Читать книгу Her Private Treasure - Wendy Etherington - Страница 11

BINOCULARS AROUND his neck, Carr leaned against the aft railing and stared at the moonlit water where his boat bobbed at the dock.

At nearly eleven o’clock on a Wednesday, the bar was the only place that was hopping. Jack’s boat was still out, so it seemed the only thing to do was wait.

His thoughts returned, as they had a million times, to the night before and the kiss he’d shared with Malina Blair. Of course, describing what they’d shared as a mere kiss diminished the encounter by miles.

Touching her had been like holding lightning in his bare hands.

She—

He halted his thoughts as he sensed movement behind him on the dock. He didn’t flinch or turn, but his heart rate picked up speed.

Were Jack’s buddies back?

He hadn’t seen them since that night he’d found the coffee grounds nearly three weeks ago.

Were more drugs being delivered? Were there even drugs involved at all? Something odd was certainly going on, but had he jumped to conclusions based on the coffee grounds? Malina had passed off the connection between drugs and coffee. Was she right, or was she simply trying to demonstrate that he had no business messing around in her case?

If these guys were drug dealers, they were certainly ruthless. And while he could hold his own in a courtroom, he acknowledged for a stark moment that he might just be out of his element in this particular world.

He could battle, but he wasn’t trained in any physical combat beyond the conniving elegance of the fencing ring. Brutality wasn’t part of his life. And, candidly, he was more brains than brawn.

As he heard a click on the starboard side of the boat, he spun on the balls of his feet and crouched at the same time.

“Smooth,” said a familiar voice. “But I still wouldn’t have missed.”

The next second, a powerful flashlight blinded him. Cursing, he rose and held his hands in front of his face. Malina Blair’s shadow was barely discernible. “Is that really necessary?”

The light flicked off.

He blinked and saw spots as his eyes adjusted back to the darkness. Before he’d fully recovered, she was inches from him.

She tapped the binoculars. “A little late for bird-watching.”

Dressed in black, her arm was a shadow that ended in a lethal-looking gun pointed to the sky. With her dark hair pulled back tightly from her face, the first thing he could see clearly was her startlingly turquoise eyes. He had the crazy, poetic urge to drown himself in them.

“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, narrowing those eyes as she holstered her pistol.

He wanted to see her hair loose and tangled around her beautiful face. He wanted to feel the strands brush across his bare skin. He wanted to bury his body in her softness and hear her breath catch as she lost herself in the pleasure of his touch.

“Contemplating a late-night cruise,” he managed to return finally.

She shook her head in disbelief.

If he admitted the truth—that he was imagining her in his bed—would she shoot him or throw him overboard?

Or would she respond as she had the night before? With need and heat and a longing for even more?

She poked her finger in his chest, backing him against the railing. “I thought I made it clear that you should keep your distance from this case.”

“Did you?” He angled his head and gave her a smile that she clearly wasn’t buying. “I recall that conversation a bit differently. I remember saying I understood what you thought my involvement in the case should be.” He paused significantly. “I never agreed to the terms.”

She paced away, then back. “Why do you think lawyers get a bad rap when it comes to honesty?”

“Because honesty and truth are two entirely different concepts. Do you have on black underwear, too?” When she glared at him, he shrugged. “I’ve always wondered about the wardrobe for the undercover espionage thing.”

She stopped pacing. Her fists were clenched by her sides, and he decided he enjoyed needling her almost as much as he enjoyed touching her. “How about you leave the espionage to James Bond and me to handle this case?”

“Sorry, my investment in the outcome is too great.”

“What investment?”

He made a sweeping gesture to the area around him. “My island, remember?” Among other beautiful things I want to hold close. “I need to see this through.”

“And I said I’d consult you. The stakeouts you need to leave to me.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Stakeout? I’m just enjoying the night air.”

With a huff that was utterly female and so unlike her, Malina leaned back against the railing next to him. “How are honesty and truth different?”

“Honesty refers to integrity, candor. Truth is answering a question without lying.”

She cast him a surprised glance. “That’s a despicable distinction.”

He nodded, and the barb of criticism hit in ways she couldn’t imagine, even though he knew she’d read his case files. “It’s the law.”

“According to whom?”

“Anybody who’s called upon to defend themselves or someone else in court.”

“Someone guilty?”

The barb turned poisonous, spreading through him like cancer. “Everyone’s entitled to a defense—even the supposed guilty.”

“Is that how you sleep at night?”

With fury burning inside him, he faced her, crossing his arms over his chest. The fact that part of his anger stemmed from embarrassment only fueled his indignation. “Do you want to debate legal procedures? How about the merits of tort reform?” He nodded toward her holstered pistol. “As good as you might be with that, I’m better at the law, so don’t even think about screwing with me on that subject.

“A lawyer presents his or her case. A judge or jury determines guilt or the level of judgment. That’s it. That’s the system where we all work.” He leaned into her. “If, however, you want to screw me in other ways, I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. And either his honesty or his crudeness had finally shocked her into silence.

Unable to face her or himself, he stormed across the deck and down into the cabin. He slammed the door behind him, then tore the binoculars from around his neck and flung them and himself onto the couch. Through the window above him the moon cast its haunting light.

Several moments later, the cabin door opened.

“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you,” she said, flopping against the wall opposite him and crossing her arms over her chest.

For some reason, her frustration calmed him instantly. “I’m sorry I did the same. Why are you so annoyed?”

“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Why not?”

“The case. Concern for my job.”

“No other reason?”

She moved toward him. His heart jumped.

When she stopped beside the sofa, so close their legs nearly touched, he felt the heat pumping off her, as well as a seductive scent, which could have been perfume or simply the innate lure of her skin. Both twined their way around his senses.

“You,” she said. “I thought about you.”

Though her tone was an accusation, he wasn’t offended. She’d thrown his world off balance. Now he knew he’d done the same for her.

He also knew he should stand, but he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.

She skimmed her fingertips across his shoulder. “What’ve you done to me?”

Part of him wanted to tell her to run. He wasn’t worthy of her time or attention. But he wasn’t capable of that kind of nobility.

He captured her hand in his and kissed the underside of her wrist, where her pulse beat strong and thick. “In an effort to be truly honest, I should admit I was enjoying the night air and hoping you’d show up for a stakeout.”

She slid down onto the sofa beside him. “And I knew you wouldn’t give up your involvement in this case.”

“Are we pursuing the case because we want to solve it, or are we pursuing it to have an excuse to be together?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Does it matter which is true?”

“Honestly?” She smiled, leaning toward him, her lips an inch from his. “No.”

Her tongue teased his bottom lip, then her teeth nipped the same spot. He hardened in an instant.

With a tug of her wrist, he pulled her against him, crushing her against his chest, relishing the way her heart hammered against him, as if trying to escape and join his. Angling her head, she deepened the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He breathed in the scent of clean cotton and, if he wasn’t mistaken, gun oil.

She was a combination of tenderness and teeth that he found intriguing, stimulating and irresistible.

His erection throbbed. His ears buzzed.

The gentle rocking of the boat beneath them belied the electricity in the air. In the dark, shadows mingled. Hot breath and seeking hands sparked passion. Forgetting who she was and her real purpose in his life, he surrendered to the moment as he hadn’t in a very long time.

But before he’d taken his next breath, she had her pistol drawn and her back plastered against the wall next to the cabin’s exterior door. “Get down,” she whispered.

His hands tingled. He still had the scent of her clinging to him. “I—”

“That buzzing in your ears isn’t my substantial powers of seduction. It’s a boat motor.”

“How do you know my ears are buzzing?”

“Because mine are, too. Get down.”

He slid from the sofa onto the floor and watched her peek between the blinds on the glass door. With a great deal of effort, he could now separate the humming in his ears from the motor outside.

She was cool, calm and in charge. He was a quivering mass of need. There was a serious balance issue with this relationship already. If there even was a relationship, which he wasn’t sure about. They’d only been introduced two days ago. Didn’t these things take time to develop? Didn’t the fact that she was in his life only to solve a case make anything meaningful impractical? And hadn’t he decided he was through with anything that didn’t have meaning?

Then again, her ears were buzzing, too.

Eschewing dignity, he crawled across the cabin, then rose beside Malina. “There are times when I feel like a freshman in the throes of my first crush.”

“The throes of—” She stopped, turning her head to glare at him. “Don’t throw. Don’t crush. Be still.”

She looked lean and sexy, her pistol raised beside her and pointing at the ceiling. Her expression was focused, her body braced. Desire tightened his stomach. “Is that thing loaded?”

She peeked between the blinds again. “Do you ever shut up?”

He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. “If you keep my mouth occupied in some other way.”

She ignored the invitation and said, “I think it’s your buddy Jack.”

“So we work now and play later?”

“I’m always working.”

She used the tip of her gun to move the blinds aside, and he watched over her shoulder as Jack’s boat puttered past and turned into its slip. “That’s him, right?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.

“That’s the boat.”

She snorted. “You’re such a lawyer.”

“Unless there’s now a rash of boat thieves running over the island intent on disrupting the general well-being of the citizenry, I assume Jack’s the pilot.”

“Hell. A wordy lawyer.”

“I’m well paid for each and every syllable.”

“Do you ever feel guilty for making that money on the tide of pain and suffering your clients have to weather?”

Something ugly clenched inside him. “All the time,” he said lightly.

Part of the tension he felt must have slipped through his tone, because she glanced at him. “Cheap shot. Sorry.”

“I’m used to it.”

“So I’m all the more sorry.”

“I appreciate the—”

“Hold on. He’s moving.”

And Jack was.

He emerged from the cabin with a small box tucked beneath his arm. The box appeared to be made of ordinary, brown cardboard. It measured no more than half a foot wide and long. Jack was whistling as he stepped off his boat and onto the dock.

For some reason, the upbeat tune made Carr’s blood boil. “Let’s follow him.”

Malina planted her hand in the center of his chest. “Let’s watch.”

After a few moments, Jack disappeared up the stairs toward the marina bar—and no doubt the parking lot beyond.

“We should go after him.”

“I will. I know where he lives.” Tucking her pistol back into its holster, Malina opened the door and stepped out. “Let’s look around a little first.”

As they moved slowly along the dock, Carr studied the bobbing American Dream. Something was fishy about Jack’s boat—and it didn’t have anything to do with nets or rods. “I don’t suppose you could turn your head while I pop the cabin lock and see what old Jack had hidden beneath his mattress?”

“Not yet.”

Though Malina’s back was to him, Carr raised his eyebrows. “So you’re not saying no? How liberal of you, Agent—”

“Hang on.”

As Malina bent to one knee, Carr moved closer to her. More coffee maybe? If so, Jack really ought to find a sealed box to carry his illicit merchandise in. Didn’t the man know about plastic containers? They even had fresh seal plastic bags now. Double-zippered to ensure the contents stayed tightly enclosed.

“Well, now,” Malina said in a low, excited tone that immediately captured his attention. “It seems your neighbor does have a side business, though I’m not sure how drugs, art or coffee enters into it.”

Carr moved his attention to her clenched fist, which she held out in front of her. “How so?”

“It appears Mr. Rafton went for the sparkle instead.”

When she opened her hand, sitting on a scrap of white cloth, a large, loose diamond glittered back at him from her steady palm.