Mac's Angels Page 10

  “You don’t believe him?”

  “It isn’t that. It’s just that I’m sure Bart told him about the piece of marble we found in that hidden room.”

  Conner stopped his assault on her face and listened. “You mean the elbow we found?”

  “That’s the one. Bart said that the professor kept it. At least I thought he did. Of Course, I could be wrong. I did have something else on my mind.”

  “Something like this?”

  The memory of past kisses made this one even more potent. Her response destroyed the tiny thread of control Conner had left. Without relinquishing his lips, Erica twisted around so that she was lying across him, giving him complete access to her neck.

  But that wasn’t enough. He wanted all of her, wanted to feel her purring beneath him, to plunge inside of her. She might want no part of him in her life, but, by God, she still wanted his body. He glanced up at the closed window in frustration. Taking Erica here, in the back of the limo, was not what he wanted.

  He felt Erica’s finger run down his cheek and across his chin, drawing his attention to her face. And then he saw it, the sweet smile of regret. It wasn’t just lust between them; it couldn’t be. Yet it couldn’t be anything else.

  Once more he leaned down and brushed her lips, then arranged his body so that he could continue to hold her. They didn’t speak; he was sure that neither of them would know what to say. Content merely to be close, they held each other as they flew through the night back to their hotel.

  Back to their past.

  Back to thwarted desire.

  And it was growing closer to midnight.

  NINE

  A sleepy Erica leaned against Conner as he inserted the key card into the door lock of their suite. Her eyes were closed. She looked as if she were still as caught up in the drive home from the party as he was.

  Conner opened the door and sent up a silent prayer that the hotel had had enough time to move him and Erica back in and follow the rest of his instructions.

  “Are we staying in our suite, Conner?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do we still have a guard?”

  “No. I’ve released him for now.” Conner glanced into the parlor. “Don’t open your eyes,” he instructed.

  “But I can’t see where I’m going.”

  “That’s all right, I’ll direct you.”

  Placing both hands on her shoulders, Conner walked Erica through the door, across the parlor, and into her room.

  “Why don’t you get out of your party dress and into something more comfortable? I have a surprise for you.”

  “All right.” Erica felt too warm and happy to disagree with anything.

  Moments later she was wearing her favorite sleep shirt with the teddy bear on the front. She tugged on a pair of clean socks and slipped her arms into the hotel robe.

  “May I come out now?”

  “If you close your eyes again.” Conner was outside her door instantly, opening it, taking her hand and tugging her eagerly into the parlor. “Now,” he said, “open them.”

  In the center of the parlor was a live green tree surrounded by boxes of Christmas decorations and strands of lights.

  “A Christmas tree?”

  “Your Christmas tree,” Conner said.

  “Oh, Conner, it’s beautiful. How did you do it?” She plopped down on the floor beside the boxes and looked up at the tree, her eyes glistening with moisture.

  “I find things, remember.” Or, rather, he thought, Sterling does. He’d give her another raise tomorrow. She’d turn it down just like she had the last three. She already had everything she wanted, she always said.

  Erica was tearing the boxes open, admiring the decorations.

  “Do you want to decorate it tonight?” he asked. “Or would you rather wait until tomorrow?”

  Erica sprang to her feet and drew Conner over to the tree. “Tomorrow? Are you kidding? I want to decorate it right now. What do we do first?”

  Conner had to smile. Suddenly it was ten years ago and they were rediscovering the delight of sharing something new. It had been a lot of years since he’d decorated a tree. In fact, the last one had been a pine branch on a ratty piece of real estate in a country that didn’t even celebrate Christmas. “The lights, I think.”

  Moments later Erica had shed her robe and had a rope of twinkling lights spread across her legs. “They all work, Conner. I’ll hand the strand to you and you wind it around the tree.”

  With a few alterations of location, a couple of tangled arms, and not so secret touches, they got the lights on the tree. Next came the ornaments. Conner looked at the ceramic Santas and the silver bells and decided the simple red and green balls he remembered from childhood had come a long way.

  He managed to keep his hands off Erica and his mind away from making love to her until she dropped her ornament and leaned over to pick it up. Her nightshirt was long, but not long enough to cover the lacy panties beneath.

  “Ah, hell!” He swore and tightened his grip on his bell. Moments later it was crushed in his hand, the jagged edges digging into his palm.

  “Conner, you’re hurt!” Erica rushed into the bathroom and brought back a wet hand towel. Drawing him to the light, she brushed the pieces of glass into the waste can, examining the wound until she was certain it was clear. “Wait right here. There’s a first aid kit in my room.”

  “I’m fine, Erica. Really, I am.”

  But his Dragon Lady was having no part of that. This was something she could do for Conner and do it she would. After applying the ointment and stretching a gauze bandage around his hand, she leaned back and looked up at him, a worried expression on her face.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It’s okay. But I think I prefer the old kiss-it-and-make-it-better method of treatment.”

  Her eyes widened. Her breathing slowed. “I—I can do that, but we have to put the star on the tree first.”

  “Yes,” he said, releasing her for just a second to reach down and pick up the silvery tree topper and thread it over the center branch at the top. He shoved the plug into the nearest strand of lights and the star burst into a radiant shower of gold.

  “Oh, Conner,” Erica whispered, “it’s beautiful. Nobody ever did anything like this for me before. Thank you.”

  Conner glanced at the bandage on his hand, catching sight of his watch.

  It was midnight.

  She held perfectly still. And then he kissed her, fleetingly at first, leaving her stunned and wanting more. Her heart hammered beneath the worn cotton of her shirt. After so many years of trying to close out the devastating power of his touch, she was about to know it again, in the most intimate way. What had happened in the past was best left there. Both had been guilty of assuming the worst of the other. Her plan to punish him for his abandonment vanished with his kiss.

  “You are so beautiful,” he murmured huskily. “I’ve wanted you, this, us for so long. I just wouldn’t let myself face it.” His teeth nipped at her ear while his good hand skimmed her hips and pulled her against him.

  Conner seemed to be in no hurry. She laid her forehead on his shoulder, allowing a sigh to escape. Her heart was beating erratically, as was his. She could feel his arousal pulsating against her, feel his body quivering with need.

  He leaned back until haunted dark eyes met stormy blue ones. “You know I want to make love with you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat. She could only nod.

  His injured hand continued to hold her while the other one moved beneath her arm and cupped her breast, pausing to hold it for a long time before finding the tight bud of her nipple. “God knows, I’ve tried to forget you, but there’s never been another woman for me.”

  Erica arched back, pushing her breast into his hand. Her nipples were deliciously sensitive, peaking with desire, every bit as aroused as the hard evidence of his need pressed against her.

  “Talk to me, Erica. Don’t let me do this alone.”
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br />   Dazed, she tried to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. She moistened her lips and finally managed to say, “Conner.”

  “Say it again,” he demanded in a ragged voice. His lips claimed the spot where her pulse was flaring in the hollow of her throat. Moving downward, his fingers caressed her bare stomach as he bunched the material of her shirt between them. The maddeningly slow caresses made her writhe beneath his touch.

  “Conner, wait.” With one little movement she slipped the shirt from her body. Wearing only lacy panties and her socks, she wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. Unbuttoning his shirt, she slid it from his shoulders to the floor. His belt and trousers soon followed. He’d already shed his shoes and socks. There was no mistaking the degree of his desire. She couldn’t bring herself to go any further.

  “Why’d you stop?” he asked, hooking his thumbs beneath the waistband of his briefs and tugging them down. His lips stopped at her belly button, tasting, caressing as he lifted her feet and removed her socks. She sighed in pleasure as he moved his attention to the only piece of clothing that came between them. He slowly peeled away the wisps of lace, leaving her completely nude.

  Suddenly shy, she put her hands on his shoulders and closed the distance between them, whimpering as the tips of her nipples grazed his chest in delicious torture.

  He drew her arms behind his neck and backed up until he reached the sofa. Leaning against it, he cupped her bottom with his hands and lifted her, laying that throbbing part of him against the moist wetness of her desire in tender torment.

  With eyes closed, he moved up and down, almost plunging inside her, then sliding away. He could feel her heart beating, merging wildly with his own. A firestorm of sensation was building.

  “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he managed to say.

  She gasped. “Do you want to stop?”

  “No! I don’t ever want to stop.”

  “Now, Conner. Now!”

  But he didn’t take her. Instead, he slid across her in slow, drugging thrusts. His mouth captured her lips again, his tongue picking up the pace his body had slowed. In tantalizing her beyond all reason, he was driving himself to the point of internal combustion.

  Then, when he felt her frantic moans, he turned and laid her on the couch, one knee wedged between her thighs, supporting his weight by keeping his other foot on the floor.

  Poised over her, Conner stared down at her. “You know there is no going back now, darling.”

  Erica whispered yes. She knew. Reaching up, she pulled his mouth down to hers and kissed him with all the need inside her. She was agonizingly aware of his body, his size and heat, his hesitation. When she could endure it no more, she slipped her hands down his back and pressed him down, rising to meet him.

  As he entered her she gave a cry of pleasure, hugging his thighs with her own. Her blood began to roar. She rocked wildly, tugging her lips away. “Now, Conner. Together!”

  Above her, his face contorted with desire so intense that he appeared to be in pain. As her own release ripped through her, she felt the clench of his body, then the hot heat of his pleasure filled her.

  They were both still vibrating as he fell against her, planting his face in the nape of her neck, holding her hands over her head as if he were afraid she’d manage to slip away.

  Beneath him, she felt warm and weak and safe.

  The lights of the Christmas tree threw muted colors against the ceiling. She had the feeling that they were in the center of a kaleidoscope; any movement changed the pattern of light into another beautiful array of color.

  For a long time they lay, still joined, each breathing evenly, acutely aware of the other. Finally Conner moved to the side, pulling her close. She wanted to remain like this forever. For now she nestled against him, cherishing the moment, gathering memories to last forever.

  The pressure of his lips against her hair said that he too was caught up in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She sighed and snuggled closer.

  Beside her, Conner was gripped by such a feeling of pure contentment that he couldn’t speak. He’d been sexually satisfied before. But this was something new.

  Her breast grazed his chest with every breath she took. The splendor of the moment still washed over him in diminishing waves of pleasure.

  After a delicious moment, he felt Erica move her head. “Conner?”

  Here it comes, he thought, the regret, the goodbye.

  “My bottom is getting cold. I think I’m ready for bed.”

  Conner bit back a sigh of dismay. He came to his feet and helped her to rise. Reluctant to let her go, he pulled her close and kissed her. Then he picked her up and carried her to her room. Pulling back the covers, he helped her into the bed, then covered her.

  “Where are you going?” she asked sleepily.

  “I thought …”

  “Don’t think, Conner.” She pulled back the cover and smiled.

  He didn’t need a second invitation.

  They made love twice more during the night, each time more beautiful than the time before. By the time Erica opened her eyes the next morning, the sun was high in the sky. Sleepily she reached out, expecting to find Conner’s bare body beside her.

  It wasn’t.

  There was only her neatly folded robe lying across the foot of the bed. Alarmed, she sat up and looked around. She was definitely alone. The cover was pulled up beside her as if nobody had ever been there. A cold ripple of fear swept over her. Had she dreamed it all?

  Pulling on the robe, Erica wandered into the parlor, where the Christmas tree they’d decorated so lovingly still twinkled. No, it couldn’t have been a dream. Here was the proof, that and the soreness of her body.

  But where was he?

  Then she saw the note, propped against a breakfast tray on the table.

  My darling Erica. You are so beautiful sleeping beside me. I don’t want to leave you, but I have an errand I must run. Eat breakfast and think of me. I’ll be back soon.

  Conner

  Erica drew the notepaper to her lips, imagining that they were touching Conner’s. Then she lifted the warmer from the platter and smiled.

  Chocolate muffins.

  Drinking her coffee and eating the muffins, she wondered what kind of errand he could possibly have on Christmas Eve day. When the last of the crumbs were gone and the coffeepot was empty, she wandered about the suite, just touching and remembering. In Conner’s room she lay down on his tightly made bed, reveling in the wrinkles she was leaving behind.

  The Conner she’d known ten years ago had been anything but neat. It had been Erica who’d folded and put away their clothes, straightened the newspapers and brushed away the crumbs Conner had scattered about their bed. Now it was hard to tell that Cornier occupied the room. Only the remaining drops of water in the shower and the crumpled towel thrown across the tub gave evidence of his presence.

  Clasping her arms around herself, Erica took in a deep, satisfied breath. A cool, refreshing scent filled the air. She opened the containers on the counter until she found its source, a bottle of aftershave called simply Sky. Its blue bottle and fresh smell was definitely Conner.

  Erica caught sight of herself in the mirror and gasped. Her cheeks and neck were rosy, a result of Conner’s five o’clock shadow, no doubt. Her lips were swollen and pouty from the hard, demanding kisses she’d shared. Everything about her proclaimed that she was a woman who’d been thoroughly loved.

  She blushed and wondered what Conner would think if he came back and found her looking all misty-eyed in his mirror. With that thought, a sense of lonely uncertainty settled over her. Where was Conner and why had he left her?

  A shower, here in Conner’s bathroom, using Conner’s things, offered the return of the closeness they’d shared the night before.

  Minutes later she’d lathered soap over her body and felt the stinging hot water wash away the scent of their lovemaking, replacing it with the clean smell of Conner, the man. She shampooed her hair, lingeri
ng in the shower as if it might keep him close. Finally, she reached for the rumpled towel, still damp from drying his body, and rubbed herself dry.

  Back in her room, she dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a bright red sweater. The sweater was as seasonal as she could get on Christmas. What she needed—what they needed—were presents under the tree. As soon as Conner returned, they’d go shopping—unless … of course, that’s where he was, buying Christmas presents.

  Tempted to do the same, she started toward the door. Then she remembered the last time she had done such a thing, and stopped. When Conner returned, she’d convince him to take her shopping.

  But what to do until then?

  She wandered back and forth, turning on the TV, then turning it off again. Finally she went to her desk. She’d call Mac and check on the ambassador. But the line was busy.

  She paced back and forth, contemplating what she’d learned last night at Brighton Kilgore’s party. She knew nothing more about Brighton except that he’d worked for the government at one time as an inspector of some kind.

  It was Karl Ernst who worried her. He had asked about the ambassador’s location and denied that he’d known about the piece of broken marble she and Bart had found. Then there was his story about Bart being afraid that he was being followed. Why would Bart ask about an American student breaking the law if it wasn’t about the piece of marble?

  Why would Bart think he was being followed, and if he were, who would have done it? Had Bart gone to the embassy as Mr. Ernst had suggested?

  Too many questions with no answers.

  Where was Conner?

  Erica tried to reach Shangrila again. This time she got the recording which asked her to identify herself and someone would return her call. She gave her name and number and hung up.

  Where was Mac? Why didn’t he answer her call? She’d never called and reached the answering machine before. She was beginning to have a bad feeling.

  Conner Preston. Erica Fallon. Without realizing she’d done so, Erica had written their names on the notepad by the phone and drawn a heart around them. She dropped the pen as if it were burning her hand.