The Right Kind of Trouble (20 page)

Yet when she opened her mouth to talk, Gideon brushed his thumb over her mouth. “Not here.”

Puzzled, she watched as he rose and held out a hand.

“Take a walk with me, Mac.”

She glanced over at the paperwork.

“If it can't wait, then bring it with you.” Gideon's smile was wry. “I know you. Until you solve the puzzle, you won't let it go anyway.”

 

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Something was eating at her and it had put darker shadows under her eyes.

Gideon didn't think she'd slept well since her attack.

Her attack—fuck, they had nothing on it.

Not a fucking thing.

Nothing else had been attempted.

Well, unless you counted the fire at the bookstore.

That had to count.

All of these things, he thought … everything done to Neve, to Hannah, the fire at the bookstore … all of it had a specific purpose—targeted strikes at the McKays.

Eyes on Moira's downcast face, he felt a smile tugging at his lips when he realized she had been eying him from under her lashes. The expression in those beautiful green eyes set his blood to a low boil, but he kept his focus and shifted his attention to her neck.

The bruises.

Another strike.

Against her, yes.

But more specifically … his man had been looking for something.

The treasure.

Where is it?
He'd been specific, demanded to know where the treasure was, wouldn't listen when she was it was just legend. She'd told Gideon the same thing, had tried to brush him off.

Where is it?

That was what she said the man had said.

Where is it?

“So where are we going?” Moira asked, folding her hand around his.

He hitched the bag she'd crammed all of her work into higher up on his shoulder and shrugged. “One of my favorite places. Haven't been there in forever.”

Moira's brows arched, but she said nothing.

She looked mildly intrigued when he didn't stop at his car and even more intrigued when they bypassed the garage, heading up the long, cobblestone path.

She stopped in her tracks when she realized where they were going.

Gideon did as well, since she'd taken his hand and he had no desire to break any connection with her, ever. She was maybe six inches in front of him, their linked hands stretching between them and he could see the rush of heat spreading up to turn her cheeks pink.

“Your favorite place?” she said, her voice husky.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” He shrugged. “Back when I was in the hospital after…” He almost said something stupid, like
after I about bled to death,
but her face had paled, so he just let it trail off. “Anyway, they were always coming in and doing therapy and shit. There was this one therapist—pint-sized, I swear. Even smaller than you. And she'd do these exercises. I kid you not, I think she came from the very bowels of hell. I'd lay there, sweating like a pig and trying not to cry and she would be chirping out …
Just go to your happy place, soldier. It'll be over in no time
. The only happy place I could think of was here.”

She turned her head back and looked at him.

“You never called me,” she said, her voice rough.

He stared right back. “I called you every single day.” Then he shrugged. “But I hung up before the phone would even start to ring. You told me we were over, that you didn't want to be with me and that I had to move on. I couldn't do that, but I'd be damned if I called you when I was flat on my back halfway across the world.”

Moira tore her hand from his and strode away from him.

She took maybe five steps before she stopped and he watched as she stared at the pool house.

He'd made love to her here for the first time.

He'd made love to her here for the last time.

In his dreams, he'd made love to her here a thousand times.

And now he planned on doing it again. Moving up behind her, he ran his knuckles up her spine.

She shivered. It was faint, so slight, somebody standing a few feet away wouldn't have even noticed it.

But Gideon noticed everything about Moira.

Including the fact that she was trying not to cry.

Curving his arm around her waist, he pressed his mouth to her neck. “Mac…”

“What?” In a truculent tone, she tried to shrug him away, but he wasn't going anywhere. Not until she forced him out.

“I'm planning on taking you inside there … and then just taking you. It's going to interfere with my plans if you start to cry.” He kept his tone light, borderline playful.

The quick, erratic break in her breathing goaded him into sliding his hand up until he could cup a small breast in his hand. “Can we start moving again?”

She broke away, turning around. Her gaze was solemn, her mouth unsmiling. Her eyes gleamed wet.

And she was still so beautiful, it made his heart hurt.

She bit her lip, tugging it inside her mouth and releasing it slowly. The gesture made him want to do the same damn thing, but he held himself still, tried to seem as relaxed and calm as he pretended to be.

Finally, she nodded. Lips pursed, she said, “I still have to figure out what's going on, Gideon.”

“It almost sounds like you're putting me on a timetable, Mac.” He scratched his chin as he took a few steps toward her, closing the distance between them. “That's fine. I always did just fine under pressure.”

*   *   *

Did he ever.

Moira shuddered as he came to his feet and caught her knees in one smooth motion. She ended up penned between him and the wall, her slim-fitting pencil skirt pushed up over her hips while her panties lay on the ground. She'd been hopeful when she got dressed that morning and had put on stockings, and although she'd almost regretted it as the day remained chilly, she was glad that streak of hope had burned so bright.

He'd discovered the thigh-highs when he went to his knees to work her skirt up and the soft kisses he'd pressed to her thighs had progressed to kisses against her panties and then more intimate kisses after he'd stripped her panties away.

“I want your mouth, Mac,” he said.

She lifted her face and groaned as his tongue swept inside. He was salty, tasting of her now just as much as he tasted of Gideon. He moved closer and she would have moaned if he hadn't had been making excellent use of his mouth—and hers—at the moment. The head of his cock passed over her, once, twice …

Then he stopped, cursing.

“I need a fucking rubber. I … just wait, okay?”

But when he went to pull away, she caught his wrist.

“No.”

Gideon stared at her and she felt like he was peeling away all the layers until he saw down to the very core.

“It's only been you and…” She trailed off, not daring to stay Charles' name, but it wasn't necessary. He knew. “Nobody since … him. There were the nights with you and that's it. It's always been you, Gideon.”

He caught her face in his hand and pressed his brow to hers. “We already messed up not using one last night and … hell. We can't keep doing this. There are things besides whether or not we're healthy.”

“I know.”

His chest rose and fell. “You're on the pill?”

She almost lied.

But she couldn't do that.

Staring him dead in the eye, she rested her head against the door and gave him the truth. “I'm not. I don't want anything between us, Gideon. Not anymore.”

His long, lean body shuddered. He hauled her up against him, his mouth sealing over hers in a kiss so deep, she thought it might forge them together for all time.

Except that had already been done … decades ago.

Dying for want of him, she curled her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes. She couldn't get close enough, couldn't hold him tight enough.

Gideon swept her back up and in seconds, she could feel him nudging against her, the broad head of his cock slowly forging inside her. He tore his mouth away and when she would have closed her eyes, tried to gather up the scattered pieces of herself, he tangled a hand in her hair. “Look at me, Mac. Look at me.”

The words were a ragged growl.

She felt caught, lost in him.

“Gideon.”

He started to drive into her, hard, short digs of his hips that had her back sliding up and down the wall. She clung to him, nails digging into his arms.

“Tell me you're mine,” he demanded, his fist tightening in her hair. “Tell me, Mac.”

“You know I'm yours, Gideon.”

She wanted to tell him something else—something important.

But he changed the angle of his body and it had him riding her clit, and thought dissolved away on a wave of bliss. The orgasm grabbed her, swallowed her whole.

*   *   *

“Sex is very refreshing.” Moira sipped from the glass of tea that Gideon had come up with from somewhere. She eyed the plate he slid down in front of her and paused long enough to take a good long look around the pool house. It had a small area that was fitted out like a living room, complete with a TV and a kitchenette, along with a small bedroom off to the side. Not that they'd used it … recently.

They'd let guests use the pool house when visiting for a few days, but it had been a while since Moira had anybody who had come over for that long. Probably a year … no, longer. She'd had a couple of girlfriends from college that she still kept in touch with come by a few months after her divorce and two of them had decided to crash out here.

That had been years ago. She scowled, realizing just how much she'd shut herself down, but instead of brooding, she focused on the man across from her.

“You know … I'm pretty sure we don't keep the fridge out here stocked.”

“Is that a fact?” Gideon cocked a brow. “Well, I've gotten good at planning things.”

“So you planned this.” She rested her chin on her fist and eyed the plate of cheese and crackers. It had Ella Sue written all over it. “I guess you contacted my Ella Sue and told her to plan for a seduction?”

“Like I'd dare.” Gideon gave her a rakish grin. “I just told her I was going to steal you away for a few hours—if I could—and could she help me out with something for you to munch on while I cook.”

She had been in the process of popping a piece of cheddar into her mouth. Now she sat there, hand frozen in the air. “You cook?”

“I do quite a few things for myself, Mac.” He gestured to the plate. “Eat something. Get your work done. Food will take a while.”

She blew out a breath before popping the cheese into her mouth.

A man who cooked for her.

Mind-blowing sex.

The day from hell didn't seem so bad all of a sudden.

At least that was what she thought until she plunged back into her paperwork.

Twenty minutes later, she had to push everything to the side. She was almost positive she had figured out as much as she could without talking to Towers. And she
would
be doing that, as soon as he returned her calls.

Slipping Gideon a look, she reached for her phone and punched in a number she'd already memorized.

It rang. Once. Twice. Three times.

“Bored already?”

She disconnected as Gideon settled down next to her, placing a glass of red wine in front of her.

His eyes skimmed along the pages she'd spread out before he slanted a look at her.

“No.” She made a face and shoved her hands through her hair. The headache was making a comeback. She stared again at the phone, practically willing Towers to call her back.

The stubborn phone refused to ring, though. Either that, or her powers of mind control never had manifested. Sighing, she looked back down at the papers just in time to see Gideon pluck a sheet from table.

“Hey.”

“Hey, back.” He picked up her glass of wine and took a sip, his eyes moving back and forth over the information.

Would he see it—

“Somebody's skimming.”

Impressed, she leaned back in her chair and stared at him appraisingly. “You can tell that in under five seconds? I think I need to hire you.”

He shrugged. “No. You don't want to hire me. I'd get fired for sexually harassing the boss.” He winked at her and then put the paper down, nudging it over to her. “You know I was always good with numbers. These dates … every week on a Tuesday. He goes to the same place—a restaurant.”

Moira frowned. She hadn't noticed anything about a restaurant …

Gideon walked her through it and she swore hotly once she realized what he was getting at. “I'm going to have to contact the restaurant. The credit card companies. Who knows…”

“You won't have to do it. You've got handy, dandy investigator types who can do it for you.”

With a withering look, she made another note. “None of this makes any sense. I pay him a hell of a lot more than he's stealing.”

“That you know of—he could have hidden a lot more. You need to get an outside company to look at your books and uncover his tracks.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, tugging lightly, and then started to massage her scalp. “What made you start looking at him?”

She made a face. “If you want
that
story, you need to stop stealing my wine and pour your own. I've got to catch you up on some other stuff anyway.”

*   *   *

Gideon managed, barely, to bite back the insane fury that punched through him when Moira explained her role in confronting what turned out be a rather well-known petty thug.

He was going to put an unofficial be-on-the-look-out for the man. Landon Hayes might be in jail at the moment, but sadly, petty thugs and scumbags who really just needed to be in prison were often the ones the sharks got out the easiest.