Lyn Stone – Mission: Marriage: Bulletproof Marriage (страница 22)
“He does occasional work for us. For the Lazlo Group, too.” She shot him a wry look. “You’d know that if you hadn’t been gone so long.”
Sean bit back a retort. “How close are the two of you?”
Shaking her head, Natalie walked to the window. “You don’t have a right to ask that question.”
“Maybe not, but I’m asking anyway.”
She sighed. “Drop it, okay?”
Her nonanswer told him she had something to hide.
“Have you and the doctor …?” Swallowing, he tried to find the right words without being crude.
“Sean, I said drop it.” Her cutting tone told him she was furious. “My private life is none of your business. You died, remember?”
He swallowed his own anger, not wanting the conversation to degenerate into an out-and-out fight.
His hopes and dreams—all but vanished—came back to him in startling clarity. He’d had a future, once. He’d envisioned bright-haired children, laughing and playing. A white picket fence. The way Natalie’s eyes glowed amber when she was happy. Laughter instead of tears. Joy instead of grief. Love instead of pain.
So much had been lost, taken from him because of a youthful error in judgment.
How did one right such a wrong? Could he even go back, make another grab for that elusive brass ring?
Did they even have a chance?
“Fine. My apologies.” He dipped his chin. “We’ll keep it strictly business. Tell me what you think Auggie and Dennie can find out that we or Corbett can’t?”
“You never know.” A tinge of relief colored her voice, which only irritated him further as she continued. “Auggie’s good—he keeps his ear to the ground. And Dennie—he’s everywhere. He’s one of the few doctors still willing to do house calls.”
“Is he part of your intelligence network?”
“No, though he’s a trusted contact. And,” she shot him a meaningful look, “a good friend. I’ve even heard it rumored he’s getting set up to do some doctoring among the Hungarian’s people.”
Despite himself, Sean was impressed. “That would be quite a coup for your intelligence network.”
“Yeah, it would.” Her smile looked tentative, but at least it was a smile. “Auggie and I are both very proud of him.”
She had a point. “True,” he conceded as he got out of bed and gathered his clothes. “Let’s see what they are able to find out. But for now, I’m going to grab a shower. Then we should get some breakfast and you can keep working on those codes.”
“Sounds like a plan,” she said and smiled at him a bit sadly, as she lightly touched the antique armoire and ran her fingers along the curved wooden back of a Queen Anne replica chair.
He instantly thought of the home they’d once shared, and how she’d loved to antique-shop, filling their rooms with cherished finds. He’d come to appreciate the eclectic mix as well, loving the variety, seeing it as an extension of her complex personality.
How much he’d loved her. How much they’d loved each other. Did she really believe such a love could ever die?
Before he said or did something he’d later regret, he headed for the attached bathroom and a nice, long shower.
Turning the water up as hot as he could stand, Sean took his time, standing under the pulsing stream. Each swipe of the soapy washcloth reminded him of Natalie’s hands, soft and silky on his rough skin. By the time he’d finished cleaning, his arousal was nearly unbearable in its intensity.
He had two choices—turn the faucet to cold or take matters into his own hands.
Stubborn and hurting, he refused to do either. Instead, he forced his mind onto other matters and finished his shower. By the time he turned off the water, he’d nearly returned to normal.
Until he opened the shower curtain, reached for his towel and saw her.
She’d undressed in the steamy bathroom, and her pale skin glistened with the damp heat. Unclothed, she let him look at her, no false modesty between them, her breasts high and firm over her narrow waist and the curve of her hips, her chin lifted proudly. No guilt or remorse darkened her expression.
She’d come for him. Why now? Yet she had, and whatever her reasons, he would take her any way he could get her. He’d worry about the
“Natalie?” Her name rolled off his tongue like a prayer. She nearly overwhelmed him, there so close, naked, looking better than she had the thousand times he’d dreamed of her. Her scent, musky and full of desire, made him feel as if he was drowning. The look in her eyes, hot and sensual, reflected his own emotions—so much more than simple need or lust or desire—and he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining this.
Natalie wanted him. Finally he could join his body to hers once again.
For two long years he’d thought of little else. Natalie, his Natalie. The woman he’d been willing to die for.
His breath caught in his throat. Somehow, he choked out her name again.
She held out her arms. Without hesitation, he went to her, crushing her to his chest so she could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat, moving them both out of the bathroom, toward the bed. His body primed, he tried to hold away from her, not wanting to frighten her with the strength of his arousal.
He should have known better. This Natalie, the adventurous Super-spy, wasn’t afraid of anything.
Both hands on his backside, she pulled him to her. Together, they tumbled backward onto the bed.
Their mouths touched. Locked. Greedy, he tried to rein in his passion, but two years of dreaming and longing and missing her had taken their toll.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so aroused. So ready. Fleetingly, he wondered how he’d lived without her. Then she took him in her hands and he lost all capacity for rational thought.
Just as he pushed her away, unable to bear any more without exploding, her cell phone rang.
“Ignore it,” she murmured, shimmying into position over him, poised to take him deep inside her. “They’ll call back.”
“Good advice,” he muttered. One thrust and he’d be in, yet for some reason, he hesitated.
As soon as her cell quit ringing, his began.
Reluctantly, he glanced at it. “It must be important,” he growled. Body throbbing, he cursed once more before snatching the phone and flipping it open. “Hello?”
“Sean, I have some bad news,” Corbett’s voice came over the line. “Phillip’s missing.”
“Missing?”
“Who?” Natalie mouthed, suddenly alert.
“Your father.”
All the blood drained from her face.
Gripping the phone, Sean swallowed. “What do you mean, missing? He’s in a wheelchair and when he goes out he’s driven by one of your men. You should know where he is at all times.”
“His van and my man are missing also.” Corbett sounded weary and furious, all at the same time.
“What?” None of this made sense. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ve got people working on finding that out.”
Sean raised his head to find Natalie watching him, an expression of concern on her lovely face. His gut clenched as he remembered his own family and how he’d tried to shield her from the terrible truth.
He could not shield her from this.
“Let me talk to Natalie,” Corbett said.
“Not now.” Sean took a deep breath. “We’ll call you back.” Without giving Corbett a chance to disagree, he disconnected the call.
“What happened to my father?”
He told her all he knew, holding her tightly.
In shock, she let him. When she raised her head, the blank look she gave him clawed at his heart. “Is there something else you haven’t told me?”
“No.”
Her frown made it plain she didn’t believe him. “No ransom note?”
“Corbett’s looking into it. You know how close the two of them are.”
With a sound of pain, she twisted out of his arms, got off the bed and grabbed her clothes.