth and teeth and tongue. Teasing. Laving. Suckling.
She couldn't have lain passive under that tender assault if she'd wanted to. Wedging a forearm between their heated bodies, she reached down. His rigid shaft, the tip already wet with the first drops of seminal fluid, filled her eager hand.
At her first stroke, Deke grunted and straightened with a jerk. His breath washed hot in her ear.
"Jo...!"
It was a warning, hoarse, raw. Heady with the knowledge she could wring that kind of reaction from him, she slid her hand up over the foreskin, down to the root.
In response, his fingers found her core, tested her dewy wetness, thrust home.
As quickly as that, Jo almost reached her flash point. Her womb contracted. Pleasure streaked to every corner of her body.
"Deke! Wait! I—"
She broke off, groaning aloud as the phone beside the bed shrilled.
"Nooooooo! Not again!"
It was Alex. With every shattered nerve in her body, she knew it was Alex. She wanted to cry. Wanted to scream with rage and frustration.
Deke didn't give her the chance to do either. With a savage oath, he rolled to the side of the bed, ripped the phone cord out of the wall, and threw the instrument across the room.
Plastic components hit wallboard, then clattered to the floor. The din was still echoing when Deke yanked open the nightstand drawer and pulled out a condom. The muscles of his back and shoulders quivered as he sheathed himself, but the grin he turned on Jo a moment later wiped every extraneous thought from her mind.
"Where were we?" he asked, as if he didn't know damned well he'd almost brought her to a climax just a few heartbeats ago. Looping her arms around his neck, Jo dragged him down atop her sweat-slicked body.
"Right about here," she said, spreading her legs in joyous welcome.
If she'd had even a hint of the devastation their joining would wreak on him, she would never have taken him into her arms so eagerly. But at that moment, with his skin flaming and his mouth hungry on hers, Jo selfishly, foolishly, believed they could control their destinies along with this glorious desire.
Chapter Nineteen
"You need to get a restraining order, Jo. Taylor's out of control."
Deke's sleep-roughened drawl caught her as she was trying to tiptoe silently past his bedroom... not an easy feat wearing boots and a flight suit constructed of a slick material that swished with each step. So much for trying to let him sleep while she drove in to take her early flight.
Less than twenty minutes had passed since she'd nudged aside his arm, inched her butt from the warm cradle of his thighs, and slithered out from under a tangle of blankets. She'd used those minutes to shower and dress and replay the incredible scenes from the night before a dozen or so times in her mind. Her face heated as the details came back in vivid Technicolor and thundering surround-sound.
Had she really flamed in his arms like that? Really screeched in his ear when she went over the edge the first time? The second time, thank goodness, Jo had been more prepared for the starburst of white hot pleasure. Prepared, too, for the slick steel of his body on hers and in hers and under hers.
She wasn't ready, however, for the tiny shiver of pleasure just the sound of his voice generated in the predawn darkness... for the confrontation she knew would come next.
She'd planned to put it off until this evening. Planned to think through all the ramifications of Alex's call before she discussed them with Deke. She'd tried to speak to him last night, but he wasn't in a mood for talking right then. After the first touch of his hands and mouth on hers, Jo wasn't, either.
She couldn't evade the issue now, though. Deke had brought the ugly matter into the quiet of this last hour before dawn. Pushing open the door she'd pulled almost shut when she'd left him sleeping twenty minutes ago, Jo let the light from the hall spill into the room and across the bed. When she caught sight of the rumple-haired, bare-chested male propped against the headboard, her stomach clenched.
Crawling out of bed and leaving a sleeping Deke occupying more than his fair share of the mattress had been tough enough. Carrying on a rational conversation with a man who'd dragged the covers over only a minimal portion of his lap might prove even more difficult, if not downright impossible. Particularly when he stretched to flip on the bedside lamp and the shadows retreated along with the covers.
"Sorry I woke you," she began, dragging her gaze from his lean, muscled haunches. "I tried not to make too much noise getting ready."
"The shower didn't wake me." A smile hovered around his mouth. "I've been wide awake and hurting since you squirmed out of bed. You've got some wiggle on you, West."
Something fluttered at the edges of Jo's heart. She knew darned well it was premature to think past today. And too soon after Alex to fall headlong for anyone else, even this cowboy with the killer pecs and tight buns. Yet she couldn't resist propping a shoulder against the door and soaking up the moment the way a hermit emerging from a dark cave would the sun.
"As best I recall, you made some interesting moves last night, too."
His grin kicked into a smile. "I saved a few tricky maneuvers for our next low-level pass. Want to test one or two before you hit the road?"
Was he kidding? The urge to kick off her boots, tug down a few zippers, and crawl back into bed was so powerful it dried Jo's throat.
"We'd better not," she murmured, making no effort to hide her regret. "I've already logged in one late take-off this week."
"I was afraid you'd say that." He shagged aside the covers, oblivious to his nakedness as he made for the bathroom. "Why don't you start the coffee? We'll talk about how we're going to handle Taylor as soon as I slap some water on my face."
She hoped he'd slap on some clothes as well. She was only human, after all.
Thankfully, his jeans rode low on his hips and his blue denim shirt covered most of his chest when he appeared in the kitchen some moments later.
"God, that smells great. First things first, though."
To her surprise and considerable delight he took her mug and set it aside before caging her against the counter.
"'Morning, West."
Water beaded at his temples. Jo traced one drop as it meandered through the stubble darkening his right cheek.
"'Morning," she echoed, fascinated by the scrape of soft bristles against her finger, even more fascinated by the way their mouths fit when she lifted her face to his.
"I could get used to this," he murmured, trailing light kisses across her cheek to her temple.
So could she.
She pulled away before she gave in to the swamping urge to test a few more of his special maneuvers. She couldn't risk another late take-off, any
more than she could risk hurting Deke.
Reclaiming her coffee, Jo nursed it in both hands for a moment while he poured himself a mug. She couldn't delay it any longer.
"You're right about Alex. He's out of hand. He's also starting to annoy me, big time."
Annoy, and frighten her just a little, although she wouldn't admit it. "I'm going to talk to Ambruzzo today about a restraining order."
"Good."
"I think I'd better load up my boxes and move out of here, too. Today."
"That's strange." His hazel eyes met hers over the rim of his mug. "I was just thinking that you ought to unpack and stay for a while."
Her heart bumped at the casual invitation. Jo forced herself to shake her head in smiling refusal. She couldn't put Deke in the line of fire.
"I don't think that's a good idea. Not right now anyway. Alex might buy this apartment building and evict you, too."
Her attempt to make light of the situation fell flat.
"Let him buy whatever the hell he wants. Alex Taylor and his millions don't worry me, Jo."
"Well, they should," she said bluntly. "He told me once that money still talks in this town. He can make your life miserable, Deke. Trust me on this. In a few short weeks, he's turned mine upside down. That call last night..."
She fought back a shudder. In the dark of the evening, Alex's whispered promise that she'd never escape him had shaken her. In the stillness of the early dawn, it echoed obscenely in her head.
"He said... He said he knows my every move almost before I make it." A nervous laugh rasped from her throat. "For a while there, back at my house, I had almost convinced myself someone had hidden microphones or cameras in the walls. A couple of times I had the creepiest feeling I was being watched."
"Christ!" Disbelief threaded Deke's brows. "You think he's that far over the edge?"
I don't know!" Jo clutched the mug, drawing from its reassuring warmth. "It all sounds so absurd. Like a made-for-television movie. But he knew I was here last night. He said I couldn't escape him. And..." A lump the size of a boulder formed in her throat. "I keep thinking about Katherine."
The frightening questions scribbled on the last pages of Dr. Russ's notebook hung over them both. For a moment, evil seemed to invade the kitchen, swirling through Jo's thoughts like a black mist.
"Alex pulled a few strings and got Sergeant McPeak's little girl a kidney within a matter of hours," she reminded Deke. "Yet he couldn't buy his dying wife a heart."
"Couldn't... or wouldn't."
The soft comment raised goosebumps on Jo's arms. He wasn't saying anything she hadn't thought a hundred times since she'd stared down at the pages of the bloodstained notebook. Yet the idea Alex might have somehow induced Katherine's death, then held her in his arms while she gasped out her last painful breaths, made Jo feel ill... and wretchedly sorry for dragging Deke into this mess.
"Alex isn't going to like that crack you made last night about your phone, your apartment, and your woman."
"Tough."
"Don't underestimate him!"
"That works both ways."
At that moment, the dangerous sheen to his eyes almost convinced her Deke could handle anything Alex Taylor threw at him. Almost. The problem was, he shouldn't have to handle it.
"I thought I'd move into Bachelor Officers' Quarters on base. At least until Alex understands that my breaking things off with him had nothing to do with you."
"I don't give a shit what Taylor thinks."
"Well, I do!" she said sharply. "I don't want you caught in the cross fire."
Deke didn't trust himself to answer right away. Fury swirled in his gut. At Jo, for thinking he'd just step aside and leave her to deal with Taylor's dangerous obsession alone. At himself, for standing by all these weeks while Taylor backed her into this corner.
But mostly at the son of bitch who put that shimmer of worry and fear in her eyes.
Yet the anger flooding his veins didn't blind him to the hard, cold facts. Contrary to Jo's belief, he was far from underestimating Taylor. If the bastard could bug her house or arrange that bit of breaking and entering a few nights ago—and Deke was becoming convinced Taylor was behind both—the man was dangerous.
Carefully, he placed his coffee mug on the counter. Just as carefully, he set Jo's beside his. His hands found the warmth of her nape, his thumbs the strong line of her Jaw.
"I played noble and stepped aside once while Alex Taylor made his move. This time, the guy's going to have to go through me to get to you."
"That's just what I'm afraid of." She hooked her hands on his wrists, worry rippling across her face. "I don't want you hurt."
"I'm tough. Range tough and rattlesnake mean when necessary. I'll fly cover for you, with Taylor or anyone else as long as you want me to."
She pulled in a little hiss of air.
He was pushing her. The rational half of Deke's mind acknowledged that. With everything else weighing on her right now, she wasn't ready to take what happened between them last night to the next level.
Deke could live with that. For now.
What he couldn't live with was the tight knot in his gut when he thought of Jo trying to take on the Alex Taylors of the world alone.
"Talk to Ambruzzo today as soon as you can about a restraining order," he urged.
"I will."
"I'll put a recording device on the phone this morning. Tell him we're going to tape all incoming calls. If Taylor continues to harass you, we'll have plenty of evidence to take the bastard to court."
Again, she tried to wave him off.
"If I take Alex to court, things will get nasty. Real nasty. Are you sure you want to be in the middle of all this?"
"I'm sure."
"All right, cowboy. Just don't say you weren't warned when the cowpatties hit the fan."
She rose up on tiptoe to kiss him, then ducked under his arm and grabbed her gear bag from the counter.
"In fact, I have a feeling the pace is about to pick up considerably. Ambruzzo's going to confront Alex with Dr. Russ's notebook and the information I related about his relationship with Katherine."
He followed her to the door to the attached garage, hating that he couldn't wipe the crease from between her brows, hating even more the way Taylor jerked her strings.
"When is that supposed to happen?"
"I don't know. Ambruzzo told me yesterday that he had to get a court order to examine the papers and tapes Alex had removed from Dr. Russ's residence. Maybe that notebook I gave him will expedite the process."
Deke watched her back the MG out into the early-morning darkness, his eyes thoughtful. He'd hook up that recorder to the phone, then talk to the guys in Scheduling.
Jo didn't know it yet, but they were going to fly in close formation until Taylor got the message or went down in flames.
Very close formation.
Detective Sergeant Tony Ambruzzo arrived at the Taylor Georgetown mansion a little past eleven, accompanied by a squad of uniformed officers. After reading Alex his rights and stating that he was a possible suspect in the death of Dr. Martin Russ, he directed a methodical search that took his people from basement to attic.
Coolly, Alex instructed his butler to call his lawyers, then turned his back on the proceedings. A uniformed officer stayed with him until Ambruzzo finished directing his crew. By that time, a small army of lawyers had descended on the ivy-covered town house.
Alex waited for Ambruzzo in the library, his head resting against the high back of a brocade-covered wing chair, Italian loafers propped comfortably on a footstool. In contrast, his senior attorney paced the tall-ceilinged room and began spouting legal threats the instant the detective and his partner stepped into the library.
Alex let the angry barrage continue for a few moments, wanting time to assess his adversary. He'd obtained a complete dossier on the man, knew every detail about his background on the police force, his messy divorce, and his weakness for caramel-pecan bars. He knew, t
oo, Ambruzzo's bulldog tenacity on cases that caught his interest... including, it appeared, this one.
"We'll want receipts for every item you remove from the premises," Dan Stevens demanded icily.
A senior partner in the law firm that had handled Taylor business for the past decade, Stevens specialized in corporate law. He'd already consulted one of D.C.'s top criminal attorneys on the specifics in the search warrant and was ready to take on Ambruzzo and the Alexandria P.D. on behalf of his client.
"We're taking all of Dr. Russ's papers and tapes for more detailed examination," the detective replied. "I'll make sure you get a receipt."
His glance shifted to Alex. They both knew reviewing those papers was a waste of time. Ambruzzo wouldn't find anything that Alex didn't want found. Yet the detective had to go through them, just as Alex's attorney had to register a protest.
"Those papers are privileged documents," Stevens said sharply. "They were commissioned by President Taylor for use in his official biography."
"So I understand."
"His contract with Dr. Russ contained very specific provisions regarding the disposition of working papers in the event of either party's death. If any passages or excerpts about the President are leaked, the city of Alexandria will face a very lengthy, very expensive legal action."
Uninvited, the detective took the wing chair opposite Alex's. His partner hitched a hip on the French Empire desk a long-ago early Taylor had bought for the town house. The callow treatment of the priceless antique ignited a tight spark of anger in Alex, but he allowed no trace of it to show as Ambruzzo picked up on the attorney's comment.
"Just out of curiosity, Mr. Taylor, did those contract provisions cover the murder of one of the parties involved?"
"I believe murder is synonymous with death," he replied coolly.
"Not in my dictionary," the detective replied, just as coolly.
His gaze drifted around the library, taking in the blue velvet curtains and leather-bound rare editions. As if by chance, his eyes caught on a striking black-and-white photograph in a silver frame on the table between the chairs.
Lovelace, Merline Page 19
