Smoke and Mirrors (18 page)

She hadn't even heard him approach.

"What's the matter, fearless?" He moved stealthily across the carpet. "Cat got your tongue?"

She opened her mouth to speak, no words came out. No taunts, no denials, no excuses. She'd been reckless to slip up here without Gray to cover her. Even a rookie knew the folly of that, the danger of being caught red-handed.

She'd known it, too.

Perhaps that's why she'd been unable to stay away.

Derek stopped inches from where she remained crouched on the floor. He towered over her, his long legs shoulder width apart, hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. His smoky-blue eyes simmered. "I warned you to leave before it was too late."

Somehow she managed to swallow. And breathe. Force words through her burning throat.

"It's already too late, Dare—we both know that."

* * *

He stared at her wide amber eyes, her tempting scarlet lips. She looked like a Greek goddess, poised for battle, eager for surrender. And he was more than ready to claim her.

But she was in his office. In the middle of night. When she obviously thought he had gone. That one fact doused the fire sizzling through him, at least temporarily. The sight of her on the security monitors, sneaking down the hall toward his office, had turned his blood to ice. The implications were heinous, didn't bear thinking. But he was a cautious man, in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. Not following up on his suspicion could only lead one place, a place he didn't want to go.

He'd learned that the hard way.

Cass shifted, sliding her long legs out from under her and curling them toward her side. The straight skirt slid farther up her thighs.

Derek suppressed a savage groan, then freed his hands from his pockets and rested them on his hips. The fierce stance had intimidated many a woman, many a man, but Cass merely gazed up at him with wide, beckoning eyes.

"That smile won't work this time, doll." He did a quick survey of his office, looking for anything out of place, finding nothing. "This room is off-limits. You know that."

She glanced down at the rug, back up at him. Then she held out her hand, where a ruby teardrop rested in her palm. "I lost an earring," she answered haltingly. "They're special to me, and—"

"And finding it couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

Her fingers closed back around the mateless earring. "There was no one here. I didn't think you would mind."

"I see." A blind man could have seen through her story. "Having a passkey does not give you permission to access my office as you please and disarm my security system." He stepped closer, closed his hands around her upper arms and pulled her to her feet. She tilted her head to look at him, and when she did, the combination of fear and defiance in her eyes twisted his gut. "You don't expect me to buy that, do you?"

She didn't bat a lash. "Buy what?"

"Breaking and entering, hotel employee or not, is still a crime." He pulled her closer. "I gave you every chance I could, but you just don't listen. You know what happens now, don't you?"

Eyes wide, lips parted, braid draped over her shoulder, she nodded. Slowly. Provocatively.

Derek slid one hand along her shoulder, to the neckline of her crimson jacket. There, he lingered, traced her collarbone. "The truth, Cass. That's all I've ever wanted from you."

"All?"

"Everything." Inevitability burned through him. He'd tried. God, he'd tried. But the writing was on the wall, and rather than erase it, he could only heed it.

His fingers slid lower, to one of the ornamental buttons. A quick flick had it slipping through its restraint, baring the creamy skin of Cass's chest.

"You're a smart lady. We both know no one enters my office without my knowledge." He glanced toward the surveillance camera in the far corner of the room. "You had to know I would find you. Is that what you really wanted?"

Her eyes widened, revealing a flicker of uncertainty. Then it faded, replaced by languid fire. Licking her lips, she mouthed, "Yes."

More a rush of air than a word, but Derek's body responded, tightening, a warrior priming for the kill.

He was doing it again, he realized in some dimly lit corner of his brain. He was dragging someone down into his world. But staying away from Cass was no longer an option. He pulled her against his body, savoring the feel of her softness molding against his hardness. Their mouths met in a frenzied union, no time wasted for tender hellos, only the desperation of a reunion long denied. Their lips parted, giving way to searching tongues.

The mating of their mouths unleashed the full torrent of his need. He tore at the remaining buttons of her jacket, ruining the second of the night.

He couldn't have cared less.

His hands, followed by his mouth, sought out her breasts.

A black lace bra. There one second, gone the next. Two puckered nipples. Lonely one moment, adored the next. One with his fingertips. The other with his mouth.

Cass moaned and writhed in his arms. Head thrown back, body arched tight as a bow, her own hands fumbled with the fly of his jeans. It was happening too fast, too frantically. But as her fingers closed around his painfully hard shaft and began caressing its length, Derek knew they'd passed the point of no return. "Cass…"

Dazed amber eyes met his. "You," she breathed. "I was looking for you. That's all I want."

Her words wrapped around his heart. "You don't deserve—"

"This isn't about deserving." She returned her mouth to his. "This is about wanting … feeling."

And too strong for him to refuse. She looked so intoxicating standing there, nude from the waist up, breasts inviting him home. He was only a man, with a man's needs, a man's desires.

"I'll make you feel," he promised, reaching around and unfastening the back of her skirt. With guidance, it slid down and pooled at her feet, revealing two long legs and a pair of skimpy black panties, all encased by silk hose.

But not for long. Like a peasant paying homage, he dropped to his knees and slid the restrictions from her shapely legs, freeing first one, then the other. All that remained between them was the black lace of her panties.

"I'll make you feel," he vowed again. Kneeling, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his face to her hot skin.

She was trembling. His brave, fiery Cass was trembling. He dipped lower, took the black lace between his teeth,
continued
the journey to the floor, urging her panties down with him, until she stood before him, naked and beautiful.

And trembling.

"Now," was all he said, all he needed to
say.
He lapped at the core of her femininity, kissing her in the most intimate way possible, tasting and loving. On a moan, she sank to her knees, fluidly rolling with him so that he lay sprawled above her.

"It's time to forget, Cass. Let me make you forget."

She answered not with words, but hands. They closed around him and guided him toward her slippery opening.

"Make me forget, Derek. Make me forget."

He wanted to draw it out longer than this. He wanted champagne and silk. He wanted them both gloriously naked, not half dressed on the floor, pawing at each other like rutting animals. But when her legs fell open and her body ushered him home, he forgot about wanting, and could think only of need. Basic, primal need. He pushed inside her.

"De
-rek,"
she gasped. She was small and tight, almost virginal, not at all like a woman who'd given birth. Of course, that had been many years ago, another lifetime. In this lifetime the upward tilt of her hips welcomed him, urged him deeply inside. She shoved her hand through his unbound hair, dug the fingers of her other hand into his back. She was claiming him, consuming him, sucking him into her world.

No longer did he know who was taking whom, who was making whom forget. He was only aware of Cass, the way her body sheathed his, the driving need that had him pumping into her as though their very lives depended upon it.

Because in a terribly real way, they did.

For Cass the feelings came so fast and furiously she could only savor. Heat and greed, need, regret. Salvation.

Two measly weeks before, that would have stopped her cold. And had her laughing out loud. Salvation in a criminal's arms. What a farce. But it wasn't a farce, because deep in her heart Cass didn't believe Derek Mansfield a criminal. He was a man. A fiercely gentle, savagely possessive, violently loyal man.

And for that one perfect moment in time, he was hers. When tomorrow came—

Her body shuddered and jerked as they both tumbled over the jagged edge of release. Her legs closed around his, clenching him as tightly to her as she could.

When tomorrow came…

The thought didn't merit finishing.

Too often, tomorrow never did.

Chapter 10

«
^
»

S
he stood facing him, alone but for the eyes of God. Her whole life flashed before her, the triumphs,
the
tragedy. Her wedding to Randy. Jake's birth. The funeral. She'd loved them with all her heart but hadn't been able to keep them safe. They'd paid for her sins, her decision,
her
loyalty to the badge.

She'd paid, too, the most devastating price imaginable.

Now someone else's life rested in her hands.

She'd heard salvation took on the most unexpected, unrecognizable of faces, but she'd never imagined this.

Mansfield
stood before her, the beautiful day dancing behind him, an azure sky and glistening lake, sailboats. His fathomless eyes were concentrated solely on her. She'd thought them go-to-hell, but she'd never expected them to send her there as well.

And she'd never expected hell to be rooted in heaven. Impossible not to look at him and feel the promise of life flood her. He had that way about
him,
of making her feel she was the only woman in the world. Yet when she moved beyond the hard eyes and grim mouth, beyond the long hair and flamboyant earring, when she moved beyond all that, she found more. Depth and intensity. Salvation and redemption. Eternity. And longing.

She damn well might be the only woman, the only one in this whole world, who could save him, not just from the law, but from himself. "Derek…"

His hard eyes softened. "I'm here, honey."

"Derek…"

"Shh." He cupped her cheek in the palm of his hand. "You're not alone anymore."

The timbre of his voice soothed as much as his caress. But another hand touched her body. It fell firmly against her shoulder, urged her back from Derek.

"It's time, Cass,"
came
Gray's somber voice. "Time to choose."

The splendor of the sun-drenched afternoon gave way to a fierce wind.

"No," she cried. "I can't do
it
—don't make me do it."

"You have to," Gray urged, pulling back.

The years of loyalty and trust between them told Cass she should go with Gray. But one night of passion held her rooted in place. Her gaze locked in a painful communion with Derek's. Confusion loitered there, the dawning of betrayal. "No-o-o-o."

"Cass…"

"Doll…"

"It's time to choose," Gray warned.

"I'll make you forget," Derek promised.

The tug-of-war stretched her to the breaking point.

"Cass," Gray said, "you have a job to do. Do it."

"Doll," Derek rasped, "you have a life to live. Live it."

They were ripping apart the carefully reconstructed threads of her life. "I can't do this," she screamed at them both. At herself. "I can't do this again! I won't. I—"

"Cass." His voice rang loud and true, the sanctuary she'd been seeking. Another hand joined the first, gently shaking her. "Cass, doll, it's me. I'm here."

"No-o-o-o."

"Cass," he said again, sternly this time. "Wake up." Heat and safety, harbor. His arms encircled her, pressing her trembling body against the warmth of his chest.

It all came tumbling back, every glorious, damning detail.

She went to him, willingly, holding him as tightly as he held her.

"Cass." He tilted her chin toward his. "You okay?"

She looked at the concern in his eyes and wished she could say yes. That she could lose herself in his arms, that the truth wasn't hot on her heels. The dominoes were tumbling faster, racing toward the end. Everything would
lay
in ruins then, all the carefully prepared dominoes, all the compassion Derek had offered, the dreams he'd stoked.

Her life. His.

Yet the chief would be happy, and she would have done her job.

She wasn't okay. She wasn't sure she ever would be again. But she nodded, because she could do nothing else.

Dry humor tilted his lips. "Care to tell me about it?"

The wee hours of the morning came back to her, the urgency and need, the passion. Heaven and hell neatly combined and gift wrapped to boot. "It's not important," she hedged, surprised by the hoarseness of her own voice.