Leather, Lace and Rock-n-Roll (23 page)

Max just smirked.

“We need to finish.” Rachel grinned. “Before
the oil dries.”

While Rachel and Cameron returned to the
action, Hawke and Max took positions near the back door with Steele
and Shadow.

“Leaving will be a bitch,” Max muttered.

“I’ll sign autographs while you get her in
the truck.”

Max nodded and threw a suspicious glance at
Rachel and Cameron. The two women chattered and giggled as they
continued to massage chests, abs and muscles. “If we can ever get
them out of here.”

“They don’t act like they’re in a hurry to
leave,” Shadow said under his breath.

“Damn, Shadow,” Max bellowed, “do you have a
death wish?”

Activity stilled at Max’s outburst, all eyes
focused on him. Hawke bit his bottom lip, unable to speak.

“No problem,” Shadow said smoothly, “we’re
just discussing a sore subject over here.”

Cameron rolled her eyes and shrugged. Rachel
gave a serene smile and lifted the camera back to her eye.

Hawke cleared his throat. “Need a break,
Max?”

Max wiped the sweat from his brow, the mask
of control securely back in place. “No.”

Steele cleared his throat. “Captain, ask
Shadow what he read last night.”

“Steele,” Shadow growled.

Max cocked his head to the side. “Good
book?”

Shadow didn’t speak.

“Apparently,” Steele answered, “Shadow has a
collection of romance novels.”

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steele gave a smug smile. “Nope. Serious as a
heart attack.”

As the sun began to set, Rachel and Cameron
photographed the last fireman and Max began recovery mode. After a
short meeting with the fire chief and police chief, Max followed
Rachel and Cameron back inside the garage.

“Steele will load Rachel into the Suburban
first,” Max told them. “As soon as the fire trucks roll out, you’re
on, Hawke. The crowd is pretty thick. The snipers will remain until
you’re finished.”

Max turned to Cameron. “Walk straight to your
car. Shadow will go with you.”

Cameron lifted her sunglasses. “Are you going
to tie me to the top if I don’t?”

Hawke’s body tensed, not sure how much more
Max could take. Max’s chest slowly rose and then fell. He ran his
palm over the smooth surface of his head. “Just get in the damn
car.”

As if she sensed the impending danger,
Cameron set her glasses back on her nose. “Fine, but I’m going to
the spa first, Max.”

Hawke glanced from Max to Steele to Shadow.
No nickname? What the hell?

“It’s Wednesday,” Rachel murmured.

Hawke frowned. “So?”

“Wednesday is spa day.” She gave him a
cursory glance. “I’ll be in the truck.”

Hawke nodded and watched Steele follow her to
the safety of the Suburban.

Max turned to Shadow. “Do not leave the
perimeter. Escort her in and then back out.”

Shadow nodded and then laid a hand to the
small of Cameron’s back. “C’mon, tiger.”

Max motioned for the fire trucks to move and
then the crowd went wild. With Max beside him, Hawke stepped
outside the garage to accept offers of autographs and
photographs.

Rachel sat in the quiet interior of the
Suburban with Brett, content with the afternoon’s events. Hawke had
once again surprised her. When the crowd gathered behind the fire
trucks, she fully expected him to greet his public. After all, why
not? Hawke’s presence didn’t have much to do with the calendar
anyway. But instead, he remained in the depths of the garage,
hidden from view. Impressive.

Rachel gazed out the window at Hawke and her
heart pounded. Even in a swarm of females, she wanted him. No doubt
about it, even though he betrayed and lied to her, she couldn’t
resist him. And what warmed her already heated body even more, he
wanted her.

“Hazard of undercover,” Brett mumbled.

Rachel lifted an eyebrow. “According to Max,
you’re quite the ladies’ man.”

Brett lowered his head. “Sterling has a big
mouth.”

“Actually, I’ve found Max to be very
insightful.”

Brett gave her a cocky grin in response just
as the passenger door opened and Hawke stepped inside. Max entered
and slid behind the steering wheel.

Hawke scooted close to her. “I’d say the
afternoon was a success.”

“It was,” she agreed. “Thank you.”

He lifted her hand and kissed the back of her
knuckles. “Anything for you, angel.”

She pulled her hand from his grasp and
cleared her throat. “Are you still serious about your house?”

Hawke scrubbed a hand down the side of his
jaw. “Rachel, I’ll admit I wasn’t entirely truthful with you but, I
was dead serious when I said I was ready to settle down and
concentrate on other things.”

Careful to keep her emotions hidden, she
asked the one question she wasn’t sure she really wanted him to
answer. “Will you live there?”

He reached to grasp her hand again. “Yes.
Jaydon Hawke will not allow me to be the SEAL I once was.”

She gave his hand a slight squeeze. “Then, I
need to check the progress.”

“Sure.” He lifted her hand, turned it over
and placed a kiss to the underside of her wrist. “You heard the
lady, Max.”

Max nodded and steered the vehicle away from
the chaos and toward the building site.

Rachel glanced out the back window to see if
anyone followed. Although security gates had now been installed
around the entry to the new house, the house itself wasn’t
completely wired and it would be difficult to keep a determined
groupie out.

“Not a problem, Rachel,” Max said from the
front seat. “The police department’s got it all under control.”

Rachel grinned. More like Max had it all
under control. She leaned back against the seat, relieved the
afternoon was almost over.

Max stopped in front of two iron, black
gates, lowered the car window, and entered the code. He parked the
Suburban across the driveway near the front door.

“We’ll wait out here,” Max told Hawke when he
opened the back door.

Hawke nodded and headed inside with Rachel.
As soon as they entered the foyer, Hawke’s body bumped hers and he
grasped her shoulders to steady them both. A tiny gasp left her
lips.

Hawke peered over her head and suddenly her
behavior made sense. “Sonuvabitch.”

The place looked like a wrecking ball had a
field day. The windows were broken, the sheetrock literally hung
off the frame, and the gargantuan chandelier in the entryway hung
from three wires.

Hawke pushed Rachel the opposite direction.
“We probably better steer clear,” he mumbled.

Rachel stepped toward a mountain of rock in
the corner. “So much for the fountain.” She turned back toward him
and fire blazed in the depths of her eyes. “This is insane.”

“Vandals?” Hawke suggested, although he knew
better.

“There are no vandals in this area,” Rachel
answered with icy calmness. “Should I call the police?”

Hawke stepped into the kitchen and almost
fell out. “No.”

He turned, blocking her entrance to the
kitchen as she stepped toward him.

She frowned and pushed one hand against his
chest. “Let me see. It can’t be any worse than the rest.”

“Rachel, wait until I get Max and
Steele.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Why?” Then her eyes
widened. “Oh my God! There’s not a body inside is there?”

“Damn.” Hawke ran a hand through his hair.
“No. Just trust me, you don’t want to go in.”

Her eyes held his for a moment and then
somehow she managed to slip past him. Hawke released a heavy breath
and then braced himself in the doorway.

Rachel stood in the middle of the kitchen,
turning a semicircle as she scanned glossy photographs of herself
in the arms of a much older man plastered to every free inch of
space. Some in vivid Technicolor, some in black and white. Some
innocent and some very, very graphic. But those paled in comparison
to the newspaper articles that labeled her harlot and
homewrecker.

Hawke waited patiently for her to scream.
Cry. Or even speak. Instead, she looked at each and every picture,
some even twice, until she finally took a deep breath and turned
her gaze to him. “And you thought the tabloids loved you.”

Hawke took a hesitant step toward her, fueled
by the overwhelming urge to hold her. She held up a hand to stop
him and then reached to pluck a newspaper clipping from the wall.
“I owe you an explanation.”

Hawke shifted. So this is what it felt like
to be on the other end. Acid burnt his gut. “Rachel—”

“Please.” He caught a slight quiver of her
bottom lip. “I need to do this.”

Hawke nodded and propped himself against a
wall.

She pointed to the man in the newspaper
clipping she held. “William Bridgewater was my boss in New York
City. He gave me my dream job and I respected him.”

Rachel turned back to the pictures. “Little
did I know things would end up like this.”

“People have affairs all the time,” Hawke
said quietly. Himself included.

Rachel turned to face him, fire in her eyes.
“That’s just it, Hawke, I didn’t think it was an affair. He told me
he was divorced and no one bothered to tell me any different. I had
absolutely no idea there was a Mrs. Bridgewater until I opened a
Sunday paper.”

“What an ass.”

She gave him a half smile. “Thank you.” She
gestured to the photographs. “She hired a private investigator and
the rest is pretty well self explanatory.”

The color returned to her cheeks and she
appeared her usual composed self.

“I already knew.”

He braced himself for her reaction, wondering
too late if he should’ve confessed.

Rachel studied him for a moment and then
shrugged. “Max.”

Hawke pushed himself off the wall, still
wary. “You’re not angry?”

“Not with you. I thought this was all behind
me. I don’t even know how these got here. When the Bridgewaters
finally divorced for real, the judge issued a gag order.”

“Believe me, things like this always get out
somehow.” He stepped closer and hugged her. “This makes absolutely
no difference to me.”

She untangled herself from his embrace,
plucked pictures from the walls, and handed them to him.

He gestured at the countertop. “You missed
one.”

Rachel reached for a wayward photo turned
over on the counter. “Um, Hawke, this one’s not mine.”

Hawke frowned and took the card.

MINE AND ONLY MINE.

He smeared his thumb over the familiar red
lipstick signature and then lifted his thumb to his mouth.
Wild
cherry.

Hawke glanced at Rachel who lifted her
eyebrow in question.

“I don’t think any of this has anything to do
with you.”

She waved a photo at him. “Hello? I believe
this is me in this sordid position.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had several of these cards
lately.”

“And you’ve tasted them all?”

“They’re all signed with wild cherry flavored
lipstick.”

Rachel rolled her eyes. “Wow. You are
talented. But did you know most lipstick contains fish scales?”

Hawke laughed, relieved at her humor, but
still pissed off at the whole thing. “No.” He brushed a wayward
piece of hair from her forehead. “I’m going to have to bring Max
and Steele in here.”

Rachel shrugged. “Go ahead. I’ve been
drugged, shot, used, lied to, and now exposed as some sort of femme
fatal. It can’t get any worse.”

Hawke squeezed the top of her shoulder. “I’ll
be right back.”

The thump of heavy boots announced Max and
Brett’s arrival several seconds later. Hawke followed behind.

“Hell.” Brett gave a low whistle as he
thumbed through the pictures on the counter. “Somebody’s
pissed.”

Hawke handed Max the lipstick card. “Another
one.”

Max scraped the edge of his jaw with the
card. “This is directed at you, Hawke. Somebody objects to your
partnership with Rachel.”

Hawke ran a hand through his hair. “So what
now?”

“Now we go back to the house. He’s hot on her
trail. I’ll take you and Shadow back to the hotel suite and Steele
and Rachel back to the house. We’ll keep Steele there until I get
to the bottom of this mess just in case I’m wrong.”

Hawke released a heavy sigh. Max was never
wrong. He turned and took Rachel’s hand. “You okay with that?”

Rather than release his hold, she squeezed
and nodded. “But I’d rather go to the spa first, if you don’t mind,
Max.”

Max led them to the door and back into the
Suburban. “I’ll drop you off then come back for you and Mighty
Mouse after I get Hawke and Steele situated.”

Cameron released a soft sigh while cool
cucumber slices soothed her eyes and eucalyptus oil soaked her skin
in comfort. Nothing compared to spa day. Reclining on the amply
padded chaise lounge, wrapped in the oversized, warm terry cloth
robe, she basked in her makeshift paradise.

Reaching down beside her lounger, she passed
her hand along the floor and fumbled for the bottle of lotion she
left there.

Strange, it was just here.

She gasped when hand brushed something solid.
Curious, she walked her fingers across the top of the object,
content it was stationary. Until it wiggled.

She swung her feet over the edge of her
cocoon, jumped straight into the air, and sent cucumbers flying. As
soon as she wiped the oil from her eyes, she looked up to see that
Max stood in front of her. Looking utterly humiliated. Dressed in a
robe at least four sizes too small and opened to reveal his
massive, smooth, bare chest, he stood barefoot at the side of her
chair. And the wayward cucumber slice stuck to the top of his shiny
head made matters worse. Laughter bubbled from her lips as he
peeled the cucumber away from his skin and flicked it back onto the
lounge.