Wild Hawk

by Justine Davis, Justine Dare

  “Better?”

  “More comfortable. And if I got on the first boat in the morning, I was set for the day because back then you could ride back and forth all day. Then after the last boat of the day, at about one in the morning, I caught a bus for SeaTac.”

  “The airport?” she asked, startled.

  He nodded. “You can sleep there, and no one bothers you much. Like on the ferries. And people were always leaving food around—”

  He stopped suddenly, as if uncomfortable with how much he’d told her. It was just as well, Kendall thought, any more and he’d hear her heart breaking for the scared, lonely kid he’d been. She knew he wouldn’t appreciate her sympathy, any more than his father would have. She tried for a lighter tone.

  “So you took off for someplace warmer, like Alaska.”

  He grinned suddenly, that flashing, brilliant grin that made her insides do a kind of silly flip that embarrassed her.

  “Hey, that was a great time. Hauling nets that weighed a couple of tons, ripping your hands on fins, slipping on fish guts.”

  “Gee,” she said, grinning back at him this time, unable to help it, “so that’s why cruises are so popular.”

  He laughed, a genuine, lighthearted laugh, and her insides did that little flip again. God, she was acting like a teenager with a crush, and all because this man had kissed her a few times.

  And planted some of the most erotic images she could ever dream of in her mind. Don’t forget that little detail, she reminded herself in chagrin. And that had been only the beginning. He’d planted the seed with those hot, suggestive words, but she’d nurtured them with her own suddenly fertile imagination, until she was picturing them together, doing those things she’d never done and had never thought about doing. Until Jason had turned her life upside down.

  She was relieved when they arrived at the airport. Action, any action, was better than sitting there mulling over how confused her life had become. She followed Jason into the small terminal and up to the ticket counter of one of the commuter airlines that ran a shuttle service to Los Angeles, San Jose, and San Francisco. She still had no idea what his plan was, but decided this was not the time or the place to ask again.

  The young woman at the counter took one look at Jason and drew back a little.

  “It’s okay,” Jason said to her, his tone rueful. “I’m in a much better mood tonight.”

  He smiled, a sheepish, boyish smile that Kendall was sure he knew the exact effect of. Unfortunately, so did she.

  “And I know,” he said to the woman in a tone that matched the smile, “I owe you an apology. I was . . . upset, and I took it out on you. Is your little girl all right?”

  The change that came over the woman’s face as Jason turned on the charm was almost laughable. At least, it would have been if Kendall hadn’t been seeing a little too much of herself in the ticket agent’s reaction.

  “I . . . she’s much better. Thank you.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it. And I am sorry about the other night.”

  “That’s all right,” the woman said, giving him a bright airline smile. Her gaze flicked to Kendall, then back to Jason. “Things . . . worked out for you?”

  “Oh, yes,” Jason said, grinning. “Nicely, thank you.”

  The woman smiled, this time including them both. Kendall watched in amazement; this Jason was the one who could charm a vulture out of its feathers, she thought, remembering George Alton’s picturesque phrase. If he’d turned this charm on her in the beginning . . . but he hadn’t. She’d seen nothing of this Jason until the past twenty-four hours. And she wasn’t sure how that made her feel.

  “So, what can I do for you tonight?”

  “I need two tickets. One way. One for me, to L.A., one for Ms. Chase here, to San Francisco.”

  Kendall blinked. San Francisco? She had a sudden vision of her last flight into San Francisco International, coming in over the gray waters of the bay. Why on earth San Francisco? And he was going to L.A.?

  “—D-A-L-L.” Jason was spelling when she snapped back to awareness of what was happening. The click of keys on a computer keyboard kept time with each letter.

  “Checking baggage?”

  “No.”

  More clicking. Moments later Jason was taking the two ticket folders the woman held out to him. And, Kendall noticed, a silver credit card she hadn’t seen him hand over, she’d been so startled by what he was doing. He slipped it quickly into a pocket.

  “Gate three for San Francisco, leaving in twenty minutes, gate five, all the way at the end, for Los Angeles, in half an hour,” the ticket agent said, smiling.

  “Thank you.”

  Jason gave her that winning grin again, and irritation sparked through Kendall. She waited until they were through the small security check and X-ray machine, not a problem considering they had nothing to put on the conveyor except their coats, her purse, the book, and the small box of documents. She wondered for a brief moment what the book would do under X rays, but the security checker didn’t even look twice.

  Finally, as Jason urged her toward the waiting gates, she looked up at him.

  “What was that all about?”

  “Several things.” He didn’t look at her, just kept scanning the terminal, not particularly crowded at this late hour. The small airport closed down to commercial flights at ten; theirs were among the last departures.

  “Such as?”

  “I did owe her an apology.”

  Kendall remembered the night he’d gone to the airport and missed his plane—had it only been the night before last?—and could just imagine the mood he’d been in. At least the ticket agent had gotten her apology a lot sooner than she herself had, Kendall thought wryly.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “I wanted the plane tickets.”

  “I guessed that.” What she couldn’t figure out were the destinations, but she’d get to that. “What else?”

  He glanced at her then. “I wanted to buy them from somebody who would remember it.”

  “Oh, she’ll remember it, all right,” Kendall said, her voice utterly dry.

  That grin flashed again. “Jealous?” Then, before she could deny it, “Good. That was one of the reasons, too.”

  She gaped at him, but they were at her gate before she could respond. He stopped a few feet short of the counter, nodding toward it.

  “Check in,” he said.

  “But we did out front—”

  “Do it anyway. Before that group gets here.”

  She glanced at what appeared to be a family of five heading for the same counter. With a sigh she complied, and the man behind the counter had barely handed back her ticket stub and boarding pass before Jason was beside her again. The agent at the counter didn’t notice him; he was already hastening through checking in the family.

  “Walk me to my gate,” he suggested cheerfully, the strength of his grip on her elbow stopping her observation that her plane was already boarding.

  “Will you please explain to me what we’re doing? And why I’m going to San Francisco and what I’m supposed to do when I get there? And why you’re going to L.A. and what you’re going to do when you get there?”

  “The key to being a fugitive is taking it one step at a time.”

  She grimaced at that cryptic non-answer, and waited as he checked in, and the agent tore down his ticket. Then he led her away from the counter, just as the announcement for final boarding of the San Francisco flight came over the loudspeakers.

  “All right,” Jason said, “let’s go.”

  “Fine,” she muttered. “I’ll just fly to San Francisco, for no apparent reason—”

  She broke off as she realized Jason was walking, not back toward her gate but toward the escalator that led
down to the baggage claim area.

  Kendall stopped dead. Jason took her arm, but she refused to move.

  “Kendall—”

  “No. I’m not taking another step until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “We don’t have time for this—”

  “Make time.”

  He glanced around, warily, as if to see if anyone was watching them. “Not here. We can’t afford to attract any attention before those planes leave.”

  She stared at him, not missing the inference that those planes might be leaving, but they weren’t.

  “It’s all a trick, isn’t it?” she whispered.

  “Let’s just call it a diversion. Come on, before somebody notices us enough to remember it later.”

  She went with him down the escalator this time, silently, and followed him past the baggage carousels and back out into the night.

  “Sorry, but I think we’d better walk. The less of a trail we leave now, the better.”

  Her mouth quirked at one corner. “You’re far too good at this, you know.”

  He looked down at her, and that grin flashed again.

  “Nice to know I haven’t lost the knack.”

  “Just where exactly are we going?”

  His grin widened, but there was something different about it, a warmth that hadn’t been there when he’d turned it on that unsuspecting ticket agent. That realization engendered an answering warmth in her, a warmth she couldn’t suppress no matter how foolish her mind told her she was being.

  “With any luck,” he said, his voice vibrant with an undertone that made her think of that moment he’d whispered to her to hold on to whatever thought had made her sigh, “paradise.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  HE’D HALF EXPECTED her to run. For all her cool poise and quick wit, it was clear to Jason that Kendall was nervous. That was good, he’d wanted her nervous. He’d wanted her edgy, tense, and more than a little itchy.

  He’d wanted her as damn hot and ready as he was, he thought, his mouth quirking into a wry grimace.

  And she was. He knew she was. Knew she hadn’t misinterpreted his teasing but fervent comment at the airport. He’d kept quiet since then, letting her think, hoping she was thinking exactly what he’d been thinking ever since he’d made up his mind the waiting was over.

  Kendall had given him a quick, wary glance when he turned and started up the entrance of the large chain hotel that was next to the airport. She hadn’t spoken, even when he’d checked them in, asking for only one room. But she’d watched him; he’d felt her eyes on him at every turn, until they had stopped in the small gift shop for some necessities. He’d made a couple of purchases of his own, then walked over to where she was studying a display.

  “I suppose you could find a more expensive toothbrush,” she was muttering, “but I’m not sure where.”

  “The airport,” Jason suggested.

  She gave a little start, as if she hadn’t realized he was there. Or as if she was so wound up, his being even this close made her jumpy.

  “I . . . suppose you’re right,” she said, the slight quaver in her voice making him feel like nodding smugly.

  It was going well, he observed with a level of calm he had to work a little too hard for. He’d done this before, played this game, drawn a woman into his net for his own purposes, but never had it been so easy. Well, not easy, there was nothing easy about suppressing the driving, aching need he’d unexpectedly developed, but that was something else. That was . . . timing. He’d just been too long without. It had nothing to do with Kendall herself.

  Right, he thought sarcastically. Then why do you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s not for real, that it’s part of the plan?

  But the plan was working, whether he was able to concentrate on it or not. She’d responded better to his lure than he could ever have hoped. A little charm, a little self-effacement, top it off with a sad story of his youth . . . it was too easy. He knew as well as he’d ever known anything that she wouldn’t resist him tonight. So why wasn’t he pleased? He’d done this before, when necessary, with other women.

  With women who had had their own reasons for going along. Women who knew how the game was played, who knew what they were—and weren’t—getting. Kendall wasn’t one of those. He knew that, now. He was even half convinced she was exactly what she’d appeared to be, impossible as that seemed to him. Was that why using her like this had him so unsettled?

  Getting soft, West? he muttered inwardly.

  Not a chance, he answered himself silently, giving the words a crude spin in his mind in his effort at control. He was hard as that fireboat hose again, he thought as he gauged the tightness of his body, growing rapidly at just the thought of finally having Kendall. It seemed impossible that until three days ago, he hadn’t even known she existed. He’d never laid eyes on her, and now he was going out of his mind with the need to touch her, to kiss her, to have her. To take her until she screamed with it, until she was quivering, helpless in his arms.

  And it hit him again then, as it had before, the unaccustomed, vivid idea of his own desires reversed, of it being him crying out, his quivering under an onslaught of sensation unleased by the gray-eyed woman who had invaded his very being. It had never happened to him before, this need to be taken as well as to take, and it rattled him way down deep. He wanted to run, he wanted time to learn how to deal with this, to learn how to manage it. He just wasn’t sure there was enough time in the world. And he had no time at all, now.

  He sucked in a breath, realizing Kendall was staring at him.

  “Buy the damned toothbrush,” he ground out.

  They were in the elevator before he trusted himself to speak again. And as it turned out, that was a little soon. His voice was a harsh, desperate thing as he said her name. He reached out and hit the red switch on the control panel. The closed-in car came to a halt.

  Kendall pressed herself back as he whirled on her. His arms came up, a hand on either side of her head as he leaned against the wall, trapping her. He stared down at her, aware that he was breathing far too quickly, that he was already far too aroused to be subtle.

  “If you don’t want this, Kendall, tell me now.”

  His voice sounded as desperate as it had before, but as she looked up at him with those wide gray eyes, he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except easing this ache, assuaging this raging need. Nothing else mattered, not Aaron, not Alice, not the information he needed from Kendall. Not even the plan he’d spent his life formulating. Somewhere along the way to seducing Kendall Chase he’d been seduced himself. He’d lost control, and he didn’t know how to get it back. He didn’t want to get it back. Somehow it had all become real, as real as anything had ever been in his life.

  “I’m frightened of it,” Kendall said, her voice strained but soft with honesty.

  Jason tried to rein himself in; he didn’t want her frightened. And he no longer tried to kid himself that it was because it would make it harder to get what he wanted out of her. But he couldn’t, couldn’t slow down, not when she was so close, so soft, so sweet. He leaned in, closer to her.

  “Don’t be frightened,” he said, his voice even lower, hoarser now. “I’ll take care of you.”

  Kendall made a tiny, negating motion with her head. “It’s you I’m frightened of,” she said, “and what you do to me.”

  He groaned. “Don’t you think I am, too? Don’t you think how fast you do this to me scares the hell out of me?”

  He pressed closer, until she couldn’t help but know how aroused he was. And he knew in the instant his erection brushed against her that every last word of it was the truth.

  “I didn’t want this, Kendall. I’ve never wanted to feel this way. But there doesn’t seem to be a damn thing I can do about it. I can’t st
op it, and I can’t change it. It just . . . is.”

  And the fact that every word of that was true as well jolted him to the core, shook his every perception of himself and his purpose in life. He made a last effort to regain command of this. If he’d ever had it in the first place.

  “I know you don’t trust me, you don’t even know me—”

  “You decided to trust me,” she interrupted, sounding a little breathless. “And you don’t know me.”

  “Don’t I?” he said, his voice down to a mere rasp of sound. “Don’t I know you, Kendall Chase? Everything that matters?”

  And God help him, he meant that, too.

  She stared up at him, lips parted for breaths that were corning quickly enough that the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath the pale blue silk of her blouse tightened the vise of need another notch. He couldn’t take much more of this. He shifted his hips, rubbing himself against her as she had once done to him, making it clear that they were at the point of no return.

  “Now, Kendall,” he repeated. Although he didn’t know what he’d do if she said no. But he had to do this. It had to be her choice. He didn’t want her to ever be able to say it wasn’t. He didn’t want her to be able to blame him. And most of all he didn’t know why it even mattered to him. He just knew it did. “If you don’t want this, tell me now.”

  “I’m frightened of wanting anything this much,” Kendall whispered. “But I do.”

  He shuddered, half in sheer relief, half in violent arousal. When he reached to flip the switch on the elevator panel once more, his hand was shaking.

  “YOU REALLY . . . expected this,” Kendall said, staring down at the small foil packets that had slid out of the bag Jason had tossed on the bed. It seemed so . . . cold somehow. So planned.

  Jason’s hands came down on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. “Hoped,” he corrected. “Or I wouldn’t have given you the option to say no in the elevator.”