A Hero for All Seasons Page 14

  The wondrous magic of his mouth propelled her to a place where there was no pain, no horrors, and where the only sensation was a deep, pervading pleasure that consumed her inch by melting inch until it owned her completely.

  He was a thoughtful lover, a gentle lover. A passionate lover. Sam was all things at once, each new turn a surprise, and she strove to keep up with him. He made her discover things about herself that she had never even suspected existed.

  She had no idea that pleasure went so deep or desire so far.

  Or that she was capable of giving that pleasure back. But the moan that throbbed in his throat and echoed in her head bore witness to the fact. The thought excited her even more.

  She felt his hands on her body, at first reverently, then eagerly, unbuttoning her blouse, unzipping her skirt. Slipping away her undergarments.

  Setting her free.

  There was no awkwardness to meet the movements, no momentary flash of embarrassment the way there had been with Jarred. She instinctively knew that Sam wasn’t judging her, wasn’t comparing her to others he’d had.

  By his very touch, he made her feel special. Made her feel safe. And she would always be grateful to him for that.

  Her gratitude spilled out and mixed with all the other emotions and sensations dancing through her.

  She met him step for step. As his hands moved over her, slowly drawing away her clothing, she shadowed his movements, taking off his shirt, his trousers, the dark blue briefs that clung to his torso, testifying to his desire for her.

  As the last shred of clothing between them fell to the floor, Sam dived his fingers into her hair, framing her face with his palms. For a moment, he just looked at her and knew that he was on the most dangerous ground he’d ever tread. There was quicksand just beneath his feet, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d disappear completely without a trace.

  He threw caution to the wind.

  Over and over again his mouth slanted over hers until they were both reduced to pure blue flames that burned desperately for one another.

  It had been long—so very long—since she’d made love with a man. If he didn’t take her soon, she thought she would explode. He’d touched, caressed, stroked and suckled until every fiber of her being was ripe for the taking. For the joining.

  Suddenly, with his mouth sealed to hers again, she felt herself being lifted into his arms Confused, lungs bursting for air, she moved her head back to look at him.

  “You don’t want it to be on the kitchen floor.”

  He was being thoughtful of her, even now. Savannah wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her mouth back to his. “I don’t care. I just want it to be with you.”

  It was his final undoing.

  He groaned again as he kissed her, knowing he’d used up the last reserve he had. Restraint was no longer possible.

  They made it as far as the living room. There, on the sofa, Sam made love with Savannah as if there would be no tomorrow. No reckoning. No consequences to face.

  He made love to her as if he’d been waiting for her all of his life. And, at that moment, he could have sworn that he had been.

  Because making love with her, having her body move urgently as he finally sheathed himself within her, as he felt her tighten around him, made him feel more alive than he ever remembered feeling

  As the final sensation burst, squeezing the last bit of energy from Savannah before letting her fall back, exhausted on the sofa, she felt a quickening in her heart.

  She remained very still as the sensation grew and then drenched her.

  The wise thing would be to ignore it, or if it couldn’t be ignored, to deny it. Deny it with the last breath she had. She’d been this route before, felt this way before, and it had all turned to dust.

  But denial was futile. Whatever came afterward wouldn’t change what she felt right at this moment. Perhaps even for all the moments to come. He was the kindest and most exciting man she’d ever known.

  And she was in love with him.

  It was something, she resolved, that he was never going to know.

  The heat refused to leave his body even after his senses returned, scrambling across him like so many unwanted house guests. He’d had her, and the desire hadn’t left. If anything, it had only intensified.

  But he could think now, whereas he couldn’t before. Think and upbraid and be ashamed of himself, of what he’d allowed himself to do.

  He drew away from her—only inches away, but she could feel the change in him instantly. He might as well have been miles away.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words slashed at her like a cold steel blade aimed at her heart, but she refused to bleed. Instead, she asked, “Why?”

  He didn’t know where to begin, how to make amends. Sorry wasn’t good enough, yet he had nothing else. “Because I took advantage of you. Because I couldn’t—”

  She’d heard about as much as she could take. Without thinking, she smacked the palm of her hand against his back. “Why, you pompous bastard.”

  Stunned, Sam could only turn around and stare at her. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you think that little of me?”

  It was himself he thought little of, not her. “No, I just said—”

  “What you said makes me out to be some addle-brained woman who can be led around by the nose.” Ignoring the fact that she was still nude, Savannah rose to her knees, fire in her eyes. “You didn’t take advantage of me—or the situation, if that’s your next guess. If I didn’t want this to happen—if I didn’t want you—then we wouldn’t be here like this. I’d be in my room and you’d be out here. Alone.”

  Speechlessness dissipated, dissolving into a wide grin that encompassed all his features. God, but he wanted her again. “Has anyone ever told you you’re magnificent when you’re angry?”

  “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere.” But her anger was already slipping away from her, rendered hazy by the light in his eyes.

  The expression on his face was positively wicked. “What is?”

  Savannah pretended to think. “You could try kissing me again.”

  Lying down again, Sam pulled her to him until she was directly over him, the ends of her hair tickling his chest. Teasing him. “You know, I just might do that.”

  “Well?” There was a smile in her eyes. “You talk too much.”

  “So I’ve been told.” Cupping the back of her head, Sam brought her mouth down to his.

  Chapter 12

  “If you’re thinking of going off without me, you’re in for a rude awakening.”

  Sam almost nicked himself. Only sharply honed reflexes made him freeze quickly enough to avoid digging the edge of the razor into his flesh. His eyes met Savannah’s in the bathroom mirror. He’d left her sleeping, but here she was standing behind him.

  “The thought did cross my mind ”

  Carefully, he slid the razor down his cheek, scraping away stubble and soap. He’d hunted through the medicine cabinet and under the sink, but hadn’t been able to find shaving cream anywhere. He felt the stubble resisting and pinching. Sam had half a mind to leave the one-day growth.

  Rinsing off the razor, Sam tried to explain his reasoning for thinking that she was better off staying at home. “This has to be getting frustrating for you.”

  “Not as frustrating as sitting around, doing nothing is.” Her navy-blue towel was anchored around his otherwise nude torso, and there were random beads of water still clinging to his body. Feelings of intimacy permeated her from all sides. Savannah wasn’t quite sure how to deal with them.

  He realized he’d taken something of hers without asking. Pausing before taking another pass at his face, Sam held up the razor.

  “I borrowed this. I hope you don’t mind. But it was either that, or go back to my place.”

  He studied her over his shoulder. The scent of sleep and lovemaking clung to her skin like an enticing perfume. The last remnants of sleep still shadowed her eyes. It took him a
moment to focus his thoughts. It took him longer to talk himself out of wanting her all over again.

  “I didn’t want to waste the time,” he added, the words slowly leaving his lips. He forced himself to look back at his own image in the mirror.

  “I appreciate that. Feel free to use whatever you need.” Savannah dragged wisps of tousled blond hair out of her eyes. “Give me ten minutes, I’ll be ready,” she promised.

  The next moment, she’d disappeared into the bedroom again.

  Ten minutes? Who was she kidding? “No woman can get ready in ten minutes.” Hell, even he couldn’t get ready that fast.

  Her voice drifted back to him out of the depths of her closet. “I can.”

  She could, and did.

  He’d come downstairs to the kitchen to find that Savannah was already there ahead of him. Surprised, he stood in the doorway and shook his head. “You’re a woman of hidden talents.”

  The most surprising of which, he had to admit, had come out last night. He wouldn’t have guessed, despite the initial attraction he’d felt, that there was such passion so close to the surface.

  Maybe he wasn’t as good a detective as he’d like to think, he mused.

  Sam moved around the kitchen with the ease of a man who could make himself at home anywhere. Opening the refrigerator, he took out several cartons of the leftover Chinese food and lined them up beside the microwave.

  “How do you feel about leftovers for breakfast?” Anticipating her response, he glanced in her direction. “You get to use a fork this time if you like.” There was a smile in his eyes. “If we go the chopsticks route again, I’m afraid we might never get out of the house.”

  Popping the cartons onto the microwave turntable, he closed the door and set the timer.

  She’d come down anticipating the smell of food that was turning bad. The last she remembered, they’d left all the cartons out on the counter. The counter she looked at was empty, and clean.

  “When did you put all the cartons into the refrigerator?”

  He took the plates that had been draining in the sink. “I also washed the dishes.” He indicated the plates he was holding.

  She frowned, trying to remember. They’d made love into the wee hours of the night. “When?”

  “Last night. Closer to this morning, I guess.” His thoughts had kept him up. Not all of them had centered on his case. Too many, in fact, had focused on her. “You sleep pretty soundly.”

  She thought of the nights that had come before, where nightmares had given her little peace. “Only when I’m completely exhausted.”

  Sam took out a fork for her; he chose chopsticks for himself. “I take that as a compliment.”

  She only smiled.

  It was while he’d been puttering around in the kitchen that he’d made up his mind to reestablish the barriers between them. It was the only way.

  That had been the plan he’d decided on, and it was a good plan, a sound plan. A workable plan.

  Until he’d looked at her this morning. And wanted her all over again.

  She was going to regret last night; he was certain of it. Once she regained perspective, once she and Aimee were reunited and Savannah realized that she’d mistaken her feelings of gratitude for something far stronger, she was going to regret making love with him.

  The thought moved through him like a funeral dirge. He tried not to think about that, too.

  The list of things he couldn’t think about was growing.

  The microwave timer went off. Opening the door, Savannah made her choice.

  A carton of fried rice in her hand, she sat down on the stool beside him. There was no disputing the fact that she was eager to get started. But part of her wanted to linger, just for a tiny moment, with this man who had happened into her life after she’d given up all thoughts of ever feeling anything for anyone again.

  Was that so wrong, to try to mine happiness where she found it, even under adverse circumstances?

  Savannah had no answer for that.

  Focusing on Aimee, she asked, “Are we going to canvas those houses along with Rusty?”

  “I’m thinking of playing something a little closer to home,” Sam said as he mixed what was left in the three cartons together.

  It sounded mysterious, and she wondered if he was phrasing it that way because he anticipated a resistance to his suggestion. But any wariness she’d felt before had abruptly faded. Something magical had happened to her while they’d made love last night. Savannah believed in him now. Believed that Sam would do everything in his power to find Aimee.

  It wasn’t just a matter of earning his money; this was something he was honor-bound to do. She knew that, felt that. And waited to hear what he had to say.

  “And that is?”

  Sam approached the subject carefully. He knew how she’d reacted to this earlier, and he didn’t want to upset her. But it had to be faced.

  “I keep coming back to the phone call and the note.” He set the carton down and looked at her. “When Elliott called you that last time, he had you on speakerphone. How many people were around, do you think, when you said you wished there was some way you could be assured that Aimee was all right?”

  Closing her eyes, she tried to summon back the moment—the voices she’d been able to distinguish. “There was Elliott, Larry, Vera.” Then, opening her eyes, she shook her head. “A few others, maybe. It’s hard to say.”

  He nodded. “That’s okay.” He intended to go through all of them anyway. “Did you have to be fingerprinted when you came to work for Big Bytes?”

  She thought it an odd question. “No, we design computer software for games predominantly. We don’t handle any kind of sensitive government material.” That would be the only situation she could think of to require fingerprinting. That, or an arrest. “What are you getting at?”

  If the lab found any fingerprints on the box, beyond hers and Rusty’s, it still wouldn’t mean anything unless they had something to compare them to, Sam thought.

  “Maybe nothing.”

  His cell phone, perched on the recharger where he’d set it up last night, rang, temporarily tabling the conversation.

  As soon as the sound shattered the air, Savannah could feel every nerve ending within her body coming to attention. Waiting.

  Sam opened the cell phone. “Hello, this is Sam.”

  “Sam, it’s Rusty. I think you might want to come down here and talk to this guy I spoke to this morning. He thinks he might have seen someone driving off in a car with Aimee in it. At least,” Rusty amended, “he said he saw a little kid who looked like the one in the photograph struggling with somebody in a car. The car was going south on MacArthur Boulevard, right by the mall.”

  That was good enough for Sam. “Where are you?”

  Sam urgently gestured toward Savannah for something to write with. Finding a pen, she grabbed the first writing surface she came across, and shoved both at him. Sam wound up scribbling the address Rusty gave him on the inside of a butterfly-design paper napkin.

  “Got it.” Sam reread the address to himself just to make sure he could. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Stay put.”

  Savannah waited only long enough for Sam to flip the phone closed. “Well?”

  “Don’t get your hopes up,” he warned, knowing she would anyway. “But Rusty thinks he found someone who might have seen the kidnapper drive off with Aimee.”

  Thinks. Might. Ever since they’d started looking for her daughter, every path they’d turned to had been littered with vague words.

  But vague words were all she had, so she clung to them tightly. And hoped.

  “Let’s go!” Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Savannah hurried to the front door.

  Still holding the cell phone, Sam grabbed an egg roll and followed her out. He had no idea when his next meal would be.

  Harvey Silverstone was retired and lonely. A people-person of long standing, he was more than happy to relate his story for the three
people sitting in his airless living room, embellishing it as he went along to hold his audience for as long as possible.

  It took tact and precision for Sam to get him to hurry his narrative along before it expanded to the proportions of an epic poem.

  Looking just a little deflated, Mr. Silverstone curtailed the details of his discussion with his wife prior to his venturing out with his bullmastiff for their midmorning walk around the perimeter of the Primrose Development. With much prodding, he got to the heart of the matter.

  “I was walking along with Kong when he stopped to answer the call of nature.” He winked slyly at Savannah. “It takes him a while these days. Not like in the old days, but then, we’re both getting on a bit”

  “Mr. Silverstone,” Sam prodded.

  “Right. Anyway. I’m waiting on him, looking at the traffic, when I see this car pass by. Dark-blue Honda. Accord ’Ninety-five model.” He smiled broadly. “Used to sell cars for a living. There isn’t a vehicle out there that I can’t pinpoint the year on.”

  Well, that was fortunate at least, Sam thought. Maybe they were finally getting a break. “Did you see anything that made you suspicious?”

  “That’s what I told this boy here.” He nodded at Rusty. “The driver went right through a red light. Lucky for him, there wasn’t one of Newport’s finest around. Would’ve slapped him with a two-hundreddollar ticket for sure.”

  Savannah felt as if she wanted to run down the man’s throat and pull out the pertinent words. “You said something about a child?”

  “That’s probably why he went through the light. There was a little kid on the passenger side. From where I was standing, it looked like the kid was trying to roll down the window. He was yanking the kid back into the seat and not paying attention to the road. Don’t know how they got across without somebody running into them. Guess when it’s not your time—”

  Sam rose to his feet, and Rusty sprang up with him. Savannah was half a beat behind, anxious to follow up this lead.

  Sam shook the man’s hand. “Thank you for your help, Mr. Silverstone.”