by Kristi Lea
If he could get her safely on a plane to obscurity, and himself back to LA to face his boss, maybe he could pretend none of this had ever happened. Cutlass had already taken him off the assignment. He could apply with another division, another city. There were plenty of other agents who could clean up the pieces.
Jess opened her mouth to speak and closed it again. She clutched her purse strings in one hand, and hauled it clumsily into her lap, cradling the cheap leather like a toddler’s favorite baby doll.
“I know you think—that everyone thinks—that I had an affair with Wilson.” Her voice wavered, and she kept her eyes focused on the gravel lot in front of them, avoiding his gaze.
Avoiding him.
The realization gnawed at him. He was one of the good guys, protecting the public from criminals. Here he sat with a beautiful woman on the run for her life, and she was afraid of him.
“The tabloid pictures were staged. Fakes. I never cheated on my husband.”
Noah made a noise that was somewhere in between a snort and a grunt.
She gulped audibly and continued, “Charles and I arranged for the pictures together, and Wilson’s own staff leaked them to the press.”
A chill ran over Noah. Every instinct screamed that she was telling the truth, but simple logic kept him from believing her. She was an actress. A liar by definition. “Why the hell would he do that? What possible reason can you give for a Senator to admit to a fake affair with a--”
“With a what?” Her voice was arctic.
Noah sputtered for the briefest second, grasping for a word. What the hell was Jessica? An actress? A temptress? A whore? He shied away from that word. It served no one. He had arrested hookers and Johns in both seedy parts of town and five-star hotels. Every last one of them had a story, a reason, a motive, for their actions. Drug addictions, starving kids, a simple lust for money. The woman next to him was like all of them and yet like none of them. The truth was, he didn’t know who she was underneath her public facade.
“Woman. I meant to say, ‘a fake affair with another woman’. Why would he pretend to have an affair and jeopardize both his marriage and an election? And why would take revenge on you, now? It’s been almost five years since that story hit the press.”
“He was having an affair, just not with me.”
“Then with who? What could be worse than sleeping with—“ He gulped as her gaze narrowed on him again. “—a married celebrity?”
Their eyes met. Her eyes overflowed with caution, hope, weariness. She took a breath and some steel knot seemed to uncoil inside her. “Wilson was having an affair with a man.”
Noah whistled.
“His wife suspected it, thinking her husband had a regular mistress. Charles already knew the whole truth. He always knew that kind of thing.”
Noah caught the furtive look she cast him under her eyelashes. “Your husband was blackmailing the Senator?”
Jess only shrugged one shoulder. “We arranged for the private investigator to catch us on film in what looked like suggestive poses. Wilson groveled publicly to his wife, and the voters never learned the real truth.”
Noah sat back and mulled over her words. There were a few public figures who were openly gay. But Wilson was not just in the closet, he was married. And came from a conservative Southern state. Jess called it a “good ol’ boys network”. If the good old boys found out that Wilson was shagging his pool boy, they might not be so open with their pocketbooks at campaign time. “I still have a question. Why come after you now? Are you still blackmailing him?”
“No.”
The answer came fast. Too fast.
“I haven’t talked to the man since the night of the photos, five years ago,” she said.
“But you have a guess as to what he is after this time.”
She nodded. “Next year is an election year.”
“If he was re-elected once, why would he fear another election…” Noah let his voice trail off as his thoughts caught up with him. Grant Wilson wasn’t campaigning for Senator in the next election.
He had his eye on the Oval Office.
Chapter 15
An hour later up I64, Jess opened the envelope of cash from the safe deposit box and counted out seventy-five thousand dollars in non-sequential, previously circulated one hundred dollar bills. Forty-five minutes out of Nashville, they bought a car from a guy named Javier. Noah had picked up enough Spanish from working in LA to understand the gist of the comments Javier made to one of the other salesmen.
Noah couldn’t agree more. Jessica Kingsbury had the finest ass he had ever seen, too.
They left Noah’s rental car in the short-term parking lot at the Nashville airport, where he bought a plane ticket back to LA dated three days later. He found a bookstore with free internet access, found an online special, and booked himself a stay at the Opryland Hotel.
Jessica stayed in the parking garage with their newly purchased powder blue 1998 Honda Civic while he checked in to the hotel and went to the room with no bags. He left his personal cell phone in the room and plugged the battery back in. No need to turn it on. By the time a maid cleaned out the room, Jessica would be long gone.
An hour after that, they found a small budget motel along I24 north toward St. Louis, and paid for the room with cash. Heavy drapes in a lurid teal print that blocked all pretense of light from entering.
By the looks of the parking lot, the place was not very popular. By the looks of the room, Noah knew why. The place was one of those concrete and steel eyesores with two floors of outside balconies to allow each room a large picture window. The beds, covered in the same hideous greenish fabric, dipped in the middles.
“Too bad.” Jess eyed the nightstand that was bolted to the wall. “The coin slot for the vibrating bed thing is broken.”
Noah’s eyes flew from her face to the small metal contraption on the nightstand and a hint of deep red stained his temples. Then he burst out laughing.
He laughed loud and open mouthed and honestly. His eyes twinkled, and the flush of embarrassment was replaced by the warm color of humor. The sound broke something between the two of them, and giddiness bubbled from Jess’s own belly. She laughed until her belly ached and her eyes watered, and she had to sit. From the edge of the bed, she dabbed the moisture from her lashes and kicked off her shoes, grateful to have a few moments where she wouldn’t need them.
On the other bed, Noah flung himself back and tucked his arms behind his head. “Whenever we travelled as a kid, my brothers and I would beg and plead with my parents to put quarters in those things.”
She snuck a quick glance at the long length of his torso. A hint of bare abdomen was visible where his t-shirt stretched up above the waistband of his jeans. His chest was tanned, the ripples of muscle sprinkled with traces of curling brown hair led her eyes dangerously lower. Heat slammed into her, making her catch her breath and wrap her traitorous arms around her own midsection before she was tempted to cross the divide between the beds to touch him.
“Did your parents ever give in?”
“Once or twice. We figured out pretty quick that it was better to save our ‘gimme’s for a pay per view movie instead.”
“Heh.” Jess half smiled to herself, imagining a youthful Noah bounding around a hotel room.
She and her dad had never gone anywhere. No money for anything like that. The first time she could remember staying in a hotel was after her junior prom. Her date had been slipping vodka into her drinks all through the dance, so mostly she remembered puking half of the night in the hotel bathroom. She lost her virginity there, or so the boy told her. She was sore the next day in new places and had vague memories of some groping, so she had no reason to doubt his words.
“Penny for your thoughts.”
Jess gave herself a shake and tried to smile brightly back at him. “My thoughts aren’t worth that much.”
Noah rolled over on his side and lifted himself up on one elbow. The laughter in his ey
es was gone, replaced by that intense focus that he always had aimed at her. His look made her feel naked, but unfortunately, not in the way she had been imagining just a few moments before.
“You know what I would gladly pay for.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Information. Where did you come from, Jess?”
She blew out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. Then she tried to smile again, and give a light little shrug as though they were at a cocktail party and he had just asked her favorite flavor of martini. “Nowhere important.”
No way was he buying her act. His eyes narrowed even further. Jess shrugged again, trying to loosen the hold that his gaze had on her. It didn’t quite work. “You’re the big investigator. Don’t you know?”
“I know that you’re not from Florida. And that there were no babies named Jessica Hughes born anywhere in the US between 1980 and 1989. So either you’re a lot older than you claim to be, or you are using an assumed name.”
“Or I wasn’t born in the U.S.,” she pointed out.
He nodded slowly. “True. But nor could we find any matching immigration records.”
“You are thorough.”
“That’s the idea. So what did I miss? Who are you?”
She smiled ruefully. “I don’t think it’s in my best interest to tell you the truth.”
Something flared hot in his eyes and then he blanked it out. “True. But I still want to know. My neck is already on the line for bringing you this far. Surely I deserve some small scrap of information.”
She closed her eyes. It was definitely not in her best interests to tell this man anything. But so far, he had done nothing to betray her. Hadn’t turned her in. Hadn’t even truly held her against her will. Maybe she could trust him. Just a little. At some point, he was bound to find her past anyway. “Jo Lynn Huckabee. From North Carolina.”
He didn’t say anything.
She opened her eyes. He had turned back onto his back, hands back under his head as he seemed to be contemplating the ceiling.
She continued, “I remember seeing the movie Who Framed Roger Rabbit? When I was in high school—you know, the one with all the cartoons? Roger Rabbit’s wife was named Jessica. She had this incredible red hair and wore the prettiest red dress. I know it was just a drawing. But she got all that attention from the men, and the rabbits I guess, in the movie. But well, I kind of wanted to be her. So when I left home, I started calling myself Jessica. Charles had paperwork done before we got married, quietly. Very quietly. I think maybe some of the name change happened in another country, but I never looked. He said it was all completely legal.”
“And I’m sure he had your best interests at heart.”
The ice in Noah’s voice twisted into Jess’s chest and she bit back a retort. It was always the same old shit from everyone. She was nothing but a trashy gold digger. Something lower than a trophy wife. Trophies, at least, were prizes worth winning. No, Jess wasn’t even one of those. Even something as fickle as Hollywood society shunned her, ignored her, openly disparaged her.
She wiped at both of her eyes with the heels of her palms and dragged her fingers through her short hair, trying to compose herself. If only you could arrange a life the way you could arrange the elements of a painting. Just the right perspective, choose the colors to set the tone. Arrange all the elements for balance and movement.
Next time. She would make a better life for herself next time. Hugging her legs to her chest, she curled into a ball and rested her cheek on her knees.
The other bed creaked under Noah’s shifting weight, and then her own mattress sagged as he perched next to her.
“What did he do to you that was so bad?”
God, how the pity in his voice made her want to scream, so she bit her lip instead.
“You know he can’t hurt you anymore.”
She turned. “Hurt me? Hurt me? Do you think that is what I’m running from? I am afraid my dead husband will hurt me?”
Jess jumped to her feet and tried to walk away. The damned room was too small. Maybe twenty feet from the door to the bathroom sink. He followed her, a few steps behind.
“Do you have some kind of Superman complex?” she flung at him. “You’ll just swoop in and save the fair maiden from the railroad tracks.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at her, but she didn’t back down.
“What if you have it wrong? What if, instead of being the helpless victim of an older con-man, what if I’m the mastermind behind the blackmail? What if, instead of me marrying Charles Kingsbury for his money, he was after mine? Or, even crazier, what if we married for love and not money? What then?”
“What if you just tell me what you know about Kingsbury and Senator Wilson and I get you into protective custody. Surely you know how Kingsbury hid the money he was making from the blackmail schemes. Name names, and I can help you.”
She sputtered, grasping for thoughts that slid away from her half formed. Finally she managed to whisper, “Is that why you haven’t turned me in? You hoping to catch some bigger fish and thought you found yourself a willing worm?”
“Why not? One little wiggle from you is all it takes to hook a man.” His voice was low, hoarse.
Jessica took a breath and suddenly noticed just how close Noah was. Close enough to see the artery throbbing on his neck. To see the ripple of every muscle in his arms as he stared at her, tense and agitated. To see how his eyes flashed with darkened pupils and his breathing came quick. To smell the subtle spice of his deodorant, the trace of soap, the hint of sweat.
“So what if I am playing Superman? Is it so bad to let yourself be rescued?” His quiet words slipped over her like silk. “Let me help you and maybe we can fix this. Help put your life back together.”
She shook her head. “You don’t know what my life was like. I don’t want to go back to that again.”
“If you run now, you will be running all your life. Wilson, or whoever is after you won’t let a border stop them.”
Jessica took a step backwards, away from his words. Away from him. She crossed over the threshold between rough low carpet and the cold tile next to the sink and dressing area. “And what about you?”
He ceased his advance, toeing the line between the floors. “What about me?”
“If I run now, would you let a border stop you?”
Shadows seemed to flicker in his eyes as he weighed her words for a long airless moment before he crossed the divide between them.
He tucked one hand behind her head and gently tilted her face backwards, upwards to meet his. His kiss was hot, urgent, pleading. Her body melted under the assault, turning equally hot, urgent, and pleading. Pleading with her to disregard the danger. Danger to her escape. Danger to herself. Danger to her heart.
She was beginning to love danger.
Jess opened her mouth under his and pressed herself forward into his arms and kissed him back. She ran her hands up his chest, savoring the play of muscles beneath his shirt, sliding her palms around the back of his waist to pull him closer.
He felt so very much alive, his heart pounding next to hers and the heat of his skin burning through her everywhere their bodies touched. It felt like forever since a man had held her, touched her, caressed her breasts and cupped her backside. It felt like forever since she had wanted to be held like this.
She couldn’t get enough. Enough of his kiss. Enough of his hands on her hips. She tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it upwards to expose the hot flesh of his abs, his back, the crisp hair that teased a line downwards to the bulge in his jeans.
Noah pulled back, and she stilled her exploring fingers. He tilted up her chin up until they were eye to eye, breath to breath. “There’s only one thing that would stop me.”
She licked her bottom lip and tasted him. “What?”
His drew his gaze upwards from her lips and searched her eyes. His expression was intense, desperate, focused. “You’re the only one w
ho can stop me. If you say the word, I won’t touch you again.”
His thumb and forefinger still caressed her chin and Jess closed her eyes and let herself lean into the heat and strength of that hand. He didn’t move.
Sleeping with Noah Grayson would not get her safely out of the country. It would not get the FBI off her tail. It would not get her the fresh new start she craved. It would not hide her from Wilson, or the paparazzi, or find her missing necklace. It would not right any of the wrongs she had done.
Sleeping with Noah Grayson would probably rank pretty high next to her other many mistakes in life. But somehow she felt that she would regret missing the opportunity more than she could ever regret taking it.
“Touch me, Noah. And don’t stop.”
***
The nape of Jessica’s neck smelled like soap and vanilla and tasted like heaven. Noah traced small circles with his tongue up towards her ears, relishing every shiver that ran through her beautiful body.
He bit back a groan as she tilted her head back to allow his lips further access, arching her back and pressing her hips against his. The friction teased his already throbbing cock and he grasped her by the waist, trying to slow the mounting pressure. To hold Jessica Kingsbury, whose eyes had haunted his dreams for months, in his arms was a feeling he wanted to savor.
Her hands found the hem of his shirt, and she slid them upwards against his skin as he nipped lightly at her earlobe. He swallowed her gasp in another kiss, exploring the soft contours of her lips, her teeth, her tongue.
Every moan that he tasted, every impatient shimmy of her body against his was pure paradise. She threaded her fingers into his hair to hold him captive at her mouth, leaving the muscles of his back missing her touch. He returned the favor in kind, sliding his hands up and under her shirt, softly tracing the lines of her ribcage, the dips and swells of her hips.
She writhed beneath him again, urging his hands higher. He let his fingers brush the bottom of her bra. Too many clothes.
He brought his hands to her hips and followed her curves, sliding his fingers around her bottom, letting the heat of her sex draw them toward her core. She moaned into his shoulder as he cupped her butt and lifted first one leg and then the other to hook up and around his waist.
