Relative Strangers (21 page)

"Why wouldn't they have been?"

The cloud now looked like a poodle with large, fuzzy ears. "I thought for myself too much, and I could never quite live up to their expectations. I was lucky, though. Dayle's family was an excellent surrogate. And convenient, too. Just down the block." Sadness tinged her tone.

"You're going to miss her for a long time."

"She was a good person. I'll never have a better friend."

"I'm sorry," he said, knowing how inadequate that was.

Avoiding his gaze, she rose from the chaise. "Do you need anything from below?"

"I'm good. Shrimp'll be ready in a few."

"I'll just be a minute."

He watched her go, wondering how long it would be before she was able to let him see her grief.

Below deck, Meg washed her face in the bathroom, then took deep breaths to control the emotion that threatened to burst out of control. Each time she felt her composure slip?

she tried to tell herself that she didn't know for sure what had happened to Dayle. But she knew. In her heart, she knew.

When Meg hadn't returned after a few minutes, Ryan transferred the shrimp from the grill to a plate and went to check on her. He found her sitting on the edge of his bed, a sheet of paper gripped in her hand, her face set in tense angles. Too many nights of restless tossing had left their mark on her—in the lines of her face, in the hollows under her eyes. But there was something else.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I was on my way back up when I heard a noise," she said. "This was coming out of your fax machine."

Accepting the piece of paper, he saw that Nick had sent him photocopies of the driver's licenses of Richard and Kari Grant.

"You're stalling," Meg said in a low voice. "We've been out here for more than a week because you're waiting for something, and it's not for me to regain my strength. This is just a makeshift prison for me until Nick gives the okay on my existence as Meg Grant, isn't it?"

He met her gaze, forced himself to keep his eyes steady on hers. "We're out here to keep you safe."

She pointed at the paper in his hand. "Then why would someone be faxing you my parents' driver's licenses? Why would Nick be telling you about my appendix? He's digging through my life, through my parents' lives. Why? After all this time, what is he looking for?"

"Meg, I had to be sure—"

"It's not right," she cut in, getting up to pace to hold back the emotion that again surged too close to the surface. "I'm a good person. I deserve better than this." She stopped in front of him, thumped her chest with a closed fist. "I
deserve
better than this. You don't have any right to dig through my past. I am
not
Margot Rhinehart, damn you. I shouldn't have to prove it to
anyone.
Especially you."

He grabbed her by the arms before she could whirl away. "Why shouldn't you have to prove it to me?"

She didn't try to get away from him, even as her heart stut-tered with the knowledge of how close she was allowing him. "Don't you know me by now, Ryan?"

"All I know is how much I want you."

She blinked up at him, startled by the unexpected confes-sion.

And then he was kissing her.

An intense swirl of desire caught her, and she flowed with it, helpless. God, it had never been like this, had never felt like this. It scared the hell out of her. She pushed him back and turned away.

Ryan released a frustrated groan and shoved both hands through his hair. He wanted to yank her back to him and sat-isfy the need once and for all. But he was beginning to wonder if once would be enough with her. He pulled in a long breath, let it out. "Look—"

"Don't you dare apologize," she snapped over her shoulder.

"I wasn't—"

"Yes, you were."

"All right. Maybe I was. What's wrong with that?"

"It's decent, and I'm sick to death of seeing how decent you are. It makes me feel like dirt."

"Well, Christ, should I say I'm sorry for that?"

"You don't get it," Meg said.

"Then explain it to me."

She faced him. "You're a decent man, Ryan. I see it in ev-erything that you do. You saved me from those goons on the beach that first night. You got me a good lawyer. You did what you had to do to protect me after I was arrested. You've taken good care of me all week."

"And all of that was the wrong thing to do?"

"It was the decent thing to do," she said. "But you've done it all because of who you are, not who I am. Every time you look at me ... I see the suspicion in your eyes. You won't let yourself believe that I'm not her."

Stepping to her, he put his hands on her shoulders. "You're not. I know you're not."

And lowering his head, he kissed her.

She felt his hands tighten on her shoulders, as if he was holding himself in check. And she realized that she didn't want him to hold back. She wanted him. She wanted him so much she would have sacrificed breathing to have him.

He felt her surrender and lost himself in it. Tugging her T-shirt free, his hands skimmed bare flesh, welcoming it into hands that teased and caressed as he walked her backward toward the bed and tumbled her onto it. He took command of the moment, stripping away her shorts and tossing them aside.

Meg thrilled to the caresses that carried with them just a hint of roughness, a hint of desperation. His hands were ruthless, carrying her over the first peak within minutes, wringing from her a long, shuddering moan that would have been a scream if she had not managed to swallow it back.

Boneless and shaking, she reached for him, intending to return the favor. He smiled and held himself back. "I'm not done with you yet," he said.

"I couldn't—" She broke off on a gasp.

This time his hands were gentle, just as determined in their quest to have her quivering and helpless at his fingertips. She moved under his caresses, unable to focus on anything
but what he was doing to her. Her body strained against the building surge as his mouth plundered hers, then moved down to her breasts, where he nuzzled and nipped each in turn, before moving lower. His tongue grazed the sensitive skin of her belly, dipped into her navel, and sank lower still.

Realizing with a start what he intended, she arched up on the bed. "What are you doing?" she asked, her voice hoarse with desire and a sudden, uncertain fear.

His breath whispered across her quivering tummy. "I'm loving you."

But she wasn't ready for so intimate a kiss, and clutching at his hair, she urged him up. As their lips met, he brought her to another peak. She buried her face in the pillow as the pleasure slammed into her, and while her muscles were still tense with the rolling climax, he dragged her up and lifted her onto his lap. She released a sound of surprise that evolved into a purr as he guided her onto him. Then he was pumping into her, forcing her up again, higher this time, then higher still.

He said something, but she was unable to do little more than cling to his shoulders. He took her over another impossible peak, and she bit back a scream, her nails digging into his back.

He spoke again, through clenched teeth, and she struggled to focus on his face. "Let go," he rasped.

She didn't have the chance to decipher his meaning before another, powerful climax rocked her. Even as she floated down, he was shifting their positions, easing her onto her back where he restrained her wrists on either side of her head and resumed the onslaught at a dragging pace that had her arching her body up to meet his, desperate for the next, shattering release. But he pinned her hips to the bed, used his weight to immobilize her.

"Don't move," he said in a low voice, gulping in a deep breath.

She gave a moan of protest, and he felt her body contract around him, a tight, velvet fist. He couldn't hold back. He let control spin away as the pleasure ripped through him with blinding force.

Sanity was slow to return as they lay tangled together on top of the sheets, slippery with sweat and fighting for breath. When he focused on her face, her eyes were closed, a smug smile curving her lips. He knew how she felt.

"Wow," she said.

"Wow?"

"Um hm."

"That's all you can say?" he asked.

"I can't even move, and you want me to be articulate?"

He grinned, kissed her shoulder. He was proud of himself, he wasn't ashamed to admit. But he knew, as mindless as she had been, she had not let go. A trust issue that he would have to work on, he decided. "Want to join me in the shower?"

"Only if you carry me."

"All right." He scooped her up, and she laughed, throwing her arms around his neck and letting her head drop back.

"The room is spinning," she said.

He carried her into the bathroom, set her in the shower and turned on the water. She yelped when the water struck her, but then Ryan was under it with her, his knowing hands moving up to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples into peaks. She melted against him as the water warmed, not an ounce of strength in her legs.

"God, not again. I don't think I can take any more."

"Hold onto me." Backing her into the corner, he drew her arms around his neck, then lifted her legs up around his hips.

Aching with the anticipation of having him inside her again, she shifted to allow him easier access. Fascinated, she watched his face as he slipped into her. The muscles in his jaw bunched, and she saw him swallow. Then all she could do was hang on as he built a new tower of passion inside her, higher and higher until the world exploded into sparks of light.

She thought she might have blacked out as she became aware of the water raining down on them. Ryan started shampooing her hair, and she had to grip his arms to keep from collapsing at his feet.

He couldn't stop grinning. She was pliant against him, not the least bit resistant as he angled her head into the spray to rinse. Her eyes slid closed and stayed closed.

"How're you doing?" he asked, lathering her up with a bar of soap, taking particular care with her most sensitized parts.

She clutched at his wrist. "I'm going to die a slow, ago-nizing death if you start that again."

He relented, figuring there would be plenty of time for more later. After shutting off the water, he wrapped a large, fluffy towel around her and carried her to the bed.

Meg would have protested, but she didn't have the strength to walk. Every muscle in her body hummed with the aftershocks of their lovemaking.

Drawing a sheet over her, Ryan sat on the edge of the bed. He brushed wet hair back from her forehead and placed a chaste kiss at her temple. Clasping his hand, she kissed his palm.

"Sleep now," he said.

She couldn't keep her eyes open. "What are you going to do?"

"Watch."

She let the heaviness of her lids win. "Watch me sleep?"

"Yep."

"Why?" she asked.

"Ssh."

She drifted off without another thought.

Ryan sat with her for several minutes, until her breathing became shallow and even and he was assured her sleep would be calm for the first time since they had met.

Only then did he crawl between the sheets beside her and allow himself to rest.

Later, while Meg still slept, Ryan called Nick. "Stop the research."

"Too late. I'm done. Want to know what I found?"

"I don't need to know," Ryan said.

"What's going on?"

Ryan rubbed at his right temple. "God help me, Nick, I think I'm in love with her."

A loud laugh answered him. "Gee, that's a shock."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. And just for the record, she's squeaky clean," Nick said. "Every little detail checks out."

"It wouldn't matter."

"Yes, it would."

"Maybe it would," Ryan said, then let his breath out in a shuddering huff. "I think I can walk away now."

"From Meg?"

"God, no. From Slater Nielsen and Margot Rhinehart. The FBI is on Nielsen, and they'll get him eventually," Ryan said. "Who the hell knows where Margot is? All I want now is to concentrate on Meg."

"Do you think you can do that? Walk away, I mean. I've never known you to leave something unfinished. Don't get me wrong—I've never thought that going after Beau's killers

was the wise thing to do, and I agree that the feds will get

*

them. But it's not like you to walk away."

"The more I pursue this thing, the more I put Meg at risk," Ryan said. "I'm walking away. I've got to try, Nick."

"Uh, look, before you walk away, there's something else I have to tell you that's going to muddy things up a bit from Meg's angle."

Chapter21

Meg woke to an empty bed and an empty stomach. The sheets where Ryan had been were cool, and she sat up. The clock said it was just after noon. Her body felt battered and sore from the inside out, but she welcomed the delicious satisfaction. She realized now that she had never made love before. She'd had sex. Good sex, even. But no one had ever taken her like Ryan had. She already craved their next encounter.