“Perfect,” Carrie said.
“We can pay in advance,” Wyatt said.
“If you like. Breakfast is between eight and nine-thirty.”
“Would it be possible to have a tray brought over?” Carrie asked.
“That can be arranged. What time do you want it?”
Carrie looked at Wyatt.
“Eight,” he answered.
He paid in cash before they carried their luggage into the guest cottage.
“I’m sure she didn’t recognize us or anything,” Carrie said.
“That seems to be the case. Wait here for a minute.”
She stood in the middle of the sitting room while he set one of their suitcases on a stand. Then he began walking around the little cottage. If need be, they could get out one of the back windows, he decided.
When he turned from the window, he found Carrie standing in back of him. She turned and the expression on her face told him that she was preparing to push him—and push herself.
“Is this the kind of place where you’d like to make love to me for the first time?” she asked in a breathy voice.
He swallowed hard. “I shouldn’t have said that. Do you usually ask that kind of question?”
“Never. But in this case I think I have to. Please answer the question.”
“Yes,” he said, his throat so tight that he could barely speak. Still, his bodyguard’s mind was working, and he was thinking they were at a location where it was unlikely the terrorists would be looking for them.
“You could be making a terrible mistake,” he managed to say.
“I don’t think so.”
* * *
C
ARRIE
HAD
BEEN
warned. But she stood her ground, swallowing hard as she met his gaze.
She knew he wanted her, but she wasn’t quite prepared for the masculine potency of his look. Yet he made no move to close the distance between them. As she watched a muscle in his jaw clench, she knew that he would not reach for her unless she made the first move.
Was reaching for him enough? Perhaps not.
Quickly, before she could tell herself she was doing the wrong thing, she pulled off the T-shirt she was wearing and tossed it onto the floor. Then she reached around to unhook the clasp of her bra, which she sent to join the shirt.
She saw his eyes burn as they took in the sight of her breasts. If she hadn’t been sure of what she wanted, the scorching look on Wyatt’s face might have sent her running. Instead, in one smooth motion she slid her jeans and panties down her legs and kicked them away so that she was standing in front of him, naked.
He stayed where he was, and for a terrible moment she thought that she had made a mistake.
Chapter Fourteen
Then Carrie saw the fire in his eyes flare. He began to do what she had done, unbuttoning the dress shirt he wore and tossing it away. Next he unbuckled his belt, then slid his slacks and briefs down his legs until he was as naked as she was—and fully aroused.
“I knew you would be beautiful,” he said, ending with a low sound of need as he closed the distance between them and pulled her into his arms.
It had all happened so fast that her head was spinning. The shock of his naked body against hers was like a flare of electricity between them.
She was unable to hold back a gasp as his hands caressed her back and shoulders, then slid down her spine to stroke the curve of her bottom.
She did the same, touching him in all the places she could reach.
As the two of them rocked together, they found each other’s mouths in a savage kiss that had been building since the first time they had met. Only neither one of them had understood the implications of that meeting.
She kissed him with a driving need that she hoped said all the things she wanted to say to him. And he returned the passion, making the blood pound through her veins.
When his mouth lifted, his breath was ragged, and the skin of his face was stretched taut. “Tell me to stop,” he said. “I can still stop if I hear you say no.”
“I thought I’d already made that impossible,” she answered. “What else do I need to do?”
Reaching between them, she found his erection and clasped him in her hand, feeling the hot, solid weight of him.
He made a strangled sound that ended with a laugh. “I give up. But you’d better stop if you don’t want this to be over before it’s barely begun.”
As she dropped her arm to her side, he moved her far enough away so that he could lift and shape her breasts in his hands, then stroked the hardened tips as he slid hot kisses onto her neck and shoulders. There were no coherent words to express what she was feeling, only the low, breathy sounds of two people caught in a spiral of hunger for each other.
She forgot where they were or where they had been. Forgot everything but the taste of him, the feel of his hands and mouth on her hot flesh, the overwhelming satisfaction of being with him like this.
He took her hand and led her to the bed, where he turned back the covers. When she lay down, he followed her onto the yielding surface.
Reaching up, she stroked his face, ran her fingers over his lips, heard him draw in a shaky breath.
Slowly, almost reverently, he reached for her, holding her close and dropping tiny kisses over her cheeks, her hairline, her ears, before coming back to her mouth for a long, lingering kiss as his hands molded her breasts.
“I dreamed of all the ways I wanted to touch you and kiss you,” he said in a thick voice, then lowered his head to one distended nipple.
She cupped the back of his head, caressing his thick hair as he began to draw on her. His hand sought the other peak, pulling and tugging, sending heat rocketing downward through her body.
Lost in a world of sensation, she could only lie against the pillows, her hands dallying over his back and spine.
When his mouth returned to hers, it was infinitely gentle and tender as his hands moved down her body, stroking and caressing their way to the swollen folds of her sex, sending a surge of sensation through her, making her arch her hips toward him.
He knew how to please a woman, how to feed her arousal almost beyond endurance. Her need built until she was clinging to him, calling his name, begging him to fill the empty ache inside her.
“Wyatt, I need you. Don’t make me wait.”
He levered his body over hers, and she guided him into her. He made a sound of gratification deep in his throat, telling her how much he needed her.
It was the same for her. She had no words to say how good this was. She could only continue to touch him and kiss him.
When he began to move, she was lost to anything but the power of this man—in her, over her, surrounding her.
He set the rhythm, and she knew this joining was too intense to last for long. The tempo quickened, lifting her to a high plane where the air was almost too thin to breathe. She clung to him, feeling her body quicken, then burst with sensations so intense that she cried out with the pleasure of it.
She felt him go rigid, heard his shout of satisfaction as he followed her into the whirlwind. They clung together as they drifted back to earth.
He rolled to his side, and she moved with him, hugging him to her as they lay together on the bed.
He gathered her close, his lips skimming her hair, her damp face, her lips.
When the cool air on her damp skin made her shiver, he reached to pull the covers over them and settled beside her.
As the silence stretched, she understood that neither of them was sure about what to say. Everything had changed. Yet at the same time, nothing had changed. For the past half hour she had thought only of him. Now reality intruded again. They were on the run from men who had vowed to kill her. And the only thing that stood between her and them was Wyatt Hawk.
He held her for long moments, and she allowed herself the luxury of drifting off to sleep in his arms. She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but when the light began to fade, she woke when he started to ease away.
She reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
The tone of his voice made her turn her head and look at him. “Don’t say we shouldn’t have made love,” she murmured as he sat up.
“Are you a mind reader?”
“No, I’ve learned to read Wyatt Hawk.”
“I was hired to keep you safe.”
“You are.”
“Do you call this keeping watch?”
“We’re in a bed-and-breakfast where nobody knows us.”
“I’m hoping that’s true.”
“I think we should test out the theory of whether this was a good idea or not.”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” She sat up and reached for him, pulling him into her arms and lifting her mouth to his.
She was shocked at how aggressive she’d become, but apparently, she was going to have to make her wishes clear, at least until they were out of danger and Wyatt stopped telling himself he was neglecting his duties.
At first, she knew he was thinking he should drag himself out of bed. But as she kissed him and touched him, she knew she was having an effect on him. And she was gratified when he let her drag him down to a horizontal position again.
She kept him busy for another hour, finding out what he liked and loving the way he returned the favor as they explored each other’s bodies.
She was smiling when she finally lay back against the pillow, totally satisfied.
Wyatt stayed beside her for a few minutes, then cleared his throat. “I’d like to take you out for a good dinner, but I think it’s better if I bring something back.”
“Agreed.”
He climbed out of bed, and she admired his body as he found his clothes and pulled them on.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“Surprise me.”
He left the cottage and was gone for half an hour, during which she showered and got dressed. When he came back, she caught the tempting aroma of Italian food.
“I got veal and chicken,” he said. “You can have your pick.”
“Good choices. We can share.”
He’d even bought a bottle of wine, which they also shared. The meal gave her a glimpse of what life could be like with Wyatt Hawk under normal circumstances.
In the next moment, she brought herself up short. She shouldn’t be thinking about life with Wyatt. At least not until they’d rescued her father—and figured out what to do about the men who were after them.
But they’d made love, and she wasn’t into one-night stands. She’d been thinking about the future all along. The problem was getting her dinner companion to think along the same lines.
Toward the end of the meal, he seemed preoccupied.
“Earth to Wyatt Hawk,” she said.
He looked up. “Sorry. I was thinking about what I’m supposed to be doing. You know, my job.”
He pushed away from the table and brought over his laptop.
As he waited for Douglas Mitchell’s files to load, he said, “Keep everything in the suitcase, in case we need to make a quick getaway.”
“You think we will?”
“Like I said, be prepared.”
She cleaned up after the meal, then sat beside him, watching him scrolling through information, before stopping to read something more carefully.
“What?”
“I’m seeing notations of money transfers.”
She leaned over and looked at the screen, which showed a spreadsheet. “From where to where?”
“I’m not sure. The institution names are coded.” He looked up at her. “Would he be trying to hide money to avoid paying taxes on it?”
She sighed, thinking about his business practices over the years. “He might. He didn’t like giving the government more taxes than he absolutely had to.”
“And most of his income was from investments?”
“Yes.” She stared at the numbers on the screen. “I guess there’s no way to figure out where the accounts are?”
“Not all the files are here. I need more information.”
She stood up and paced to the window, looking out into the darkness. Had her father been doing something shady with his money? Or what if the problems Inez had mentioned were making him act erratically?
She wished they had the rest of the files, but they weren’t going back to her father’s house for them.
“You should get some sleep,” Wyatt said.
“What about you?”
“I want to see if I can get anything more out of this stuff.”
She climbed into bed, and after the day she’d had, she was asleep almost instantly.
The next thing she knew, Wyatt was putting a hand on her arm.
Her eyes blinked open, and she saw him standing beside her, wearing a T-shirt and jeans.
“Hi,” she murmured.
“Sorry to wake you up, but I want to get out of here early.”
“What time is it?”
“Six-thirty. Get dressed, and I’ll ask Mrs. Williamson if we can eat early.”
When he started to pull away, she sat up and gave him a quick kiss.
He kissed her back, but she wondered if he was regretting getting so close to her yesterday.
As he left the cottage, she climbed out of bed and stretched, then padded into the bathroom.
* * *
W
YATT
LEFT
C
ARRIE
in the cabin and walked through the back garden toward the main house.
He could hear classical music playing as he stepped through the back. Other guests must be up, he thought as he heard Mrs. Williamson talking to a man with a deep voice.
Then the man’s words reached him, and he went very still as he heard the name Carrie Mitchell.
He couldn’t hear Mrs. Williamson’s response, but just the mention of Carrie’s name was enough for him to know that he had to get her the hell out of here.
Either this guy was from the police or the Feds, or he was pretending to be a cop.
For several seconds he debated what to do while cursing himself for leaving his gun back at the cottage. And for what he and Carrie had been doing yesterday. He’d known it was a bad idea, but he’d let her—
He stopped that thought cold.
Don’t blame that on her,
he told himself.
Quickly he backed out the way he’d come and ran through the garden to the cottage. When he burst in, Carrie was just pulling on a T-shirt.
“What?” she asked when she saw the expression on his face.
“Someone’s found us.”
“The terrorists?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are we going to do?” she asked, her voice filled with panic.
“Ambush him. He doesn’t know we know he’s here.” He pulled the curtains aside and peered out the window, then cursed.
“What?”
“I only heard one guy talking to Mrs. Williamson, but two of them are heading this way. We’re going to try to take them without shooting.”
“How?”
“They think they’ve got surprise on their side.”
He was still silently cursing as he tried to revise his plans. He wanted to send Carrie out the back window, but he had no idea if the two guys were coming in the front or if one of them was going around back. Presumably, they were both armed, and he had only one weapon. Looking wildly around, he spotted the twin brass lamps on the bedside tables. After pulling them out by the cords and popping off the shades, he kept one for himself and shoved the makeshift club into Carrie’s hands.
The lamps had a longer reach than using the butt of his gun to whack the guys. Or would it be better to shoot the bastards and run? That made sense unless it really was the authorities coming to apprehend them.
His thinking time was cut off abruptly by a knock at the door.
Ask who’s there,
he mouthed to Carrie.
“Who is it?” she called out.
“Breakfast from Mrs. Williamson.”
Carrie glanced at him for instructions.
Stall,
he mouthed.
“We’re not dressed,” she said. “Give us a minute.”
He bent to Carrie’s ear. “Open the door and step back against the wall, beside me.”
Her face was pale as she approached the door. “Just a minute.” Reaching out, she turned the knob and stepped beside Wyatt, who was already in position against the wall.
Two men barreled into the sitting room, guns drawn.
Wyatt took the first intruder down with a sharp blow to the back of the head, using the lamp. The man dropped with a satisfying groan of surprise.
The other stopped short, figured out the trap and tried to whirl toward Wyatt, but he tripped over his buddy, who was lying on the floor by the door. Carrie slammed him with her lamp. Wyatt gave him another blow just to make sure he was sufficiently immobilized.
He handed Carrie his gun as he stepped around the two men. “Cover them.”
“Who are they?”
“We’ll try to find out.”
He closed the door, then bent to the unconscious men, riffling through their pockets.
Each of them had a wallet with what looked like a Federal identification card.