Pearl Cove (30 page)

Yet when she looked at him, she ached with the emotions that were buried inside her,
clawing to be free. His face was shadowed by black stubble and something much darker. His
hands were big, hard, and very careful with the fragile pearls. His shoulders were
straight despite the weariness that she had seen in his eyes. She wanted to go to him,
touch him, kiss him, sink into him even as he sank into her, to forget everything but the
heat and vitality of him; and she wanted it so much she could barely stand.

And she feared wanting him. She feared showing vulnerability to a man as hard as Len had
been.

The sound Hannah made was small, but it brought Archers head up sharply. He saw the wet
silk painted to her body, saw her tight nipples and soft mouth, her indigo eyes as wild as
any storm.

Dont think about it, ht said quietly. Its over. Everyone is safe.

She simply wrapped her arms around herself and shook her head. She was afraid if she
opened her mouth, she would say that she wanted him. Then he would take her down to the
floor and show her again the difference between making love and having sex. She didnt know
if she was strong enough to survive another lesson.

Yet she needed him until she shook with it.

He stood, went into the bedroom, and came back with a towel as big as a sofa. Youre cold.
Dry off and crawl into bed. Your body is still on Aussie time. You cant tell whether youre
coming or going.

She tried to unwrap her arms and let go of herself, but it was too difficult. She simply
shook her head instead.

Hannah.

The word was whispered against her temple. The heat of Archers breath made her tremble.

Youre shaking. He pulled the towel around her and rubbed briskly. You need a hot shower,
warm clothes, and a long-

You, she interrupted. I need you.

His hands paused. He looked at her eyes. They were wild and wary, hesitant and hungry, so
beautiful his heart turned over. Sex, Hannah?

She closed her eyes. If thats what you have, Ill take it. What if I have more? Tears slid
from beneath her thick lashes. She wanted more. And she was terrified of it. Never mind,
he whispered. Never mind. Its all right. Just sex.

Even with her eyes closed, she knew Archer was bending down to her mouth. She could feel
the shift of his body, the heat of his breath, the sliding pressure of his lips over hers
as she opened for him. The taste of him was sweet lightning. The need of him was thunder
shaking her.

She grabbed him and pulled him closer still. Her fingers raked down his jacket, only to be
caught by holes in the cloth. She went still, remembering, reliving it all again.

Change your mind? Archer asked, lifting his mouth from hers.

Holes, she said raggedly. There are holes in your jacket. From the bullets.

He saw the stark memories in her eyes, felt fear turning her pliant flesh to stone. With a
few swift movements he peeled off his jacket and tossed it aside. He was more careful
removing the gun and holster, but no less quick. When he reached for his dark flannel
shirt, her hands were already there, tearing away cloth that also carried neat, horrifying
holes. Her strength surprised him. Her need stopped his breath.

The Kevlar defeated her. It had no buttons, no zippers, no surface to tear.

Like this. Archer took her hand, showed her, watched her rip Velcro fastenings apart until
he wore nothing but briefs.

Then he wore nothing at all.

The humming sound of approval she made as she cupped him stripped away his control as
certainly as she had stripped away his clothing. He no longer tried to control the
adrenaline, the need, the desperation for her. With swift, casual power he knelt and
peeled her jeans down to her ankles. That was when he discovered that he had been right.
She hadnt taken time to put on underwear.

He pulled her hard against his mouth, then made a deep sound in his throat. She tasted as
hot and reckless as he felt. The twisting motions she made trying to kick out of her jeans
opened her to him even more. He took it all, demanded more. Heedless, helpless, she gave
it to him, too shocked by the searing demands of his mouth to do more than wonder that she
had lived so long and never known this way to love.

Before her feet were free of her jeans, he drove her ruthlessly to the first climax. When
her knees buckled he didnt release her. He followed her down to the floor, opening her
even more while cries rippled and she writhed and he took, he gave, he demanded, he
worshiped; and she came until she couldnt even draw breath to scream.

It wasnt enough.

Fighting to breathe, she reached for him, trying to draw him up her body, needing what he
hadnt yet given to her.

He pinned her where she was, on her back, her legs over his shoulders. Her eyes opened
wild and blind as he fitted himself to her and went in deep, hard. With quick, powerful
motions he measured himself and her until his name came from her lips with each ragged
breath and she convulsed around him, a slick satin fist demanding that he give everything
he had to her. Body rigid, shaking, he bared his teeth and gave himself to the endless,
pulsing violence of his own release.

Archers sudden, slack weight on Hannah sent another shimmering wave of pleasure through
her. With a hunger that she didnt understand, she stroked his back and shoulders and hips,
memorizing the feel of him in her arms. When his breathing finally settled into a normal
rhythm, he started to shift his weight off her. She wrapped herself around him and hung on.

More? he asked. She shook her head and didnt loosen her grip at all. Not ready to be alone
yet? he guessed. She nodded. I promised myself a nice long shower, he said. Best thing for
bruises. How about you? Now that you mention it... She winced. I landed under you in that
ruddy cafe. I put you there. He rolled over slowly, taking her with him. It was the only
way I could protect you.

Her breath stopped, then resumed with a husky sound. He was still buried deeply in her,
filling her. I dont want you to do that anymore.

This? he asked, deliberately stroking himself deep.

No. Putting yourself in danger to protect me.

Does that mean youre going to stop protecting me? Archer asked.

Its not the same thing.

Wrong answer.

Its the only one youre going to get.

Same here.

What does that mean? she asked. Then she shivered when he lifted his hips against her with
a slow, rolling motion. Youre trying to distract me.

Is it working?

She bit her lip against admitting it, but the kick of her heart against his mouth gave her
away. He smiled, then groaned when she slipped through his arms and stood up.

Let me take care of you, Archer, she said, holding out her hand. Just this once. Let me.

Without a word he followed her into the shower. When the water was beating down hot enough
to cook, he sighed and relaxed, letting the water take the worst of the aches from his
body. Then her hands flowed over him, bringing a different kind of ache; not pain but
something deeper, a pleasure whose piercing sweetness was like silver lightning stitching
through his soul. She did no more than soap him, rinse him, sleek her hands down him to
take off the excess water and he felt as though he had walked into a bare electrical wire.

She turned away, shutting off the water. When she faced him again, he couldnt conceal the
vital hardening of his body, the blunt physical need that made her eyes widen. Hunger
poured through her like a firestorm. She took his hand and led him toward the bed. The
coolness of the room after the steamy shower made her shiver. She didnt even notice it. At
that moment, nothing existed for her but Archer.

I didnt know if you still would she began, but her breath backed up before she could
finish.

The smokiness of her voice and her eyes made him feel like he had been stroked from head
to heels. If I would what?

Want. Like me.

His smile was a razor acceptance of the pain that would come when she no longer wanted
him. When its you, Hannah, Ill want until I cant. And then Ill still want.

Then let me, she whispered. What? Nothing. This. Everything.

She tasted his chin, his shoulders, his nipples, the median line of his body where water
had gathered and slid down past his waist. And like water, she flowed down him. Her mouth
was open, a heat that healed even as it burned. He gave an involuntary shudder when her
tongue traced his erection.

Im told men like this. Do you? Hannah asked.

Yes. But its not necessary unless you his breath ripped and his head spun as she sucked
lightly on him

like it, too, he finished hoarsely.

I dont know. Her tongue swirled around him. Ive never done this before, just as Id never
had a man love me the way you did. She dipped her head again. Found him again. Murmured
even as she circled him. I think... She closed her mouth fully over him, lingered,
learned, memorized the heat and pulse of life in him, took him deeply and lost herself,
tasted the salt of creation. Slowly, slowly, she released him. Yes, I like it. A lot.

The pleasure on Hannahs face as she bent to caress him again made Archer fight for the
control that she stripped from him so effortlessly. He lay on his back, fingers digging
into the bedcovers. As the sultry tugging of her mouth consumed him, he wondered if she
had any idea of what she was doing to him.

You keep that up and youre going to make me come, he said finally, raggedly.

She looked up and his breath fragmented in a groan; her eyes were heavy lidded, as sensual
as her mouth caressing him, and her nipples were drawn into hard, hungry peaks. Clearly
she liked arousing him, pleasuring him.

Id rather be inside you, he said thickly. But its your call, sweetheart. Would you mind?
Whatever you want, he said simply, closing his eyes, giving himself to her. However you
want it. He felt her weight shift on the bed until she was astride him. She guided him
home, taking him inside

her with a slow, slow motion of her hips that made the world go a radiant kind of black
all around him. Hot black. Deep and sweet and dangerous. Without knowing it, he groaned.

She heard. Need pricked her with exquisite claws. Shivering, she gave him what she couldnt
hold back, took from him what she needed to survive. With every breath, every heartbeat,
she kissed him, her mouth open and lazy. Forehead, eyelids, lips, neck, shoulders,
everything she could reach without losing the slow, complete rhythm of giving and taking
and needing and sharing.

And then she felt him change, sensed the rigid tension and the hot surge deep within her
body, his strength given to her without hesitation, her name broken on his lips, and the
elemental pulses that were both his and her own. She trembled with him, around him, in a
long, shivering consummation that was all the more shattering for its tenderness.
Boneless, spent, she sprawled the length of his body and waited to find out if she was
still alive.

As the sweat cooled on their bodies, Archer shifted. No, Hannah whispered, wrapping her
arms around him. Dont leave me. Dont worry.

Leaving her was the last thing on his mind. That would come later, and with it would come
the kind of pain he didnt want to think about. He grabbed the down comforter, wrapped them
up in it like a sleeping bag, and drew her so close he couldnt take a breath without
tasting her. It was the same for her, breathing him in, tasting him, holding him. With a
long sigh, she slid into sleep.

She didnt fear her dreams now.

The ringing phone dragged Archer out of deep sleep. After a moment of fumbling, he
realized that he and Hannah were cocooned in a down comforter. He wriggled until he could
free an arm and reach blindly for the phone. Hannah murmured and followed the heat of his
body until she was covering him like a second blanket. As he lifted the receiver, he
decided that he really liked the feel of her snuggled against him from his chin to his
heels. The only thing that would have been better was being inside her at the same time.

Yeah? Archer said into the receiver.

Slick, we need to talk.

Archer didnt need to ask who was calling. Only one person called him slick in just that
impatient tone of voice: April Joy. His mind cleared instantly. When and where?

What would you say to green tea at the Dragon Moon? No, thanks. No shit. She laughed
curtly. My office. Now. My office, Archer corrected. Thirty minutes.

Your office. Fifteen minutes. Bring Hannah McGarry.

April hung up. Hard.

Archer put the receiver back in its cradle without disturbing Hannah, who was still lying
on top of him like a cat on the hood of a warm car. And, catlike, she was watching him
with big, curious eyes.

Who was that? she asked.

The person who supplied us with passports and clothes in Australia.

Hannah blinked. And now?

Its payback time. He kissed the corner of her mouth. Much as Id like to be ravished again,
Im afraid Ill have to go.

She smiled slowly, remembering just how much fun it had been to have him at her mercy. Im
going with you.

I want to keep you as far away from Ms. Joy as possible.

You know what Len used to say?

No.

Put your wishes in one hand and piss in the other and see which fills up first.

Archer smiled thinly. Vintage Len. All right, Hannah. Get dressed. April Joy mentioned
bringing you. Shell be in a better mood if I look like Im cooperating.

Hannah started to slide off him, then stopped when his big hands fitted themselves to her
buttocks. He gave a deep, slow squeeze that had her breath wedging and fire licking out
from her core.

Kiss me, he said. Hard and fast. Then run like hell for the shower.

Even though Donovan Internationals headquarters in Seattle was the twin building across
the courtyard from the residential condos, Hannah and Archer were late. She hadnt stopped
with one kiss.

He hadnt stopped at all.

Good morning, Mitchell, Archer said to his assistant. Mitchell Moore had worked for
Donovan International for fifteen years. Ten of those years had been as a field supervisor
on various mines around the world. After a mine caved in on him, he was given a choice
between retirement at disability pay or using his organizational skills as Archers
assistant. Two years ago he had been offered a promotion to

coordinator of overseas mining. He refused, saying that working with Archer was as close
to exciting as desk jobs got. Archer had been so relieved that he gave Mitchell a 50
percent raise. Did your wife like the opera?

Good afternoon, sir, and yes, thank you. Verdi is a favorite of hers. The emphasis on hers
was just enough to tell everyone that Verdi wasnt Mitchells favorite way to spend an
evening.

Is it afternoon? Surprised, Archer looked at his watch. So it is. Next time the tickets
will be for a Sea Hawks game.

There is a god, Mitchell said under his breath.

Hannah bit her lip to keep from laughing. Archers secretary winked at her. The wink
transformed him from a proper martinet into a rogue wearing a pale blue shirt, a
conservative maroon tie, and a stainless steel watch with a mirror face.

The fax machine beeped a delivery warning. Mitchell spun his wheelchair and reached for
the sheets that were piled up in the receiving tray.

A Ms. April Joy is waiting for you downstairs, Mitchell said as he scanned the first page
of the fax. She claims she has an appointment. As you werent expected to come in today, I
told her I couldnt guarantee your presence. She wasnt happy. He dropped the page back into
the tray. The fax will wait until youre back from your emergency trip to Australia,
whenever that might be.

The emergency has moved to Seattle. Send April up in two minutes, Archer added, not
answering his assistants unspoken question about how long the emergency might last. Coffee
for three.

She isnt alone.

Archer didnt move, but he changed. The easy humor was gone. In its place was cold
readiness. Who?

A man called Ian Chang.

That answered one question: Archer now knew who Uncle Sam was backing in the pearl
sweepstakes. What he didnt know was why.

Observations? Archer asked quietly.

Mitchell wheeled back to face his boss. If theyre friends, its not an easy relationship.
Mr. Chang looked like he would rather have been somewhere else. Anywhere else. Ms. Joy
could have etched glass with the edge of her tongue. Will you be needing the lawyers, or
is Uncle Sam going to behave?

Ill buzz you if it gets sticky.

The phone rang. Mitchell picked it up. Archer Donovans office. He began reading the fax
again. I m sorry, an emergency called him out of the office. Perhaps I could help you.

As Archer led Hannah through a door at the side of the office, she looked back over her
shoulder at his assistant. Mitchell winked again. She winked back, drawing a wide smile
from him.

Archers office had a wall of windows overlooking Elliot Bay. A big green-and-white ferry
was working its way across the wind-scoured water. Clouds revealed part of the Olympic
Mountains and concealed the rest. The city gleamed white and shiny black in the aftermath
of a cleansing rain.

The office itself contained all the standard executive appointments large polished desk
set at right angles to the view, big leather chair, a grouping of sofas around a low
table, a wet bar. Some of the touches werent standard. One of Susas powerful, compelling
landscapes hung on the wall opposite the desk, where Archer could enjoy the painting every
time he looked up from work. The yellows, oranges, reds, and brooding purple of the sunset
painting were repeated by a trio of freeform glass sculptures that graced the low table in
front of the couches.

Beautiful, Hannah said, running her fingertips over glass. Hot to the eyes, cool to the
touch. I like the sculpture in your house better. Couldnt stop touching it. Like you this
morning. Startled, she looked up at him. Do you mean that?

About touching you? She smiled but shook her head. No, the sculpture. Yes. Thank you. I
threw away all the rest that I did, but I kept that one even though Len laughed at me. You
created that? She shrugged. Created is a big word for a bad carving. Created is the right
word for that sculpture. For a moment she looked at him, measuring the truth of his words.
You mean it. Of course. Why are you surprised? Try shocked. Len couldnt say enough bad
things about my carvings.

Im not Len. But the savage thought went no further than Archers mind. He accepted that
Hannah saw Len every time she looked at his half brother. Nothing Archer did seemed to
change that. Much of what he did made it worse. Len was wrong about a lot of things.

Archer put his hand under her chin and kissed her slowly, thoroughly, trying not to think
about how much longer she would want him. Lust was a hot, quick emotion. Love was hotter,
and lasted as long as there was breath. That was how long he would want her. Thinking
about the difference in their needs would only ruin whatever time they had together, so he
put away that knowledge and concentrated on the woman in his arms.

No wonder Susa looked daggers at me when I told her to forget having you as a
daughter-in-law, he said, barely lifting his lips from Hannahs long enough to get out the
words. She had you pegged for a fellow artist.

Ruddy hell, she muttered, embarrassed. Your mother hangs in museums. Ive nowhere near her
talent.

Bull dust.

She smiled, then laughed out loud and kissed him full on the mouth. I dont believe a word
of it, but thank you. Its nice to know Im not the only one in the world who likes to pet
wood.

The only thing that feels as good beneath my hands as that sculpture is you.

Hannahs breath shortened. She remembered waking up, being pulled over him, and his long
fingers sinking into her hips.

Are you thinking about what Im thinking about? Archer asked huskily. I hope so. He gave a
crack of laughter and reached for her even as she came up to meet him.

When April Joy walked into the office she saw a long-limbed woman wrapped around Archer
like a jungle vine. He was wrapped around her just as tight. April hadnt believed it when
Ian Chang had told her Archer and Hannah McGarry were lovers.

She believed it now. Full points to you on that one, Ian, April said sardonically. If they
were any closer, it would take a

surgical team to separate them. I didnt know he had it in him. Or should I say, in her?

When Hannah stiffened, Archer broke the kiss and said very softly, Follow my lead, okay?

She hesitated, then nodded, watching April Joy uneasily. The woman was petite, beautifully
formed, with raven hair and matching eyes, delicate Chinese features, and a way of moving
that could set fire to brick. The crimson wool suit she wore was both elegant and severe.
Though there was no badge in sight, she wore authority and ruthless intelligence the way
other women wore perfume.

Whats on your mind? Archer asked April. How to make the kind of pearls Yins brother is
dying for, she said coolly. That would be the merry

widows department, I believe. You knew Len, Archer said, his voice hard. You will
apologize to Hannah for that crack. Its not necessary, Hannah said quickly.

Aprils smile was as hard as Archers voice. She turned to Hannah. Im sorry your husband was
a prick. If he had been mine, I would have put him under years ago and danced on his
grave. Now, how do you make those damned black pearls?

I dont know. Bullshit. Wrong, Hannah retorted. Prove it,

April said.

How can she prove a negative? Archer asked.

Good question, slick. Im waiting for an answer.

Chang looked at Hannah, who was even now flushed from Archers arms. It galled Chang, but
he didn t allow it to get in the way of business. How do you think Len got his black
rainbows?

I dont know. He never told me.

Once I got past the lick-me lips and hall-breaking ass, I learned that youre a very bright
lady, Chang said coolly. I want your best guess.

Archer gave Chang a look that had Aprils hand sliding into her neat black purse.

I suspect some kind of cloning of the mantle material, Hannah said. The neutral tone of
her voice said it wasnt the first time Chang had talked about her body.

Explain, April said.

When we seed an oyster, Hannah said, we carefully pry open the shell and make an incision
in the living flesh. Thats where the seed goes. With it we put in a bit of living mantle
the flesh that lines the shell and deposits nacre from another oyster. Its the bit of
introduced mantle that starts the process of pearl formation around the implanted seed.

So you think the secret was in the bit of mantle he inserted, which told the oyster how to
produce the rainbow blacks? Chang asked.

You told me to guess, Hannah said. Thats one of my two best guesses. The second
possibility is that Len cloned the experimental oysters himself and used mantle from
sacrificed experimental oysters for seeding.

Frowning, Chang absently shot the cuffs of his creamy linen shirt. The heavy wool and silk
blend of his suit was an intense indigo that almost matched Hannahs eyes. The realization
annoyed him.

I know Len raised the experimental oysters himself, Hannah added. They were never wild
shell. Thats why I lean toward the second possibility.

Cloning? April asked.

Hannah nodded. It would explain the narrow color variation among all the experimentals.

Coffee, Mitchell said from the door.

Bring it in, Archer said.

Mitchell wheeled over, put the tray on the low table next to the unusual glass vases, and
looked at his boss.

Ill take it from here, Archer said. Thanks. If anyone calls, Im still in Australia. Is Ms.
Joy here? Mitchell asked. Ms. Joy, April said distinctly, is not here. Youve never heard
of her. Mr. Ian Chang, Mitchell said, is he here?

Who? April retorted.

Mitchell nodded and rolled out, closing the door behind him.

While Archer poured coffee, April looked around the office. She tried not to stare at the
vivid landscape, but couldnt help it. Outside of a museum, it was as close as she had ever
come to a Susa Donovan painting.

You can doctor your own coffee, Archer said, indicating the tray of sugar, cream,
cinnamon, and various other spices.

April ignored coffee and additives alike. What happened to the pearls you bought from Yin?

Did I buy pearls from him? Archer asked, sipping coffee made the way he liked it hot and
very dark.

Dont go sideways on me, slick. We both know where you and Hannah spent the morning.

Since when is sleeping late a crime? Hannah asked.

Sleeping isnt. Neither is screwing. Sawed-off shotguns are. April flicked a black glance
at Hannah. You have guts, Ms. McGarry. Not much sense, but real guts. Whats it like to
love someone enough to die in his place?

Hannah went pale. She didnt want to think about the dream she had had, or the instant
early this morning when she had been certain that Archer would die if she didnt do
something. She hadnt considered the implication of her action at the time, her reckless
disregard for her own safety.

She didnt want to consider the implication now. It frightened her as nothing else had but
the thought of Archers death.

She would have done the same for a stranger, Archer said curtly. Thats just the way she is.