Devil in Dress Blues (15 page)

“Here,” she said, pulling a chair away from the small kitchen table. “Sit down and I’ll get you some aspirin.”

He did as she asked and Sara watched him furtively as she opened a cupboard and pulled down a glass. She didn’t miss how he winced as he leaned back in the chair. There was a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, and on impulse, she lifted it down and poured a shot into the glass, handing it to Rafe along with two painkillers.

He slanted her an amused look. “Thanks.”

She watched as he chased the painkillers with whiskey and then took the glass and silently poured him another. He took a swallow, tipping his head back and letting out a grateful sigh. The towel slid open over the hard muscle of his thigh, and Sara had an instant image of herself, naked and straddling his lap. Turning away, she reminded herself that he was injured. What kind of person was she to think about sex at a time like this? But when she glanced back, it was to find him watching her through half-closed eyes. The hunger she glimpsed there caused flickers of heat to lick low through her abdomen and she drew in a steadying breath.

She filled a bowl with warm water and carried it over to the table, laying it beside a clean towel. He watched her closely.

“Lean forward a bit so I can see,” she murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He did as she asked and Sara only barely contained a gasp as she saw his back. He’d managed to clean most of the grit from the wound, but there was still gravel embedded where he hadn’t been able to reach. The entire area was raw and beginning to bloom purple at the edges.

“Does it hurt very much?” she asked softly, dipping the cloth into the water.

He shrugged. “Only when I laugh.”

Carefully, Sara cleaned the abrasion and applied an antiseptic ointment with her fingertips. His skin was hot beneath her touch.

“What about your ribs?” she asked. “Do you think they’re broken?” She traced a gentle finger across the bruised flesh.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably. “Cracked, more likely.”

Sara came to stand in front of him. “Should we bind them? Would that help with the pain?”

To her surprise, Rafe shook his head and reached for her, grasping her lightly by the waist and pulling her forward. “No, it would actually only make it feel worse. I’ll be fine.”

He tipped his head back and looked at her, and something in his expression made her breath catch. With nothing but the towel wound around his hips, he looked as if he’d been made for a woman’s pleasure, and ribbons of desire slowly unfurled low in her abdomen.

“What else can I do for you?” she asked softly, tracing the back of her fingers along the side of his jaw. “There must be something.”

Without breaking eye contact, Rafe slid his fingers into the waistband of her boxers. “There is something,” he acknowledged on a husky note, and slowly tugged the shorts down over her hips until they pooled around her ankles. Then he slid his hands around to cup her bottom and urge her even closer.

Sara stepped out of the shorts, a thrill of awareness shooting through her as she carefully straddled Rafe’s legs. The movement exposed her to his gaze, and his face reflected masculine appreciation as he smoothed his palms along her thighs.

“Jesus, you’re gorgeous,” he muttered, and slid his hands up her body to cup her breasts.

Sara sighed in pleasure and covered his hands with her own, encouraging him as he brushed his thumbs across her nipples until they thrust against the fabric of the T-shirt.

“When I think what could have happened to you tonight,” he murmured, reaching up to frame her jaw in his hands, leaving the rest of the thought unfinished. “I should never have sent you in there alone.”

“You were there when I needed you. You saved my life,” she breathed, turning her face into his palm.

“Sara,” he groaned, “you’re killing me.”

Sara laughed softly, knowing he wasn’t referring to his injuries. Careful not to put any pressure on his side, she leaned forward and brushed her mouth across his. She felt him smile against her lips and deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue past his teeth to stroke and lick inside his mouth, the way she knew he liked. The wet fusion caused heat to slide through her veins and she squirmed on his lap, acutely aware that only a terrycloth towel separated them.

As if reading her mind, Rafe reached between their bodies and cupped her intimately. Sara shifted to give him better access and he ran a single finger along her cleft, dragging a soft cry of surprised pleasure from her.

“Good?” he rasped against her mouth.

“Yes…yes.”

She could feel him against her thigh, heavy and hot, and looked down to see the towel had separated completely and there were no longer any barriers between them. His erection strained upward, dark and glossy, the blunt head like a smooth, ripe plum.

Sara curled her hand around him and felt him pulse strongly against her palm. Liquid heat rushed to her core, flooding Rafe’s fingers where he still stroked her. She was on fire, throbbing with excitement.

“Ah, babe,” he rasped, leaning forward to rake his mouth over her neck and gently bite her shoulder, “you are so freaking hot. Are you safe if we don’t use a condom? I saw birth control pills in your purse.”

“Yes,” she assured him, the thought of having him inside her causing another rush of moisture. “I’m on the pill.”

“You’re safe with me,” he growled, nibbling on the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

Sara gasped and arched her neck to give him better access, even as she pushed forward to slide herself against his rigid length. Rafe groaned and removed his hand from between her thighs to grasp her by the hips.

“Hold on to me,” he said roughly.

Sara braced one hand on his shoulder and half stood, her breath hitching as she positioned Rafe’s penis at her entrance and then slowly lowered herself onto him, inch by excruciating inch. She let him fill her, stretching her until she was fully seated against his thighs with his hands cupping her buttocks. Her eyes fluttered closed as she realized the position brought her clitoris into perfect alignment with his pelvic bone. Just the exquisite sensation of rubbing against him caused the inner walls of her sex to tighten in anticipation.

“Oh God,” she whispered shakily, meeting Rafe’s eyes. “I’m not sure I can last like this.”

His face was darkly taut, his muscles rigid as he fought to control himself. “I’m not going to move,” he said hoarsely. “Take your time.”

Slowly, pressing her bare feet against the floor, Sara raised herself up and slid her arms around Rafe’s shoulders, threading her fingers through his damp hair. Her breasts flattened against his chest as she levered herself up and down on his rigid shaft. Rafe slid his hands into her hair and kissed her, softly and languidly, his tongue sweeping against hers in long, sensuous strokes that sent bolts of lust to where they were joined. As Sara pushed downward, she realized that at the end of each thrust she could rub herself against him before pulling back again. With Rafe’s tongue in her mouth and his hands squeezing her bottom, she was caught in a vortex of intense pleasure.

“Is this good?” she breathed against Rafe’s lips. “Is this what you want?”

“Oh, yeah. Better than good,” Rafe groaned, and used his hands to help lift her up and down, increasing their rhythm as her breathing quickened.

Pressure built where he entered her, and the friction of his flesh moving against hers was more than she could bear. She raised herself up until he was almost free of her body, and then thrust downward, grinding her pelvis against his until pleasure exploded through her. With a soft cry, she clutched Rafe around his neck, shuddering as spasms wracked her body. He gripped her buttocks, pulling her tightly against him as he reached his own climax, thrusting deeply inside her.

Sara collapsed against his chest, her breathing labored. She pressed her hot face into his neck as he stroked her back and murmured soft words against her ear.

For her, this had become more than just sex, more than just a story. She had fallen for Rafe Delgado, hard. And she was more than a little afraid of what would happen to them when this was all over and they returned to their normal lives.

15

“A
RE YOU READY FOR THIS
?” Rafe asked Sara quietly.

With his car still at the airport and Sara’s car still in his garage, he’d hired a private limousine to drive them to the Zachary residence for the book-signing party. Since he was attending the event as Sara’s escort and wasn’t in an official military capacity, he’d borrowed Lego’s tuxedo in lieu of his dress blues. His road rash was still sore and his ribs ached, but not nearly as much as they had the night of the near-accident. Sara was luminous in the blue Carolina Herrera dress that perfectly matched the color of her eyes and displayed her white shoulders and stunning cleavage to full advantage.

She looked at him now as the limo pulled up in front of an impressive brick mansion in the exclusive Kalamora Triangle district. She drew in a steadying breath. “Yes, I’m ready.”

“Listen, this place is huge and it shouldn’t be too difficult to avoid any direct meeting with Edwin Zachary. The last thing we want is for him to realize you’re here.”

“But what if he’s looked at the guest list? What if he knows I’m here? I don’t even want to be in the same house with him.”

Rafe shrugged. “Even if he recognizes you, he won’t try anything in his own home.”

“You’re sure?”

“It would be political suicide. Besides,” he said, enclosing her hand in his own, “I’ll be right beside you the entire time.”

“Do you really think he’s behind everything?” she asked.

Rafe thought back to how he’d spent the night of the attempted murder of Sara. After they’d had amazing sex on the kitchen chair, they’d opened the pullout sofa where Sara had fallen into an exhausted sleep.

Rafe had watched her for a long time, unwilling to close his eyes. She’d almost been killed, and as much as he tried, he couldn’t dispel the images of her being run down by the car. He’d come so close to losing her. He’d tried to curl up behind her, to pull her against his body and go to sleep, but he hadn’t been able to get comfortable. His back and ribs ached enough that he’d finally given up.

After ensuring that Sara was sound asleep, he’d logged onto Lego’s computer and inserted the memory stick again. He’d spent hours poring over the names on the client list, trying to determine if anyone besides Edwin Zachary might be behind the attempt on Sara’s life. In the end, he’d made a copy of the file before sending the drive to a Special Ops buddy with explicit instructions on what to do if anything happened to him or Sara.

Now, recalling the names on the list, he acknowledged that Edwin Zachary wasn’t the only one who stood to lose everything if the information became public.

“I don’t know,” he finally acknowledged. “But we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

She looked out the window of the limousine at dozens of other guests climbing the steps to the mansion. They included some of the wealthiest and most influential people in Washington. She swallowed visibly and then nodded.

“Yes, I’m ready.”

They entered the residence and were greeted by Diane Zachary herself. In her early sixties, she was still a beautiful woman and Rafe found himself wondering why Edwin felt the need to solicit call girls when he had such a stunning wife at home. He’d done his research on the Zacharys and he knew that Diane came from old money. A known philanthropist, she sat on over twenty boards and had given away countless millions to the Kennedy Center, to the Lincoln Center, and to Harvard University, to name just a few.

Now she extended her hand to Rafe with a brilliant smile, but Rafe didn’t miss how her gaze swept over him.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight, Mr…?”

“Sergeant Rafael Delgado, and this is Sara Sinclair.”

Her smile never faltered as she took Sara’s hand. “Lovely to meet you, my dear. Thank you so much for coming, and do please enjoy yourselves.”

Then they moved past her as she welcomed the next guest, and Rafe felt Sara relax beside him. “See?” he murmured in her ear. “No problem.”

They moved deeper into the elegant house and, although Rafe had traveled the world and had even operated out of one of Saddam Hussein’s palaces during the Iraq war, he’d never seen such discreet opulence as at the Zachary residence.

“I feel like an interloper,” Sara murmured as they accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

“Why?” Rafe asked, taking her elbow and steering her through the crowded rooms. “You’re the most beautiful woman here tonight.”

She pulled him to a stop near an ornate fireplace, her expression softening. “Really?”

Rafe raised her hand to his mouth. “Really.”

Not for the first time, he wished they were back at Lego’s place or, even better, his own townhouse. He wanted just twenty-four hours of uninterrupted time with her. Christ, he wanted a lot more than that. He definitely wanted to know her without the fear that haunted her eyes and without the anxiety that caused her to toss restlessly in her sleep. But first he’d need to find out who was trying to harm her, and eliminate them as a threat.

“This is what we’re going to do,” he said quietly, snagging an appetizer from a passing tray. “I want to search Edwin’s private office. If he’s involved, we might find evidence there.”

Sara looked carefully around and then pinioned him with a fierce look. “Are you insane? What if we get caught?”

“We won’t, because you’re going to act as a lookout for me.”

She blanched. “Rafe, I can’t! I’m not some kind of Special Ops soldier like you are.”

“You’ll be fine. If anyone asks what you’re doing, just say you’re looking for the powder room.”

The book-signing itself was being held in an enormous formal drawing room, and the line of people waiting to get a signed copy extended out of the door and along a wide hallway. Music played softly in the background, and white-tuxedoed wait staff moved seamlessly through the crowd, offering beverages and food items.

As they made their way past the line of people, Rafe could sense Sara’s discomfort and he sympathized with her. He’d attended his own share of balls and soirees, but he’d never been in such an intimate gathering of influential personalities.

“Did you see that?” Sara whispered fiercely, glancing back over her shoulder. “That was the former first lady!”

“Yes, it was,” he agreed smoothly, poking his head through a doorway. “Let’s try through here.”

Glancing back the way they had come to ensure they weren’t noticed, Rafe pulled her into what looked like an empty sitting room, with dainty upholstered chairs against one wall and a matching chaise along the other. There was a paneled door on the far side of the room, and Rafe put his ear to the wood before carefully trying the handle. It opened easily beneath his hand.

“This is it,” he said softly, indicating Sara should precede him into the room.

An enormous desk dominated the room, with leather club chairs flanking a small fireplace and ornate side tables bearing decanters of liquor and cut glasses.

“Oh, this is lovely,” Sara murmured, moving around the room to examine the oil paintings on the walls.

“Sara,” Rafe said patiently, nodding toward the door. “Keep an eye out, will you?”

He tested the desk drawers only to find them locked. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a small tool and inserted it into the top drawer, maneuvering it carefully until the latch sprang free. Sliding the drawer open, he sifted through the documents inside.

“Hurry,” Sara urged, pressing her ear to the door.

Rafe opened the remaining drawers and swiftly sorted through the items, frustrated when he found nothing. Reaching into the very back of the bottom drawer, he withdrew a small metal box and quickly popped the lock.

“Sara, come over here,” he called softly.

She did, bending over his shoulder to peer at the photos he held in his hand, displaying her cleavage to his greedy gaze in the process.

“Oh my God,” she breathed softly, snatching the photo from Rafe’s fingers. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yep.” Rafe met her astonished eyes. “Lauren Black is having an affair with Edwin Zachary, and it looks to me like someone might be trying to blackmail him over it.”

The black-and-white photos were grainy, as if they’d been taken from a distance, but there was no mistaking the identities of the two figures locked together in an intimate embrace. Rafe thumbed through the photos, each one more salacious than the previous.

“I can’t believe it,” Sara said, sounding more confused than surprised. “She’s never struck me as the type to have an affair, and certainly not with a married man. No wonder she didn’t want to come to the book-signing.”

“Yeah, no wonder,” muttered Rafe, his mind working furiously. Did Lauren have anything to do with the attempts on Sara’s life? It made sense, in a twisted way, since she’d invited Sara to the Singapore Bistro the night the car had nearly run them down. But what would her motive have been? There was something there, Rafe could feel it, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Rafe! Someone is coming,” Sara hissed, and then Rafe heard it too—footsteps crossing the outer sitting room toward Edwin’s office.

Shoving the box back where he’d found it, Rafe swiftly closed the drawer and caught Sara’s hand, dragging her across the room to a closet. Opening the door, he thrust her inside and followed her, pulling the door shut just as the outer door to the office opened. The closet was tiny, and there were boxes near their feet, making it impossible to move without creating noise. Holding Sara against his chest, Rafe laid his fingers over her lips, silently warning her to be quiet.

Easing the closet door open just a fraction, Rafe could see Edwin Zachary clearly. He watched as the other man poured himself a glass from the crystal decanter and tossed it back in one swallow. Then he moved to the desk and picked up the cordless phone that sat on the surface. They listened as he made a business call.

Rafe thought it would never end, Sara was still pressed against him, and his nostrils were filled with the honey-ginger scent of her shampoo, and an underlying fragrance that was hers alone. She was soft and supple against him, and he felt his body hardening in response.

He knew the precise instant that she became aware of his arousal, when her breath hitched unevenly and she stilled in his arms. Then slowly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips against his throat. Rafe swallowed hard.

In the office, he heard Edwin finish his phone call and hang up the phone. There was silence for a long moment until finally, with a soft oath, Edwin left the room. The door closed behind him with a decisive click, yet Rafe didn’t release Sara.

“We should go,” she murmured against his throat. “Before we get caught.”

“Mmm. We should.” But he couldn’t resist lowering his head and covering her mouth with his own, savoring her immediate response. His hands slid to where her warm skin was exposed by the strapless cocktail gown. He traced his fingers along the gentle slope of her shoulders, and she made a soft sound of encouragement.

He wanted to press her back against the closet wall, push her skirt up and bury himself in her welcoming heat. He wanted to keep her in the protective circle of his arms and never let her out of his sight. Hell, he just wanted to keep her.

She pulled away first, her breath fanning warmly against his face. “We need to leave before someone finds us,” she whispered.

She was right. They’d been lucky that Edwin hadn’t discovered them, but their luck might not hold out. Reluctantly, he released her.

“You’re right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

S
ARA’S HEART BEAT FAST
, both from the fear of being discovered and from Rafe’s kisses. She followed him swiftly through the office and into the adjacent sitting room, closing the office door carefully. Keeping her behind him, Rafe entered the main hallway and nearly collided with a woman.

“Mrs. Zachary,” he said smoothly, stepping back. “Excuse us—we were looking for the powder room.”

Diane Zachary’s startled gaze flew from Rafe to Sara and then to the closed door of her husband’s office. “The bathrooms are located along the main corridor, on the left,” she said coolly. Her gaze lingered on Sara. “Ms. Sinclair, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, that’s right. From
American Man
magazine.” Sara strove for a calm tone as she extended her hand to the other woman, but Diane didn’t take it. Instead, her gaze dropped to the abrasion that extended from Sara’s elbow to her forearm.

“That’s a nasty scrape you have there.”

Sara withdrew her hand and tucked it behind her, casting a quick glance at Rafe. His expression was inscrutable. “Oh, that,” she said lightly. “It’s nothing, really. I fell the other night.”

“Hmm.” Diane gave her a patently false smile. “You should be more careful when you’re crossing the street. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m looking for my husband.”

But as she tried to step past them into the sitting room, Rafe caught her by the arm. She narrowed her eyes at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he didn’t give her a chance.

“I don’t believe Ms. Sinclair mentioned anything about crossing a street,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. “How would you know that information? Were you, by any chance, driving through Chinatown last night in a Lincoln Town Car?”

They stared at each other for a long moment, before Diane snatched her arm free. “Keep your hands off me. Who do you think you are?” she hissed.

“I’m the man who’s been trying to keep Ms. Sinclair alive for the past five days, despite your attempts to prevent that.”

Diane gasped, but Sara didn’t miss the quick fear that leapt into her eyes. “What are you suggesting? I don’t know Ms. Sinclair. I’ve never even met her before tonight.”

“But you knew that she’d discovered your husband’s involvement with a certain club, didn’t you? And knowing that she’s a writer for
American Man
magazine, you’d stop at nothing to prevent her from making his association with the club public knowledge. Isn’t that right?”

A group of elegantly dressed women were making their way down the corridor toward them, and with a small noise of frustration, Diane indicated that Rafe and Sara should precede her into her husband’s office. Only when the door was closed behind them did she speak again.