Читать книгу Unauthorized Passion - Amanda Stevens - Страница 12

CHAPTER SIX

CASSIE LAY ATOP the padded sundeck of a thirty-five-foot cabin cruiser and hoped this second outing Celeste had arranged for her would go more smoothly than the first.

So far everything had gone according to schedule. The rental car had arrived at the hotel that morning promptly at nine o’clock, and less than an hour later, Cassie had crossed the causeway on I-45 into Galveston.

She’d spent another half hour looking for Ethan Gold’s house on Jamaica Beach, but she hadn’t minded the search. From her very first glimpse of the Gulf, the tension had steadily melted away.

Now Cassie felt positively decadent, lying topless in the sun on her own boat. Well, okay, her own borrowed boat. The distinction didn’t bother her one bit because she had two whole days to loll about in the sun and surf and pretend that this life really did belong to her.

Soon enough she’d have to come back to earth and start the old job search, but for now, this had to be one of her cousin’s better ideas, she decided lazily.

According to Celeste, Ethan Gold, her old drama professor at the University of Houston, had insisted that she have the use of his beach house while she was in town. “There’s a boat and everything,” Celeste had told her. “I know how much you love to be out on the water.”

Cassie had forgotten just how much she did love the fresh air and open sea. When she and Celeste were kids, their fathers had owned a fishing boat together, and on weekends and summers, the cousins had practically lived on the Gulf. They’d become expert swimmers early on—their fathers had seen to that—and had even learned to handle a boat by the ripe old age of eleven.

They’d become so proficient, in fact, that by the time they hit adolescence, they were taking the boat out alone, sometimes with permission and sometimes without.

The two had been as close as sisters back then, and those days were some of the happiest and most carefree of Cassie’s life.

Then everything had changed. Celeste’s family moved away, and Cassie’s parents divorced. Her father relocated to Florida, and Cassie seldom heard from him. A few years later, her mother was diagnosed with emphysema and later, lung cancer. For almost a decade, it had been one trauma after another, and somewhere along the way, the carefree, adventurous Cassie had gotten lost in the harsh realities of life.

In her most vulnerable moments, she sometimes wondered how differently things might have turned out if her parents had stayed together. Would her mother still have gotten sick? Would Cassie, free of responsibilities, have had the nerve to pursue her dreams the way her cousin had?

She liked to think so, but she’d learned a long time ago that there was no profit in looking back. Besides, she had the rest of her life to work on those dreams, to try and recapture that old carefree Cassie, and now she had nothing to hold her back. No job. No fiancé. No responsibilities except to herself.

That was why she’d been so eager to accept Celeste’s proposal. It wasn’t just the money or the new clothes or the luxurious accommodations that had attracted her to the scheme. It was the scheme itself. The promise of adventure for which Cassie had been yearning a long, long time.

And so here she was. Footloose and fancy-free.

Well, almost.

There was the little matter of that threatening voice on the phone the other night.

“Did I scare you?”

Yes, as a matter of fact.

Every time Cassie thought about that anonymous call, shivers stole up and down her spine. The person on the other end hadn’t actually threatened her, but if the call had been nothing more than a prank, why had the caller gone to the trouble of electronically disguising his voice?

And afterward, Lyle Lester had shown up at Cassie’s door.

True enough, he’d left a flashlight and candles outside her room, but his arrival had been extremely fortuitous. Could he have called her from the hallway on a cell phone? Cassie wondered. She’d received a couple of hang up calls since then, too. Was Lyle responsible for those as well?

He’d said the other night that he was an admirer, but just how big a fan was he? Had his appreciation crossed the line into psychotic obsession?

And speaking of psychotic…

Cassie frowned as an image of the stranger she’d seen at Metro materialized in her head. The more she thought about him—and she’d thought about him a lot—the more bizarre his behavior seemed. Everyone on the patio had reacted as though they’d heard a gunshot when the truck backfired. But rather than taking cover, the stranger had lunged straight for Cassie. Why? Why had he been so willing to put himself between her and a bullet? And, even more disturbing, why had he assumed she was the target?

In retrospect, Cassie had to admit that her own behavior that night had been a little on the bizarre side as well. Coming on to a complete stranger was so totally unlike her.

But…was it really?

How did she know what she might be capable of? It had been a long time since she’d had the opportunity to explore the real Cassie. For the past ten years, she’d been a caregiver, a fiancée, and a schoolteacher, but none of those things had satisfied her deepest yearnings, her darkest fantasies.

Somehow, the blue-eyed stranger had tapped into her hidden desires, and for a fleeting moment, he’d unleashed something wild inside of her. Something at once familiar and strange.

He could give her adventure. She knew that instinctively.

He wasn’t like any man she’d ever known. Certainly not like Danny. Her ex-fiancé could be an enthusiastic and ardent lover when the mood struck him, but hardly an imaginative one.

Oh, he knew how to turn a woman on. He could do that just by walking into a room. His bronzed, perfectly proportioned body had reduced stronger women than Cassie to quivering masses of hormones. But how quickly the charm faded once he opened his mouth.

The stranger at Metro…he was hardly in Danny’s league looks-wise. He wasn’t as tall or nearly as good-looking, and his body had appeared leaner and more sinewy rather than muscle-bound. But there had been something about him…something sensuous and mysterious…

He had an air of having seen and done things that Cassie could only imagine. But she wanted to do more than imagine. She wanted to experience those things for herself.

After all, there had to be more to life than the missionary position, didn’t there?

Resting her chin on her arms, she gazed around. It was a hot, still day. The water was unusually calm, which was why she’d decided to drop anchor and relax for a bit in the sun.

“You’ll pay for that when you’re forty,” she could hear her mother scold her. Her mother hadn’t so much as set foot outside without slathering on sunscreen, and even at the beach, she’d always worn a hat and long sleeves. But with all her precautions, Felicity Boudreaux had still died young, without ever having seen much of the world. Cassie didn’t want that to be her fate.

She sighed, feeling melancholy, as she always did when she thought of her mother.

Glancing at her watch, she was surprised to find how long she’d already been out. She would need to head in soon, but for now it felt so good to be on the water after being cooped up in that hotel for over a week. Poor Mr. Bogart. She’d left him all alone at the beach house. To make up for it, she would take him for a nice, long walk on the beach after dinner. Maybe then he’d stop pining for Chablis.

Cassie had tried to break it to him gently that the immaculately groomed Maltese was about as far out of his league as the guy at Metro was hers. But Mr. Bogart wouldn’t listen. Evidently, Hollywood had gone to his little doggie head. Cassie could understand that. The good life suited her just fine, too.

As she watched the activity on the water, she noticed that another boat had anchored several hundred yards to the starboard side while she’d been daydreaming. Far enough away not to intrude on her privacy, but near enough that she felt a vague sense of unease. When she lifted her hand to shield her eyes, she saw someone fishing off the deck.

She reached behind her back to refasten her swimsuit straps, but as she lifted herself from the deck, an unexpected gust of wind caught the top and swept it away. It drifted on an air current for one brief moment before taking a header into the water.

Cassie stared at the bobbing fabric in dismay. Luckily, the extra padding kept it afloat.

* * *

“HO…LY…” JACK’S MUTTERING segued into a low whistle. He’d picked up his binoculars at precisely the right moment to catch a glimpse of a topless Celeste Fortune before she jumped into the water.

Stunned by the flash of skin, he quickly lowered the binoculars, warning himself that he was fast becoming little better than a Peeping Tom. But, pervert or not, he was also a red-blooded male with a half-naked woman in view. How the hell was he supposed to react to that? Ignore her? Look the other way?

He did what came naturally.

Adjusting his cap to keep the sun out of his eyes, he lifted the binoculars again and watched her strike out toward something blue that floated in the water several yards from her boat. Since he’d caught a glimpse of the same color before she hit the water, he assumed that it was her swimsuit top now drifting away on a current.

Man, could that girl swim.

For anyone else, that top would have been halfway to Mexico by now, but Celeste reached it easily. As she turned back to the boat, a wave caught and lifted her, and Jack was given another fortuitous peek before she struggled into her top.

Not bad.

Smaller than he would have thought from her pictures, but not bad at all. In fact, he’d say the view was pretty damn spectacular.

He would wait until she got back in the boat, then he’d make his move. He had it all planned. Every little detail. He would hail her, pretending to have engine trouble, and then when she offered him a ride—

A flare of bright light, followed by a loud boom, caught him off guard, and then the force of the blast knocked him back a step or two.

As Jack watched in horror, Celeste’s boat exploded in flames, and a moment later, the swell of water beneath the hull of his own boat pitched him forward. He had to grab on to the rail to keep from going overboard.

Bracing himself, he lifted the binoculars and stared at the spot in the water where he’d last seen her. He could find nothing now but bits of burning debris floating on the waves.

Sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and turned the boat sharply, opening up the throttle as he headed for the flaming vessel. Circling the wreckage, he scanned the water, his heart like a drumbeat inside his chest. On his second pass around, he spotted her. She’d surfaced about fifty yards away, and when she saw him, she began to frantically hail him.

Easing back on the throttle, Jack brought the boat alongside her, then leaned over the edge to give her a hand up. She came slithering over the side like a frightened mermaid, all wet and slinky and golden.

If her breasts were smaller than he’d imagined, the rest of her was curvier. Not as lean and toned as in her movies, but sexy, nonetheless.

She wasn’t as drop-dead gorgeous, either, without the makeup and subtle lighting. The harsh glare of sunlight revealed a smattering of freckles across her nose and highlighted an unsightly bruise on her upper thigh. She wasn’t flawless by any stretch of the imagination.

Was he disappointed? Jack wasn’t sure. In some ways, it was a relief to know that she wasn’t quite as perfect as the image he’d seen on the big screen. Because nobody could live up to that.

He knelt beside her. “Are you all right?”

“I…think so. I don’t know what happened…” She lay in the bottom of the boat, not gracefully posed but with arms and legs sprawled all over the place.

Her breasts were barely hidden by her skimpy swimsuit top, and Jack tried to glance away. Honest. He did. But they were right there. Practically in his face. And he’d seen them, in all their glory, just moments ago.

Even though his sunglasses hid his eyes, she must have sensed the direction of his gaze because she quickly covered herself.

Gallantly, he whipped a shirt off the back of a seat and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully, tugging it over her breasts and all the way down to her knees. Wrapping her arms around her legs, she sat trembling on the floor like a netted fish.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asked again.

She swiped a wet strand of hair from her face. “Yes, but…I don’t understand what…happened. One moment I was in the water…and the next thing I knew—” She broke off, her eyes going wide as she stared up at him.

Too late, Jack realized his cap had blown off during the rescue, revealing his shock of bleached hair.

She put fingertips to her lips. “You’re…him,” she said in wonder.

In a matter of seconds, Jack’s carefully laid plans had literally gone up in smoke, but he was nothing if not resourceful. He could improvise with the best of them. “Him?” Yeah, that was brilliant.

“I saw you at Metro. You were—” Beneath the beginnings of a sunburn, her face turned an even brighter shade of red. “What are you doing here?” she asked still in that same tone of awe.

So she’d recognized him, but at least she didn’t seem suspicious. That was a good sign, Jack decided. It gave him something to work with. “What am I doing here? I’m rescuing you. In case you didn’t notice, your boat just exploded. Lucky I decided to go fishing today.”

She pushed herself away from him as suspicion set in with a vengeance. “Luck? Are you telling me this is some sort of coincidence?”

He hesitated, then decided to go with plan B. “Not exactly—”

“Oh, God, I think I’m going to be sick.” She crawled on all fours to the side of the boat. Then pulling herself up, she hung her head over the rail and retched noisily into the water until there was nothing left in her stomach.

Jack stood by helplessly, not quite certain what to do. The sight of the woman upchucking over the side of the boat was in such extreme contradiction to the woman on the silver screen. He couldn’t get over it.

But far from being repulsed, Jack had the utmost sympathy for her because he’d been in her position more than a few times. Usually by his own doing, but still…

He wet a towel in the water, then held it out to her as her dry heaves finally subsided. She collapsed weakly in the bottom of the boat, holding the towel to her face. “That must have been attractive.”

Jack grinned. “Just consider it your contribution to the Gulf’s ecological system. I’m sure the fish appreciate the effort.”

“That’s disgusting.” But she looked grateful that he’d decided to make light of an awkward situation. “I guess it just hit me all at once…how close I came to…” She shuddered violently. “If I hadn’t jumped in the water, I’d be dead right now.”

Jack had been thinking about that, too.

“How could something like that happen?” She pressed the wet towel to her forehead as she gazed up at him. “How could a boat just explode like that?”

Jack shrugged. “Could have been a fuel leak.” But he didn’t really believe that. He glanced up and quickly scanned the water. Attracted by the explosion, several boats raced toward them. Jack turned and surreptitiously pulled a .38 from his bag, then slipped it underneath a towel on the seat beside them.

The nearest boat, a maroon-and-white cabin cruiser similar to the one that had exploded, began to hail them. A moment later, the craft pulled alongside them. Jack kept his hand on the seat, mere inches from the .38.

“Anyone hurt?” a man called out.

“Everyone’s fine,” Jack said. “We think there may have been a fuel leak.”

“Hell of an explosion,” the newcomer observed. He had three passengers with him, two women and a man. They all gazed at the flaming wreckage in awe. “Anything we can do to help?”

“I’ve notified the coast guard,” Jack said. “In the meantime, better not get too close.”

The man nodded, then turning to say something to the others, he pulled away. Several boats were ringing the smoldering wreckage by now, but most of them had enough sense to keep a safe distance.

“We should get out of here, too,” Jack said. “A stray gust of wind, and we could have a real disaster on our hands.”

Celeste was still shivering as she gazed up at him. “Shouldn’t we wait for the coast guard? You did radio them, right? You said you did.”

“It’s all taken care of. Don’t worry,” he said. “Right now, let’s put some distance between us and that fire.”

As he started to turn away, she scrambled to her feet. Struggling to keep her balance, she stared at him in wide-eyed fear. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until you tell me who you are and why you’ve been following me.”

Yeah, genius. Tell her who you are and why you’ve been following her. I can’t wait to hear this myself.

“Are you a reporter?” she asked suddenly.

He shook his head. “No, I’m a cop.” Jack had never particularly subscribed to the honesty-is-the-best-policy approach, but he knew from his undercover stints with HPD that a little truth could sometimes go a long way. At least that was his hope.

“A…cop?” Something that might have been guilt flickered in her eyes as her hand flew to her throat. It was a defensive gesture, but Jack had no idea why.

Interesting. It appeared Celeste Fortune had a few secrets of her own. “My name is Jack Fury. I work for…Interpol.”

“Interpol?” She frowned in confusion. “But I thought…I thought Interpol was some kind of European police agency.”

“It is. But I was born and raised around here. I know the territory. That’s why I was given the assignment.”

“What kind of assignment?”

“For the past several months, we’ve been on the trail of a notorious jewel thief. We’ve followed him all over Europe, and now we’ve reason to believe that he’s here in the States. In Houston, to be exact, and we think he’s set his sights on the Mirabelle Hotel.” He was improvising his butt off, and getting himself in deeper and deeper by the minute.

Celeste gasped. “The Mirabelle? But that’s where I’m—”

“Yes, I know.”

The next few seconds were critical. She’d either accept him at his word, or start screaming bloody murder. It was to Jack’s advantage not to allow her much time to consider the two choices. “That’s why I’ve been following you,” he hastened to add.

“But—” She bit her lip in confusion. “I don’t understand. You don’t think I’m somehow connected to this thief, do you?”

His gaze held hers. “No. I think you’re his next target.”

* * *

CASSIE STARED AT him in shock. “Me? Why would a jewel thief target me? I don’t have anything of value—” She broke off, realizing her gaffe. Cassie Boudreaux owned nothing of value, but Celeste Fortune had undoubtedly been showered with expensive gifts from her rich lover.

Jack Fury cocked his head. “Nothing of value? I wouldn’t exactly call the Boucheron diamond worthless.” When she said nothing, he smiled. “Yes, we know all about Owen Fleming’s recent acquisition from Sotheby’s. When the stone didn’t turn up on his wife’s finger, we assumed he’d bought it for his mistress. You.”

Was that censure in his tone? Cassie wondered. Or was she imagining his disapproval? She couldn’t help feeling guilty about the affair even though she hadn’t been one of the participants. But Jack didn’t know that. He couldn’t know that she was only culpable of impersonating her cousin, but that wasn’t a crime, was it? Was it?

“As you can see, I’m not in possession of any rings,” she managed to say coolly as she waved her hands in front of him.

“You’d hardly wear a rare ten-carat pink diamond to the beach, now would you? If you’re smart, you’ve got it stashed someplace safe.”

As she watched him, Cassie’s suspicions suddenly returned. There was something about him…about his demeanor…about this whole setup…

Why had Celeste never mentioned the Boucheron diamond? Surely, a stone of such…epic proportions was something Cassie should have been made aware of, in case people asked questions. And by people, she meant Jack Fury.

She lifted her chin, prepared to improvise as best she could. “If you expect me to tell you where I keep my jewelry, you’re in for a shock. You say you’re a cop, but you haven’t shown me any identification. For all I know, you’re the jewel thief.”

“I haven’t shown you any identification because I’m undercover,” he said. “I can’t exactly go around flashing my ID and badge, now can I?”

Cassie’s gaze narrowed. Again, his explanation was just a little too convenient. On the other hand, if he really was working undercover, that might explain the overprocessed hair.

Still, Cassie knew she’d be a fool to simply take him at his word. And yet…even as her doubts continued to mount, she couldn’t help but remember the way he’d reacted at the restaurant to what they’d both thought was gunfire. He hadn’t hesitated even for a moment to protect her. His response had been instinctive, just as a cop’s would be.

Even now, his gaze on her was steady. Not shifting or wavering, but so relentless that Cassie felt a tremor course through her. His eyes were even bluer than she remembered. A deep ocean blue that made her wonder about hidden depths.

“Do you remember what happened at the restaurant the other night?” she asked reluctantly. “Almost everyone on the patio thought that sound was a gunshot. Did you?”

He shrugged. “I did at first.”

“Is that why you dove for me?”

“Sure.”

“But why would you assume I was the target? Why would a jewel thief want to kill me?”

His gaze left hers then to scan the ocean. “I didn’t stop to think about it. I just reacted because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”

Something in his voice made Cassie’s heart start to pound even harder. Was it a note of sincerity? “Afterwards, I saw you on top of the building across the street. You were looking down at me.”

His gaze met hers again. “I thought I saw someone up there. I went to check it out.”

“And what about today? Why did you follow me to Galveston? If you think the jewel thief is after the—” What had he called it? “—Boucheron diamond, why didn’t you stay back at the hotel and watch for him?”

“Because he knows you’re too smart to entrust a three-million-dollar ring to a hotel safe. He also knows that a woman in love would want to keep an expensive gift from her lover somewhere close by.”

“Who says I’m in love?” Cassie blurted.

Jack’s gaze narrowed. “Aren’t you?”

She pushed back her wet hair. “Owen and I are finished, haven’t you heard?”

“Yes, I heard that.”

“Then how do you know I didn’t give the ring back?”

“Because you’d be a fool to give away that kind of security now that your career has—shall we say—suffered some setbacks.”

There it was again, the barest hint of disapproval, and this time Cassie was a little annoyed by it. “How is it you seem to know so much about me?” she demanded.

“I make it my business to know everything about the people involved in the cases I’m working. I don’t like surprises.”

Then brace yourself, mister.

But Cassie wasn’t yet ready to come clean with Jack Fury. A part of her wanted to trust him because, after all, what was her alternative? Jump back into the water? They were too far out for her to swim to shore, and if she hailed another boat, how could she be certain she wasn’t flagging down the real jewel thief? If he even existed.

But that wasn’t the real reason Cassie kept silent. To be honest, there was something deeply thrilling about being the object of Jack Fury’s attention. And once he found out she wasn’t Celeste, she’d be about as interesting to him as yesterday’s catch.

He was just so different from anyone Cassie had ever met before. She’d known there was something special about him the moment she’d set eyes on him at Metro. But she’d thought at first her attraction stemmed from the effortless way he blended into the arty world to which she’d always hoped to belong. Now she realized it was something else. Her thirst for adventure—for something more—drew her to him.

She’d been starved for life for far too long, and now Jack Fury, with a story as improbable as his hair color, promised her a feast.

Cassie thought back to that night at the restaurant, the little game they’d played with one another, and she shuddered.

The attraction was still there, no question about it. She just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Her mind raced with the possibilities. “What about the boat?”

“What about it?”

“Do you think your jewel thief had something to do with the explosion?”

He hesitated. “That’s what I intend to find out.”

He turned away from her then, and Cassie saw his hand snake out to grab something from underneath a towel on one of the seats. He was so quick about it that she had only a brief glimpse of something dark and metallic, but she knew instinctively that it was a gun.

So he was armed and, for all she knew, dangerous. And here she was alone with him on the high seas.

A measure of common sense returned. Adventure was one thing, but deliberately placing herself in imminent peril quite another.

What did she think she was doing? How could she even consider starting something up with Jack Fury? She knew nothing about the man. She didn’t even know if he was a real cop. What if he’d made up the whole Interpol-jewel thief story? What if, instead, he was some kind of…stalker?

Maybe he’d blown up the boat, just so he could rescue her. Get close to her.

Cassie had seen a similar scenario in a movie once. A psycho who’d set up all kinds of bizarre situations just so he could be near the object of his fascination.

Jack Fury might be a little on the strange side, but to be fair, he hadn’t done anything truly psychotic. Although Cassie was pretty sure he’d been staring at her breasts earlier, but she could hardly blame him for that. Her new Brazilian swimsuit was pretty skimpy, and truthfully, she might have been a little disappointed if he hadn’t snuck a peek.

Still, why had he told the man in the other boat that he’d called the coast guard when he obviously hadn’t?

Unless…he hadn’t wanted the others to call…

Because…he had something to hide…

Come to think of it, Cassie wasn’t all that keen on involving the authorities, either. Ethan Gold had made arrangements for Celeste to have the use of his boat, but Cassie wasn’t Celeste. Technically, she’d taken it out without Professor Gold’s permission, which meant that if he pressed charges, she could end up in jail. Or be forced to cough up the dough to reimburse him for damages. In either case, she’d be in deep doo-doo.

But back to Jack Fury…

He didn’t appear crazy or perverted, thank goodness. Then again, neither, apparently, had Ted Bundy.

But try as she might, Cassie just couldn’t picture a psycho killer in a pair of lime-green board shorts.

She couldn’t exactly picture an Interpol agent in a getup like that, either, but that didn’t stop her from appreciating the way those shorts hugged his lean hips and accentuated the ripple of subtle muscle in his abs and chest. The way they rode so low that with just a little tug…

What in the world had gotten into her? She’d just destroyed someone’s boat, barely escaped with her life, and now here she was, moments later, lusting after the guy who’d pulled her out of the water.

A guy who claimed to be an Interpol agent on the trail of an international jewel thief.

If Cassie bought that, he probably had a nice little bridge in Brooklyn he’d like to sell her, too.