The Heart Has Reasons (12 page)

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Authors: Martine Marchand

BOOK: The Heart Has Reasons
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Worse,
her account of shooting the intruder and the subsequent murder of the doctor
had caused insidious doubt to set in.  Not only did the story have an
unmistakable ring of truth to it, it would certainly explain her guns.

Fuck. 
Keswick had warned him that she was a skillful liar and an Oscar-worthy actress
and yet, here he was, prepared to believe her bullshit.

Last
night, she’d been quaking with terror, but today she’d overcome the majority of
her fear, which indicated that she’d figured out exactly where he was taking
her.  If she truly believed he was delivering her to someone who intended
to kill her, she’d be still terrified.  The incontrovertible fact was that
it had been her smiling from the portrait, surrounded by her husband and
children.  She’d fabricated the story about shooting the intruder to make
him question the
integrity of his actions.

Ah,
well, not only could he not hold it against her, he admired her unrelenting
determination to outmaneuver him.  He found himself wondering about the
kinky video in which she’d starred, about exactly
what
she’d done in
said video.  He didn’t hold it against her for, from what her husband had
said, she’d had little choice at the time.  He would have pain a great
deal to view the video.

Out
of simple curiosity, though, nothing more.

Directly
ahead, the huge orange-gold disc of the westering sun flamed just above the
horizon, making him squint despite the Ray Bans, and he decided to pull in at
the next suitable motel.  Stopping earlier than he’d originally intended
had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that he missed that sexy southern
drawl.  Nor did it indicate that he was anxious to spend some quality time
with her.

They’d
just crossed the line into Arkansas when he spotted the motel.  Avoiding
the parking lot’s numerous potholes, he parked, turned the radio up loud, and
climbed into the back.  Still refusing to speak to him, she uttered no
protest when he secured her hands and gagged her.  He gently brushed a few
stray strands of hair from her face, then cradled her cheek against his
palm.  “I’ll be back in a few.”

The
door to the motel office jingled a welcome as he went inside.  A
middle-aged, heavy-set woman sat behind the counter.  As he filled out the
necessary paperwork, she asked, “Do you and your wife like pizza?”

“Who
doesn’t?”

“The
place across the highway’s real good.”

“Thanks. 
We may give them a try.”

The
air inside their allotted room was hot and musty.  Switching on the window
unit air conditioner, he returned to the parking lot to unload the van. 
Since it was still light, he’d have to remove both the hobble and the gag
before escorting her inside.

After
releasing her, he circled a hand behind her neck and with the other held the
Taser before her face.  “I’m going to remove the gag before we go
inside.  The very instant you inhale to scream, I’ll Tase you.  Then,
as punishment, you’ll wear the gag for the next twenty-four hours.  Are
you going to behave?”

Wide-eyed,
she nodded.

He
removed the gag.  With one arm anchoring her securely to his side, and the
other holding the Taser against her ribs, he quickly escorted her inside and
locked the door behind them.

Docile
and obedient, she settled onto the edge of the mattress.  With the air
conditioner droning ominously in the background, he moved over to the large,
deep-drawered bureau and placed the Taser onto its battered surface.  As
he pulled the Colt from the small of his back, swift movement behind him caught
the corner of his eye.

As
he spun around, there was a blur of red-clad leg arcing through the air. 
Her bare foot struck his hand and the .45 went flying.

She
dove for the weapon.  Launching himself after her, he landed across her
lower legs and snagged a handful of tee shirt.  Writhing like a serpent,
she managed to latch onto his belt with her toes and then straightened her
legs, propelling herself forward another half foot across the rust-colored shag
carpeting toward the Colt.  His own forward progress thus impeded, he
grasped her ankles and scooted down just far enough to wrench her feet free.

As
her hand closed around his weapon, he scrambled over her and locked his grip tightly
about her forearm.  Thumbing back the hammer, she spat, “Asshole!” and
squeezed the trigger.

Since
there was no round in the chamber, her efforts produced merely an empty metal
click.  “Who’s the asshole, now?” he asked.  To prevent her from
racking the slide, he grabbed her left arm and wrenched it down to her
side.  Undeterred, she twisted her free arm, flipping the Colt upside
down.  Pressing it firmly against the carpet, she shoved forward and his
breath caught as the slide moved an inch.

He
scrambled the rest of the way up her straining body, gliding his hand along a
sleekly muscled forearm until he grasped her wrist.  Lifting the Colt away
from the floor, he said, “Let go, Larissa.”  When she continued to
struggle, he squeezed, making her grip slacken a bit.  “Let go!”

“Screw
you!”

When
he increased the pressure on her wrist, she cried out, “
Ow-w-w-w
, you’re
hurting
me!”

“Then
let go!”  Forcing down a pang of guilt, he squeezed a little harder,
forcing her hand to open.  The .45 fell the few inches to the carpet and
he quickly gave it a shove, sliding it out of reach.  Straddling her, he
rose up on his knees and roughly flipped her onto her back.  Seizing the
opportunity, she jerked her knee toward his groin.  Anticipating the move,
he twisted sideways and grunted as it slammed into his inner thigh.  After
a short struggle, he managed to wedge his legs between hers.  As he
lowered himself onto her, he realized that, once again, he had a full
erection. 

She
apparently noticed as well, for her eyes widened.  “Get off me.” 

The
mini blinds cut the late afternoon sunlight into pale gold stripes that swirled
with shimmering dust motes raised from the shag carpet by their
scuffling.  Relishing the feel of the strong but delicately feminine body
beneath his, he put his mouth close to her ear.  “Despite the fact that
you’re a devious little liar, you have the audacity to be angry with
me
for lying.”

“I’m
not a liar.  Get
off
me!”

“If
you didn’t want me on you, you shouldn’t have attacked me.  Don’t start
something you’re not willing to finish.”  Her sweet feminine scent
intoxicated him.   Her eyelids were heavy, lips slightly parted,
breathing audible.  It made for an irresistibly erotic picture.  His
gaze flitted over her face, coming to rest on that sexy mouth.  Knowing he
was making a mistake of monumental proportions, yet unable to stop himself, he
lowered his head to claim her lips.

Never
one to force anything of a sexual nature upon a woman, he kissed her slowly and
gently, his lip caressing hers.  When
she tentatively kissed him
back, that was all the encouragement he needed.  As a passionate urgency
surged through him, he took heated possession of her lips, savoring the sweet
taste of her.
 
He wanted to go on kissing her forever.

When
he opened his mouth, she opened hers as well, plunging her tongue into his
mouth as she gripped his shoulders with a strength belying her size.  No
longer sure who was kissing whom, he groaned aloud as a wave of smoldering heat
shot through him.  Her hands slid down his back to squeeze his jean-clad
buttocks, sending shivers through him
and making him impetuous
and
impatient.
 
When her pelvis arched against the unyielding rigidity
of his shaft, all he could think about was plunging himself deep inside her,
abandoning himself to her womanly softness and heat.

Jesus,
she kindled his desire as no woman ever had.  Just as he was about to
relinquish all common sense and self-control, she suddenly froze, her entire
body going rigid.  This provided sufficient warning that when she abruptly
tried to sink her teeth into his lower lip, he jerked back just in time. 
He could feel the racing of her heart, and her chest expanded and contracted as
if she’d just breasted the tape at the end of a long race.

Keeping
the majority of his weight off her, he nestled his face in the crook of her
neck.  “Larissa, I think you enjoy our wrestling as much as I do.”

“In
your dreams, you arrogant ass.  Get
off
me.”

“You’re
lucky I have such excellent self-control.  Otherwise I might ravish you
right here on the floor.”  As if to prove his point, he thrust his
erection against her, making her breath catch audibly.

Despite
his boast, his self-control was rapidly becoming more difficult to maintain so,
after planting one final kiss on the curve of her neck, he heaved himself to
his feet.  When he lowered his hands to her, she reluctantly took
them.  Pulling her to her feet, he caught her up in a close embrace. 
“You and I make a good pair.”

She
wedged her forearms between them and tried to shove him away.  “Except
that we’re on opposing teams.  Don’t
ever
kiss me again.”

“You
have only yourself to blame.  You attacked me
again
, despite
repeated warnings of punitive measures.”

“Shouldn’t
the punishment fit the crime?  That kiss was cruel and unusual.”

“Jesus,
a fucking comedienne.  Before you start acting all outraged, keep in mind
that you kissed me back.”

“You
caught me off guard.  It was an automatic reaction.  Let
go
of
me!”

He
reluctantly released her, and she took a quick step back.  “But you
enjoyed it,” he persisted.

“You
conceited moron, I did not.”

“Then
why are your nipples so hard?”

Her
eyes dropped to her chest.  Color flamed into her cheeks at the sight of
nipples that looked like glass marbles beneath the black tee shirt.  “Screw
you.”

“You
see?  The kiss has you thinking about sex.  Or maybe it was the
wrestling.”

“You’re
such an asshole.”

Jesus,
with her sultry southern accent, even the word “asshole” sounded sexy. 
With quick, furious gestures, she tugged her shirt back into place, raked her
hair back from her face, and brushed herself off.

Once
she’d regained a semblance of composure, he raised a hand, fingers pointing to
the ceiling, edge-on and level with her face.  “Show me what you can
do.  Kick my hand.”

“I
can’t.”

“You
just did it not ten minutes ago.”

“I
simply got lucky.  I couldn’t do it again even if my life depended upon
it.”

“Bullshit. 
You’ve clearly had some self-defense training.  Although that kick was
more offensive than defensive.”

“The
only ‘training’ I’ve had is in yoga.”

“I
might have believed that before, but not now that you’ve kicked a weapon from
my grasp.”

“Believe
what you want.”  When she turned away from him, he reached out a hand to
the back of her head and gave a little shove.  She stumbled forward, then
rounded on him, a flicker of irritation narrowing her eyes.  “Don’t do
that.”

He
brought his hand back up.  “Then show me what you’ve got.”

Rolling
her eyes, she started to turn away, then flinched when his hand shot out
towards her.  He pushed her shoulder, throwing her off balance for a
second.

Anger
flashed across her face and her spine straightened, increasing her height by
nearly an inch.  “Stop it.”  When he reached for her, she knocked his
hand away.  “Keep it up and I’ll scream.”

“Scream
and you’ll be wearing the gag until morning.”

He
followed as she retreated across the room.  He feinted with his left and,
when she moved to block, shoved her with his right.

Spots
of color burned in her cheeks.  “Goddamn it, stop it!”

“I’ll
stop when you show me what you can do.”

Without
warning, she struck out with a roundhouse kick to his knee, followed by a palm
strike to the face, both of which he blocked.


Are
you happy now?
” she shouted.

“Lower
your voice.  You lied in hopes of catching me off my guard.”

“I
did
catch you off your guard,” she shot back.

When
she started to turn away, he taunted, “Is that all you’ve got?  You hit
like a little girl.”  Her foot lashed out, catching him in the
thigh.  Ignoring the hot sting of pain, he grinned.  “Now, that’s
more like it.”

When
she moved toward him, he backed away, staying just out of reach.  Lips
taut, she coldly studied him, looking for any vulnerability to exploit as they
circled each other.

Bracing
her feet, she suddenly attacked, aiming a vicious kick at his groin that he
easily blocked.  As they moved in a tight circle on the worn carpet, he
stayed on the defensive, easily parrying the onslaught kicks and punches. 
Her hands and feet were but lightning flashes of movement as she put her all
into the attack, desperately trying to hurt him.

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