Daring Time (30 page)

Ryan had thrust into her when he heard her sweet compli-ment.

"Don't worry, witch," he'd grunted in pleasure at the sensation of penetrating her tight clasp. "You'll warm it up in no time."

Presently he put his upper body weight on one elbow and fisted his cock, positioning the tip at the gate of Hope's wet pussy. He flexed his hips.

She gasped as he came down over her. His gaze zoomed up to her face.

"Are you too sore from last night?"

Her cheeks flushed with blood. "No, it feels so good."

He bent to take a tender bite from her fragrant neck and pushed his cock into her to mid-staff. She'd said 50
good,
but the sensation felt so fantastic to him that it nearly ripped at the limits of his consciousness. Heat emanated from the muscular walls of her pussy, taunting him. She squirmed beneath him, trying to seat him further in her tight channel. Ryan felt an overwhelming desire to pound his cock into her until he came in what promised to be an explosive climax. Instead he grasped her hip with one hand.

"Keep still," he grated out as he fought for control amid a cyclone of desire that pummeled him from all directions. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them down above her head with one hand while his other continued to immobilize her hip. She arched her back up off the bed, straining to brush her erect nipples against his chest.

"Quit teasing me, Hope, or I'll turn you over my knee when I'm done with you."

He already knew somehow that she'd give him a look of pure seduction at his threat but knowing didn't diminish the result of her witch's smile in the slightest. His cock jerked in her tight pussy. He bent down and nipped at her bee-stung lower lip with his teeth. "After I fuck you I'm gonna—"

"Daire!" a man called somewhere far outside the confines of the battering, relentless storm that held Hope and him as its hostages. She squirmed beneath him and he instinctively accepted her challenge. A harsh groan tore at his throat as he thrust and pressed his aching balls to her damp cunt.

His shout of triumph blended with her cry of excitement and Ramiro's call. Christ, why did that part of his former dreamlike experience of making love to Hope have to be the same?

"Shhhh, don't move. It's my partner, Ramiro. I'll get rid of him," Ryan soothed when he looked into Hope's big eyes and knew from her shocked expression that Ramiro's voice had finally penetrated her arousal. His belly expanded and contracted against hers wildly as he restrained himself mightily from not fucking her sweet little pussy like there was no tomorrow.

He waited expectantly, knowing what would likely happen, but Hope started beneath him when Ramiro banged loudly on the door.

"Don't you
dare
open that damn door, Ramiro," Ryan roared over his shoulder. "I'm not alone in here."

"What the
hell
are you doing, Daire?" Ramiro shouted from behind the closed door.

"Why didn't you show up for the briefing about Donahue yesterday? I thought you said you'd be back in time for it! I had to make up a story about a family emergency and told Crenshaw I'd brief you today myself."

"What?"
Ryan bellowed.

"Donahue. You remember him, right? We're going to arrest him tonight. What are you doing fucking ...
fucking?
"

Ryan stared in shock at the clock on the bedside table. He'd been sure it was Friday morning. He had his alarm set to make sure he was up in time for the ten o'clock briefing.

"It's
Saturday
morning?"

"Hell yes, it's Saturday morning. What, are you caught in some kind of time warp, you idiot?"

Ramiro had unintentionally got it right. Apparently he hadn't only lost a few hours traveling back and forth from Hope's time, he'd also lost an extra twenty-four hours.

Thank God he hadn't lost more. He held Hope's stare and shouted over his shoulder.

"Just wait downstairs. I'll be down in a minute."

"I'll wait out in the car. This house gives me the creeps."

"He's the one who thinks you're a ghost," Ryan told Hope softly, a trace of apology in his tone. He stared at her beautiful face and a profound sense of satisfaction went through him. Unlike his dream experience, she was still here. And he was still buried fast in her sweetness.

"A ghost? But—"

"Shhhh, I'll try and explain later. But right now—"

"Ryan
—" Hope protested weakly when he began to thrust his cock in and out of her.

"There's no buts about it, honey. Nothing ...
nothing
is going to stop me from having you this time around."

The headboard began to clack against the wall loudly as he became more enthusiastic about celebrating her existence.

"Feeling a little less tense, I hope," Ramiro said sarcastically through his opened car window twenty minutes later.

Ryan grinned. "As a matter of fact, I feel fantastic, thanks. Come inside. I want you to meet someone."

A few seconds later Ryan shut the mansion's front door behind them and turned to examine his friend. Ramiro didn't look any more comfortable in the twenty-first century than he had 102 years ago when Hope had dragged Mel inside this same magnificent house.

How was he supposed to go about introducing Hope to Ramiro, anyway? He'd already thought of just making up a cover story to explain her presence in the house with him, but there were a few people—Ramiro, his mother and Alistair—who he wouldn't feel comfortable lying to about the entire ordeal.

Besides, he had to tell Ramiro about Diamond Jack Fletcher's connection to Jim Donahue.

His partner stuck his hands in his coat pocket, hunching slightly as he glanced around the entry hall warily. The whites of Ramiro's eyes showed when they both heard the sound of heels tapping in the upper hallway.

Hope came down the grand staircase slowly, her long skirt and petticoat swishing behind her on the mahogany stairs. The fact that she hadn't pinned her long mane of curling hair back up on her head but wore it spilling around her shoulders and back didn't take away from her regal appearance in the slightest. When she reached the bottom of the stairs she paused and gave Ramiro a shy, warm smile.

Ramiro returned it with a slack-jawed gawk.

"I told you she wasn't a ghost," Ryan said quietly.

"What the hell? You mean
that's
the chick in the mirror?"

Ryan nodded when Ramiro stared at him incredulously.

"Ramiro Menendez, meet Hope Stillwater."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Menendez." She put out her hand when she approached. Ramiro returned her formal gesture after giving Ryan a "you've got to be kidding me" look.

"She feels like the real thing," Ramiro admitted after enveloping her small, elegant hand in his big paw. Ryan bristled when his partner's limpid, bedroom eyes rested on Hope's corset-encased breasts as he spoke. "But if you're not a ghost, how come you're dressed like that, beautiful lady? Don't tell me—Ryan is taking you to the gala tonight at the Field Museum and that's your getup. Some kind of costume or something?"

Ryan and Hope spoke at once.

"Donahue's arrest is official police business. Not something you ask a date to, Ramiro."

"The Field Museum still exists? That's one of my favorite places in the city. It reminds me of all the magic of the Chicago World's Fair. May I go with you, Ryan? I'll promise to stay out of the way of
official police business."

Ryan threw Ramiro a dirty look, letting him know this was his big mouth's fault. "I'm afraid that's not possible, honey."

"Special Agent Crenshaw's bringing his wife. He asked if we were bringing dates—or at least someone who checked out and didn't get in the way of official business. He thought it might look strange to have fifteen men standing around like a gang of dateless losers crashing the high school prom. I mean, what guy in his right mind would take the time and effort to put on a tux if he wasn't trying to impress a lady, am I right?" Ramiro asked Hope confidentially. "Jim Donahue'd notice that quick as a huge, pussing boil on he nose.

I'm bringing Gail. Couldn't keep her away once she heard he'd get to see me in a tux."

"Tux?
Do you mean tuxedo, Mr. Menendez?" "Yeah, I do ... uh ..." He looked at Ryan as if for advice, Ryan just glared at him forbiddingly. "Er .. .
Miss Stillwater."

"Oh, so the official police business is taking place at some sort )f ball?" Hope enthused.

Her animated expression suddenly collapsed. "What's wrong?" Ramiro asked.

"I just realized that I don't have anything to wear. I didn't bring any gowns on the ...

journey."

"You don't need a gown for the gala tonight, honey, because you're not going," Ryan stated firmly. He was ignored by both of hem.

"Ryan could take you over to his mother's. I'm sure Eve'd set you up. Sweet lady and
so
tempting even though Daire gives me dirty looks like that one"—Ramiro hitched his thumb at Ryan's ice—"every time I mention it. All the women at the Field Museum all want to scratch your eyes out if you show up in one of Eve Daire's dresses."

"Oh .. . well, I couldn't impose," Hope said, her eyes downcast.

"Honey, I'm not going to take you into a potentially dangerous situation just so you can see the Field Museum. I'll take you there another time. I don't even think it's in the same place that you're used to—"

"You know as well as I do that the chances are slim to none lat anything dangerous will actually occur in the midst of a room of crowded partygoers," Ramiro interrupted. "We'll arrest Donahue quietly as he leaves. Chirnovsky will get him to talk about his slimy white slaving plans and Donahue goes to prison."

"You know as well as I do that things are rarely ever that cut-and-dry."

"Ryan, you're trying to stop a white slavery operation?" Hope interrupted.

"We've been working on putting away the kingpin—Jim Donahue—for over a year now.

Daire and I were the ones who brought the whole operation to the FBI's attention.

Donahue's a powerful son of a bitch, though. We have to nail him just right or risk losing the whole case. Tonight's our moment of victory," Ramiro said smugly.

Ryan started to reply when he noticed the way Hope regarded him.

"I'm very sorry to hear that white slavery continues to occur, but I'm so proud of you for fighting it, Ryan."

The sound of Ramiro clearing his throat tore him out of the trance induced by Hope's glistening, midnight eyes.

"Do you really think it would be safe at the Field Museum, Mr. Menendez?" Hope asked.

"Crenshaw would never sanction us taking down Donahue in the midst of a crowded event, Miss Stillwater." Ramiro's temporary awkwardness at using Hope's surname immediately diminished when she bedazzled him with a warm smile. "You'll be as safe there as you would be on a regular museum attendance day. More so, with all the cops and federal agents that will be there."

Hope glanced up at Ryan hopefully through a thicket of dark lashes. "I would love to go with you."

Ryan opened his mouth to explain why she couldn't, but then he saw the trace of anxiety in her eyes. He was forced to acknowledge that it might be difficult for her to be on her own, even if it were for only one night, when she was still so emotionally raw from her leap forward in time and the loss of everything dear to her. Not to mention the fact that this house was like an empty tomb. He didn't treasure the idea of leaving her there alone, either.

"You can come on one condition."

Hope nodded eagerly.

"You have to get in a cab and go to my mother's condominium when I tell you to. There's a good chance Donahue won't give us the goods until Chirnovsky and him go to the Sweet Lash after they meet at the Field Museum, anyway."

Hope and Ramiro spoke at once.

"Why the hell would you say that?" Ramiro asked sharply.

"The Sweet Lash?"
Hope exclaimed. "Do you mean the same establishment that Diamond Jack Fletcher owned?"

Ryan nodded. "The very same. Only in the year 2008 it's a nightclub, not a brothel like it was in 1906. From what I learned while I was in your time and some references from Detective O'Rourke's notes, Jack used to do all his high-level business at the Sweet Lash.

I'm betting he might do the same in the present day."

Ramiro stared at Ryan like a second head had just sprouted out of his neck. "Nineteen hundred and six?
Her
time. What do you mean,
her
time?" His dark brown eyes rolled over Hope's apparel, this time with a trace of panic.

"Look, there are a lot of things I've got to explain to both of you and I guess now is as good a time as any. Why don't we go up to the bedroom? There's no place to sit down—"

Ryan paused abruptly midsentence when he noticed Hope shaking her head desperately, her eyes beseeching him not to continue. He sighed. Well, in all fairness to Hope, it really was too much to ask of her to allow a man she didn't even know into her bedroom. Given her culture and upbringing, he should still be counting his blessings over the fact that she tolerated
his
presence there.

He dropped down on a step. "On second thought, the staircase seems like a great place for us to talk. Maybe we should start with the mirror and then move on to the fact that Diamond Jack Fletcher and Jim Donahue just happen to be the same man."

TWENTY-THREE

Eve Daire showed Hope the bathroom in the storeroom of her boutique and told her to meet her back up front when she'd finished. She lifted her eyebrows pointedly at her son when she rejoined him behind the checkout counter.

"You might as well have driven a Mack truck through the front of my store."

He sighed regretfully. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't know how else to tell you except for to just, well. . .
tell
you."

Eve shook her head, speechless.

"Do you believe me?" Ryan asked when he realized that the glazed expression of amazement hadn't faded from his mother's pretty face in the slightest even though Ryan and Hope had been explaining the circumstances of their time traveling almost nonstop for the past hour—minus the more intimate details, of course.