Embrace the Night (8 page)

He chuckled. “Keep looking at me like that and I'll probably burst into flames,” he commented.

She averted her eyes, knowing she was caught.
Better change the subject.
Composing herself, she moved to the photo of the unfamiliar man hanging on the wall. “Who is this? Is he a relative of yours, or a historical figure?”

“Both,” he answered, stepping into his boxers and pulling them up to his waist. “That's U.S. Deputy Marshall Bass Reeves, my six times great uncle.”

“I've heard that name before.”

“I would hope so,” he said, coming over to where she stood. “Great Uncle Bass was not only one of the first black Marshals in the United States, he was also one of the best. His skill at tracking and capturing outlaws was unmatched.”

She watched the way his eyes lit up as he spoke about his ancestor, and it warmed her heart. “He sounds like an impressive man.”

He nodded. “Our family likes to think so. As a matter of fact, Bass is my middle name.”

It wasn't a middle name she would expect him to have, but she liked that he felt he could be open with her. Content to let him reveal himself bit by bit, she didn't press him further. Her rumbling stomach demanded her attention. "Can you cook? I'm starving."

He nodded, chuckling. "I'll make us something." He sidled over to where she stood, and his big hand grazed over her bareness, sliding across her abdomen and around her back as he pulled her into his arms. Pressing his lips to hers, he kissed her breathless, then eased away. "But you'd better get dressed, or the only thing on the menu...will be you."

The implications of his heated words sent a shiver down her back. She looked up at him, nodding.

A moment later, he left the room, and she stood there, trembling in his wake. When she got her wits about her again, she picked up her scattered articles of clothing from the day before, and got dressed.

By the time she entered the kitchen wearing her rumpled blouse and skirt, she could smell the aromas of bacon frying and coffee brewing. He stood at the stove, tending to the sizzling meat, and singing along to a song playing on the small boombox resting on the counter top next to him. She watched the sinewy muscles of his back work beneath his burnished skin as he whipped a bowl of scrambled eggs with a glistening metal whisk.

"Smells good," she said, sitting down at the square, black enamel and glass top table in his breakfast nook.

He stopped singing along with Teddy Pendergrass long enough to say, "It'll be ready in a minute."

True to his word, within minutes he brought two plates to the table, piled high with bacon, scrambled eggs, and whole wheat toast. Adding to that two stout glasses filled with orange juice, he sat down and they dug in.

When they'd finished, she stretched her arms behind her. "I could really get used to this."

"You can cook, can't you?"

"Sure, but why would I if I had someone like you around?" She chuckled. "You make some mean cheese eggs."

"Thanks."

The wall clock in the kitchen read eleven thirty five. She needed to leave, so she could pick up Ava before Tara went in to work at one o'clock. "I really enjoyed this, John, but I gotta go. I'm babysitting my niece today."

"Cool," he said, gathering the dishes from the table and depositing them in the sink. "As long as I get to see you again. Outside of work, that is."

"Oh, you most definitely will," she drawled. "All of me."

"Good." He sounded pleased.

She slipped her feet into the heels she'd worn last night, and grabbed her purse off the couch. Glancing back to where he stood by the sink, she called, "I'll let myself out. Bye."

"Bye, baby."

She opened the front door and was outside before she realized he'd called her a pet name. When she sat down in the driver seat of her car, she thought about that. She had no idea how this crazy relationship was going to work, especially with their responsibilities to PHOENIX in the mix.

But if last night's loving is what I can expect on a regular basis, we'll just have to make it work.

Smiling to herself, she started the engine and drove away.

CHAPTER 8

John could hear himself talking to his sophomore World Civilizations class about Genghis Khan, but his focus lay elsewhere. Usually the annals of ancient history fascinated him, because he had a true passion for passing on knowledge of the past to his students. But today...all he could think about was Tatiana. How responsive she'd been--the sweetness of her kiss, the softness of her skin.

He glanced at the clock on the back wall of the classroom.
Still 20 minutes to go.

One of his female students had her hand raised. His memories had him so distracted, he had no clue how long she'd had it up.

"Yes, Miss Stuart?"

"Are you okay, Professor Groves?" Her young face bore an expression of concern.

He sighed. "I'm feeling a little out of sorts," he admitted. Giving up, he sat down on the edge of the desk and announced, "Class dismissed until Wednesday."

As his students filed out of the classroom, he turned around to gather his papers and grade book. Placing his belongings in his brown leather suitcase, he left the room, turning off the lights as he exited.

A quick elevator ride took him from the basement lecture hall to his office on the second floor. Once inside, he took his brown sport jacket off, loosened the beige tie around his neck, and sat down. It had been a long time since he'd dismissed his students early from a class, and the last time was only due to a physical illness. Never before had a woman distracted him from his job the way Tatiana did.

He tilted back in the chair, gazed out the window at the sunny fall day outside. Beneath the blue sky filled with fat, puffy clouds, the orange, gold and red leaves of oak and maple trees were all around; some swaying in the breeze from their branches, others fallen and swept about by the wind and the constant foot traffic of passing students and faculty.

Watching an orange, five pointed leaf swirl wildly by the window, carried by an errant gust of air, he realized he felt just that way: lifted up and carried away by the feelings Tatiana stirred in him. For a man who relished being in control of his own life, the feeling was altogether frustrating.

Grateful that World Civilizations was his only morning class, he blew out a breath. He had to get off campus for a while, just to get himself together. His afternoon schedule was crowded, with classes back to back from one until four, so he needed to be ready to teach by the time lunch ended. Tucking his briefcase into the bottom drawer of his desk, he stood, and resolved to get out of Dodge.

And he knew just where he would go.

A short drive from campus through midday downtown traffic took him to one of the parking garages downtown. The Capital city offered many choices in restaurants and eateries, but it had only been about two hours since breakfast; he wasn’t hungry yet.

Joining the throng of pedestrians on the sidewalk, he strolled down Wilmington Street, to Edenton Street until he arrived at his destination: the museum of history.

The museum had been a favorite hangout of his since it had opened back in 1988. He'd been a boy of eleven then, worrying his parents every weekend to bring him there. He could wander the various halls and collections for hours, taking in every detail, from war regalia to sports memorabilia. The recent thefts bothered him, not only because someone was robbing the state archives of such important items, but because they interfered with the museum's mission of sharing knowledge about the rich past of North Carolina with the public. As a historian and educator himself, he couldn't abide that.

On the steps of the museum, he passed the famous statue of nineteenth century cabinetmaker Thomas Day. Something green, lying near the statue's feet, caught his attention. He halted his steps.

What's that?

He stooped down to investigate it.

It was a crumpled scrap of paper. He felt the need to examine it, and when he picked it up, there was a cryptic message written on it.

Tempest,

Bring M. Lemon and V. Dare to 34.223232-77.912122 P.O.W., GCT/CSX 10-31.

-The Merchant

“Hot Damn!” he said aloud, to the chagrin of an elderly woman walking past him up the steps. “Sorry,” he murmured, tucking the piece of paper into his pocket. He'd come to the museum to take a break from one job, and found something that would prove pivotal at his other.

Lieutenant Bossy isn't gonna believe this.

Smiling a broad, satisfied smile, he continued up the steps and into the museum's front entrance.

**

Tatiana couldn't help smiling as she waited in the conference room of PHOENIX headquarters for John to arrive. When he'd called her earlier today to tell her about the important clue he'd found, she'd called an emergency meeting of her team. Marcelo and Junjie were already there, and looked just as curious as she was to see what John had discovered.

She stood, arms folded, leaning in the door frame. Her eyes were fixed on the main entrance down the hall. She wanted to be there, to see John's handsome face when he walked in. It had been a few days since their night of lovemaking, and she found herself filled with anticipation to see him, even though it was work related. She straightened the hem of the black wraparound dress she'd worn to the salon, and brushed a wayward hair out of her face. Even as she did those things, she mused that she couldn't remember ever having a man affect her in such a way.

Finally, the door emitted the sounds that meant a scan was being performed. Then it swung open, and there he was. John lumbered into the building on a gust of cool air, the dark trench coat belted tight around his waist. His fedora was sitting low on his brow; once the door closed behind him, he removed the hat and held it in front of him.

His eyes fixed on her. “Good evening, Lieutenant,” he drawled in a voice that appealed to her like dark chocolate and aged wine.

The sound of him speaking to her set off a fierce ache in her body. “Good evening, yourself,” she managed to mumble. She wanted to run to him, but feared appearing too clingy. So she waited where she stood, willing him to come to her.

His gaze locked on hers as he closed the distance between them. Pulling her into his arms, he placed his hat atop her head. “Baby, I think I just blew this case wide open.”

A smile lifted the corners of her mouth, and she stood on the tips of her toes, whispering in his ear. “That's not the only thing you've blown open lately.”

He looked pleased, and rewarded her with a kiss that made the fire burn hot, sweet and slow inside her. The haze of desire filled her, surrounded her, and threatened to consume her. When he pulled away, she tried to hide her disappointment.

“Uh, guys?” A tentative voice caught her attention.

She turned to see Junjie standing there, giving them an interested look.

John chuckled, and held up his hand. “I know what you're going to say. We're coming in.”

Junjie nodded. “Just checking. I wanna see what this amazing clue is.”

John gave her one last speaking look, then followed his friend into the conference room.

She hesitated outside the door for a moment, and let the smoldering fade away a bit. For a moment, she'd forgotten they were at work, not in her boudoir. It took a formidable man to distract her that way, and it looked like John Groves just might be too much for her.

Composing herself, she strode in. John had already laid a piece of paper out on the table, and her three male team members were huddled around it, so she assumed this must be the clue he referred to. “So, what's the story?” She pulled up a chair at the end of the table and leaned in for a look.

“I went to the museum today on a break between classes,” John began. “I wasn't there about the case, it's just something I do now and then. Anyway, I was going up the front steps when I saw this lying near the base of one of the statues.”

She nodded her understanding.

Junjie pointed at the paper. “It's definitely a coded message. I have some experience in code breaking, so I've been looking over it for basic information.” He reached into the large hip pocket of his black cargo pants and pulled out a small magnifying glass.