“Yeah,” he said roughly, and his deep voice licked goosebumps down her spine from nape to tailbone. Whipping his arm around her waist, he tumbled her flat on her back next to him and rose up over her. “Yeah,” he repeated, looking down at her with those charcoal-rimmed, intense pale eyes. “Okay.”
As the busy signal sounded in his ear yet one more time, it took everything Zach had to keep from slamming down the phone in frustration. Instead he replaced the receiver with exaggerated care, then turned to stare for about the dozenth time at the door connecting his room to the bathroom that connected to Lily’s. It was a damn good thing she was downstairs preparing breakfast for everyone, he thought, because he had a wild hair up his butt urging him to go pick a fight with her.
The thought brought him up short. Jesus, Taylor, what is your problem? Last night was fantastic—she pretty much handed you everything you could possibly ask for, all gift wrapped with a nice gold bow. So what’s got you feeling so pissed off? He plowed both hands through his hair. He wasn’t so egotistical that he thought one hot session between the sheets, no matter how inspired, would motivate her to declare her love everlasting. On the other hand, they had shared something pretty damn special—and she’d been in an awful big rush to just blow it all off, hadn’t she?
“Uh!” Loosening his fingers from his hair, he smacked himself in the forehead with the heels of his hands. What the hell was wrong with him? They’d fucked like minks all night long, and he ought to be relieved he hadn’t needed to tell her not to expect a lot from him in the way of the emotional garbage that most women seemed to want. So why did the fact she’d beaten him to the punch have him all bent out of shape instead? Hell, she’d offered him the best of all worlds. She’d volunteered her kisses, and access to her gorgeous body, and all of her sweetness and smiles, without any of that messy, clingy, needy shit that usually went along with it. He ought to—
Screw ought to. Uttering another rough sound, he turned back to the phone and snatched up the receiver again. This time when he punched in Cooper’s number, the phone on the other end of the line rang.
It was picked up on the third ring. “Yeah?”
“Coop, it’s Zach.”
“Hey, Midnight, how y’holding together? I imagine all this waiting around has gotta be a bitch, huh?”
Not as tough as it would’ve been without Lily’s brand of distraction. The thought no sooner crossed his mind than he shook his head impatiently. “I’m hanging tough. I, uh, wonder, though, if I could ask you and John a favor.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“We’re supposed to hear back from the kidnapper on Saturday. Would you and Rocket lend a hand with the take-down? I could use some backup that I can trust—a reserve force that no one living in this heap of rocks knows anything about.”
There was a momentary hesitation, and Zach, already sensitive at having to ask, asked stiffly, “Is there a problem?”
“Hell no. I’m just trying to think what I’ll tell Ronnie.”
What he’d—? For the first time that morning, Zach felt a smile crook up the corners of his mouth. “The Iceman has to ask the little woman if he can go out and play? Tell me it isn’t true, Blackstock.”
“It isn’t true,” Coop promptly replied. Then he laughed. “Shit. If I hear even a whisper of the word pussy-whipped, pal, I’ll have to hurt you. But I know Ronnie, and she’s gonna want to come along to lend a hand. I have to find a way to avoid that.”
Zach was nonplussed. “What does she think she can do that three trained Marines can’t?”
“Beats the hell outta me, but she’ll want to help anyhow. In any case, count us in. We’ll come up Friday and find a place to stay. Just pick a place for us to get together to work out the logistics.”
“Thanks, Coop.”
His friend made a rude noise. “Screw that. I’d want to be there when Glynnis gets home anyway, to check out her new boyfriend. Someone’s gotta make sure the peckerwood’s good enough for her.” A voice rumbled in the background and Coop snorted.
“What?” Zach demanded.
“Rocket says the peckerwood’s got money, and the way your baby sis runs through hers, that’s at least a start.”
A bark of laughter escaped Zach’s throat.
“Here, John wants to talk to you,” Coop said, and there was a faint shuffling sound as he handed off the phone.
A second later, Rocket’s voice came down the line. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Then, too antsy for small talk, he demanded, “You have any luck with those background checks?”
“Depends on your definition of luck.” At Zach’s impatient sound, his voice turned serious. “Sorry, Midnight. But just once it would be nice to investigate a family who was less Borgia and more frigging Brady Bunch. I have information, but it doesn’t narrow down the field much.”
Great. Zach had known better than to expect an easy solution, but still his gut clenched. Squaring his shoulders resolutely, he blew out a breath. “So what are you telling me here—that the Beaumonts are all in bed together?”
John laughed. “No, it’s not that bad. No machinations with incestuous overtones. As with most things, amigo, it pretty much boils down to money. The wealth in that family belongs strictly to Glynnis’s David. He inherited the whole ball of wax when his father died.”
“No shit?” Zach looked around the sumptuous room he’d been assigned. “Everything went to him?”
“Looks like. Mama Bear receives a modest annual stipend, but all the rest—the family business, the family home—went to Baby Bear.”
“Kinda makes you wonder how she feels about that, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, indeed.”
“How long since the father kicked?”
“Three years. David was barely twenty-three. Apparently our boy’s got a head on his shoulders, though—not to mention a knack for making money. From all accounts, he took the family business and increased its net worth far beyond the original inheritance.”
“This is a fairly small island whose only industry, as far as I can tell, is tourism. What sort of business are we talking about?”
“It has something to do with telecommunications and radio or microwave towers, or some such. I’ve taken a look at the annual report, but to tell you the truth I was more interested in the financial bottom line than whatever the product is they produced to arrive at it. So I’m not real clear if it has to do with cellular phones or satellite systems or exactly what the nature of the beast is. But I can tell you this much. It’s not some hokey little nickle/dime operation. It has a net worth of over nine million dollars. The family property where you’re staying is worth a couple of million more. If you want additional details, I can give it a closer look.”
“No, the what isn’t really the important issue. The point seems to be that David is the sole beneficiary of a sizable fortune. Do you have any idea who it goes to if anything happens to him?”
“Barring his getting married first, it all reverts back to Mama.”
Zach whistled through his teeth. “Gives her a helluva motive, doesn’t it? Especially now, with him on the verge of marrying Glynnie.”
“I wouldn’t count her out, that’s for damn sure.”
“But judging by your crack about the Borgias, I assume she’s not the only one worth looking at?”
“Well, the whole friggin’ family seems to have moved in with David and Mama following Papa’s death. And I can tell you that Cousin Cassidy is in serious debt. She’s racked up a small fortune on her credit cards and has had two Visas and an American Express cut off. Cousin Jessica’s come up clean so far, and so has her husband and Cousin Richard. But if you don’t ask how I got them, I’ll tell you I managed to get my hands on the Beaumonts’ phone records.”
“And this is significant because…?”
“Of the number of calls that’ve been made from there to a business competitor in California. They could mean nothing, or it could be that someone in the hou
se is engaged in some industrial espionage. In other words, we don’t know the significance. This is all strictly preliminary, so I can’t give you any details yet. But you can bet your ass I’ll get them, and meanwhile, I wouldn’t remove damn near anyone from the short list. You never know what the hell’s going to surface until I really start digging.”
They hung up a short while later, and Zach rummaged through the small desk across the room until he came up with a piece of paper. Slapping it down on the desktop, he sat and divided it into sections, allotting one Beaumont per section. Next to the individual’s name, he listed all the information John had given him for that person, plus his own impressions. The exercise didn’t pop out anything that illuminated a big lightbulb over his head, but it did help cement the facts in his mind.
A short while later he looked up and saw by the clock on the desk that he was on the verge of being late for breakfast. He promptly pushed back from the desk and rose to his feet, folding his sheet of notes into a small rectangle. He slipped it into his hip pocket as he headed for the door.
It wasn’t until he was loping down the main staircase a moment later that the oddness of his own behavior suddenly hit him. Rushing off all eager for a meal, even one of Lily’s tasty feasts, wasn’t at all like him. He was a professional soldier, for crissake. If food was such a huge priority he never would have lasted eighteen years in the service.
With a sinking feeling he realized it was her. Lily. It was the prospect of seeing her again, being close to her, basking in the warmth of that generous smile. Just the thought of it had him panting like an overeager hound.
Well, shit.
The following evening Jessica raced into the kitchen and slapped a glossy page she’d torn out of a magazine down on the counter in front of Lily. “What do you think?” she demanded breathlessly, reaching for a white apron to tie around her hips. “Do you think that haircut would look good on me?”
“Goodness gracious,” Lily said with a laugh. “I think I’ve created a monster.” Then she leaned forward to peer at the picture, and her eyes rounded. “Oh. Wow. You’re getting really good at this.” She wiped her hands on her apron, picked the page up, and held it under the light to examine more closely. She looked up and studied Jessica for a moment, then went back to examining the picture again.
Jessica practically danced in place. “Well?”
“I’ll say it again.” Meeting her eyes, Lily grinned. “Wow. I think this would look great on you.”
“Oh, God. Me, too.” She laughed and gathered together salad fixings. Tearing romaine leaves apart, she tossed it in a bowl she’d rubbed with olive oil and a garlic clove, then reached for the knife and a green onion. “The model’s face is the same shape as mine. And even better, the texture of her hair looks as if it might be similar.”
“Yeah, and look what that style does for her neck. You’ve got that elegant swan-neck thing going for you, too.”
“I’m going to call first thing in the morning and see if I can get an appointment.” Jessica finished putting the salad together. “You want me to make a red-wine dressing for this?”
“Yes, that’d be great.” Lily glanced over as she pulled a tray of browning game hens out of the oven to baste with cranberry vinegar sauce. “If you’re able to get an appointment soon and the salon is in town, I’d love to ride along. I need to pick up some mushrooms for a recipe I’m thinking of trying.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I find out when it’ll be.” As she went to set down the mixed dressing, she noticed a red stain spreading across her white shirt. “Damn.”
Lily followed her gaze. “What is it, wine? Oh, shoot, did that happen before or after you mixed it with the oil?”
Jess peered at the stain. “It doesn’t seem oily, so I think it must have been before.”
“Good, that’s not quite so bad. Turn on the tea kettle.” She made a shooing motion as soon as Jessica had done so. “I’ve got it covered here. Go change, then bring your shirt back down. As long as it’s only wine, we can get it out with boiling water.”
Jessica took the stairs two at a time as she headed up to her suite of rooms to change. Life had been so interesting the past few days. She felt prettier and infinitely more with it, and Christopher seemed to like the new her, too. He’d been chasing her around the bedroom steadily since her fashion epiphany.
She was grinning as she reached the room, but the smile dropped away when she opened the door and heard him hurriedly say, “Gotta go. I’ll talk to you soon.” He was hanging up the telephone as she walked into their bedroom.
He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked as she peeled off her blouse and reached into the closet for a fresh one.
“No one,” he said, and casually shrugged a wide shoulder when she turned to stare at him. “No one you know, in any case. Just someone about a project at work.”
Her stomach squeezed. She loved him so desperately, and had never fully accepted her good luck in catching his attention. It seemed as if she’d spent the last two years waiting for the other shoe to drop, and she wondered if that’s what was happening here now.
She didn’t want to believe it, but something was definitely going on. The sad truth was, though, that whatever it was, she didn’t want to know.
Christopher diverted her attention when his gaze tracked over her satin bra. His green eyes darkened. “Look at you,” he said, climbing to his feet and walking up to her. He trailed a long finger down her strap then traced the dip of the bra’s cups between her breasts. “Did you come up here to give me a little pre-dinner appetizer?”
Muscles deep between her thighs immediately clenched at the idea, but she laughed and stepped away. “No. I just came up to change into a clean blouse. I spilled red wine all over this one. I need to take it back down to the kitchen to get the stain out.”
He took the item of apparel she held out to him and dropped it to the floor without even looking at it. Then he bent to kiss her. His eyes were lambent when he raised his head again, and Jessica realized through a hot haze of arousal that he’d backed her up until the hollows of her knees brushed the side of the bed.
“I bet fifteen minutes one way or the other won’t make a huge difference,” he said. And with all ten fingers planted gently on her chest, he gave a little push. He was already reaching for his belt buckle as she tumbled backward onto the bed. “Whataya say we test that theory?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and hung on for dear life when he lowered himself over her. Whatever else happened, she thought dazedly, for now she at least had this.
16
OUT ON THE VERANDA LATE FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Lily found a sunny corner sheltered from the wind and stretched out on a lounge chair to admire the view. It managed to stun her with pleasure every time she saw it. Spring flowers bloomed in profusion at the base of the veranda, and the emerald lawn swept in faultlessly groomed perfection to the rugged promontory. Water crashed upon the rocks at the foot of the cliffs and clouds chased across the sky, sending shadows racing along the channel. The ever-changing colors and the scattering of small tree-covered islands dotting the narrow passage held her enthralled as they had done ever since the mist lifted Tuesday afternoon and she’d caught her first glimpse of it.
Recalling that day took a little of the shine off her enjoyment. Tuesday was the night she’d acknowledged she was falling in love with Zach, and she wasn’t proud of the fact that she still hadn’t really dealt with the issue. Every night since then had found the two of them in either his bed or hers, wrapped around each other and making love that was sometimes wild and intense, sometimes slow and languid. He couldn’t seem to stay away from her any more than she could from him, nor did he appear to be dealing with his emotions any better than she was hers. And if he harbored feelings anything like her own, he hadn’t voiced them. For a couple of outspoken people, they were certainly being tight-lipped, and knowing she was in no burning hurry t
o rectify the situation left her feeling fickle, immature, and antsy. She appreciated the scenery all the more, therefore, because something about watching the capriciousness of nature, of seeing its elements blending in harmony one moment, then competing for supremacy the next, helped soothe some of her own plaguing indecisiveness.
“I thought I might find you here.”
Lily looked up to see Jessica approach and smiled as her new friend swung a long leg over the chaise next to hers and collapsed onto its cushioned surface. “Yes, what can I say?” Her smile turned wry. “The sun feels so nice, and I adore this view.”
“It is pretty, isn’t it?”
“Um-hmm.”
Falling into a companionable silence, they lounged side by side, exchanging only a minimum of desultory conversation over the next half hour. Eventually, though, Lily glanced at her watch and regretfully sat up. For several moments she simply perched on the edge of the chaise; then, with a sigh over the need to drag herself away from the drugging warmth of her protected little corner, she rose to her feet. “I’d better go get dinner started.”
Jessica glanced at her watch. “This a little earlier than usual, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’ll need the extra time.” She grinned down at the other woman, who shaded her eyes to gaze back at her. “You have any interest in learning to make risotto?”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely.” Jessica joined her as Lily made her way down the terrace steps. The wind they’d been protected from in the lee of the mansion caught them as they rounded the corner, and Jessica’s thick hair rose up and writhed like Medusa’s snaky locks around her face.
With a frustrated sound, she attempted to anchor it down with her hands, but vagrant pieces caught in the wind and whipped across her cheeks. “That haircut appointment can’t come soon enough for me.”
Lily grinned at her as they dashed for the kitchen door. “It’s not for another week yet?”
“Not unless they get a cancellation, in which case I’m on the list. Please,” she implored humorously as they barreled through the door and banged it closed against the wind chasing them into the room. “Let somebody cancel soon.”
Getting Lucky Page 18
