Freefall (23 page)

Damn! Just what he needed, fucking Barney Fife showing up just as he'd been about to make his move.

The man tossed the Beretta 9 mm into a pile of dead leaves and, forcing down his frustration, strolled casually back toward the car. Leaving it parked on the side of the road had been careless, but he'd been afraid if he drove it into the bushes, he would end up sinking into this godforsaken, mosquito-infested swamp.

"Good evening, Officer," he said with what he thought was a believable blend of innocence and confusion. "Is there a problem?"

"That's what I was about to ask you." The Maglite focused on his face. "I noticed your car and thought you might need a tow."

"No." A cooling wave of relief washed over him. "Although it's embarrassing as hell, and I probably broke some island decency law, I just stopped to take a piss." He smiled, one guy to another. "I never should've had that second beer down at The Stewed Clam."

The damn sheriff did not return his smile but merely said, "May I see your driver's license and registration, please?"

"Sure." He started to reach into his back pocket, then paused. "I'm taking my wallet out."

"Fine. Just do it nice and slow, okay?"

"Absolutely." He pulled out the nylon billfold, flipped it open to the window ID, and held it up.

The flashlight shifted. Dark eyes studied the photo, then looked back up at his face.

"And your registration?"

"That's in the car."

As he moved to open the driver's door, he calculated the chances of grabbing that Glock the cop was wearing on his belt and ending this right now.

Problem was, it was so goddamn quiet they'd probably be able to hear the shot all the way to town.

Which would blow any element of surprise.

But if he did let this hick sheriff live, tonight's plan for Tremayne was down the crapper.

The bottom line, he decided, was that he hadn't come all this way to turn into a cop killer. He'd come to seek vengeance.

Which he still had every intention of doing.

But, it appeared, not tonight.

Do you feel lucky, Sheriff
? he thought on a riff of the old Dirty Harry line.

He took the registration out of the glove compartment and handed it over.

The sheriff took another long look.

"You're a long way from California."

"Got a divorce." That much was the truth. His entire life had pretty much gone to shit after Mission Enduring Goatfuck in Afghanistan. "Decided it was time for a change of venue." Another true statement. Oo-rah, he was on a role.

The dark head nodded, taking that in as the sheriff's gaze skimmed over him, pausing for a heartbeat on the full-color Marine Corps seal tattooed on his forearm.

Sweat began to pool beneath his arms. His crotch. The palms of his hands and the back of his neck. And not just because the air was thick enough to fucking breathe.

Just when he was thinking he might have to neutralize the guy after all, the sheriff returned the piece of paper.

"Be careful driving home," he advised. "There aren't a lot of streetlights on the island, because we're pretty big on sea turtle protection around here, so it's real easy to run off these rural roads. Especially if you've been drinking."

"Two beers," Sergeant Richard Cunningham, USMC, swore, holding up two fingers in confirmation. "Over a two-hour period while I watched the Braves game on TV."

"Well, like I said, drive safe. And Semper Fi."

The sheriff gave a little two-fingered salute, then turned and walked back to the patrol car.

Releasing a long, relieved breath, Gunney unzipped his pants and sent a long stream of urine he'd nearly pissed in his pants against the tire.

Then, cursing his bad timing, he reluctantly followed the sheriff back into town.

"I have to go," Sabrina murmured.

"Hmmph."

Zach had dozed off and was indulging in the hottest imaginable dream, involving the woman currently cuddled next to him, a tropical lagoon, some ripe passion fruit, and a grass hula skirt.

He drew her closer, spooning, his erection pressed against the cleft of that sweet butt.

"Zach." She wiggled a bit, which only proved more of a turn-on. "I have to go."

"Okay." He rolled over onto his back, releasing her. "I'll keep the bed warm."

"No." She pulled the sheet off him. "I meant leave."

"Leave?" He reluctantly hitched himself up in bed and shot a glance at the window. "It's the middle of the night."

"It's almost morning."

"
Almost
." He ran a hand over her shoulder, cupped her pert breast, which was a perfect fit for his palm. "The sun won't be up for another two hours." He looked past her to the clock radio on the bedside table. "At least."

"That's my point." She slapped his hand away. "You know how everyone on the island talks. No way am I going to let them see me driving back to Swannsea in broad daylight after spending the night at your house."

"Who's going to know where you're going or coming from?" Undeterred, he trailed a finger up her leg. "Maybe you went out for coffee." Through the soft curls between her thighs, which proved her a true blonde. "A bagel."

"In that dress?" She waved a hand toward the bit of bright silk that still lay where she'd dropped it on the floor hours earlier.

"Could be worse. I could've given in to the temptation to rip it off and you'd have to drive home naked." He leaned forward and took a little nip of her shoulder. "Stay fifteen more minutes."

"Zach…"

"Ten."

"Dammit," she complained. But he could hear the rising desire in her soft voice, felt it in the way her body had begun to move beneath his stroking touch.

"Okay, make it eight."

Considering he still had a hard-on from that sex dream, Zach figured he could go from zero to sixty in about thirty seconds, but as far as he knew he'd never left a woman unsatisfied and he wasn't about to begin with this one.

"You're incorrigible." Even as her lush lips said no, her hips were lifting toward his touch.

"I know," he soothed.

As he took her mouth in a long, deep kiss, he reached for another condom, a little surprised at how many they'd gone through. If they could only bottle what Sabrina Swann had done to his libido, they'd both be gazillionaires several times over.

She sighed, broke off the kiss, and took the packet from his hand.

"Lucky for you that I've always had a thing for bad boys."

Her touch, as she smoothed the rubber over him, nearly had him exploding. Make that two seconds.

He pulled her on top of him, rilling her as her body clutched at him.

"Lucky for both of us," he managed as she began to ride him, the same glorious way she had in that dream the other night.

Zach had no idea where this unexpected thing between them would lead. But the one thing he did know was that for now, as he looked up at her silvered in the moonlight, straddling him, back arched, eyes closed, hair streaming down her back like a shimmering pale waterfall, he was, hands down, the luckiest man on the planet.

"Well." Sabrina stretched like a sleek Siamese who'd just finished lapping up a particularly sweet bowlful of cream. "As much as I'd love to never move again, I really do need to leave."

Keeping her in his bed forever didn't seem like such a bad idea. But even as Zach reluctantly decided that tying her to the bed might be overkill and wouldn't exactly inspire trust, he also understood that despite having traveled and worked all over the world, Sabrina remembered how small towns worked. And was, surprisingly, turning out to be enough of a small-town Southern girl not to want to give people any more to talk about.

"I'll follow you home."

"You needn't do that."

He slipped his hand beneath her hair, cupped her neck, and brushed his lips against hers. "Even if there wasn't some crazy guy out there, like I told you, my Southern gentleman act is situational. And seeing a lady home after she's spent most of the night heating up my sheets is definitely one of those situations."

"Got a lot of ladies dropping by to heat up your sheets, do you?" she murmured as her lips clung.

Before he could answer, she jerked away. "I'm sorry." She held up a hand as color waved in her cheeks and across her breasts. "Forget I asked that. It slipped out." Her smile was weak and embarrassed. "It's your fault for clouding my mind so I can't think straight."

"Stay a little longer and we'll see if we can cloud it some more," he suggested as he nuzzled that sweet curve of her neck where it met her shoulder.

A delighted laugh burst out of her, "You've no idea how tempted I am to do exactly that," she said as she left the tangled sheets. "But I really have a lot to do today."

"Such as?"

He crossed his arms behind his head, enjoying the sight of her gathering up her scattered clothes.

"I need to arrange for some construction financing at the bank. Then, since I'm going to be staying, I'll have to pick up more groceries. And take the ferry over to Somersett to buy some clothes."

He sighed with a bit of regret as she pulled that pretty white lacy thing back up her legs and tucked her breasts away. "That dress you wore last night was real fine. And that flowery halter thing you were wearing earlier?"

He shook his hand and waggled his brows. "Hot."

Speaking of hot, he was surprised they hadn't started the water to boiling in the bed.

"I'm so pleased you approve."

Sweet Jesus. He swallowed back a groan when she bent over to retrieve the dress, giving him a dandy view of her fine ass.

Granted, she could still use a bit more meat on her bones. But what she had was definitely prime.

"Neither is exactly business attire, though." She pulled the brightly colored silk over her head, arranged the skinny little straps, then glanced over at him. "You're still in bed."

"Damn, Gus Melton's right. You are one smart cookie, New York." He grinned. "I'm planning to get up as soon as you're ready. Meanwhile, I was just taking some time to enjoy the view. And thinking how much fun it's going to be next time I take your clothes off you again."

She snorted at that. Then tossed her head in a way that had him remembering how that silky blond hair had felt draped over his thighs as she'd taken him deep into her sweet, succulent mouth.

"If you're going to insist on following me, let's go." She bent down and pulled the sheet off him, revealing the hard-on that was sticking up like a tent pole.

"That's amazing."

"Well, now, thank you kindly for the compliment."

"I wasn't talking about your, uh,
penis
." And wasn't she as cute as a speckled pup when she blushed at saying the
p
word out loud? "After all, if you've seen one, you've pretty much seen them all."

She shrugged with a casualness he didn't buy for a minute. "What I was referring to," she said in a cool tone that she might use to chastise a hotel desk clerk for poor service, "was how you could have any stamina left."

"The day I don't respond to a sexy, naked woman is the day I climb to the top of the Admiral Somersett Bridge and throw myself into the river."

He flashed his best bad-boy grin. The one that had always worked wonders in bars from San Diego to Singapore and too many ports in between to count.

"I don't suppose you'd like to come back to bed and help me out." He patted the mattress. "Seeing as how you're responsible for my little problem in the first place."

"Why don't you simply try a little mind over matter?"

Zach couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed himself as much as he had the last eight hours. "Well, now, see, here's the thing, sugar."

He'd never thought of himself as a stereotypical good old Southern boy, but he wasn't beyond playing that card in the right circumstances.

"It's my
mind
that's the matter. Because it keeps painting these hot pictures of you. Like when you dropped that dress and were standing there in nothing but those high-heeled shoes and that skimpy bit of lacy underwear. Or when you climbed on top and were riding me—"

"I get the point." She cut him off with a quick slice of that silky smooth hand that had certainly not been the least bit shy as it managed to find all his hot spots. Some even he hadn't known he had.

She bent again, picked up his jeans, and tossed them at him. "If you want to come, get dressed."

He snatched them out the air.

Gone was the sexy siren who'd nearly set his water bed on fire. In her place was the high-powered executive who'd shot like a comet through the management ranks of one of the most famous hotel chains in the world.

He sighed mightily as he yanked the jeans on, thinking of grabbing a quick nap when he got home again from Swannsea.

Unless, of course, she invited him to stay. In which case, sleep was overrated.