by Penny McCall
“I’m not sure Harry will let the other two out of his sight for that long. Although Kemp does follow instructions pretty well.”
That earned her a slight smile, a little squeeze going along with it. “He’s no match for you.”
Rae smiled back, but she wasn’t all that confident. “Next time he won’t get that close.” Heck, next time he’d probably bring a weapon. But she’d worry about that next time.
“Necessities,” she said when they came out onto the main street. She looked left and right, found what she wanted, and set off in that direction, Conn following along. “It’s an ATM, Automated Teller.”
“We had those at the faire,” he said, standing aside while she fed her card in and punched buttons. “Why do you need so much money?”
“Tipping, ferry tickets, in case you get hungry.” She took out the maximum, and retrieved the receipt and her card.
She’d be broke in no time if this kept up. Especially if she lost her job. And she wasn’t thinking about that either, Rae decided. There was nothing she could do about it, so driving herself crazy was foolish.
Philosophy by Larkin. She slid a glance at Conn, but the grim amusement she felt was for herself. Her mother had been trying Rae’s entire life to get her to adopt a more relaxed outlook. Conn had accomplished it in three days. Rae would have gotten a good laugh about it if she didn’t know it was exactly what her mother had been hoping when she’d saddled her with him.
In any other small town she’d have visited the Chamber of Commerce next, but since the day she’d settled in Michigan, she’d heard about the Grand Hotel. She’d always wanted to stay there, and it offered the added bonus of limiting access to those with reservations. Not that she thought private grounds and a dress code would keep Harry and company out if they really wanted to get in; the place probably wasn’t run like Fort Knox. But it would be more difficult, at least.
She made a phone call and secured a reservation at the Grand, not difficult considering the thinness of the tourist crowds and the rates, which ranged in price from a couple hundred dollars per person per night for an interior room with no windows, to a four-bedroom cottage that started at fifty-eight thousand dollars a month. But at least there were perks.
“Good news,” for Conn anyway, “the reservation includes dinner and breakfast.”
His stomach growled right on cue. “What are we waiting for?”
“The proper wardrobe, and the only place to get it without knowing the town is up there.” She pointed to the hotel.
The Grand Hotel occupied a high bluff overlooking the Straits of Mackinac, with the commercial section of town stretched out down the hill to the east, and the hotel’s nine-hole golf course filling the vee between the two.
The hotel had hosted five U.S. Presidents, two movie crews, and countless celebrities and other persons of note in its three hundred eighty-five rooms, no two of which were decorated alike.
They walked up the hill to the point where the road was blocked off, and waited until their reservation was verified and they were politely reminded of the evening dress code in force for all areas of the hotel. Rae followed Conn up the steps to the front porch, stretching six hundred and sixty feet along the front of the hotel behind columns that soared three stories to the overhanging top floor. Planters ran the entire length of the porch, filled with geraniums fading with the season.
They didn’t take the time to enjoy the flowers or the porch, or the view out over the Straits of Mackinac. Clothes were the first order of business, and only because they needed the clothes to get warm and fed, and, at least on Rae’s part, to find an escape from the mental exhaustion. She was tired of being chased by bad guys, and she hated what it was doing to her. Even if Kemp had deserved what he’d gotten.
They hit the gift shop, or maybe it would be more accurate to say the gift shop hit her, right in the credit card. She had to take several deep breaths when she sneaked a peek at the price tags, but seeing Conn in dress slacks and shirt, a jacket and tie, was worth it, especially when they arrived at the doorway of the dining room. All eyes in the room, men and women, were glued to him. He had a presence that was undeniable. Too bad he was a loon, and she wasn’t just talking about the amnesia. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t turn out to be a gypsy like her parents, but spies were another kind of gypsy entirely, and not the harmless kind, so she had even less chance of a future with him..
And she was getting so far ahead of herself Einstein would want to study her.
“Why are you smiling?” he asked her.
“I may be paying this off for the next year, but it’s almost worth it.”
Conn leaned down to whisper in her ear. “I can take the almost out of that statement.”
“That’s some ego you’ve got there, Robin Hood.”
“I’ve never had any complaints.”
“That’s either a sign of your memory coming back, or just the typical male delusion that you’re all gods between the sheets.”
He frowned. “It’s not my memory.”
“Then you might have had complaints,” she teased.
“Perhaps, but that was the past. What counts is now.”
Great, he was probably a womanizer, too—a world-traveling spy with a God complex where women were concerned and a need to prove it continually. That might be ungracious, but he’d kissed her when she’d been a complete stranger. And he hadn’t touched her since, at least not with that kind of intent. “I think I’m safe,” she said.
“Do you?”
She met his eyes again and felt like she’d caught on fire. She was on the verge of asking him how hungry he was when the hostess showed up and planted herself in front of Conn.
“The dining room is crowded tonight,” she said to him.
Rae tipped her head to look around the doorway. Maybe five tables were occupied in a room that held at least thirty.
“Maybe you’d prefer room service,” the hostess said, dropping her voice, and her eyes. The only thing that could’ve made it more suggestive would be if she’d handed him a room key and offered to bring the food herself.
And then she took a step back and started to babble, her eyes going wide. Rae took one look at Conn’s face and nearly took a step back herself.
“If you are offering an apology,” he said to the hostess, “it should not be to me.”
She turned to Rae, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, my gosh, I didn’t even see you there. I’m so sorry.”
“Never mind,” Rae said, “it’s understandable.”
“Thank you,” the hostess said, careful to keep her eyes off Conn as she led them to a table. “I really am sorry,” she added before she left them. “I’d tell you it’s because I’ve been stuck on this island all summer with the same handful of eligible bachelors, but honey, you don’t have to be stuck on an island to appreciate him.”
No, but being stuck with him made the island seem a whole lot smaller.
It was a good thing the meal plan was included because Conn ate everything in sight, including most of Rae’s meal when she pushed it aside, too tied up in knots to do more than pick at it.
“Something ails you?” he asked her.
“Just nerves, I guess.”
“Harry?”
Conn, she thought, even as she nodded because his assumption was easier than the truth, and then she blurted out, “I only got one room,” before she could stop herself, hoist on her own petard because of that damned honesty her parents had drummed into her.
Conn smiled, slow and easy. And suggestively. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” she said. “I don’t have . . . designs on you.”
Although if it felt this warm in the dining room when he was only smiling at her, she could imagine what it would be like in a room with a bed—and not because of his mouth, or his hands, or his body. Well, not only because of those things. It was Conn, who he was inside, calm and centered. Even when they were in danger there was a quietness about him, a confidence that made
her feel secure, while she second-guessed everything, every decision . . .
“I can get another room—”
“No. It would be a mistake for us to separate.”
“That’s what I expected you to say, but I think—”
“You think too much,” he said, so completely in synch with her thought process it scared the hell out of her.
How did you fight someone who seemed to be inside your own mind? “What I’m thinking about right now is taking a walk on the beach,” she said, because what she needed most at the moment was distance, and if she couldn’t get that, she’d settle for a distraction.
“It’s cold out there,” Conn reminded her.
“Exactly.”
Even if Conn would have let her walk on a wide-open, unprotected beach, the closest thing the island boasted was a rocky shoreline, and that was quite a hike from the hotel. He was okay with a visit to the wide front porch. It didn’t help. Neither did watching television, or reading, or taking a shower. And Conn wouldn’t let her get another room. Harry was getting desperate, he said, and even though there was almost no chance Harry swam to shore or managed to find an alternate way to get to the island after dark, Conn wasn’t letting her out of his sight. Considering the fact that neither of them had gotten a wink of sleep so far, let alone closed their eyes, he was as good as his word.
Rae stood at the window, gazing out over the water. No big-city light pollution stained the night sky, and since the clouds had blown out when the cold front came in, it seemed like the entire Milky Way was visible.
Conn came to stand at the other side of the window, and she blinked because for a moment he was washed in that silver light. The whole knight-in-shining-armor thing flashed across her mind and she didn’t roll her eyes. She didn’t feel like an idiot for not rolling her eyes, either. Considering the upheaval inside her there wasn’t a whole lot of room left over for feeling like an idiot. But she was pretty sure that wouldn’t last long.
Conn hadn’t said a word, he hadn’t even looked at her. But she wanted him to. She wanted him to do more than look. She wanted him to touch her, and to know what it did to her when he put his hands on her. She wanted to touch him back, with more than just her hands, to feel him against her, bare skin to bare skin, to lose her breath and let her mind blur and her bones melt. She wanted his arms around her and his mouth on hers, she wanted him inside her, to be as close to him as she could get, for as long as she could have him.
It wasn’t the cautious choice, or the wise one. It wasn’t even a choice, she realized. It was a chance. The only one she was going to get. They didn’t have a future. All they had was now, and now was only going to last until he got his memory back.
And yet that space between them, a mere eighteen inches of cool air, could have been the Grand Canyon. Conn wasn’t making that distance any easier to cross. He turned from the view out the window, leaned one shoulder on the wall, and watched her.
He’d invited her in every way he could. Now he was forcing her to make the next move. There’d be no out later on, no saying her thoughts had been muddled, or that he’d worn down her defenses. He was daring her. She’d never been a sucker for a dare, but she stepped forward, just one step before he met her halfway, folding her into his arms and bringing her against him.
She rested her cheek against his bare chest, the scent of him, soap and man, drifting to her with each breath she took. His skin was warm against hers, his heart a comforting drumbeat. They stood that way for a while in the silver light before Conn stepped back, his hands loose at her waist where her camisole met the waistband of the boxers she routinely slept in.
There was a question in his eyes.
Rae answered it by lifting her camisole up and over her head. She should have been self-conscious, but his hands were there, skimming over her ribs, her breasts, lifting to frame her face. He bent to kiss her, just his hands and mouth touching her, but when she tried to deepen the kiss, to answer the need raging inside her, he stepped back again, dropped to his knees, and gathered her close.
He rested his cheek on her bare stomach, making her tremble so much she could barely stand. Conn steadied her, held her up effortlessly, his mouth cruising along her stomach just above her waistband, nibbling little kisses, each one a spear of pleasure, a promise of more, a tease that drove her crazy.
She fisted both hands in his hair and pulled his head back until he looked at her, his eyes dark and so wild it was another assault on her senses, a mental assault that had her imagining what he wanted to do to her and anticipating what she’d do to him. And as she held his gaze, she could see he knew what she was thinking. A rumble of sound came from him, strained laughter turning feral as he took one nipple into his mouth. She bowed back, her hands going to his shoulders to brace herself as he moved to her other breast, and she was devastated again, every nerve on fire, blind and deaf to everything but the need as she reached higher and higher . . . And then he was gone.
Her breath sobbed out, the need still buzzing inside her like a living thing. Then Conn was there again, sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to the bed. She didn’t want to let go, but her muscles were still quivering and he was undeniable as he slipped her arms from around his neck. She felt her boxers and panties slip off, felt the bed dip and then he was warm against her, his mouth on her belly as he worked his way down and sent her flying again. She fisted her hands in the bedclothes, reality narrowing down to the rasp of his stubbled cheeks against her thighs, the hot slide of his tongue, the skilled invasion of his fingers as the world exploded, the air searing into her lungs as pleasure raced through her, indescribably intense and nearly unbearable. And though she begged him to stop he showed her no mercy, scooping his hands under her bottom and driving her higher still, until she shattered into a million bits of heat and light that ebbed and flowed, wave into wave, until she was utterly spent.
And yet she wanted to do for him what he’d done for her, so she made the mighty effort to drag herself up, one touch enough to energize her again. She used her hands and mouth as he had, teasing kisses and inciting touches, pushing his hands away when he tried to take control again. Each groan was music to her, the rasp of his breath and the pounding of his heart a thrill because she knew it was for her. She kissed his mouth but wouldn’t let him take the kiss deep. She explored his chest, the ridges of muscle on his belly, laughing softly as they quivered under her touch.
But as she slipped lower he pulled her back up, whispering against her mouth, “I cannot bear it.”
“You’re the strongest man I’ve ever known,” she said.
“Not where you’re concerned,” he said, urging her gently but inexorably down onto the bed. “Not after wanting you from the first moment I saw you.” He swept a hand from her hip down to her knee, lifting it and opening her to him. “One taste and I knew my life would be . . . less, until I could taste you again, until I could join with you and make you mine.” And he rose above her, filled her even as his mouth took hers and his body began to move.
A part of her wanted to object to the ring of possession in his voice, the way his arms tightened, the antiquated notion of a man owning a woman. Even if her mind hadn’t gone fuzzy, even if she could have spoken, she wouldn’t have because there was also a part of her that was thrilled at being his.Some might see it as a weakness to surrender, but one of the most amazing strengths a woman had was the ability to make a man tremble for her, to feel his strength and know he was holding it back for her sake.
Conn could have taken his own pleasure; he’d already seen to hers. But he made love like he did everything else, slowly, thoroughly, taking his time to learn and savor, and giving her no choice but to do the same.
His eyes stayed on hers, their fingers intertwined as he moved. She matched the slow, excruciating rhythm, feeling the frantic beating of his heart, the exquisite friction of his body moving on hers, in hers, driving the pleasure up and drawing it out until she was on the edge but not go
ing over because when she did she wanted him to be with her. And then she saw his eyes go blank and she let herself fall, gave up her last shred of control as he slipped deep inside her one last time and locked himself there, his body shuddering as hers convulsed around him.
She held him close, not letting him go even after the fireworks faded and she came back to herself, because it wasn’t just sex. Her breathing had already slowed, and her pulse would get back to normal, but her heart would never be the same.
chapter 15
CONN JERKED AWAKE AS HE ALWAYS DID, HIS ears ringing with imaginary gunfire, the screams of the wounded and dying, his hand fisted as around a knife handle. The face of a child, eyes wide and terrified.
He struggled with the remains of the nightmare, but he wasn’t holding it at bay, not completely. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, so wrapped up in the woman in his arms, he wouldn’t have been able to hold it at bay at all.
But Rae was there with him. He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, lightly, and she shifted onto her back, welcomed him, so open and free and loving that he couldn’t stay in the dark place.
“Another dream?” she asked him, her voice soft in the darkness.
He gathered her close, resting his chin on top of her head. She didn’t push. They both knew the stakes involved in getting his memory back, and that he should have been making the effort. But she didn’t push, so he didn’t push.
She offered, and he accepted, helping her as she slipped on top of him. He put his hands on her hips, slid them up to her breasts as she began to move. Then he lifted at the waist so he could wind his hands in her hair, so he could take her mouth and nuzzle her neck, so he could hear the way her breath broke when he drew a nipple into his mouth.
They came to peak together, in such perfect accord already it should have given him pause. He refused to dwell on it, though. When Rae eased down beside him he gathered her against him, her back to his front, and buried his nose in her hair to drink in her scent and memorize the way she fit into his arms. The future would surely take them in separate directions, but now, tonight, she was his. They belonged to each other, and the world was right.
