FOR HER EYES ONLY Page 10

  Jake slanted a glance at his pack in the back seat. "Good." He cursed under his breath. "Not about the trip. About Mitch's being on the phone with the FBI. Look, I need a favor."

  "No, we haven't seen your blasted ID."

  "This is not about my ID, David." He realized that he hadn't absently patted his jacket pocket since sometime last night. At the Evanses' in Canton didn't count, because that had been official … well, somewhat official. He glanced to find Michelle watching him in curiosity. "I need to find out when an individual is due to fly into Toledo, Ohio, and on which flight."

  "Holy Toledo?" David said.

  "Yeah. Can you do that for me?"

  "I'll get Mitch on it right away," his brother promised. "I take it I should cancel my plans, then?"

  "Plans?" Jake switched ears. What plans did one need to go hiking through the mountains?

  "Yeah, for the cabin I rented. I somehow couldn't envision you roughing it in a tent. That's why the food is rotting in my bag. It was supposed to go into the cabin refrigerator sometime last night."

  Jake cracked a smile. The youngest McCoy was capable of a few surprises of his own. "Why didn't you put the food in Pops's fridge?"

  "Why didn't I put the food in Pops's fridge?" David repeated sardonically. "Hmm, maybe because we've all spent the past twenty-four worrying about you? And I didn't remember the stuff was in there until I pretty much heard that you were okay by your voice? You know, it would have helped if you'd answered your cellular."

  "The battery went dead," Jake lied, cringing.

  "Yeah, right." David muttered a mild curse. "Look, forget about it. You don't have to apologize, Jake. Or were you going to apologize?"

  Jake cleared his throat and cast another glance in Michelle's direction. Lord, she looked good. "Sorry, little bro."

  The silence on the other end of the line was deafening.

  "David?"

  "Hmm? Oh, yeah, I'm here. Just a little shocked, is all. Did you actually just say you were sorry?"

  "Moron."

  "No, wait, I want to confirm this, because I don't think that in all my thirty years on God's green earth have I ever heard you say that word."

  "Yeah, well, you may be hearing a lot of it in the coming days, so get used to it now."

  "What? Why?"

  "Mitch off his phone yet?" Jake asked.

  Heaving a sigh. David said, "Yeah. Hold on a sec, will ya?"

  A moment later, Mitch picked up the phone. He'd listened in on David's end of the conversation, so he didn't waste time with small talk. Of all his brothers, Mitch was the one who understood Jake best. He cut straight to the chase, asking for the name of the individual and the airport he was flying into. Jake asked him if Liz had kept any of her credit cards in her maiden name. Without hesitation, Mitch gave him a number along with an expiration date, then agreed to call and make hotel reservations for him at a downtown Toledo hotel Jake had seen while trying to shake Edgar.

  After all this was taken care of, there was a short pause. Jake waited for Mitch's questions.

  It was not the sort of question he'd expected. For that, among all the other things Mitch was doing for him, Jake was thankful. "You think you're going to be back by Thursday?" Mitch asked.

  "I don't know."

  "Good enough. You just make sure you call us if you need anything, you hear? I mean anything."

  Jake grinned. "Yeah. Thanks, Mitch. Call me back on the cellular when you get the info."

  He pressed the disconnect button, then put the phone on the seat between him and Michelle.

  Michelle didn't quite know what to make out of the conversation she'd just heard. She felt that in the past two days, she'd come to know Jake quite well. Certainly not every little detail of his life. She'd be the first to admit she didn't know what the guy ate for breakfast, though she suspected it would be something wholesome and fruity. But he had a brother? And what was it he'd said about the FBI? And just who, exactly, did he know who had the type of power to find out which plane Gerald was on?

  She sat back and wrapped her arms around herself, feeling somewhat distanced from the man beside her. But that's not what bothered her most. What disturbed her was that she wanted to know everything about him. Not because it applied to their situation, but because it applied to him. That was disturbing indeed.

  She absently turned the simple gold wedding band on her finger. "Your brother?"

  Jake nodded and scrubbed his face with his hands.

  "He's younger than you?"

  He looked at her blankly.

  "You said little bro, which I'm assuming means little brother?"

  "Oh, yeah. That was David, the youngest. There are five of us, all told."

  "Five?" Michelle blinked and looked at him from head to toe. There were four men out there somewhere just like the man next to her? Well, probably not just like him. But surely they would be similar in some ways, which lead her to wonder which.

  He nodded. "There's Connor, the only one older than me. Then Marc, Mitch and David." He gave a lopsided grin. "Shocking, huh?"

  "Not shocking, really," she said, lost in thought. "Which one has the connection to the FBI?"

  "You heard that, did you?" He flicked on his right blinker and stopped at a red light. "That would be Mitch. He and his new wife have resurrected the old Connor—that's my mother's family name—horse breeding farm, but he used to be with the FBI before he was a PI." He stopped. "Long story. Anyway, if any of the McCoy men can find out which plane Gerald's on, Mitch can."

  The McCoy men? The way he said it made them sound like an outlaw gang. Something tingled at the edges of her mind. The Hatfields and McCoys. Weren't they an American legend of some sort? Feuding families?

  No, no, the McCoys wouldn't be outlaws, no matter Jake's current circumstances. And now that she knew his brother Mitch was former FBI… She connected the dots of similarity. "Don't tell me. You're all in law enforcement?"

  His grin threatened to swallow his handsome face. "Yes. How'd you guess?"

  "Even your father?"

  "A D.C. police officer. So is David. You didn't answer my question," he pointed out.

  It was Michelle's turn to smile. "Call it a lucky guess."

  "Anyway, rather than driving around town until Mitch or David gets back to me, I thought we'd check into a hotel, catch something to eat and…"

  His words drifted off into a suggestive never-never land that left Michelle hot all over. If only he didn't appear so surprised by his own words. "And?" she prompted.

  "And wait until we can go get Lili back."

  Michelle's thumb stilled where she played with her ring. Lili. Suddenly, inexplicably, she felt pulled into two different directions—and felt instantly guilty for it.

  During her time with Jake, she'd felt alive in a way she hadn't for a long, long time. No, alive wasn't the word she was looking for. She felt like a woman. Not someone's mother. Not a great chef. She felt desirable and sexy, and suspected she had merely thrown a stone into a secret well of sensual need deep inside her. And Jake was the willing—well, okay, reluctantly willing—catalyst for that. And finding Lili…

  Being reunited with her daughter would end all that.

  She bit her bottom lip. Leave it to her to discover the one man who could make her feel like a woman again, only to find that man lived halfway across the world from her. And was an INS agent to boot. What was it her stepmother always said? If there was trouble, she was sure to stumble across it. Or put her foot it in. One or the other.

  She agreed with Jacqueline. She was in really bad shape.

  She looked at the upscale hotel Jake stopped in front of. It wasn't all that far from the courthouse. She'd guessed some time back that he was traveling in ever widening circles around the downtown area. Whether it was to guarantee they weren't being followed or to gather his thoughts, she couldn't be sure. But she'd gotten a full-scale glimpse of the city. Older stone buildings hunkered alongside newer, modem constructions. Th
e Maumee River bisected the city from its east side, all manner of boats—from paddleboats that had been transformed into floating restaurants to small motor-boats—docked on the west side of the river, not far from where they were. Next to the hotel, a tower of metal and glass stretched toward the sky, its blue-tinted panes reflecting the sinking sun.

  A valet opened the door for her. Michelle looked at Jake, a funny little tickle starting low in her belly.

  "Go ahead."

  "Are you sure? Wouldn't it be better if we, um, checked into a motel or something closer to Gerald's?"

  He tugged at his tie and glanced in the other direction before saying quietly, "I wanted to treat you to something, you know, a little more special. Seeing as it's our honeymoon and all."

  Michelle didn't miss the suggestion laced through his words. The mere prospect of having him lave her breasts with his hot, soft tongue, of cradling him between her thighs, was enough to make her catch her breath.

  The valet motioned toward a bellboy. "Howard, take this lucky couple's bags inside, won't you? We have newlyweds on board tonight."

  Michelle felt her cheeks go hot. She took the young man's hand and climbed out of the car, tugging at the hem of her white dress as she did so. She looked at the elegantly lighted exterior of the hotel, the posh lobby visible through the sliding glass doors, the well-dressed, solicitous staff. She'd stayed in the Paris Ritz once. She'd just graduated from culinary school and was in the mood for a celebration. Wanted to be surrounded by the atmosphere in which she hoped one day to work. But while the surroundings were luxurious, the employees impossibly polite and discreet, she hadn't felt quite the same kind of welcome. And while she'd enjoyed the fine appointments of her room, the thrill had lasted for about five minutes, before loneliness had settled in on her. She'd ordered room service, drank an entire bottle of champagne by herself, then passed out.

  This was an entirely different situation, indeed.

  She glanced at where Jake spoke to the valet, shivering at his strong profile. For a dangerous second, she allowed herself to believe that she was on her honeymoon. That her childhood faceless groom wanted to make sure everything was perfect for their first night together. Then she watched as her simple bag and the backpack and gear on the back seat were loaded onto a cart, and reality pressed in on her from all sides. Still, she wanted to give herself over to the seductive lure of the fantasy, if just for the next hour or so. Until Jake's brother called. Until she could no longer ignore life and reality. She caught herself restlessly caressing her neck and smiled. She and Jake … well, they could fit a lifetime of loving into an hour.

  * * *

  Jake played at trying to give the concierge his credit card, but as he'd instructed, Liz had been emphatic that the charges go on her bill when she called a short time ago. He slid his MasterCard into his wallet, and the overhead light reflected off the bit of gold on his ring finger. His breath froze in his lungs.

  Whoa. He was married.

  In a strip of mirror behind the desk, he caught a glimpse of Michelle standing behind him looking sexier than ever. He was afraid he'd never draw another normal breath.

  "This way, Mr. Braden."

  It took a moment for Jake to realize the bellboy had called him by Liz's maiden name. He turned and acknowledged the young man then tucked Michelle's hand into the crook of his arm.

  A decided air of expectancy clung to him as they took the river view elevator to the fifth floor. He heard Michelle swallow next to him. All he knew was that if the blasted bellboy wasn't in the enclosure with them, he'd have pressed Michelle against the wall right then and there. Damn, he couldn't breathe. He cleared his throat and ignored the heat that seemed to emanate from Michelle, nearly searing him through his sleeve where her hand rested.

  Two more floors. One…

  Finally, the doors slid open and the bellboy led the way down the detailed carpeting toward a set of double doors at the end of the hall. The doors were swung inward. He was so relieved that they were going to be alone together, in the privacy of a closed room, he easily swept Michelle into his arms, intoxicated by her surprised gasp, then her nervous laugh. He stepped into the room, barely seeing anything around him. All he could do was gaze at Michelle. Her curly hair was tousled and sexy. Her tongue darted out to moisten very kissable lips. And her eyes had darkened to a seductive shade of whiskey.

  Jake turned to slip the bellboy a tip, surprised to find the doors closed, the young man nowhere in sight.

  "You know what it means when you carry a bride over the threshold, don't you?" she murmured, pressing her tiny breasts against the wall of his chest.

  He realized that's exactly what he'd just done. "Um, no. What does it mean?"

  "Good fertility."

  Then, suddenly, everything that was Michelle possessed him.

  Pulling herself up by her hands around his neck, she claimed his mouth with a hunger and passion that nearly knocked him over backward. He gently slid her down the length of his body until she was standing. He pressed her into his aching erection, thrust his fingers up the back of her dress and cupped her lush little bottom in his hands. She wore no nylons. There was nothing between him and her curved, sweet, hot flesh except her lacy panties. For someone so tiny, she found a way to cradle him just so, making him dizzy with pleasure, urgent with need. Everything around them slipped away. The large room. The river view. The fact that somewhere out there Edgar Mollens was even now trying to figure out away to get both of them to D.C. and make them the targets of an immediate immigration review. His world narrowed to Michelle Lambert and Michelle Lambert alone.

  All at once, he couldn't seem to get enough of her. Her mouth. Her soft flesh. Even as she sought to put distance between them for a moment so she could rip off his jacket, they contorted themselves in order to maintain the connection of their mouths. Oh, and what a great mouth she had, too.

  She finally stripped him completely and backed him unceremoniously toward the bed, the soft, needy words in French she murmured driving him wild. He loved it when she spoke French. Down he went. And off went her dress as he pulled it over her head, her pale nipples bare of bra and swaying as she dragged the material down her arms. Jake reached for them, but she grabbed his hands and held them still at his sides.

  The first long, lingering flick of her tongue as she dragged it across his abdomen was nearly her last, because he almost lost it right then and there. Around and around, up and down, she dragged her tongue across his skin, watching his reaction until he clamped his eyes closed and gritted his teeth to keep from climaxing prematurely.

  Then, abruptly, she was gone.

  Jake opened his eyes to find her breasts at eye level. Curving his fingers around a small orb, he hungrily sucked her nipple deep into his mouth, satisfied at her low moan, then pulled the other in, restlessly moving from one to the other until they were wet from his attentions. She worked her thumb between his mouth and her flesh, rubbing the pad along his bottom lip to separate them, then following briefly with her mouth. Then she slid down the length of him, every glorious inch of her stomach rubbing against his straining erection.

  He watched in rapt fascination as she slowly, torturously ran her fingertips down his engorged shaft, giving him a thoughtful, thorough squeeze. He thrust his hips upward, impatient to be inside her.

  But that evidently wasn't part of her plan. Instead, he nearly came off the bed at the hot feel of her mouth encircling the tip of his erection. If the sensation of her dragging her tongue across his abdomen had been maddening, this … this was downright sinful.

  He alternated between clamping his eyes shut and watching her as she slowly slid her lips over the length of him. His hips bucked involuntarily.

  She drew away for a moment and shifted to sit at his side, piling her curls on one side of her head as she bent to her task again. Her white lacy panties were plainly visible, as was the springy wedge of her womanhood beneath.

  Michelle's mouth went over him again.
He fought the need to thrust upward again, and lost. She cupped him, squeezing ever so gently, and instantly the sensation of imminent climax subsided, leaving only the intense heat of her mouth.

  Gritting his teeth, he lifted himself on his elbows and reached for her. She gasped as he lifted her, carefully maneuvering until she was pantyless and her knees rested on either side of his head, so that they could enjoy each other simultaneously.

  Jake's throat choked off air as he eyed her engorged womanhood mere inches from his chin. He swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth. He'd never viewed a woman's intimate parts this close before. The fact that Michelle was allowing him such close contact with her spoke volumes.

  There was something inherently beautiful about the way her springy dark hair peppered her skin, enough to protect, but not enough to completely shield the area from view. The way the skin swelled on either side of her distended pink, sensitive flesh. He realized there was a reason writers often referred to a woman's private parts as a split ripe peach. Because right now he was filled with an insatiable urge to devour her.

  He tentatively fastened his lips around the enlarged, hooded core of her femininity. She instantly threw her head back and cried out, making all the awkwardness more than worth it.

  Wow. A greater aphrodisiac he had never known. He pursed his lips around the tender nub and nibbled, before drawing it into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tip. If their coming together last night had been all about take, this was all about giving. He wanted to possess Michelle in a way he'd never wanted to possess another woman. He wanted to give her the same type of pleasure she was showing him. He wanted to make her writhe in need, call out his name, cling to him as though her very life depended on it.

  The gentle rocking of her hips told him that his inexperience mattered not at all. He tugged his mouth away from her and ran the length of his tongue down her narrow crevice, then thrust it into her tight, hot channel. Instantly, she pulled her mouth away from him and whimpered, her body shuddering in wild abandon, her hips moving in time with his thrusts.