Haunting Rachel (26 page)

“Rachel—”

She got to her feet and moved toward the door. “I think I’ll go home now.”

Adam was there beside her suddenly, gripping her arm and forcing her to face him. “No. You have to listen to me.”

“Listen? To what, Adam? More half-truths? I don’t want to hear any more of them.”

He was staring down at her, a little pale. “All right, then,” he said roughly. “Don’t listen.” His arms went around her, holding her tight against him, and his mouth covered hers.

Rachel would have said she was too hurt and angry to respond to him with desire. She would have said this man still had too many secrets he wasn’t willing to share with her. She would have said she could not become the lover of a man she had known less than two weeks.

She would have been wrong.

The naked hunger she had seen before in his eyes was alive in him now, a fever she could feel burning in his entire body. He kissed her as though he were utterly certain he would never again have the chance to do so, and held her as if he expected someone to try to snatch her away from him.

That intense, overwhelming need was not only
strangely moving, it was also explosive. And Rachel had no defense against it.

Her body gave itself over to him, molding itself to him, and her arms slid up around his neck with an eagerness she was beyond trying to hide. All that mattered to her was that she give him what he needed.

What she needed.

Adam groaned against her mouth and held her even tighter for a moment. Then he eased back just a little, far enough to mutter, “Tell me you’re ready for me, Rachel. Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.” She pushed his shirt down off his shoulders and pressed her mouth against his chest.

“Are you sure?” His voice was ragged.

“I’m sure.”

He had no choice except to believe her; it was what he wanted, needed, to hear.

“Rachel …”

In the quiet of the hotel room and the darkness before dawn, nothing seemed to exist except the two of them. Nothing else mattered.

They were more like longtime lovers than strangers, with no awkwardness or hesitation. Each seemed attuned to the other, as though they had done this together many times. Every touch of the hands and brush of the lips was slow, deliberate, the restraint between them only intensifying the building passion until it was like a wild storm trapped beneath glass.

And the glass shattered.

Rachel pushed herself up on an elbow and looked down at Adam. “Just so you know, I’m still mad at you.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling you were.”

“You should have told me, Adam.”

“I know. And I probably would have, days ago, but I’d given my word to Nick. He didn’t think we should involve anyone else in this, or voice our suspicions until we had proof. Not even to you.”

“God, he’s secretive.”

“He is that.”

“Didn’t he think I was concerned in the matter?”

“Of course. But neither one of us wanted to upset you when all we had were suspicions and speculation.”

“And when somebody started trying to kill me?”

Adam reached up and brushed back a strand of her hair, his fingers lingering to stroke her cheek. “I wanted to tell you, Rachel. All along. Please believe that.”

She nodded, telling herself it was all right to believe him because the alternative was too painful. “But, Adam, don’t keep things from me for my own good, all right? I need to know what’s going on.”

“I agree. And I promise I won’t keep anything else from you for your own good.” His hand slid into her hair, and he pulled her down far enough for him to kiss her.

Rachel had the dim realization that he had somehow hedged on that promise, and it bothered her. But she pushed worry aside for the moment, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace between them. It had been a long time since she had felt physically close to someone, and she needed that, needed to feel wanted. She relaxed against him for a moment, then lifted her head and said, “I wasn’t finished talking.”

“Weren’t you?” He shifted them slightly until he was raised above her, then pushed the sheet down so that he could see her. “I was.”

She felt just the slightest bit self-conscious when he looked at her with a fixed intensity and absorption as tangible
as a touch. “Do you realize what time it is? The sun’s coming up.”

His mouth trailed over the slope of one breast. “Is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

Rachel caught her breath as he toyed gently with her nipple. She could feel that incredible heat welling up, building again inside her, spreading outward from his mouth on her like molten ripples in a pool. Her fingers slid into his hair, and she held his head to her breast, astonished anew by what he could make her feel.

“Hadn’t noticed what?” she murmured, willing to pay whatever price was demanded of her for this.

The sun was well up, bright light slanting through the narrow opening of the drapes, when Rachel stirred again. “I should probably call home. I didn’t leave Fiona a note or anything.”

“Tell her you probably won’t be home for lunch.”

“Won’t I?”

“Not if I can persuade you to stay here with me. Room service isn’t bad at all.”

She had to climb across him to use the phone on the nightstand, and all during her brief conversation with Fiona, he distracted her by tracing the line of her spine with first a finger and then his lips.

“Where are you getting the energy?” she demanded when the call was finished and his exploration continued.

“I have no idea. Your skin is like silk.”

Rachel felt her own energy rebuilding, and did a little exploring of her own.

She found more scars.

“Don’t,” Adam said unsteadily when quick tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m okay, Rachel. Now I’m okay.”

Nevertheless, she tried to make it up to him, to offer him all the comfort and sweet passion at her command. Whatever brutality he had suffered at the hands of those cruel men, she wanted him to be very sure that there would be memories for him now of beauty and pleasure.

By the time they finally forced themselves from bed for a shower and room service, there was something in Adam’s face Rachel had never seen before, a kind of contentment and peace. It was almost as if he had found something for which he’d been searching a very long time, something he had given up all hope of finding. He looked at her constantly, touched her often. Even his voice was different, lower and softer, like rough velvet.

Rachel didn’t know what it meant, and it unnerved her more than a little, but she didn’t question. For now it was enough to just be with him, to believe that whatever else he wanted of her, desire was real.

“It won’t do any good to keep avoiding the subject,” she told him finally as they finished with the brunch they’d ordered.

“What subject is that? We’ve been talking almost nonstop. I figured we’d covered everything.”

“You know better.”

Reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay, maybe I do. The world intrudes, doesn’t it?”

Rachel pushed her chair back from the little table in the corner but didn’t get up. “It has to. At least until we can stop whoever killed Mom and Dad.”

Restless, Adam said, “You never talk about her.”

“We weren’t close, I’m afraid. It was nothing major, just very different personalities. Adam, you can’t keep putting it off.”

“Okay, you’re right. So let’s talk about it.”

“What’s being done to get evidence against Walsh?”

He grimaced. “Right to the point. And the answer is— it’s a little complicated. Nick has let it be known, through various … connections he has in the city, that he might be willing to make a substantial investment if guaranteed a high rate of return.”

“Meaning a risky venture. An illegal one?”

“That’s the idea. And Walsh is nibbling at the bait.”

“Does he think he’s dealing with Nick personally, or the bank?”

“The bank. Nick’s running a huge bluff at the moment, claiming he can control most of the bank’s assets.” Adam shrugged. “The original plan was based on our assumption that you intended to sell your interests to Nick. That way, he could have controlled what money he needed to without having to explain himself to the board.”

“If he’d told me—”

“I know. I brought that up a couple of times. But he was determined not to involve you. He hasn’t said, but I have a hunch he’s backing his bluff with at least some of his own money.”

“So … if Walsh takes the bait, he’ll come to Nick with some kind of phony investment, but what he’ll really have planned is—what?”

“Another money-laundering scheme, we think. Turning dirty money to clean is a very important cog in the mob’s wheel.”

Rachel frowned. “Okay. But how does that help Nick find evidence that Walsh rigged the plane to crash? Or that he’s the one trying to kill me?”

“If Nick can win Walsh’s trust, there’s a chance he can get inside the operation and find the evidence we need. He’s done this sort of thing before, and he’s good at it.”

Rachel was still frowning. “But doesn’t something like
that tend to take months, even years—assuming it works at all?”

“Sometimes.”

“And it’s dangerous.”

“Very,” Adam replied steadily.

She drew a breath. “And our only other option?”

“Hope we find something more among Duncan’s papers.” Adam shook his head. “If we knew why you’re still a threat to Walsh, we’d have more of the answers. But that part just doesn’t make any sense.”

“And you’re convinced it’s Walsh who’s tried to kill me?”

“Rachel, I had a friend with the police here get me a look at the evidence the fire marshal found after that store exploded. It was a state-of-the-art sparking device on a timer that triggered the explosion. And it came from the same hand that built the device on your father’s plane.”

“You’re sure?”

“I know electronics. I’m sure.”

Rachel didn’t doubt him. And his certainty made her feel cold. “Then we have to go back to the house. We have to finish going through Dad’s papers.”

“Yes.” He reached across the table between them, and when she put her hand in his, he held it strongly. “And you have to be careful, Rachel. Very careful.”

“Not only me. Adam, you’ve been getting in his way. What if he decides that he can’t get to me until he gets you first?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m always careful.”

“Really? Dad thought you put yourself into dangerous situations deliberately. And you admitted yourself that you hadn’t always chosen the safe path.”

“I will this time.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I have a lot to live for.”

Rachel wished she could believe Adam would be cautious. But she had a feeling it was not in his nature to stand back and let things happen. She let the subject drop for the time being as they left the hotel and drove back to her house in Adam’s rented car.

“That’s one more leased car I’ll have to have them pick up,” Rachel noted wryly about her own abandoned car.

“Because you parked it outside the hotel in plain view. These people build bombs, Rachel. I don’t want you getting into any car you’re not absolutely sure has been in a secure place.”

“I know, I know. I should have just taken a taxi.”

“Maybe you should make that a habit until this is over.”

It made sense. It also made Rachel feel trapped. “I hate this.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He paused while they got out of his car in her driveway, then added steadily, “Maybe you should go away somewhere.”

Rachel looked at him. “Is that what you want me to do?”

He hesitated, then swore. “No. I’m not sure we could keep you safe somewhere else, even with real iron bars. The only way to stop this is to stop Walsh.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

He smiled. “You wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

“No. I don’t think it would solve anything.” She took his arm. “Come on. Let’s go look for some answers.”

Peace reigned inside the house; after so many days of furniture being shifted from attic and basement, Darby and her crew were working in her store today. And Cameron was out in the garden, painting.

“Thank God,” Rachel said when Fiona informed her of this. “He’s hardly touched his paints since Mom and
Dad were killed. If he’s painting, things are definitely looking up.”

Fiona, who gave no sign at all that she knew Rachel had left the house in the middle of the night to go to a man’s hotel room, sniffed and said, “Maybe he’ll be going back to San Francisco now.”

Rachel smiled at her. “This is his home too, Fiona.”

The housekeeper sniffed again. “If you say so, Miss Rachel.”

“We’ll be in Dad’s study.”

“Shall I bring coffee?”

“A little later.”

Fiona nodded, sent Adam a look he couldn’t interpret to save his life, and left them.

“Is she making a wax doll in my image?” he wanted to know as they went into the study.

“I doubt it.”

“You
doubt
it?”

At her father’s desk, Rachel turned and smiled at him. “I very much doubt it.”

Adam went to her and surrounded her face with his hands. He kissed her, taking his time. Then, huskily, he said, “Do you have any idea what it does to me when you smile at me like that?”

Rachel blinked. “No. Like what?”

Instead of answering, he kissed her again. Or maybe that was an answer.

When Rachel was finally able to catch her breath, she’d forgotten what they were talking about. “Didn’t we come in here to do something?” she asked idly.

Reluctantly, Adam removed her arms from his neck and guided her gently back to sit in the desk chair. “Yes. Look for evidence.”

“Right. Right.” She looked at the desk for a moment,
then shook her head bemusedly. “You have the strangest effect on me.”

He touched her cheek with caressing fingers. “Likewise.”

She caught his hand and held it firmly. “Adam, if you keep doing things like that, I won’t be able to concentrate.”

He sighed. “Likewise.”

“Look—why don’t I go upstairs and get started on the secretary in Dad’s bedroom while you finish up in here?”

“I guess that would be best. But I don’t have to like it.”

Rachel didn’t like it either, but she left him and went upstairs to her father’s bedroom.