Her Private Treasure

by Wendy Etherington

  She seemed to use any excuse to discount or outright avoid their relationship, and yet she was beside him. Holding him.

  “How about dinner? I’m fairly certain there’s a roasted chicken with vegetables in my fridge that’s completely untouched.”

  “You’re on.”

  THEY MANAGED idle conversation during dinner, but the moment the last plate was in the dishwasher, they grabbed each other.

  Covering her mouth with his, he backed her against the kitchen counter as she attacked the buttons on his shirt. He cupped her cheek in his palm, angling her head, deepening the kiss with needy desperation. He slid his tongue against hers as they continued to fumble with their clothing, their fingers clumsy in desperation.

  She got his pants and shirt unfastened, then rolled a condom in place. He got her shirt off, her front-clasp bra unhooked and her pants and panties off. Just enough access so that when he lifted her onto the counter, he was able to enter her in one, smooth, deep stroke.

  “Oh, man,” she moaned. “Please do that again.”

  He obliged her until she’d wrapped her legs like a vise around his waist and her breathing grew choppy, frantic. She came on a hot groan of surrender, squeezing with potent, seductive pulses, bringing him to his own breath-stealing climax.

  She collapsed against him. “I feel so much better.”

  He chuckled, stroking the silky length of her hair. “Hey, I was the one suffering.”

  She placed a kiss against his heaving chest. “Not the only one,” she said so softly he could barely discern the words.

  “Why are you here?” he asked reluctantly, not sure he could have if she’d been looking at him with those intense ocean eyes. “You don’t want to be with me. Why should you?”

  She clutched him tighter, with both arms and legs. “But I do.”

  Closing his eyes, he kissed the top of her head. He had no idea where they were headed, but he knew the journey was one he couldn’t miss. “I never knew about Bailey’s suicide until last night.”

  “I know.”

  “And you think that makes me better?”

  “It makes you human.”

  “There are dozens, maybe hundreds out there like her. You’ve done a background check on me. You know what I was.”

  She finally lifted her head to look at him. “I know you’re a great attorney. You’ve won hundreds of judgments for your clients.”

  “And I never cared about one of them,” he said harshly, turning away and fastening his pants. “I smiled at them, wined and dined them to get their lucrative cases, then I cashed my checks and never gave them another thought. I didn’t take on small cases, ones with true injustice done.”

  She walked around him, still wearing only her unbuttoned shirt, unashamed in her nudity.

  But then, she wasn’t the one exposing her humiliating past.

  “So you decided to make it your mission to beat yourself,” she said. “That’s why you defend churches, charities, anybody who’s weak, underfunded or just has a righteous cause. You didn’t want somebody like you coming along to subvert justice.” She studied him as if seeing him for the first time. “Why? What changed?”

  He grabbed her hand like a lifeline. “Come on. I’ll tell you.”

  They settled on the sofa in the living room, and though she said she wasn’t cold, he certainly was, so he settled at one end, tucking her back between his legs and a blanket on top of them both.

  “My uncle died,” he said into the silence. “If he hadn’t…” He shook his head humbly. “Well, I might still be a shark with no soul or conscience.”

  She said nothing, simply rubbed her hands over his, where they rested against her stomach.

  Who would have believed tough, decisive, my-way-or-the-highway Malina Blair’s well of compassion was so deep and strong.

  In that moment, he knew he loved her.

  However illogical or ill-fated, she was the one he’d been searching for, hoping and praying for.

  He leaned his face into her hair, breathing in the clean scent, wanting to remember her long after she left him for bigger and better things in Washington. In many ways, it was right that he should love but not have.

  “He was an attorney in New York, too,” he continued. No secrets could be held between him and this woman now. He couldn’t protect his heart anymore, after all. “He was my mentor and had a lucrative practice in products liability. He taught me the ropes, sponsored me at his country club in the Hamptons, introduced me to fine wines and beautiful women.

  “Other than my years at Yale, I’d spent my life on Palmer’s Island, and I was dazzled by all of it.”

  Carr forced himself to look back and remember expensive dinners, flashy nightclubs and meaningless nights with vapid women who couldn’t care less how he paid the bills, as long as he did.

  “I learned the game quickly,” he continued. “I helped us expand to environmental disasters and class action suits. And the money rolled in….”

  “Okay, stop.” Malina held up her hand and twisted around to glare at him. “A lot of those companies deserved judgments against them. I read your file. Chemical spills. People with chronic pain and cancer. Blatant plant safety violations. You aren’t the only villain here.”

  “You think I’m a villain?”

  She looked exasperated. “You seem determined to cast yourself in that role. I was merely helping.”

  When she settled back against him, he continued. “We took only cases that were capable of bringing in big judgments. I protested that policy at first, then as I made more money and our firm’s reputation rose higher and higher, I bought my luxury uptown apartment and didn’t much care how I’d arrived there.

  “I’d sold out. I knew it when it was happening and chose to ignore the warnings my conscience tried to occasionally instill. I used my brains and charm without scruples, and I became a huge success.”

  Malina clutched his fingers, as if she was afraid of the scene he described.

  “Only my uncle’s sudden heart attack jolted me back to reality, made me face what I’d become. I swore I wouldn’t die as he had—rich, bitter, unconscionable and alone. So, I closed the practice, packed up and came home.”

  She turned. “That’s it? You didn’t kick kids or dogs or homeless people?”

  “Kick—” What was she talking about? “No, of course not.”

  She laid her hands against his cheeks. “I have a thing for dogs—golden retrievers in particular, and I don’t care about the rest of it. I didn’t know you then, and the man in front of me now is the one I’m interested in.”

  The look in her eyes was steady, unyielding and vividly blue. She should be running from him, and she wasn’t.

  Grateful beyond words, he leaned forward and kissed her.

  She returned his touch ardently, straddling his lap and parting his shirt, then pushing it off his shoulders. Within moments, they were naked and she was beneath him, moaning his name, giving him solace and understanding with strokes instead of words.

  As they lay on their sides, satisfied and replete, he continued to slide his hands up and down her warm, bare back. He wanted to say things, pretty words that spoke to the depths of his emotions. But he knew she wasn’t ready to hear them, and he wanted to hear her rejection even less.

  Pushing her tangled hair off her face, he brushed his lips across her cheek. “Would you be so understanding if someone else, not me, admitted they’d done all those things?”

  She winced. “Probably not.” When he grinned, she asked, “How is that a good thing?”

  “It makes me special.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she was clearly holding back a smile.

  “Let’s do my favorite thing now,” he said.

  “I thought we just did.”

  He slapped her backside lightly. “I meant walk on the beach.”

  WEARING HER NAVY SLACKS, which would never be the same after the salt water dried on them, and one of Carr’s old Yale sweatshir
ts, Malina kicked through the cold surf. “Chicken,” she said when he jumped out of reach of the spraying water.

  He stretched out his arm and grabbed her hand, dragging her onto firmer, drier sand. “If you want a swim, the pool’s heated.”

  “I didn’t bring my suit.”

  Pulling her against his side, the expression on his face became decidedly lecherous. “That won’t be a problem.”

  She drank in the hungry look in his dark eyes. He did have a way of making her heart race and her knees weak. “I’ll bet.”

  “After we walk, okay?”

  She nodded mutely. Falling under Carr’s potent spell was like falling asleep, fast and natural. It was no wonder the man had made millions off juries.

  Hand in hand, they continued walking down the beach, which was surprisingly peaceful. Malina only had the urge to take off in a sprint once. It wasn’t 3-D hostage takeover simulations, but it wasn’t half-bad.

  “So how did things go with the jeweler this morning?” he asked.

  Oh, right. She was here only long enough to solve a boatload of cases so she could hightail it back to D.C.

  And why did that suddenly seem like a lousy plan? Why did part of her long to walk with Carr up and down this tiny stretch of beach in the middle of nowhere for years on end?

  But was she really considering giving up her career dreams for a man? Didn’t she want to move up the Bureau’s elite ladder? Didn’t she want to make Director?

  Shaking aside her internal questions, she recounted her and Andrea’s encounter with Bill Billings, finding it hard to believe that had only occurred this morning.

  “So Simon, Jack, plus associates really did steal diamonds from that mine in Australia and bring them to South Carolina to unload.”

  “Sure looks that way.”

  “I actually stumbled onto an international jewel theft ring.”

  That would certainly go to his head. “Yep.”

  Carr stopped suddenly. “And we have absolutely no proof.”

  “We’ve got a stolen diamond.”

  “Found on a public dock with no fingerprints or any other forensic evidence.”

  “We witnessed Jack carrying a box on the dock just before we found the diamond.”

  “But we didn’t see the diamond fall out of the box. Theoretically, it could have already been there.”

  “You witnessed an exchange of merchandise for money between Jack and his cronies.”

  Looking wildly frustrated, Carr kicked sand with his foot. “They could have been buying and selling candlesticks, baseball caps, shells from the seashore.”

  “Shells from the seashore?” Malina repeated. “Do you ever stop being a lawyer?”

  “No, it’s instinctive—like you and your little gun games. And it’s a good thing for you that my instincts are finely honed. We know what happened, we know pretty much everybody involved in the crime, but we’ve got nothing to prove it in court.”

  “We have Simon and his varied aliases.”

  Carr waved that away. “From prints obtained illegally. It’s not enough.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  “You don’t seem worked up about that little reality.” When she shrugged, he seemed to finally realize her calm had a reason. “You’ve got a plan.”

  “I’ve got some definite ideas.”

  Laughing, he grabbed her and swung her into his arms, heading back toward the house. “All in all, I usually like your ideas.”

  “Usually?”

  “I seem to recall you ordering me off your case several times.”

  “Even the best agents can make mistakes.”

  “You admit making a mistake? Remind me to note this date and time in my PDF.”

  Part of her wanted to tell him to put her down, she could walk herself. But the house’s landscape lights glowed in the distance, accenting its round, modern features, and Malina sighed against his shoulder instead.

  She was pretty crazy about that house.

  Promising they’d talk through her ideas after their swim, Carr set her down by the pool. She was in the process of, yet again, unbuttoning his shirt—really, the man should just walk around bare chested—when she noticed movement from inside his house.

  Cursing the carelessness that had her leaving her Glock on the kitchen counter, she stepped between him and the windows. “Get down.”

  “Wha—”

  She grabbed his arm and jerked him to a crouch. “Be quiet. Stay here.”

  Careful to keep to the shadows, she inched closer to the windows. Carr, naturally, ignored her order and followed.

  “This is Palmer’s Island,” he whispered when they stopped behind a shrub underneath the kitchen window. “I leave my doors unlocked all the time. It’s probably just some lost tourist.”

  Malina looked at him in disbelief. “This is Palmer’s Island, home to an international jewel theft ring.”

  “Hmm, good point. Still, you did that yesterday with Mrs. Bailey—jumped between me and her. I can handle myself, you know.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Do you really think Jack or Simon is on to us?”

  “Obviously I didn’t, since my pistol is inside.”

  “Are you always this cranky during missions?”

  “Are you always this chatty?”

  She needed to know what they were facing so she could decide if they should head for the car or if they could handle whoever they’d encounter inside. She risked a peek at the corner of the window.

  After a quick glance, she sighed and dropped next to Carr. “You can handle yourself, huh? How about a nun sitting at your kitchen table?”

  11

  “THANK YOU so much, Carr,” Sister Mary Katherine said as she accepted a china teacup and saucer. “I’m sure this will warm me right up.”

  Malina kept her distance. She felt as if her usual control had flown the coop on angel’s wings. Andrea had confided all about the case to the good Sister, which was enough to make Malina grind her teeth, but she also found herself hanging on to her edgy mood at being caught unaware and unarmed.

  “Surely you don’t think you’ll need that, Agent Blair.”

  Malina jerked her hand back from her holstered pistol, which she’d been about to put on. “Of course not,” she said, facing the smiling nun. “Sorry. It’s an instinct when I’m working.”

  Carr moved behind her, laying his hands on her shoulders and rubbing lightly, as if he knew how tense she felt. “We thought you were intruders when we first saw you through the window.”

  “It’s no wonder,” Andrea said, sitting beside the Sister with her own cup of tea. “The front door was unlocked. Really, Carr. There are jewel thieves running around the island.”

  With a significant look, Malina glanced back at her lover and felt much, much better.

  “You didn’t come to church yesterday,” the Sister began, her tone holding just the right amount of accusation. “I couldn’t reach you on your phone all afternoon, and when I dropped by this evening, there was no answer at your door. I became concerned and went to Andrea’s.”

  “She was convinced something horrible had happened to you,” Andrea said, picking up the story. “Given yesterday’s events…” She glanced briefly at Malina. “Well, I felt it was best we come check.”

  Carr cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have worried you ladies. We just went for a walk on the beach.”

  “He got over his virus pretty quickly,” Malina added, proud she could keep a straight face. “Nothing some TLC couldn’t cure.”

  Andrea’s lips twitched. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  “I think I’ll have some wine.” Malina patted his hand. “Carr?”

  “Love some. In fact, I’ll help you open it.” He was right behind her as she opened the fridge. “Okay, so this is all my fault,” he whispered in her ear. “I was looking forward to a swim, too, you know.”

  Malina pulled a bottle of Pinot Grigio from the fridge. As she set the bottle on
the counter, Carr handed her a corkscrew. “Did Andrea have to spill about the thefts? I didn’t really have a role for a nun in my plans.”

  “She probably did. The Sister can be pretty persuasive.”

  “How quickly can we get rid of them?”

  “The Sister will expect us to tell her how we’re going to stop these guys.”

  “I thought Tyler was the sheriff.”

  “Sure he is.”

  Malina poured out two glasses of wine, then tapped hers against Carr’s. “Fine. I’ll bring her in.” She met his gaze. “On a consultant basis only.”

  “We could always send her over to the SAC—that would keep her occupied.”

  “I’d like to actually keep my job, if you don’t mind.” Glancing at the Sister, Malina sipped the crisp wine. “She’s kind of cute, though.”

  “Malina, no kidding, you can’t underestimate her.”

  “Fear, huh?” She shifted her gaze to his, then grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and jerked him toward her. “Makes me want to be naughty.”

  “You’ve lost your mind.” Still, as she nibbled at his lips, he pressed himself against her.

  “No, I just feel like breaking the rules a little.”

  “Agent Blair,” the Sister said quietly, making Carr’s body jolt. “I’d very much like to hear how you’re going to rid this island of its most recent criminal element.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Malina said, releasing Carr and reluctantly dragging her gaze away from the sexy need in his eyes. “I’ve got some definite ideas on how I want to handle things.”

  Carr groaned in her ear, stroked his hand discreetly down her backside, then they headed toward the kitchen table.

  Everybody sat but Malina, who preferred to stand and occasionally pace.

  She wished the sheriff could have been present, since she admired Tyler’s decisiveness and she’d need him to help keep an eye on their suspects before she launched her plan. But he’d been called to duty for a case of teenage vandalism—the local high school baseball team had stolen the rival school’s pig mascot—and he had to work the interrogation before the co-conspirators—the cheerleaders—followed through on the threat to have a beach barbecue.