Eye of the Tiger Lily

by Ann Yost

  A wry smile twisted on her lips and she made a little sound of disgust. The plain truth was that neither Molly nor her sophisticated doppelganger really hoped that. They both wanted to be with Cam Outlaw one more time.

  And they both knew it couldn’t happen.

  He arrived to pick her up, elegant in a white dinner jacket and tie. She started to ask him where he’d changed his clothes but she changed her mind when she read the fatigue on his dark face. In all the years he’d figured in her dreams, he’d looked confident and happy. He’d never looked like a man at the end of his rope.

  Molly’s heart squeezed. It was up to her to make this situation something he could live with, something he could walk away from with his head held high. She grinned.

  “Tonight,” she said, brightly, “We’ll be Nick and Nora Charles.”

  His long lashes flickered but he answered in a teasing tone.

  “How about Ike and Tina Turner. Then I could beat you.”

  The chuckle they shared warmed Molly’s insides. She slid her hand through his arm. “Come on soldier. We’ve got a job to do.”

  Over scallops as light as cream puffs they discussed logistics. Cam outlined all the possible scenarios they could face.

  “You’d have made a great general,” she said, when he finished. “Lots of attention to detail.”

  His eyes darkened.

  “I considered enlisting at one time.”

  Molly grimaced as she caught the implication. He meant after she’d married Daniel. She wished she could explain. Since she couldn’t, she’d have to be careful not to refer to the past, in the future.

  Except there wouldn’t be any future. They’d finish up tonight and go their separate ways, meeting, only very occasionally in Eden. He’d be with Sharon and Daisy and probably a couple of new red-headed children. She’d be with…her stomach twisted. What would he think when he saw her dark-haired son or daughter?

  Nothing. He, like everyone else, would think she’d been indiscreet with somebody on the rez. Unless the baby had those morning-glory eyes. Her heart turned over. Would she really keep his child from him? Could she do anything else?

  His lean, brown hand covered hers.

  “Don’t worry so much,” he said, in a quiet tone. “This will all work out.”

  Except it wouldn’t.

  “Are we following the same schedule tonight,” she asked, finally, for something to say.

  “This time we’ve added some insurance,” he said. “We’ll hit the office during the half hour Dwight Winston’s supposed to be on the floor and I’ve taken care of Fat Eddie.”

  “How?”

  “I got some professional entertainment for him.”

  Her jaw dropped. “You hired a hooker?” She felt a flash of wholly unreasonable irritation. “How’d you know where to find her?”

  He grinned at her.

  “The Yellow Pages.”

  Chapter Six

  “Poor thing.”

  He let out a sound somewhere between derision and amusement. “Maybe you can control things on your reservation but you can’t protect the whole world, Lily. People choose things for all kinds of reasons. You should know that. People make their own choices.”

  The man knew how to stick in the shiv. He’d made her feel foolish for worrying about a prostitute while reminding her that she alone was to blame for her lonely life.

  Not that he’d meant to do that. But the whole evening was a symphony in torture.

  It was worse tonight because they’d spent twenty-four hours together. The explosive chemistry between them had become almost a physical ache for Molly but worse, much worse was the hollowness she felt. She’d known, at the tender age of seventeen, that Cam Outlaw was the man for her and she’d been right. She loved everything about him from his occasional taciturnity to his dry sense of humor to his intelligent leadership to the way he became irritated when she failed to follow him.

  Everything.

  He was like catnip and she was the cat. He stared into her eyes and brushed his callused fingers down her spine as they crossed the casino floor. He bent down, repeatedly, to peck her on the head or the mouth when they stood at the craps table or the roulette wheel. He slid his long, lean fingers up the back of her neck in a possessive gesture that sent shivers through her as they headed to the bar. She finally turned on him.

  “Do you have to touch me so much?”

  “People are watching.”

  She had to admit he was right. “Why, do you think? What’s the big deal about us?”

  The dark brows lifted.

  “We’re beautiful, Molly. Didn’t you know?”

  He was beautiful. She knew that. She eyed him, doubtfully.

  “We look good together,” he explained, “Young and exotic with our dark hair and blue eyes.”

  She looked around at the other couples on the dance floor and in the casino. Most were overweight and middle-aged. She shrugged.

  “I guess.”

  While they waited for their drinks he stepped behind her and skimmed his palms lightly down her waist to her hips. She felt him against her back as if they were joined together, spoon fashioned, and Molly’s entire body tightened with need. She melted like a stick of butter in the hot sun.

  She wondered if someone would just scoop her up and smear her on a piece of toast. She wondered if he were doing it to her on purpose, torturing her in retaliation for her long ago rejection. And then he pressed against her to make room for someone else and she felt the hard proof that he was as turned on as she and she chuckled.

  “What’s funny?”

  His words were spoken in a low, husky voice. She turned in the cage of his arms and started to play with the stud in the center of his snow-white tuxedo shirt. Cam stiffened and tried to draw back.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “Acting,” she murmured. She let her fingers drift down his torso until they came to his cummerbund. She slid a finger into it. His eyes snapped. “I’m supposed to be your hired plaything, remember?”

  He grabbed her hand and dragged her across the room to a scarlet loveseat located in one corner.

  “Stop it,” he commanded.

  “Sure.” She held a glass of wine in one hand. The other she laid on his thigh.

  “Molly!”

  It was too loud. Too irritated. A man nearby turned to see if there was a problem.

  Molly grinned at the other man.

  “I startled him,” she explained.

  “Well, you can startle me any time you want, Sugar.”

  Cam grabbed both their glasses and set them on a table then he took her hands in his and turned away from the small audience. His eyes shuttered and his lean cheeks were flushed.

  “Enough,” he said. “This is a disaster. As soon as I get myself together we’re going up to the room.”

  Molly’s heart thumped hard.

  “Upstairs?”

  “To get your things. We’ll come down the backstairs and you’ll take your car and leave.”

  “What about the computer?”

  “Dwight’s assigned to start on the floor in half an hour. I’ve got the drill and instructions. It’ll only take a minute to get the safe open. I’ll be out of here an hour behind you.”

  She stared into his brilliant blue eyes.

  “Two things,” she said. “There’s a service elevator that goes to the laundry room. That’s better than using the stairs.”

  “Fine. What’s number two?”

  “I’m not leaving. This is my investigation. Our investigation,” she amended. “You might need my help.”

  “You gonna tackle anybody who gets in the way? You’re a peanut—a hundred pounds soaking wet.”

  She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

  “Unless you can give me a damn good reason, I’m not leaving, Cam, not just because you asked.”

  A shuttered look came over his face and the blue eyes turned hard.

  “No, of course n
ot. You never have done anything just because I asked.”

  Another reference to the bitter past. Suddenly the melting stopped and the yearning and Molly was all business.

  ****

  He was furious with her. The woman did not know how to follow an order.

  The anger, however, was not intense enough to take the edge off the need. Half an hour to go, he told himself. Maybe less.

  God, he wanted her.

  All he had to do was inhale her scent of wildflowers or look at the curve of her cheek and beads of sweat popped out on his forehead. He hadn’t been this aroused since...this afternoon after he’d retrieved her from the pool.

  Shit.

  His physical discomfort was so great he couldn’t even get really heated about the past. The remark intended to remind her of her perfidy was nothing more than a throwaway. He was no longer just afraid he’d compromise his relationship with Sharon. In fact it had become abundantly clear to him that he could not propose to Sharon Johnson or anyone else. Not when he was in this fever about Molly. Neither was he worrying about his long-held, firm conviction that he would never again have anything to do with the woman who’d betrayed him.

  His main concern was that, any minute now, he’d abandon everything, throw down and take her right here on the casino floor. He loosened his bow tie, sucked in a deep breath and tried to fight the hunger.

  “Looks like Fat Eddie’s taking a break,” Molly murmured. Cam looked up to see the casino manager bearing down on them.

  Eddie DiMarco was shaped like Humpty-Dumpty with an enormous waist and no neck at all. Like his deputy, Dwight Winston, he had an insincere, flashy smile but whereas Winston was just oily and irritating, DiMarco gave off a dangerous vibe.

  And that made sense if, as Daniel Grey Wolf believed, he was all mobbed up.

  Cam, watching him out of the corner of his eye, knew the minute he’d zeroed in on Molly. While the fat man waddled across the garish casino carpet, Cam bent over the woman next to him, the woman who had his drill inside her slightly oversized evening bag.

  He cupped the back of her head and brought her lips to his in a light kiss that was intended to discourage DiMarco, but which, unfortunately, triggered flames in his own lower body.

  Well, damn.

  “Dodged the bullet,” Molly answered. Cam controlled his breathing with an effort and looked toward the glass elevator where Eddie now stood, his ham-like arm around the waist of a shapely blonde.

  “Maybe she was late,” Molly said. An instant later he felt her cool palm against his forehead. She frowned. “Are you all right?”

  Cam thought about the collapse of the relationship he’d built with Sharon and the fate that awaited the casino and spa he’d spent two years working on. He thought about Daisy, who was at home waiting for a new mom and the fact that, because of this woman, she wouldn’t get one anytime soon. Fury balled up in his gut. He grabbed her hand and plastered it against his crotch.

  “Does this feel like I’m all right?”

  Her small hand curled around him. It felt so damn good.

  “It feels like you’re perfect,” she said.

  His groan was deep and sincere and mostly silent. He looked into the wide indigo eyes.

  “I can’t fight it anymore. I want you.”

  ”I want you, too.”

  He could take her up to the honeymoon suite and do what they both wanted. He could haul her out to his car, in spite of the rain he heard dancing on the casino’s roof. He could pull her into a restroom. While he was hesitating she was thinking.

  “Cam,” she said, “what about Sharon?”

  Guilt and resentment took the edge off the need. “That’s over. It’s got to be over.”

  She grimaced. “You should reconsider. It’s not too late. You haven’t been unfaithful yet and we have a job to do tonight.”

  What was this, a power play? He had to remember this was the woman who’d betrayed him once already. The woman who had broken his heart. He steeled himself against her.

  “You’re right. It’s time to get back to work.” He paused to gather himself. “I want your promise that you’ll leave as soon as we find the laptop.”

  He anticipated an argument but she didn’t give him one.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll go back to the rooms, gather up our things and head for town. You can hand the evidence over to Grey Wolf.”

  She looked at him. “Agreed.”

  He had a feeling he’d just missed the second chance of a lifetime but accompanying the regret was an unmistakable feeling of relief. He hadn’t been able to trust Tiger Lily all those years ago. Who was to say he could trust her now? He would break up with Sharon though. She deserved someone better. Daisy would just have to wait a little longer for a mom.

  They stood and headed, in a meandering fashion, across the room and down the back hall. Cam made short work of the lock on DiMarco’s office door and then they were inside where the dragonfly lamp, large and squat much like its owner, bathed the room in a low, warm light.

  Cam moved the dogs-playing-poker picture and studied the mechanism on the combination lock. He was aware of his partner moving around the office when she opened and shut a couple of drawers.

  Damn. Sam had told him the drill-hole would only work on a simple lock. This one looked state-of-the-art. The terms “composite hard plate” and “glass re-locker” floated through his head. There was no choice. He was going to have to come back tomorrow night and cut this thing open. But he was coming back alone. He turned to deliver the bad news.

  “Listen, Molly,” he started to say.

  She glanced up from the open desk drawer. “Problem?”

  He scowled. “I need a different tool.”

  “What kind of tool?”

  He thrust his fingers through his hair. This whole thing was turning into a colossal disaster.

  “Just something else. A hack saw, probably.”

  “Maybe there’s something in here that would help.”

  He glared at her. “In DiMarco’s desk drawer? Like what? An address book?”

  Her eyes were clear and mischievous. “Like a combination. There’s one here. Taped on the side of the drawer.”

  Moments later the safe was open and they both gaped at the thin laptop lying on its floor surrounded by stacks of money.

  ”Well, hell,” Cam breathed.

  “It was just luck,” she said, obviously afraid his male ego was damaged because she’d found the way to open the safe.

  “No, it was smart. We should have looked for a combination in the beginning.” Her grateful smile sent a shaft of warmth through him but this time it wasn’t sexual.

  He took off his dinner jacket.

  “We’ll slide it into the waistband of my pants,” he said.

  “Isn’t that going to be uncomfortable?”

  “It’s not for long.”

  They stood facing one another, each of them reluctant to take the next steps that would carry them out of the casino and back into the world where they would resume their parallel lives. He sensed that she was as reluctant as he. He told himself to let this go, to let her go but he couldn’t seem to move. He gazed a last time into the depthless indigo eyes and memorized the contours of her lovely face.

  “Molly,” he said just as they heard voices outside the door. “Christ!”

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Déjà vu.”

  Cam tried to force his brain to work. That better not be the fat man. He’d paid the hooker well to keep him upstairs for an hour. And it shouldn’t be Dwight. They’d seen him on the floor before they came in.

  But it was somebody. The voices got louder and a key scraped in the lock.

  “Cam?”

  “Lie on the sofa,” he told her, as he ripped off his cummerbund and tore his shirt out of his pants. For once she did what he said. He slid the laptop under the piece of furniture and came down on top of her at the same time. He shoved up her skirt and unzi
pped his pants.

  “Cam!”

  “It’s called hiding in plain sight,” he hissed. The knob jiggled again and he thrust into her and stifled her shocked cry with his mouth.

  When the door opened, seconds later, the intruders gasped in shock, stared and apologized profusely.

  ****

  At first, Molly was too shocked to think at all. When reason kicked in, she felt like a porn star. Despite her performance at the hot tub, she’d never even thought of making love with an audience.

  Not that this was making love. This was just sex and bad sex at that. She’d been dry, unprepared and he’d hurt her. She didn’t care. She put her arms around him and pulled him down against her, reveling in feel of his full weight and the familiar scent, the knowledge that they were finally together in bed.

  Well, on sofa.

  The door opened and she heard a harsh gasp.

  “Oh my God, Arty,” said a female. “There’s already someone doing it in here.”

  If she’d had any command at all over her facial muscles, Molly would have smiled. The other couple had been looking for a quiet corner.

  “Sure is.” Arty sounded tanked. “Hey, man,” he called out. “What’s goin’ on? This is s'posed to be reserved.” He hiccupped in the middle of the two syllable word.

  “Buzz off,” Cam muttered, without turning toward the man, without allowing him to see any of Molly except her feet. “We’re a little busy here.”

  “Uh, yeah, uh, okay. I’m sorry, man. I didn’t…”

  Molly stared at Cam’s dark eyes. She’d only seen him from this position once in her life out in the spinney thirteen years ago. It was a magical view.

  “Get out,” Cam barked. He kept his eyes on Molly’s face. His voice was hoarse.

  “Uh, okay. Sure, uh…”

  “And lock the damn door.”

  “Right. Right.”

  Molly heard the drunken voice trail off. She heard the door click shut. She held very still and prayed that Cam wouldn’t suddenly come to his senses and end the whole thing.

  Just this one more time. Please.

  “What’s the matter,” he asked.