Читать книгу Marching Orders - Delores Fossen, Delores Fossen - Страница 12

Had she imagined that something was wrong? Had she imagined that jolt?

Maybe.

Anna stared at herself in the bathroom mirror and ran her fingertips over her mouth, remembering the way Rafe had kissed her at the chapel. That certainly seemed, well, normal. And incredible.

Maybe Colonel Shaw was right, and this was just a case of nerves. Wedding jitters combined with that horrible shooting incident. With all that had happened recently, a case of frayed nerves certainly seemed a reasonable response.

She shook her head, embarrassed at the way she’d behaved. Not only had she given Rafe the cold shoulder, she’d actually thought maybe he had been brainwashed. Or worse. It’d even crossed her mind that he was some sort of spy sent to infiltrate the Special Ops Unit at the base.

Talk about jumping to crazy conclusions.

Bolstered by her pep talk, Anna swiped on some transparent lip gloss, ran a hand through her hair and stepped back to give herself one last look in the mirror.

Well. The image she saw wouldn’t have a G-rating, that’s for sure.

The fire-engine-red nightgown covered all three of the important S’s required for a hot honeymoon night. Skimpy. Short. Sexy. Definitely meant to seduce. And that was exactly what she wanted to do. Then, after making wild, passionate love with her husband, maybe they could sit down and just talk. She had so many things to tell him.

“This is what I want,” she reminded herself. “I love Rafe. I really love him.” And she reached for the door.

The sound of his voice stopped her. Anna peered into the room and saw him on the bed with the phone pressed to his ear. His shoes and jacket were off, and he was in his usual lounging repose with his back against the headboard. He had his shirt unbuttoned, revealing a toned, tightly muscled chest sprinkled with dark brown coils of hair.

It was provocative. No doubt about it. Just the sight of him caused the heat to roar through her skimpily clad body. Mercy, she was one lucky woman.

He took a sip of water, set the glass next to his holster on the nightstand and spoke in soft, murmuring tones. She only caught a word here and there. Security. Colonel Shaw.

She started to join him, but something in his tone stopped her. It wasn’t the tone of a man who simply wanted to clarify information. He sounded a little angry. Rafe fired off his terse responses in clips, like gunshots. Yes. No way. We’ve been through that.

Anna stepped back into the bathroom and put her ear against the door so she could listen to the rest of the conversation.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, sir,” she heard Rafe say.

She felt the wave of doubt creeping up again, but she refused to let herself jump to conclusions. This probably had something to do with the cancellation of the reception. That’s all. Or maybe something had gone wrong with his plans for their honeymoon.

Rafe continued. “I can’t do that to her.”

Anna froze. Held her breath. And waited.

“This won’t work,” Rafe snapped. “She’s not stupid. If I stay here, she’ll know. I think we need to come up with another plan.”

Oh, God. What plan? Anna squeezed her eyes shut and frantically tried to come up with a reasonable explanation to all of this.

She couldn’t.

No, she wasn’t stupid, and she couldn’t dismiss the gut feeling that something was wrong. Terribly wrong. Her instincts were screaming for her to listen, and she would. Finally.

So, now what? She could get dressed and try to sneak out of the suite without him noticing. The chances of that were slim to none, and even if she managed it, then what would she do? She could go to Janine’s house, but that would just involve her friend in something potentially dangerous. Besides, it might be Rafe who was in danger.

Anna leaned against the wall. If Rafe was in some kind of trouble, she wanted to know about it. She might even be able to help, but first she had to know the truth.

She tried to steady herself by taking several deep breaths. One way or another she would have to convince him to tell her everything. And maybe it’d be a truth she could handle.

Before she could change her mind, she pulled open the door and stepped into the room.

His gaze snared her right away. “I have to go,” he said into the phone, and then hung up.

He stared at her a moment—the hesitation all over his face—as he got to his feet. Well, maybe it wasn’t hesitation. Anna rethought that theory when Rafe’s eyes skimmed over her. From head to toe. It was a long, smoldering, appreciative look that stole her breath.

Forcing herself to say something, anything, she clutched the sides of her gown. “Do you like it?”

He made a sound, a soft rumble as if clearing his throat, and nodded.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Anna stepped toward him, all the while wondering if this was the biggest, and last, mistake she would ever make.

WELL, HELL.

Now, how the heck was he supposed to handle this? And why hadn’t Buchanan called? He was supposed to come up with some bogus plan to occupy him half the night. It was obvious from the way Anna was dressed that she had an entirely different idea about how to occupy him. An idea that would involve clothing removal and hot, sweaty sex.

“It’s a yes,” he assured his bride after he found his breath. “I definitely like the gown. Red, huh? It’s a good color.”

However, it was the woman inside it that he was really admiring. Rafe was glad he’d already loosened his collar, because just the sight of Anna would have required him to loosen something.

Damn. She was beautiful. Her dark-blond hair tumbled in a sexy heap onto her shoulders. Here was the sparkle he’d seen in the videos. Of course, he likely felt that way because of the barely there, devil-red nightgown that stopped at mid-thigh. High mid-thigh. If she bent just a little in any direction, he’d no doubt learn if her panties matched the color of the gown.

The blood rushed to his head. And other parts of him.

He couldn’t let himself lose control. Nope. She might be his wife, but it was in name only. She certainly wasn’t his for the taking.

Anna strolled toward him, her smile tentative. She was nervous. Rafe understood that feeling completely. He’d faced enemy fire and hadn’t experienced the tangle of raw nerves that he felt right now.

He hitched a thumb toward a bottle of champagne. “It’s from Colonel Shaw.”

Rafe didn’t intend to thank the man for it, either. Sometimes, he wondered if the colonel and he were on the same page. The last thing he needed tonight was to cloud his mind with alcohol.

Anna gave the champagne a passing glance. “That was nice of him.”

Nibbling at her bottom lip, she stepped closer. And closer. Rafe just stood there while she lifted her hands and laced them around the back of his neck.

“I missed you so much when you were gone,” she said softly. “I mean, when we left each other in Monte de Leon, we thought we’d only be apart a couple of days. It turned into two long months.”

That comment ate away at him like nothing else could have. It was wrong to play with her emotions this way. Still, what choice did he have? He couldn’t risk telling her everything. Not yet.

“I missed you, too,” he answered.

Anna brushed her mouth over his. “But we’re together now—just like you promised that day you put me on the transport to come back to the States. The day you asked me to marry you.”

“I remember,” Rafe lied.

She moved in for the kiss. He didn’t quite manage to suppress a groan, but it didn’t matter. Anna caught the sound with her mouth. She brought her sweet lips to his and gave him a kiss that nearly made him forget that this was supposed to be all for show.

She pulled back, slightly, and stared into his eyes. “I think we should start making up for lost time right now, don’t you?”

But she didn’t wait for him to answer that. She kissed him again.

Rafe braced himself for the assault. Or at least he tried to do that. It didn’t work. Her taste slammed through his body. The energy. The intensity. And the distinctive feeling that he had lost his freaking mind. He had no business kissing her like this.

None.

Nada.

Zip.

He should be concentrating on a plausible lie to get him the heck out of there before he stripped that gown off her and hauled her in the general direction of the bed. Still, he didn’t move. He stood there and took everything. The kiss. The heat of her body. Her.

Anna slipped her hand into his hair. “You don’t know how many times I wished that we hadn’t agreed to wait until our wedding night to make love. Did you ever regret our decision to wait?” she asked, her voice as silky as the gown she slid against his body.

Rafe couldn’t look at her. Not even a glimpse. If he did, she would know something was wrong. Instead, he stared at her earring. A small pearl dangled on a delicate thread of gold.

“You better believe there were times I regretted it,” he managed to say. “In fact, the regrets went up a significant notch every time I laid eyes on you.”

He didn’t have time to pray that she wouldn’t question him further about it. Or time to come up with a lie that would give him an exit. He felt every muscle in her body go stiff.

Anna jerked away from him, and in the same motion she reached for his shoulder holster that he’d left on the nightstand. He could have stopped her from pulling the gun, easily, but it would have been a huge risk. If something had gone wrong, she might have gotten hurt. So, he just stood there while she drew his own weapon on him.

“Answers,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“I want answers, and I want them now.”

He tried to play it light, but inside it was a whole different story. She’d obviously figured out he wasn’t the man she thought he was. Now, the question was—what would she do about it? Would she really try to use that gun?

Maybe.

God knows what all of this would push her to do. If their positions were reversed, if he’d been kept in the dark about something like this, then he’d sure have that gun in his hand, and it’d be aimed at her.

“Answers?” he calmly repeated. He inched closer, but stopped when she lifted the gun and aimed it right at his heart. “What do you mean, darling?”

“The truth. There was no decision for us to wait,” she clarified.

“Damn,” he mumbled. Silently, he added some much harsher profanity.

He stared at her, cursing this stupid plan and cursing the fact that he hadn’t stopped it. But there wasn’t much he could do about that now.

Besides, he had a more urgent problem facing him. Literally. Somehow, he had to get the gun away from this woman without either of them getting hurt.

“Anna—”

But that’s all he managed to say.

“Rafe and I were lovers,” she whispered, a tear racing down her cheek.

There was no good comeback for that so he said the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He figured he’d be saying that plenty of times before the night was over.

“Sorry?” she snapped. Her eyes sliced at him with a scalpel-sharp glare. “It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? Two months too late. I’m pregnant.”

Oh, man. That knocked the breath right out of him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. All he could do was stand there and stare at her.

Pregnant!

Hell.

Anna was pregnant.

With her eyes brimming with tears, she levered the gun slightly higher. “And now I want to know what you’ve done with my baby’s father.”