2000 Kisses (28 page)

With a curse he turned her in his arms, then froze. Looking, just looking. At her face. At her chest.

Lower.

Over the taut stomach and down to the line of silk at her thighs.

Her heart pounded. He was quiet suddenly, staring at the skimpy bit of fabric she wore. Then his fingers jerked downward, stripping away the last barrier.

Her breath came in a harsh rush only seconds before Tess felt his mouth.

“You can't—”

“I warned you,” he growled. “You pushed until you got answers. Yes, dammit, I've wanted you and it won't be nice or tidy or convenient now.”

Dimly, dimly, she heard his warning, but the meaning was lost, drowned out by the slam of her heart and the exquisite shock of his hands moving in places no man had ever touched so intimately before.

“God, you're soft.” He eased lower, teasing her to some trembling edge she'd never approached before. “I'm going to have you, Tess,” he whispered. “Now.”

She stared at him through a haze of desire, unable to speak as his rough hands moved, feathering down into the nest of curls at her thighs. “Do you understand?”

His chest was an anchor, his hands a lifeline. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think. “Yes,” she whispered.

It was the only answer. She didn't stop to worry
about what would happen later. She wouldn't let herself wonder what kind of future a hardscrabble, tight-mouthed cowboy from Arizona could find with a high-tempo, micromanaging worrier from Boston. …

Because there was no future.

No future at all.

It didn't matter. Now was all the world that counted—this raging, edgy now of trembling muscles and driving nerves.

“Look at me. Duchess.”

She looked. Savored. Wanted. He was as wild as the summer wind, as hard as the brushed sandstone walls of the high desert canyons. He was a man that no woman could turn away from.

And by some impossible trick of fate, he was touching her, wanting her.

Tess drew a ragged breath, suddenly needing to question, to analyze. He didn't give her time. His fingers flexed. Dewy skin parted and sheathed his intimate caress.

Tess almost buckled at the shock of that deep stroke. Why hadn't she realized? Why had no one told her that skin could sear, that a heart could sing?

“Show me what you want, Duchess.”

Alt of it

Everywhere.

Now.

His mouth closed over her breast. She whimpered as he nipped her skin with his teeth. “Like that?” he said hoarsely.

Just like that

Againagainagain. Now.

The words were silent, speech beyond her capability
as his fingers stripped away the
last
reasoning
part of her
brain. She wanted control and safety, but he didn't give it to her. This was all racing energy, all vicious pleasure.

And she wanted nothing less.

She ground out his name, her mouth pressed to his hot, salty skin as her body strained against his. “Please— ”

“Easy, love.”

Madness gripped her, left her shaking.

Then he moved, and a wave of need was inside her, rising, racing. It was close, so close, and she didn't have a clue what to do.

His fingers were relentless, spearing her, enflaming her. Skin to her skin, he was so much a part of her, so deep in the wave that all Tess could do was cry out blindly as she climbed, shattered.

Too fast.

Too dangerous.

Even before her blood stopped burning, it came again, nerves jangling, muscles shuddering. Dimly, she heard someone scream. But not her. Impossible for such a thing to happen in her ordered, reasonable world.

Her fingers tightened. The scream came again, torn from her own raw throat as she swayed and almost fell beneath the shocking pleasure.

Her knees collapsed. With a curse, T.J. wrapped his hands around her and carried her to the bed. She lay beyond words, stunned by the pleasure he'd given her.

She started to speak, to tell him all he'd made her feel.

But Tess saw his face, lined and set. He was regretting what he'd done, angry at her for goading him. She turned her head, averting her gaze from his regret….

And then she saw what lay on the table beside the bed.

Gun.

Holster.

Handcuffs.

Her whole body froze.

Dear God, what was she doing? Who was this hard-eyed stranger she'd allowed to invade her body and probe all her secrets?

“I—I have to go.”

She tried to sit up, only to be sent rolling back onto the bed.

“Not until this is finished between us.” His eyes were bottomless and hard. His hand slid to his belt and whipped it free.

“No.” Tess pushed to one elbow, torn and uncertain, devastated by how deeply he'd laid all her defenses bare. Part of her mind knew that he'd warned her in unequivocal terms.

It made no difference. She couldn't stay, couldn't bear to want so much. No woman like her could ever hold a man like this.

“Stop.”

He pinned her arms with relentless fingers. “Not yet, Duchess.”

Through the open windows came the hiss of distant thunder, followed by the slam of a car door and sharp footsteps. Grady's voice echoed from the courtyard.

T.J. cursed long and well “It's not over. Not nearly.”

He tossed a blanket over her, then pinned her back with a savage slide of lips and tongue and teeth that lanced right into her heart.

And then he tore away from her and strode from the
room, leaving her with nothing but a shattering memory and cold answers….

Devastating answers that she didn't want to hear.

It took TJ. three agonizing minutes to scan the fax that Grady had brought for his signature. Two minutes more to learn that his Blazer and Mae's truck were both back in town with new tires installed. Meanwhile, Tom Stoner's foreman had brought in a coyote carcass for analysis and there had been a report made about a health hazard at the survivalist camp in the foothills.

T.J. forced his mind to concentrate on business, issued terse orders, then strode back inside the house. Still stunned by what had just happened between him and Tess, he halted outside his door, paced the hall, then pushed the door open and walked inside.

Her head was turned away from him.

“We can't stay like this, with questions left hanging.” He forced himself to say the words that had to be said. “We have to get some things straight.”

The pillow stirred.

“Are you listening?”

He heard her low, breathy murmur.

Agreement? Invitation?

Hell if he knew.

But they were going to talk whether she liked it or not.

“Look at me, Tess. We've got to talk.” TJ. stared down at her grimly.

And cursed.

The impossible woman was curled up on the bed, hands gripping the pillow, Sound asleep.

For an hour McCall paced the courtyard, berating himself.

How had he let things get so out of control? Tess was supposed to be under his protection. So far his batting record was dirt poor.

He heard his cell phone ringing. “This is McCall,” he said impatiently.

“I've got bad news,” Andrew O'Mara said.

T.J. sat on the porch glider and leaned back, watching a dust devil whip across the valley, spinning a funnel of dirt and debris. Tess was sleeping for the moment, but T.J. was close enough to hear her if she called. “Let's have it.”

“First I want to talk to Tess.”

T.J.'s jaw tensed. “Not available.”

“Why not?”

“She's resting.”

“Rest? My sister?” Andrew snorted. “What kind of miracle did you work to make her do a thing like that?”

“I gave her some pain medicine.” T.J. closed his eyes, trying not to remember the wrenching fear he'd felt when he'd seen her on the cliff. He was still reeling at how easy it would have been for her to break her neck in the fall down the slip rock. “She fell near some old ruins. No broken bones, but she's going to be black and blue for a week.”

Silence stretched out, then tightened. “Don't tell me
this has some connection with Boston.” Andrew's voice was harsh.

“My instinct tells me no, but I can't be sure. Our tires were slashed at the scene and I found a spent rifle shell in the dirt. I'm running a check with forensics to see when it was fired.”

“I hope Tess isn't stepping into the middle of an old-fashioned range war down there.”

“Whatever it is, I'll handle it,” T.J. said firmly.

“I'm convinced of that. Otherwise I'd pull her out of there today.”

“So what's your bad news?”

“Someone's broken into Tess's apartment. They were damned sharp, so we didn't find out until we tracked a bogus floral delivery to the building. There was no information in the apartment about her whereabouts, but this means they are definitely on to her. I thought you should know.”

“What about you? Have you traced the source of that money?”

T.J. heard papers rustling. “There are fifteen branches to investigate, and that deposit could have been routed through any one of them. The bank's internal records have probably been altered, but I'm going to have to prove it. That means sifting through thousands of deposit records, both written and electronic. Meanwhile, we're going on the assumption that these people have someone with excellent electronic skills.”

T.J. made the connection instantly. “That means they could have access to all her credit records and credit cards.”

“Bingo. I'm sending her a new card by express delivery. It's registered under my name, so no one can trace
her through it. Meanwhile, be sure that she doesn't use any of her own cards.”

“Not a problem. There's not a whole lot to buy here anyway.” McCall watched the dust devil whip over the valley. He could imagine the churning gravel, the blinding cloud of dirt and twigs. “One more thing.”

“Give me a break. Tell me you don't have more bad news.”

TJ.'s fingers tightened on the phone. “That's for you to decide. About Tess—things between us might be turning personal.” T.J. didn't say more. He didn't have to.

Andrew let out a slow breath. 'Wow personal?”

“If you mean have I taken her to bed, the answer is no.” T.J. stood up slowly and braced one shoulder against the bleached wood beam on the porch. “That doesn't mean I won't. If it happens it will be because we both want it, Andrew.”

“Shit.”

“That sums it all up nicely.”

“Just take care of her.” Andrew cleared his throat. “Tess doesn't have a whole lot of experience with men. She's always been too busy working.”

The knowledge of Tess's limited experience didn't come as a complete shock to McCall, but he was surprised how it punched through him immediately, unleashing a wave of protectiveness.

“I'll take good care of her; you can count on it. Now, why don't you get off the phone and get me some answers. A big, tough T-man like you ought to be able to pull a few strings around the Beltway.”

“If I pull any more strings, I'm going to be thrown out of Washington. And in this administration, that's saying
something,” Andrew O'Mara said dryly. “Give my love to Tess.”

“It will be a pleasure.”

“And, T.J.?”

“What?”

“Tess could do a lot worse than you. I don't think I'm too unhappy about this.”

“Now, that's a comfort,” TJ. muttered.

Andrew O'Mara chuckled dryly as he rang off.

The dust devil was halfway up the mountain now, its restless winds cast onto solid walls of rock. Thin plumes of dust furled up like smoke and scattered in the air.

T.J. was thinking about dead coyotes and stolen money when he heard a light step behind him. He whirled around, frowning at the sight of Tess standing white-faced in the doorway. Her hands were crossed over a lacy, silky garment that stopped midthigh. For a robe, it left little to the imagination.

“Dammit, woman, you should be in bed.”

Her eyes were shadowed and uncertain. “I was in bed, but I was restless. Couldn't sleep—” Her hands twisted sharply. “Who am I kidding?”

“What is it?”

She drew a shaky breath. “You wanted the truth, and here it is. I'm frightened, TJ. I keep thinking, and every thought is a bad one.” Her voice fell. “Would you— could you hold me? Just for a few minutes?”