Читать книгу Born of Passion - Carla Cassidy - Страница 9

Kyle stared at her for a long moment, then, unable to help himself, he threw back his head and laughed. “Darling, there are only two things in this world I’ve been told I do really well. One of them is flying planes…” he paused a moment, then continued “…and the other is making love.”

He watched her cheeks burn with color as she jabbed the key into the ignition and started the engine. “You certainly weren’t doing much complaining that night,” he added softly. “And don’t try to tell me you were pretending. I know the difference between reality and a good acting stint. I still remember the way your heart raced with mine, the sweet sound of your moans…”

“Okay,” she snapped. “Forget I said anything.” She threw the car into gear and backed out of the parking space. “Where am I taking you?”

“You know where Ramsey Enterprises is?”

Those sooty eyes of hers shot him a sharp glance. “You’re one of those Ramseys?”

“Firstborn son.” He was pleased his voice held none of his ambiguous feelings concerning his family, more specifically, his father. “There’s a small apartment complex on the grounds of the business. My family has an apartment there, and that’s where I’ll be staying for the duration of this mission.”

For a few minutes they rode in silence. Her scent, that mysterious, spicy fragrance that had haunted him, filled the confines of the small car and evoked heated memories of that night they’d spent together.

She could lie all she wanted about him being a lousy lover, but he had intimate knowledge of just how intensely she had responded to him.

They had made love as if all the time in eternity was theirs, and he had made certain that she was completely, almost exhaustively sated before he’d allowed himself the ultimate release.

He gazed at her as she maneuvered the car through the midmorning traffic. She was as lovely—lovelier—than he remembered. Her dark hair had the sheen of satin, and her skin was smooth and unblemished.

She had killer eyes. Dark with thick, sooty lashes, they sparkled with life and the promise of hidden passion…passion he’d tapped into and tasted and thoroughly enjoyed. They also held just a touch of mystery, prompting a man to want to delve inside her and discover all the secrets she might possess.

The night he had met her, the white dress she’d been wearing had been short, exposing the length of her shapely legs, and tight, emphasizing her curves. She’d looked ultrafeminine, with red lipstick on her sensuous lips and a flirtatious glint in her eyes.

There was no sign of that woman in the one who now sat next to him. Clad in a navy blazer and skirt, with her hair pulled back and minimal makeup, she looked crisp, controlled and utterly professional.

“You didn’t answer when I asked before—why didn’t you tell me when I first met you that you worked for the embassy?” he asked.

“I wanted you to like me for who I was, not what I did.” She echoed his own words back to him.

“Touché,” he replied dryly. “At least I gave you my real name.” There was more than a touch of irritation in his voice. And he was surprised to realize he was irritated with her…irritated that she’d given him a fake name.

He was miffed that she’d disappeared like a puff of smoke when he’d believed they had made a connection that had somehow transcended their explosive lovemaking.

There had been times when he’d wanted to vamoose from a bed before his companion awakened and he had to face the morning reality. But he’d never, ever had a woman hightail it out of his bed without a backward glance.

Until Joanna Marie Morgan.

“So, why didn’t you give me your real name?” he asked.

“Don’t you think we have more important things to discuss besides a foolish night spent three months ago?” Although her voice was cool, her cheeks were still a becoming, unnatural pink.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, peeved that she was reminding him of duty when that should be the first thing on his mind. He stared out the window at the passing scenery, then continued, “I’m assuming the ambassador filled you in on everything.”

She nodded and made a righthand turn. “I believe I’ve been briefed on everything I need to know. I’ve already been in touch with the brass at the base, and they are expecting us to set up operations there sometime early in the morning. Unofficially, they will do whatever they can. Your team of fliers have been contacted and should all be here in Montebello by this evening.”

He stared out the window for another long moment, then turned to look at her once again. “Do you really think Sheik Ahmed Kamal is going to order aggressive action against Montebello?”

She frowned. “I don’t think anyone can guess what a man might do out of grief.” She pulled into the entrance of Ramsey Enterprises and looked at him curiously as they came to a fork in the road.

He pointed to the left and she made the turn. “Sheik Ahmed is a strong, proud man,” she continued, “a family man who suddenly finds his eldest son missing and suspects that King Marcus had something to do with his disappearance. King Marcus is also functioning from grief and anger from the loss of his own son, Prince Lucas, who reportedly perished in a plane crash a few months ago. At the moment, I’d say one is as much a loose cannon as the other.”

“And a loose cannon is exactly what this area of the world doesn’t need.”

“Exactly,” she agreed.

“Pull up in front of the apartment building,” he said, pointing ahead to the attractive three-story structure. “Our family quarters are on the top floor. You can just let me off in front.” He offered her a lazy smile. “Unless you would like to come up and have a replay of our night together.”

She braked so hard that, had he not been wearing his seat belt, he would have been catapulted out the front window. When she turned to look at him, her eyes were dark fires of anger and her cheeks were stained with color.

“That night, Kyle, was an anomaly. I acted completely out of character and I regret that it even happened. I have been assigned to work with you, and that’s what I intend to do—work and nothing more.” Her eyes pleaded with him. “Can’t you just forget about it?”

His desire to touch her was overwhelming. A simple caress to her soft cheek, or a stroke of that silky, shiny hair—that’s all he wanted. It was as if he needed a physical confirmation that she was real and not some mirage that would once again vanish in the blink of an eye.

This irrational need to touch her simply renewed his irritation with her once again. He opened the car door and stepped out, then opened the back door to retrieve his duffel bag. “Why don’t you come by for me tomorrow at 0500 hours. I can have my men in the air by dawn.”

“Fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He slammed the door and jumped back as she pulled away, roaring off as if all the demons from hell were chasing her. He watched until her car was out of sight, then turned and headed into the apartment building.

Emotions rolled inside him, unsettling emotions about Joanna. He’d spent three months thinking about her, thinking about that night they’d shared. Of all the women he’d been with, the image of her had remained in his head longer than any other.

Was it because she was the only one who had ever walked away from him? Was it because in his past relationships, long and short, he had been the one who had always walked away?

He nodded to the security man on duty, then headed for the elevator that would take him to the top floor apartment.

As soon as the elevator began moving upward, he felt an old familiar constriction tightening his chest.

When the elevator stopped, he stepped out and dug in his pocket for the key to the door just ahead. He opened the door and stepped onto the plush, thick beige carpeting. The air was comfortably cool and smelled faintly of lemon oil and fresh flowers.

His mother must have called in the cleaning crew to make sure the place was ready for his arrival, despite the fact that he’d told her he’d probably be staying at the base.

He hated staying here, much preferred the simple, impersonal space at the military base. This luxurious, four-bedroom apartment, which spanned the entire top floor of the building, was a testimony that his fat-cat father had sold out long ago and chosen money over honor.

Kyle dropped his duffel bag on the floor next to the overstuffed sofa, then walked over to the marble bar that occupied a corner of the living room.

What he wanted was a drink—a smooth shot of good whiskey to take the edge off the tremendous shock of seeing Marie…Joanna…again. Instead, he reached for a can of fruit juice, knowing he needed to be clearheaded early in the morning.

He popped the lid, took a swallow, then sank down on the sofa. Joanna’s drink of choice had been a Tom Collins with a lime twist, and when he’d kissed her for the first time, he’d tasted not only the intense heat of her mouth, but a touch of gin and a tang of lime as well.

Funny, now that he thought about the conversation they’d shared that night, he realized it had been pretty superficial.

They hadn’t talked about their jobs or their families, they’d merely indulged in a lighthearted bantering that had been both amusing and stimulating. Their conversation had been filled with innuendos, a verbal foreplay he had found exciting.

But beneath the superficiality, he’d sensed something in her that had touched something inside him…a wistfulness, a yearning…something he couldn’t quite define and couldn’t quite forget. All he knew was that he had been incredibly drawn to her and had believed she’d felt the same way about him.

In the months since that night, she had grown to epic proportions in his mind. Was she simply a player? A woman who took her pleasure with men, then fled so there would be no messy emotions, no unnecessary entanglements?

After the initial shock of seeing him today, she’d seemed fairly cool and calm. Her desire that he forget their night together hit a sour note with him.

Had she been totally unaffected by what they had shared? Could she so easily forget how sweetly their bodies had come together? Could she dismiss without pause the magic they’d spun when dancing together, laughing together, loving together? He frowned with annoyance. It would seem so.

He finished his juice and threw out the can, then picked up his duffel bag and headed into the bedroom he called his own when staying at the apartment. The room, like the rest of the place, was large and luxurious. Decorated in deep blues and pale silver, it boasted big, masculine furniture. Photos of Kyle in uniform hung on the walls.

It took him only minutes to hang his clothes in the closet and set his toiletries on the counter in the adjoining bathroom. Then he wandered back into the living room, his head still consumed with thoughts of Joanna Marie Morgan.

She had made it quite clear that she had no intention of picking up where they’d left off, that she just wanted to forget that single night they had shared together.

But he couldn’t do that. He had to have some answers. He needed to have some closure where she was concerned. He wanted to know why she had left him that morning after they had made love so passionately, then fallen asleep in one another’s arms.

More than answers, he wanted one more night with her. What he wasn’t sure of was if he wanted one more night of the pleasure of making love to her, or if he simply wanted an opportunity to be the one to walk away.

At precisely 0500 hours the next morning, Joanna knocked on the Ramsey apartment door. The security officer on duty had told her to go on up, that Lieutenant Commander Ramsey was waiting for her. For the past month she’d been experiencing morning nausea, but none quite as intense as what she felt at the moment.

Nerves, she told herself. She’d been a nervous wreck from the moment she’d seen him again. The one time in her life she’d made a mistake and done something irrational, spontaneous and stupid, fate had to be a perverse jokester and throw the mistake right back in her face.

Her “mistake” opened the door, looking as breathtakingly handsome and male as ever. “Ah, Joanna, right on time.” He stepped aside and gestured her in.

She swept past him, knowing he was freshly showered from the scent of soap. He was dressed not in his uniform, but casually, in tight jeans and a pale blue, short-sleeved dress shirt that emphasized taut biceps. It was similar to what he’d been wearing on the night they had first met.

He closed the door behind her and she found herself in a huge, airy living room. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. Help yourself.”

“No, thanks,” she replied, the very thought making her stomach twist and buck. Lately it was rare that she drank coffee or ate anything besides crackers before noon. Her morning sickness made it virtually impossible to keep much of anything down.

“Then have a seat. I’ll be ready to head out in just a minute.” He disappeared down a hallway and into what she assumed was one of the bedrooms.

Joanna didn’t sit, but rather wandered around the room. At least he’d been impersonal and businesslike so far, she thought as she moved to a wall of windows and peered out.

It was still too dark outside to be able to see what kind of view the windows would provide. In her mind, she didn’t see the darkness of predawn, but rather a vivid picture of how Kyle had looked the morning she’d sneaked out of the hotel room.

He’d been gloriously naked and stretched out on his stomach. His golden, tanned back had looked impossibly broad against the white sheets of the bed, and his slender waist, buttocks and long, lanky legs had made him look like a model in a pinup calendar.

From the moment he’d walked into that bar that night and their eyes had met, she’d known. She’d known that before the night was over they would be in bed together. It had been wonderfully exciting and more than a little bit frightening at the same time.

She moved away from the window and consciously forced herself to focus on a bookcase and an array of framed photographs on one of the shelves.

They were apparently photos of the Ramsey family. In one picture, a smiling older couple stood just behind three young boys. It was obvious the child in the center was Kyle. Even then, at the age of about ten or twelve, he’d been handsome. His features were clean-cut and well defined, and there was already a confident gleam in his eyes.

She assumed the older couple were his parents, and it was obvious by the expressions on their faces that they were proud of their boys.

A wistful yearning echoed in an empty chamber of her heart. How wonderful it must be to have a family, to always know you had a place where you belonged, where you were loved.

“I see you found the family photos.”

She whirled around to face him. “Yes. These are your brothers?” She pointed to the photo that had captured her attention.

“Yeah.” Kyle walked over and stood next to her…far too close. “This is Jake. He’s twenty-nine, two years younger than I am. He just became CEO of Ramsey Enterprises.” He pointed to the other young boy in the picture. “And that’s Tyler. He’s twenty-eight and works for the company, also.”

“So, you’re the only rebel who didn’t go to work for Ramsey Enterprises?” she asked, half-teasingly.

His eyes darkened and he turned away from the pictures. “Something like that.”

She looked at one of the other pictures. It was an older photograph of a young man in uniform. “Your father was in the Air Force?”

“Yeah. He’s a decorated Vietnam War hero.” Pride was evident in his low voice. For a moment his gaze remained on the picture of his father, then he frowned. “But he quit the military to join corporate America and fill his coffers with money.” He turned to look at her, his gray eyes turbulent. “Let’s get going.”

“Okay.” She’d obviously touched a nerve.

As they left the apartment and got into her car, Joanna thought of everything she knew about Ramsey Enterprises. She knew that the company was owned by Edward Ramsey and headquartered in the United States. The plant on Montebello was one of three that worked to produce plane parts.

She hadn’t imagined the tension in Kyle’s voice when he’d spoken of his father. Apparently there was strain between Edward Ramsey and his firstborn son.

“So, what about your family? You have brothers or sisters?” he asked when they were in her car and headed toward the nearby military base.

The yearning that never seemed to be completely still echoed once again inside her. “No brothers, no sisters. No immediate family since my father died three years ago.”

“What about your mother?” he asked.

“She died when I was born.”

“That’s tough.”

Joanna said nothing, although she wanted to tell him that the loss of her mother hadn’t been half as tough as life with her military father.

She’d spent her childhood being pulled from base to base and raised by hired help, some good, some not so good, and none of them family.

The end result was that she had no place to call home…no connection to anyone else in the world. The night she had met Kyle and slept with him, she had been driven by an overwhelming need to connect, and “connecting” with him had been frighteningly wonderful—until she’d realized he was military, just like her father.

“That night I first met you, I just assumed you were a local woman. Your coloring—your features—are of the locals.”

She felt his gaze warming her face and wondered why, despite knowing he was absolutely wrong for her and there would never, ever be any future relationship between them, she remained so acutely aware of him, so intimately drawn to him.

“My mother was a native of Montebello. My father met her while he was based here.”

“Your father was in the military?”

“Army.” She offered nothing else and searched her mind for a way to change the topic. “I understand there are ten pilots comprising your team for this mission.”

He nodded and directed his gaze forward out the window, where the military base had come into view. “Two of the men will aid you in ground support, the rest of us will take eight-hour shifts in the air, with time on the ground only for refueling. We’ll refuel in shifts as well, so there is always at least one plane flying.”

They stopped speaking as she pulled up to the guard shack in front of the military base. Fifteen minutes later, she sat in the back of a small room that had been transformed into an operation center for their “unofficial” mission. State-of-the-art equipment lined one wall, complete with radar screens and high-tech computers.

She watched and listened as Kyle addressed the men seated before him, explaining what their jobs would be and the shifts that would be taken.

It was impossible not to notice the authority and respect Kyle commanded from the men. He wore his casual clothes as elegantly as he wore his uniform, and an appealing self-confidence oozed from his very pores.

He’s the father of my baby. The realization struck her like a startling blow to the chest. Until this moment, the baby inside her had been something of a dream, not quite real to her. But now the reality exploded inside her.

She was pregnant, and in approximately six months time she would have a baby—Kyle’s baby. Her hand moved to her abdomen, as if to stroke the life that grew within.

The child she carried would get half of its DNA from the man before her. And Kyle had no idea that on the night they had shared, he’d given her a piece of himself that could never be retrieved, a piece that would be a part of her life for the rest of her days.

What would he do if he knew? There was no way she could guess what his reaction would be if he discovered that he was the father of the baby.

She knew how he kissed, how his skin felt beneath her fingertips. She knew how his heart felt racing against her own, how his breathing quickened with each stroke of her skin. But all of that intimate knowledge told her nothing about how he might react to the news of his pending fatherhood.

Not that she intended to tell him. No way! Again her hand touched her stomach and a maelstrom of love cascaded through her. This was her baby, and the child would be the family she never had.

She knew all she needed to know about Kyle Ramsey. He was first and foremost a military man, a rootless bachelor who thrived on adventure, a man who probably had a woman in every port.

Kyle was a man just like her father, who had pulled her from post to post, never staying in one place long enough for her to feel any stability or sense of home. All he’d wanted to do was fight wars. He didn’t want a family or roots.

For a single night she’d been Kyle’s Montebello woman, and if she’d slept later that morning, she was certain she would have been the one to wake up all alone in bed.

She knew from experience that it was better to have no father than a military father. Kyle Ramsey would never know about the baby. Never.