Yours for the Night (13 page)

His smile told her before he even spoke. “Finish what we started in there, for one,” he said, leaning down to kiss her ear lightly, the slight touch setting quick little fires inside of her.

“I think we can do that,” she said breathlessly, his response making her very thankful indeed as they hurried to her car and drove back to his room to do just that.

* * *

“T
HIS
IS
INCREDIBLE
,”
Garrett said as they drove slowly along the bumpy, winding road that traveled along the rural edge of the Point Reyes National Seashore. “I can’t believe there are cattle ranches here. Cows, right by the ocean,” he said, grinning like a kid at a peaceful, pretty Holstein that watched them drive by. Tall grass leaned with the coastal breeze all the way to the edge of the water, and they’d only seen three other cars.

Tiffany laughed. “That’s the third time you’ve said that,” she said.

He smiled at her, liking the way she’d wrapped a colorful scarf over her hair as he’d traded in the SUV and rented a convertible for the drive up the coast. It seemed like the thing to do in California, driving along the ocean.

“You look like Grace Kelly in
To Catch a Thief,
with that scarf and the sunglasses,” he said. “Very sexy.”

“‘I’ve never caught a jewel thief before. It’s stimulating. It’s like…well, it’s like…’” she quoted from the movie.

“‘Like sitting in a hot tub?’” he filled in, completing the quote.

“Seems oddly appropriate, don’t you think?” she asked with a smile. “I love that movie.”

“Me, too.”

“We should rent it and watch it before you leave.”

“Sounds good,” he agreed.

Garrett loved old movies, but that one was a particular favorite. He enjoyed that Tiffany knew it well enough to quote from. He’d never met a woman who shared that particular pleasure with him. Not even Lainey. Old movies had either put her to sleep or made her fidget restlessly through the entire show.

“So how did all of these ranches end up here?” he asked, still fascinated by the seemingly endless expanse of grazing land that went on for miles, the Pacific visible on the other side. There was a house or a drive every here and there, the ranches all named alphabetically: “the D ranch” or “the H ranch.”

They’d driven up beautiful highways lined with redwoods the way the east coast highways were lined with maples and pines, but these seemed so much more exotic. After walking along one windy beach, they’d had lunch in the small town of Point Reyes Station. The cook at the only bar/pizza joint in the small town had snipped the herbs from gardens that surrounded a patio where they sat in the sun. It was some of the best pizza Garrett had ever had. Maybe that was because he was hungry from the coastal air. Or maybe being with Tiffany stimulated all of his appetites.

“This area is generally known as the pastoral zone. I always mean to come here more often, but then never get the chance,” she said.

“It’s a bit of a drive.”

“But worth it. I love getting out of the city, closer to nature. Early settlers came to the area, mainly through the gold rush, I think, and discovered the area was very suited to raising dairy cows. There were several disputes and the land changed hands over decades, but it’s part of the National Parks Service now as historic landscape, though obviously the ranches are still active. I think they even give tours of some of the ranches. We could look into that, if you want,” she offered.

“Nah, that’s okay. I just like driving by, though I would like to learn more about how they got here. It’s just gorgeous. East coast beaches are beautiful in a different way—with sprawling dunes and long, sandy stretches. And we have dairy farms, obviously, but this is really something to see.”

“There’s a ranger station where we can probably get more information,” she said as they drove to the parking lot at the headlands. “It’s a short walk, but then we have to scale over three-hundred steps down to the lighthouse. Are you up for it?”

“Totally. Can work off that pizza,” he said with a grin.

“I think we’re good in the exercise department,” she said with a wink, making him laugh as they got out of the car.

Garrett took in the rugged landscape and clear sky as they walked to the visitor’s center.

“We’re lucky it’s clear and not too windy today. The last time I came up here, the fog was so thick you couldn’t even see the parking lot. They closed down and turned everyone away.”

“I guess that would indicate why the lighthouse is so important, with all of these rocks and cliffs, too,” Garrett said.

They poked around the visitors’ center for a while, looking at displays and talking to the rangers on duty, and then headed off for their walk to the lighthouse.

Smiling red-faced tourists passed them and heaved heavy breaths on their way back up the hundreds of steps as Garrett and Tiffany went down. The straight slope of steps allowing them to get down the rock face toward the water and the lighthouse wasn’t very wide, and it was a little intimidating from the top. Though the steps were as walkable as possible, this wasn’t the place to take a tumble, Garrett thought, keeping Tiffany’s hand securely in his.

Down at the bottom, his legs felt like jelly, though he wasn’t going to admit it. Tiffany’s scarf had come off in the car; her hair whipped around her face in the wind. She looked as wild and untamed as the landscape around them. He clicked a picture of her staring out over the fence toward the water when she wasn’t looking, and then admired the lovely, candid photo. It would be a treasured keepsake for the future, he thought, when they parted ways.

“Look!” she said, pointing enthusiastically to where a few deer sat in the grass, munching peacefully, and a falcon flew overhead.

The rock formations alone caught Garrett’s attention, and he took several pictures with his phone, sending them off to his family with a click of a few buttons. His brothers had harassed him for weeks to go, and had made bets that he probably wouldn’t do much sight-seeing once he was here, but would probably hole up in his room and work.

If only they knew what he was doing in his hotel room, they’d see how wrong they were. But this was proof that he was actually out and enjoying the sights.

Seconds later, his phone buzzed with the alert for an incoming text message.

Who’s the hottie?
his brother Ely asked with an emoticon representing an evil grin.

Garrett rolled his eyes and realized he had sent the picture of Tiffany along with the more scenic ones.

Whoops.

Just another tourist,
he replied, not wanting to get into a discussion about Tiffany via text.

Yeah, right.
Another evil grin.
Hope you’re having a good time with the redhead, and if you’re not, go ask her out. Now.

Garrett flipped his phone shut, not about to encourage his brother’s antics.

“What’s funny?” Tiffany asked him, and he realized he’d been smiling.

“Nothing, just my brother. I sent him a few pictures to prove I’d gotten out of my hotel room,” he said. “He was being a goof.”

“Which one?”

“Ely.”

“The Marine.”

“Yeah,” Garrett said, slinging his arm around her as they moved toward the area near the lighthouse and stared out at sea. A few other people who had been milling around started back up the steps, and others gathered for a short tour that was guided by a ranger.

Garrett didn’t really want to join the group; he was content here with Tiffany. As the other folks moved out of sight, following the ranger as he took them on the tour, Garrett turned her to him and enjoyed her mouth under his for several long, delicious moments.

“You keep that up and my knees will be spaghetti—I won’t be able to walk back up the stairs,” she said, her hands fisted into his jacket. He found that incredibly sexy. Of course, he found just about everything about Tiffany sexy.

“Maybe we should wait until we get back to the car then, and go explore one of those deserted beach roads we saw on our way here,” he suggested against her ear, and felt her shiver against him.

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed.

They walked around a little more, hand-in-hand, though Garrett didn’t pay as much attention to the scenery as he did to the woman who was with him.

Making their way back up the steps took some effort, but he was fueled by his motivation to get Tiffany alone for a while. Had he ever been this hungry for a woman?

Back in the car, they wound their way down to Drake’s Beach, a low-lying beach beyond the ranch lands. A flat stretch of sand that extended beyond the parking lot met pounding surf, and one side of the lot was protected by the towering cliffs of the headlands. On the other side, docks and some bath houses were empty except for a few surfers out on the water. Garrett pulled the car over to the edge of the lot by the sandy cliffs and faced Tiffany.

“It’s been a while since I made out in a car. A long while,” he added with a slanted grin.

She smiled in the sexiest way, and leaned in close. “And I bet you didn’t do half the things then that we can do now,” she said.

Anything else was eclipsed in the hot kiss she laid on him, and Garrett didn’t care what he did to his back in the cramped confines of the convertible, he was having her here one way or the other. The fog was falling around the beach, and the waves crashed the shore. Her sighs became moans as he pressed his hands against her breasts, and returned her kiss with equal fervor.

He took a breath, signaling to her to hold on for a second as he tested how far back his seat would go—far enough.

“Come here,” he said, beckoning her to cover him.

Her cheeks were flushed with wind and arousal, and she didn’t take her eyes off of his as she levered over him and pushed up his shirt, loosening his belt.

“You are so beautiful,” he said, watching as she released his erection, and drew her hand over him a few times, making him groan with need.

“You really need to get out of those jeans,” he said raggedly.

“You’re bossy,” she said with a grin. “Maybe I’m in charge this time.”

Garrett’s eyebrows flew up at her saucy tone, and it made him even harder when he saw what she had in mind.

Stripping her shirt off—she wore nothing underneath—she covered her own breasts for him to watch, before lowering down and not breaking eye contact as she took him into her mouth.

Garrett’s entire body went taut as she dragged her nails along his thigh, the wet heat of her mouth encompassing him over and over as he looked up at the gray sky.

His mind glazed over with intense pleasure as she worked him, breaking the intimate kiss to let him know how good he tasted, how much she loved doing this for him. He found her breast with his hand, squeezing and fondling her, pulling at her nipples until she mewled against him, as turned on as he was.

“Tiffany, please,” he huffed, at the edge of his control. “Join me, honey.”

She looked up at him, lips rosy, gaze hot. “I think I’m good right here. Just don’t stop touching me,” she said, and lowered over him again, sucking even harder, taking him deeper. He worked her breasts as she did, feeling her shudder over him and gasp. That did it. He bucked up against her as a blissful climax gripped him and didn’t let go for several long minutes.

She sat up, and he did too, readjusting himself as she put her shirt on and snuggled up against him as they looked out over the water.

They didn’t say anything. What was there to say? No words would do justice to what they’d shared. The beach was deserted now, even the surfers coming in and leaving as more fog poured in over the water.

“We should get back,” she said softly.

Garrett nodded as they parted with one more kiss and buckled up their belts.

On the way back, she nodded off as he drove, snoring just a little, lashes softly swept against her cheek. Garrett smiled, overwhelming tenderness suffusing him as he snuck a glance over at her.

It was just a fling, he reminded himself.

But it was starting to feel like so much more.

9

T
IFFANY
OPENED
HER
eyes to the sight of a pale concrete wall staring back at her through the windshield.

The back of her building,
she recognized sleepily, still waking up. All of the fresh air and exercise had lulled her into a deep nap.

“We’re back,” Garrett said, and she turned to see him smiling at her in the sweetest way.

“Oh, my God,” she said. “I can’t believe I just passed out like that.”

She was afraid to check her appearance in the mirror and see what she looked like after being windswept, and then mussed by Garrett’s hands. Not to mention having had her head propped on the window for most of the drive back. Pulling the visor down, the mirror confirmed her worst imaginings. Flat on one side, crazy tangled on the other.

“I’m a mess,” she said, fussing with her hair and trying to make it at least somewhat normal again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, completely serious. And ran his hand over her hair to stop her from fussing, drawing her in close for a kiss. “Let me wake you up.”

“I’ll be fine,” she said, smiling as she remembered how passionately he’d responded to her back at the beach. She licked her lips a little, remembering his taste.

“You turn me inside out when you do that,” he said with a similar heated look. He got out of the car and crossed to her side, opening her door.

“You’re such a gentleman.”

“Sometimes,” he said, his eyes lingering on her lips in a non-gentlemanly way.

They barely made it up the stairs of her older, elevatorless apartment building, stopping on every floor for kisses that became progressively hotter.

By the time they got into the apartment, she didn’t care about her hair or anything else. Clothes flew all over the living room as they made their way to the shower, and she turned the hot water on, letting it pour over them both.

Garrett grabbed the shampoo on the shelf at the back of the counter and soaped up his hands. Standing behind her, he buried his fingers in her hair, washing each strand with such decadent thoroughness that Tiffany sighed. She leaned against him as he soaped up again and ran his hands over the rest of her.

When his hands moved down to the apex of her thighs, she opened for him—he had to wash everywhere, right?—and let him soap her into a frothy orgasm that made her want to scream.

Then it was her turn, and she grabbed the soap, taking charge. Maybe that was the new theme in her life—she was taking charge. No more sitting back and waiting for things to happen. She made them happen.

Garrett seemed to pick up on her mood, and didn’t mind one bit as she returned the favor, washing him completely with her hands, letting her fingers travel over him in intimate exploration until he was trembling under her touch.

When he tried to take control again, she planted a hand on his chest, stopping him as the water rinsed them clean. Hitting the stopper with her toe, she grinned. This shower had just become a bath.

“Sit,” she commanded, and watched him lower carefully into the accumulating water.

Standing over him, she took him in, her gaze lingering on the thick erection that beckoned her.

“You going to join me?” he asked, his eyes hot.

“Oh, yes,” she whispered, lowering to his lap where she could wrap her legs around his back, taking him inside. They both groaned as the hot water swirled around them and she planted her hands on his shoulders, finding a rhythm that drove them both to shuddering satisfaction before the water got too deep.

She reached blindly behind him, shutting off the water and then relaxing with her forehead against his.

“I can’t seem to get enough of this. What must you think of me?” she asked lightly, but truly, she had never been as sexually driven to be with any other man she’d known. Never like this.

“I think I feel exactly the same way,” he said, claiming her lips in a kiss that made her willing to let him be in charge again for as long as he wanted to be.

But a shiver worked over her as the hot water drained, and she pulled away.

“Dinner? We can order out. Then you can help me make pies for tomorrow.”

“Is that some euphemism for more sex?” he asked with hopeful eyes.

“No, I mean making pies—for dinner at my parents’ house.”

“Ah, I thought that’s what you might mean,” he said ruefully, making her laugh.

As they dried off, Tiffany became more thoughtful. This day had been perfect. No crimes, no worries about when it would be over—but those things lurked just past the glow of perfection she’d enjoyed for the last few hours.

The store was still closed, her parents under threat of losing it. Garrett was still here only for a few weeks and would go home and this would all be over.

So, she would enjoy it while she could. Her new, take-charge self didn’t mope.

“Nick came by to do some laundry last week, and left a few things I put in with my clothes. There are some clean shirts of his on the dryer, if you want,” she offered.

His smile melted her from the inside out.

“Thanks. I’ll go see. He won’t mind?”

“He does his laundry here for free. He has no say in the matter,” she said, laughing.

Tiffany padded into her own room to find some clean underwear and clothes, settling on some sexy lingerie under a pair of jean shorts and a tank—it would be hot in the kitchen if they were baking, after all.

She spotted Garrett’s cell phone on the floor where it had likely been thrown in their crazy hurry to get naked. She picked the cell up for him, noting the message that had just come in a few minutes ago from some guy named Daniel, the “re” saying the message referred to the jewel thefts.

Frowning, and hearing Garrett in the kitchen, she hit the enter button to see the full text.

Gar, tried to call, no answer. Off to Shanghai tonight. Did pick up some buzz on thefts… Chk out a fence, Freddie, who runs a billiards hall in the Tenderloin. What kind of name for a neighborhood is that? Never got it. Anyway, good luck with it. D

Tiffany stared at the message, and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Garrett was looking into the thefts, obviously using connections to get leads he was not about to share with her.

Quietly furious, she knew exactly what she was going to do and hit Delete on the message, setting the phone on the dresser before she changed from her shorts into jeans and grabbed a jacket from the chair. Hesitating for a moment, she opened another drawer and took out her gun, slipping it inside her coat. She was only intending to go and see what she could see—she wasn’t about to confront anyone or do anything foolish.

Garrett helping her with Marcus Hooper was one thing, but trying to steal her investigation out from under her was a whole other issue.

Halfway through the living room, Garrett stopped her.

“Hey, where are you going?”

She smiled, facing him and hoping the seething anger she felt inside didn’t show.

“I forgot Dad loves peach pie—and I only bought apples. I have pumpkin, but I really can’t show up tomorrow without peach pie,” she said with a laugh.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, grabbing his jacket from the sofa where it had been tossed on the way in the door.

“No, really, the market is right down the street—I’ll have to hurry to catch them before they close, but I’ll be back in just a few. Why don’t you start peeling the apples? Don’t forget to put them in some lemon water so they don’t turn brown,” she said, even crossing the room to give him a quick, happy kiss.

He smiled. “Okay, sure.”

She turned, smiling. That would teach him to try to investigate her case behind her back.

G
ARRETT
DIDN
’
T
FEEL
right letting Tiffany go without him, and he was sure it had been a mistake a half hour later when she wasn’t back yet.

He went to the bedroom and found his phone, intending to call her, when he noticed a new message on the screen.

At first he thought it might be Tiffany, but it was from Daniel. The message was short, a one-liner:

One more thing, this guy is dangerous… Go prepared. D

Garrett stared at the mysterious message, which seemed like either a partial message that hadn’t come through, or an afterthought.

Clicking through his texts to see what he’d missed, he noted a message in his trash—Garrett never left files in his trash folder. If he wanted them gone, he deleted them entirely.

Opening it, he found another message from Daniel, and read it, noting the time—and realizing with increased agitation what had happened.

Tiffany had seen his phone, and Daniel’s first message, then she had deleted it and was probably off searching the Tenderloin—one of San Francisco’s tougher neighborhoods—on her own.

It explained the weird vibe she was giving off before she left.

Peach pie his ass. How could she head out into something like this alone?

Out on the sidewalk, he hailed a cab and asked for directions to the Tenderloin District.

“Anywhere you want in particular?” the cabbie asked.

“Looking for a pool hall run by a guy named Freddie?”

The cabbie shook his head. “Lotsa bars, pool places down there. You got a name of the place?”

“No, just drop me off in the area, and I’ll find it.”

The man looked at him speculatively, as if wondering about the wisdom of dropping him off in the district at night, but Garrett didn’t want to waste time.

“Go.”

“You must really need to play some pool,” the cabbie said, and headed off.

It didn’t take long, and when the cabbie dropped him off in the busy neighborhood past the theater district, Garrett was more frustrated than anything. She could be anywhere, out here, alone at night. Dialing her number, she didn’t answer. Not that he expected her to.

What the hell had gotten into her?

Garrett started scanning the streets. Homeless people gathered, some approaching, along with some more dangerous-looking guys, but they sized him up and seemed to pick up the vibe that told them he’d be more trouble than they counted on.

Walking into a bar that advertised billiards on the front sign, he signaled the bartender and ordered a beer. When the guy delivered it, Garrett asked, “I’m looking for a guy named Freddie. You know him? Runs a pool place down here.”

“Lotsa places like that down here, sorry,” the bartender said, taking his money and turning away.

Garrett could only hope Tiffany had similar bad luck.

He had to find her.

Then it hit him—he had a tracking application on his own phone—a slick mobile spy app—that an FBI friend had turned him on to. It was promoted to families as a way to keep track of children and family members—or cheating spouses—but was easily used for more nefarious purposes, he thought.

When he and Tiffany had been using her phone for navigation earlier in the day, he had told her about it, and saw her upload the app from an online market as they spoke—no doubt for her private investigation aspirations. If he could link into it, maybe he could access the app and find her location on his phone.

His beer completely ignored, he opened the application on his own phone, sending a text to hers that should activate the tracker, asking for her coordinates. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice or shut him down. In what seemed to take forever, finally a little red light appeared on the map of the street about two blocks over from where he was right now.

“Gotcha,” he said and bolted out the door.

Two streets over, things got a little darker and a little rougher. Garrett kept a sharp eye out for Tiffany as he followed the tiny red dot. He was getting closer, noting that she’d stopped and had been stationary for several minutes.

Had she found Freddie?

Toward that end of the street, there weren’t any pool halls, and Garrett had a bad feeling.

He was almost right next to her, and looked around, unable to see her amid the passersby and groups of less than desirable people gathered on the dark edges of the street. A young guy in a hoodie approached him, and Garrett became very alert.

“Hey, you lookin’ for something to be thankful for?” the kid—no more than seventeen—asked. He opened his jacket to show off an array of drug paraphernalia.

“No, thanks.”

“Maybe a lady to share the holiday with?” he suggested, and Garrett rolled his eyes until he noticed a group of women—working girls, across the street.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” the young man said approvingly. “You pick the one—or how many you like—and I’ll tell you how much for a very happy Thanksgiving,” the kid joked.

Garrett didn’t believe his eyes when a slim redhead slid out from the throng of working girls, giving one of them some money and…a hug? Tiffany.

“You ready to make a deal?” the kid pushed.

Garrett was already halfway across the road when she saw him.

She clearly wasn’t happy to see him, but waited, since she knew she wouldn’t avoid him now.

“What are you doing?” he asked, breathless with relief to have found her.

“I told you. I was out looking for peaches,” she said belligerently.

“Is that her name?” he asked, nodding back toward the hooker he’d seen her with.

“No, her name is Belle. She’s very nice.”

“Don’t tell me, you were sharing recipes?”

“Something like that,” she said, turning away. He caught up, walking beside her. She stopped again, facing him.

“Leave me alone, Garrett. How did you find me, anyway?” she asked, and then paused, shaking her head. “The tracking app.”

“Works both ways.”

“Good to know you don’t mind hacking my phone. I’ll be sure to remove that when I get home.”

“Just as good to know you don’t mind reading my messages, and deleting them,” he countered.

She halted her step, caught.

“How’d you find that?”

“Daniel sent me a follow-up that made no sense, so I looked in my trash, and there it was. You know, your private investigation skills shouldn’t involve snooping on the cell phones of people you know unless it’s for a damned good reason,” he said angrily.