Morgan's Son (22 page)

"I never took ballet," she said. She enjoyed watching him lean back fully against the tree, his long legs sprawling in front of him. "But I love to dance."

Craig believed it, feeling his body tighten with desire at the thought of moving with her in his arms.

"What about you?" she asked, studying him. "Do you like to dance?"

He snorted softly and took another big bite of his sandwich. "I've got two left feet. It goes downhill from there."

Chuckling, Sabra set her sandwich aside and wiped her mouth with the paper napkin he'd provided. "I don't believe it. I think you're like a lot of men—just shy about dancing."

"It's more than that."

"Prove it, then."

He raised his head and stared at her darkly. "What?"

"If things are slow tonight, and we don't find anything to act on, will you take me dancing?"

Was Sabra playing her role of wife? Or was she sincere? He probed into her wistful eyes and found nothing coy in them. Rubbing his jaw, he muttered, "Out here, you can drop the wifely pretense."

"I wasn't pretending," Sabra said. If only Craig realized how much she valued his touch. She was sure he didn't know, and the playful, bold part of her wanted more. Right or wrong, she felt something driving her to want Craig on any level she could have him. They were both single, and it was obvious he had no one in his life at the moment. Working with him, she could see he was just as professional as she was at intrigue and espionage. Whatever doubts she'd had on that score were quickly being laid to rest.

"Oh." He swallowed the last of his sandwich and threw the wrapper back into the canvas bag. A huge part of him was hungry for any reason to be with Sabra. The idea of holding her close on the dance floor was excruciatingly tantalizing—it was the ideal excuse to hold her tight and feel her contours against him. His mouth went dry as his thoughts turned to more torrid and burning possibilities.

Trying to swallow her disappointment, Sabra realized that her attraction was only one-sided. He was frowning, settling his gaze anywhere but on her as he mulled over her invitation. With a sigh, she got to her feet and brushed off the seat of her pants.

"Forget it," she said as lightly as possible, "it was just a thought. I'm not going to hold you to it, Craig." Forcing herself to move, she went back to the camera, to begin once more monitoring activity at the estate.

Stung, Craig sat where he was for a moment, feeling pretty damned foolish. He had acted like some green, tongue-tied teenager asked to his first dance by a cute girl he had a crush on, but unable to believe she could like him enough to ask. The hurt in Sabra's tone needled him. She'd offered herself to him, and like a fool, he'd frozen….

It was nearly 10:00 p.m. when Craig said, "Let's close up shop for the evening."

Sabra was sitting next to the tree, her arms wrapped around herself against the evening chill. "Good," she said through teeth that chattered. "I didn't realize how cold it would get here at night."

Craig took the camera off the tripod and knelt near the canvas bag. "Me, neither. Tomorrow night we're bringing jackets and blankets. We're going to have to time the guards' watches from dark to dawn."

"Yes," she agreed, getting up to help him with the equipment.

It took far less time to break it down than it had to set it up. In no time, Craig was slinging the bag across his shoulder. Sabra was obviously cold, her arms wrapped around herself in an effort to keep warm. He reached out, placing his free arm around her shoulders. "Lean against me," he said. "It will help warm you up."

Surprised by his sudden gesture, Sabra found herself drawn up against his bulk. "You're so warm!"

He nodded, carefully feeling the terrain beneath his feet as they started down the steep slope. "Yeah, I'm pretty warm-blooded." Hot-blooded would be more like it, but he didn't want to get into that. Sabra fell into step with him quickly, and he bit back a groan of pleasure as she flowed against him. Her arm went around his waist, and he smiled to himself. How good she felt against him, strong and supple and inviting.

It was very dark, with only a small slice of moon in the starry sky above them. Craig balanced the weight of the equipment on his shoulder, keeping Sabra tucked beneath his other arm. All too soon, they were off the grassy slope and back on the dirt road. Reluctantly, he eased his arm from her shoulders.

"Thanks," Sabra whispered, going to open the trunk. Her heart was fluttering rapidly in her breast, and her skin tingled pleasantly from the feel of his body against hers. She stepped aside so that he could put away the equipment.

"Are you warmer now?"

"Yes…"

"Get in the car and start the engine. You're still shivering."

She was, she realized, but it wasn't from the chilly evening—it was from Craig unexpectedly claiming her once again. Getting into the car, Sabra started the engine and waited for him. As he came around the driver's side, she slid into the passenger seat, deciding to let him drive.

Once in the car, Craig said, "How about we grab something to eat at the hotel?"

"Fine," she answered.

"Are you tired?"

Sabra shrugged. "Bored maybe, but not really tired. What about you?"

"Bored." He turned the car around and eased it down the road without turning the lights on. Craig didn't want to risk detection by Garcia's people. He'd wait until they were entering the main highway before he turned on the headlights.

She laughed a little. "In our business it's hours and days of boredom punctuated by moments of terror. At least, that's the way it's been for me."

Craig was focusing on the road, not wanting to run off it. Realizing that Sabra had forgotten their playacting, he said, "Sweetheart, if you're so bored, what do you say we go dancing? I think the photos we took today of the flowers are going to be pretty spectacular. Let's celebrate."

Damn! Sabra realized her laxness and, despite the darkness, gave Craig an apologetic look. What was wrong with her? She knew better. She never lapsed with Terry. Disgruntled and embarrassed, she forced a brittle laugh. "Oh, darling, I'd love to go dancing!"

"Good, we'll do it then."

Sabra knew there were so many types of bugs available that their conversation could be easily recorded from almost any distance. Fortunately, Craig hadn't blown their cover as she almost had. What must he think of her now? She was behaving like an inept beginner in a world that didn't forgive mistakes.

"I love you," he said, picking up her hand and kissing the back of it. Craig hated himself for playing the charade. Wanting to kiss her wasn't a lie, of course, but Sabra didn't know that. He heard her swift intake of breath at his gesture. And where had those words come from? Angrily, he released her hand and turned onto the asphalt highway. Switching on the headlights, he reentered the flow of traffic, which was very light at this time of night.

Sabra sat still, her fingers resting over the spot Craig had kissed. The words,
I love you,
rang in her mind and vibrated wildly in her heart. It was all a charade and she knew it. Or was it? Craig's voice had lowered to such an intimate level when he'd spoken the words, as if an animal growl—as if he were an alpha-male wolf claiming her as his mate. Shakily, she touched her brow. She was being silly. Craig had pretended in order to cover her faux pax, that was all. When she stole a look at his profile, her pulse bounded unexpectedly.

His face was rugged, his mouth deliciously firm beneath his strong nose and those hooded eyes that could look straight into her. Sabra took a deep, ragged breath. She couldn't help herself; driven by her own needs, which Craig was completely unaware of, she leaned over and placed her arm around his shoulders. "I love you, too," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

If Craig was surprised, he never showed it. As Sabra eased back, releasing him, she watched him closely. His mouth had compressed, almost as if with displeasure. Wounded, she fell into silence. It was pretend. That was all. Closing her eyes, she realized she wanted Craig's genuine attention, wanted to know how he honestly felt about her, but it was an impossible wish to fulfill under the circumstances.

Sabra knew the routine for when they got back to the hotel. They would have to scour their suite for bugs again. And even if they found none, they still couldn't be sure they weren't being monitored. It was pretend there, too. She longed for the freedom to really talk to Craig. To find out, one way or another, if he truly liked her. She wanted to tell him how his touch affected her, how his kiss was indelibly stamped upon her lips and that she longed to kiss him again.

Miserably, Sabra sank into a well of sadness. What was wrong with her? Craig was only doing his job. Desperately, she searched for a way to talk with him—honestly and openly. But they could be followed and never know it. Someone who looked like a tourist could really be one of Garcia's hit men. Sabra knew the drug cartels had sophisticated equipment that could overhear conversations anywhere. A laser beam could be aimed from miles away to pick up the vibrations of their voices through the glass of their hotel windows. Even on a dance floor their conversations could be monitored. Somehow, she would have to swallow all these vibrant, wonderful emotions. She'd thought her feelings were dead since Josh had been torn from her life. But now Craig was bringing her to life in a way she'd never experienced before.

Though Sabra yearned for time to talk with Craig, she had to be realistic. A little boy's life hung in the balance. Her mind seesawed between worrying over Jason and wondering if he was really at the estate at all. Today they'd seen no sign of him. Still, they would need to carry out surveillance twenty-four hours a day for the next couple of days before they could say for sure.

"Look out!"

Craig's voice broke into Sabra's meandering thoughts.

A set of headlights swerved, aiming directly at them. Slamming on the brakes, he yanked the steering wheel to the right, tires squealing. The lava bank loomed close. Craig felt the car skidding against the gravel of the berm. The other car suddenly veered back to its own side of the road, as their
Toyota
slid to a stop a few inches from the sharp lava bank.

"Sabra, are you okay?" Craig turned, gripping her shoulder. In the oncoming headlights he could see the terror on her face.

"I—yes, I'm okay." She slid her fingers upward across her right cheek. "Oh, dear…"

"What?" He unsnapped his seat belt and turned to get a closer look at her. "What is it?"

Sabra grimaced. "It's all right. It's just a little blood. I think I hit the window, that's all."

Worriedly, Craig slid his hand along her jaw. It was hard to tell much of anything in the darkness, but he could make out a small rivulet of blood trickling down from her hairline. "Yeah, you've got a cut or something. Hang on. When we get back to the room, I'll take a closer look at it."

Closing her eyes momentarily, Sabra absorbed the roughened touch of his hand against her cheek. His voice was low and urgent, filled with genuine care. Or was it pretense? Her head seemed to spin. Opening her eyes, she pulled away from him.

"Are you—"

"I'm fine!" she assured him. Shakily, he released her.

"Damn good thing we wear seat belts."

Touching her brow, she whispered, "Yes."

"Stupid jerk," he muttered, putting the car back into gear. "Probably drunk or something."

Sabra wasn't so sure. She bit down hard on her lower lip as he eased the car back into traffic. Was it an accident? Or had it been intentional?

Sabra pressed her hand to her aching forehead. The darkness was complete, broken only by occasional headlights flashing by as they drove down the main highway toward Lahaina. Had it really been an accident? She couldn't voice her fears for fear of electronic eavesdroppers. Every once in a while, she felt Craig's intense gaze fall upon her for just a moment.