Racing the Hunter's Moon (Entangled Bliss) (4 page)

“I went for the fishing, and stayed for the friendship.”

“And the beer,” Joe added. He really liked Mark, and wished he didn’t have to keep so much hidden from him. When this assignment was over, he’d have to confess to Mark that his life was way more complicated that it appeared. God knows if their friendship would survive that.

“I love fishing.” Betty smiled.

“You do?”

Her smile widened into a grin. “Yeah, I do. I used to fish with my dad.” Her eyes sparkled.

“Well, for the whole experience, you’d have to like drinking beer too.”

“I do. I love beer.”

“She sure does. I could tell you some stories about Betty and beer.” Alice collected their plates. “We’ve had some pretty wild nights. Some even including dancing—”

Betty went pink. “Oh c’mon, Joe doesn’t need to hear—”

“What? Tell me.” The way Betty was trying to put Alice off was damn cute. “If I invite you over are you going to frighten the fish with your singing or what?”

Betty’s lips twitched into a smile. “It was just one time…and Alice and Mel dared me…”

“You should have seen it,” Mark added.

Curiosity spiked. “Out with it, what happened?”

Betty laughed. “One too many beers, ‘Single Ladies’ blaring out of the sound system in the bar, and a table made for dancing on…need I say more?”

Mark and Alice laughed along with Betty at the memory, and Joe smiled. She was so different in this fun and flirty mood. Their interactions so far had been tense, a complex mix of fighting and plotting. It was good to spend time with her flip side; maybe the rally would be fun after all. With dinner finished, the conversation turned. “I guess we should talk about the race,” Mark said.

“I’m going to do it.”

Mark blew out a breath. “Thank God. I really didn’t want to put my baby in anyone else’s hands.”

“Hey, I thought I was your baby,” Alice teased.

Mark grinned. “You’re my sweetheart.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek, but she shifted so that their mouths met.

“I’ll get the maps.” Betty pushed her chair back and walked to the sideboard, picked up a sheaf of papers, and brought them to the dining table. Her movements were jerky, as though, like him, she’d been affected by Mark and Alice’s closeness.

“Would you guys like some coffee?” Alice asked.

When they all replied they would, she glanced at Mark. “Want to help me?”

“Yeah.” The look Mark slanted Alice’s direction hinted there was more in the kitchen than making coffee to interest him. “You guys start, we’ll be back in a minute.”

The moment they were alone, Betty spoke. “They’ve gone to the kitchen to make out; they’re not going to be back for ages.”

The way she looked at him made something kick inside Joe, something spark. There were golden glints in the depths of her tawny eyes, a tiny mole just above her full mouth. He breathed in her scent with every breath. “I like your perfume.”

Her breath hitched, and her pupils expanded. Her skin looked soft, and she was close enough to touch. He reached out a hand and stroked his fingers over her cheek.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was breathy, but she didn’t move away; instead, she leaned into his touch.

Joe trailed his fingers down, over her neck. “Getting used to being close to you.”

Her lips parted, and her eyelashes fluttered. “There’s no one watching us, Joe. We don’t have to pretend.” Her eyes darkened, and the air seemed to spark between them.

He battled against the overwhelming urge to kiss her. “You’re right.”

“Although I guess we could practice, make sure we look as though we’ve kissed before.” She leaned close, stroked the side of his face, and looked at his mouth.

There was nothing but the feel of her fingers against his skin, the uneven rise and fall of her chest as he stared at her downswept eyelashes. Awareness narrowed, focused like a laser on her face. The curve of her cheekbone, the soft bow of her upper lip. When Betty breathed out, tilted her jaw upward, and put her lips on his, there was no way in hell he could resist.

She’d been in his arms before. He’d pressed his mouth to hers in anger, in an attempt to keep her safe—but this time was different. This time, he closed his eyes and let himself feel. He teased her lips with his tongue, felt reason dissolve. Her hands smoothed over his neck and speared into his hair, demanding he come closer, give her more. A little voice inside urged caution, but he didn’t listen—couldn’t listen while his senses rioted at the touch of her, the scent of her, the taste of her.

Joe’s heart thundered in his chest as the kiss deepened. The spark had flared into a full-on forest fire, one he had no chance of dousing.

…

Betty’s mind had been battling her body ever since she’d sat down next to Joe for dinner this evening. His easy banter with Mark, warm appreciation of the meal before them, and ease at her friends’ home had seduced her into a fantasy that they really were just there to spend time with mutual friends. She’d let herself daydream about touching him, had wondered what his strong arms might feel like around her, what his broad chest would feel like beneath her fingers.

From the first moment she’d seen him, she’d been fighting an overwhelming attraction. She’d managed to quash her instinctive response to his nearness until he’d started to talk about making furniture with passion in his voice. Relaxed, in the company of friends, he’d become accessible, possible hot fling material. And once Alice and Mark had gotten touchy-feely, she’d been whisked up in a lust tornado.

They sprang apart at the sound of footsteps and rattling cups.

Reason returned like a splash of ice-cold water.
What have I done?
She’d made the mistake of not only indulging her passionate side, but actually starting to like him. Had turned off her mind and let her body do what it wanted. For a wild, thoughtless moment, she’d abandoned reason, had forgotten that she couldn’t just blindly trust—couldn’t let down her guard without risking the success of her mission. The mission to catch Charmers.

“I’ll open the door for Alice.” She jumped up and dashed for the door.

Being in the close confines of the MG day after day while staying detached would be darned near impossible.

Chapter Four

Alice and Betty met up the following morning in Under the Hood. Over coffee, Alice said, “There was an email this morning from Mel. She managed to send it by the satellite phone.”

“So was it full of tales of her adventures?” A whole month in the Amazon sounded like heaven, even if they had bugs and beasts to deal with. “I bet it’s really beautiful.”

“She sounded happy,” Alice said. “Apparently Heath is being really attentive and taking some fantastic pictures.”

“So no reminders of things we should be doing?”

“A couple.” Alice grinned. “But we have them all covered, so they aren’t worth mentioning.” She refilled her coffee and looked innocent. “What time are you meeting up with Joe this evening?”

Alice hadn’t seen anything the previous evening, but seemed to possess a supernatural sense when it came to flirtation or attraction of any sort. Of course the fact that Betty could barely string two words together when Alice and Mark had come in with coffee, coupled with the extremely mussed nature of Joe’s hair and smear of pink lipstick on the corner of his mouth, was probably a dead giveaway.

She and Mark had shown Joe the practice route on the map last night, and then she’d agreed to meet him tonight to drive it. As Mark was clearly exhausted, to her relief they’d called it a night at that point and gone their separate ways.

“You do like him, I can tell.” Alice pulled up a chair and sat. “You haven’t dated anyone for ages; I think you should jump his bones.”

“Alice!”

“Don’t pretend to be shocked—if you were the one giving me or Mel advice, you’d be telling us exactly the same thing, you know you would.”

There was no arguing with that. “Well okay, I find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? And I’m sure he can be charming if he puts his mind to it, but he likes to tell me what to do, and as you know, I hate that with a vengeance.” It was normal for the three partners of Under the Hood to microanalyze the early stages of one another’s crushes. Like therapy, only cheaper with no possibility of censure. Talking about Joe—well, it was different. Their attraction had been pretty much mutual and instant, uncontrollable. She hadn’t meant to kiss him the previous night, but had been drawn to him like a wrench to a magnet.

“You say you always want to do everything yourself, but you work well with me and Mel—you delegate and share responsibility fine with us.”

Alice was right; when it came to decisions about their company, she trusted the others implicitly. Not only were they invested in doing the best for Under the Hood, but also the bond among them was stronger than blood. They were closer than sisters. “That’s because I trust you guys.”

Alice tilted her head to the side and tucked a skein of white-blond hair behind her ear. “I know how important Operation Charmers is to you, but you might have to let someone else in. You might have to drop your guard and trust Joe.”

I have to work with him, but I sure don’t have to trust him, not unless he proves himself worthy.

Betty glanced at her watch. “Leonora will be here soon.”

“The Rolls is ready,” Alice said. “Shall I bring it around?”

Betty shook her head. “I’ll get it. I bought a bugging device the last time I was in Chesapeake. It’ll only take me a couple of minutes to install it…”

Alice frowned. “I don’t think the garage should be involved.”

“I’d only do it with Leonora’s consent…I was going to suggest it to her this morning.”

“That might be illegal,” Alice insisted, “and I really don’t want the garage involved in anything hinky.”

“Okay, I guess we’re done with her car then.” Frustration burned in Betty’s chest. She knew Alice was right, and it was vitally important that she didn’t do anything that might let Charmers escape on a technicality again, but it was just so difficult to be working in the dark all the time.

She wanted to keep a closer eye on Leonora, too—more and more often she was meeting with Charmers alone, which could be dangerous. She needed some form of protection, some backup.

The buzz of the doorbell heralded the arrival of a customer.

“That will be Leonora,” Betty said.

“I’ll bring the car around and then make myself scarce.”

“Come on in,” Betty greeted Leonora and led her to the sofa in the back of the reception area. “How’s everything?”

“Well it’s okay, but Alexander seems very anxious to take things to the next level.” Leonora swallowed and looked around nervously. “I’ve told him we have to have separate rooms for propriety’s sake during the rally, but I don’t know how much longer I can hold him off when we return to Meadowsweet.”

Betty hated to see Leonora under pressure. “I should never have suggested this…”

Leonora held up a hand. “You didn’t suggest it. We decided together, remember? The first time I met him at our canasta night, I was totally charmed. If we hadn’t bumped into you when he took me to the theater a couple of nights later, who knows what would have happened.” She shuddered. “Actually, I know exactly what would have happened. If you hadn’t taken me to one side and told me your suspicions—hadn’t shown me the picture of your mother and Alexander together, well, I might very well have been his next victim.” She squared her shoulders. “I’m not a fool, and I damn well resent being taken for one. You were looking out for me. Just as my son Josh would have if he were here instead of serving in Afghanistan. Did I tell you that he’s coming home? He’ll be back for my birthday, a week after the Hunter’s Moon Festival—I can’t wait to see him.

“Oh,” Leonora said, as if suddenly remembering. “I heard that Mark broke his arm, but that can’t be right, can it? I mean you are still in the race, aren’t you?”

“Of course,” Betty replied; there was absolutely no way that she would abandon Leonora. “He did break his arm, but we have a replacement. In fact, it works out even better than having Mark involved, because the new driver, Joe Carter, is an undercover FBI agent hunting Charmers too.”

“I should meet up with him then,” Leonora said.

“Not yet.” Betty leaned forward. “I haven’t told him about your involvement. He thinks you’re just an unwitting victim, let’s keep it that way for now, okay?”

…

Betty pulled up outside Alice and Mark’s after work. Joe’s pickup was parked outside. She grabbed her bag containing the map and stopwatch from the passenger seat, walked to the front door, and rang the doorbell.

Alice answered the door. “Hi.” She turned and called behind her. “Betty’s here.”

Mark and Joe walked out of the living room. Joe looked up. “Hi, Betty. All set?”

“Yes.”

“She’s all fueled up and ready to go.” Mark handed over the keys to the MG. “Have a good drive—no need to hurry back. Why don’t you stop off for dinner?”

Betty’d come straight from work and had planned to make herself something when she got in, but Joe nodded at Mark’s advice. “That’s a good idea,” he said. “We might just do that.”

Her head buzzed with questions as she climbed into the tiny car and strapped on the seat belt. Joe pushed the seat back as far as it would go, pretzeled his long legs getting in, and tested out the pedals. He spent a few moments fiddling with the mirrors and fastening his own belt before he turned the key in the engine, put her into gear, and…stalled it.

The words that came out of his mouth would make a nun blush.

Betty smothered a giggle. “You know they’re watching from the doorway, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.” He shot her a glance, ran through the procedure again, and this time they pulled out of Alice and Mark’s drive. “I reckon I stalled it because I was so aware of Mark watching. He was giving me one hell of a talk about how to look after his baby before you arrived.”

“He does love this car,” Betty agreed. “You’re saying you’re not just a terrible driver then?”

Joe smiled. “I’m not a terrible driver. But I haven’t driven a stick shift in a while.”

He was working the gearshift like a pro now, weaving the little car through the end-of-day traffic as though born to it. He obviously loved to drive. “So, the first stage is up into the mountains?”

“Yes. Take a left up ahead.”

He complied.

“Okay, the starting line will be just up ahead—parallel to the bank. There are thirty-five entries this year, and the cars leave from the starting line one by one. The road is closed to general traffic, so we don’t have to worry about that.”

“So I guess we want to get ahead of the pack as quickly as we can.”

“It’s not that sort of a race,” Betty explained. “Have you even seen a vintage rally before?”

“It’s a race. How difficult can it be?”

Betty puffed out a breath. He had a learning curve to climb, straight up. “I think we should rethink this evening. Let’s go and have dinner and I’ll talk you through it, then we can go for a drive to get you used to the car.” She gestured ahead. “Take a left—we’ll grab a burger at the diner.”

Once they were seated and had ordered, Betty pulled a number of items from her bag and laid them out on the pitted Formica tabletop. “Okay, when Mark and I say we have been driving the first stage of the route, we’ve actually been driving what we
think
might be the first stage. We won’t know the actual route until just before the race, when they give us one of these.”

She put a route book down on the table before them, angling it so both could see.

Joe took it. “What are the numbers down the side?”

“The diagram on the left shows each step of the race, and the numbers show the distance. The navigator is handed this at the beginning of the race, and I have twenty minutes to plot the route onto the map.” She pulled out a map and put it on the table too. “Then”—she rooted in the bag again and retrieved a small card—“our time is recorded on this card by an official and we start driving. I’ll be telling you where to go…”

Joe raised an eyebrow. “Which you’ll be good at, I bet.”

“I will.” She grinned. “And more importantly than that, I’ll be telling you how fast or how slow to go.” She pulled out a handful of pens and a stopwatch from her bag. “There will be control points along the route that we need to arrive at on time. We can’t be too early, or we lose points, and we can’t be too late.”

“Define too late.”

“Five seconds too late will earn us a penalty point. As will five seconds too early.”

Joe groaned. “That’s going to be impossible.”

“Difficult—but not impossible.” She almost felt sorry for him—she and Mark had been practicing driving and timing, but there was no time for Joe to become nearly as expert as Mark. “We’re not trying to win this,” she explained. “We entered the rally to raise the profile of the garage and to take part in the community. There’s no disgrace as long as we finish. The rallymeister has timed each stage and set the time targets, and we have to stop at each control point and get our time recorded on the card before continuing.”

“We have three days of this?” He looked tortured.

“With stops for lunch and dinner. It won’t be so bad.” She looked up as the server arrived at the table with their food. “Let’s eat and then you can drive a stage and I’ll time it.” She picked up the items from the table and stowed them in her bag.

…

The following days followed a similar pattern. Despite her forebodings, Joe turned out to be a quick study and an accomplished driver. He paid attention to her directions, and by the time their third outing came to an end, they were coming close to hitting the time target for the stage.

Eating at the diner with him had become routine too.

“So I think we’re all ready for tomorrow, or as ready as we can be.” She forked in a mouthful of apple pie. He was sitting next to her, rather than across the table. It made for more intimate conversation, with less chance of being overheard. She pitched her tone low anyway. “How’s the surveillance going?”

He didn’t answer, just stared into her eyes as though she was the only person in the room, a look so intimate her insides turned to water. The blue shirt he wore made his eyes even bluer. He’d undone the top couple of buttons, and rolled up the sleeves to reveal strong, muscled forearms dusted with silky hairs. She caught his scent in the air with every breath, clean, masculine, and distinctly him. For a moment she was thrust back to the first moment they met. The moment he’d curled his hands around her shoulders and pressed his mouth against hers. He’d been a stranger, but even then she’d been far from immune to his proximity. His hand covered hers, and he leaned in to trail a leisurely kiss against her cheek. The brush of his mouth against her skin sent shivers down her spine. Her eyelids closed and she turned her face to claim his mouth.

“Excuse me,” the waitress said. “I’ll just take these away for you.”

“Thank you.” Joe leaned back.
Of course
. The move, the kiss, was to maintain their cover. To give the impression to everyone that they were a couple. He doubtless had seen the waitress’s approach, and wanted to make sure that their conversation remained private too. Her stupid heart’s beating faster was irrelevant.

When they were alone again, he scooted closer into the corner and pulled her with him. “I’ve been generating a rumor around town for the past few days. That I’m not just a carpenter—I’m a guy who was made redundant and given a large payout. I asked the Realtor if there was any possibility of buying Mark’s uncle’s house. For cash.”

“Oh my God, Melly McCarthy.” She shook her head. “She’s really indiscreet—”

Joe grinned. “I know. Alice said the same thing. That she’d tell everyone.”

“It’s going to take more than a rumor that you have enough money to buy a house to bait Charmers,” Betty said, wishing he’d edge away a little, stop scrambling her senses with his nearness.

Joe nodded. “There’s a charity auction the first night of the rally, and a casino night the second. I think I can throw around enough money to catch his attention.”

“Catching his attention is one thing, but it will take time to build a relationship with him—to get him to offer to invest your money for you. He’s cautious; he’s been dating Leonora for ages. He won’t open up until he feels he can trust you. Maybe we could confide in Leonora, get her on our side and…”