A Risky Affair (20 page)

“Do you think she'd like to join me for lunch sometime?” Tessa continued. “Next week I'm giving a speech to the League of Women Voters at the Oak Hills Country Club. I thought I'd invite Solange, then afterward we could sneak out and have lunch together. Do you think she'd say yes if I asked her, Crandall?”

He gave a low, indulgent chuckle. “Don't you think you're rushing things a bit, Tess?”

The look she leveled at him would have felled an African baobab tree. “She's twenty-nine years old, and tonight was the first time I've ever laid eyes on her. Rushing things? On the contrary. I'd say I have a lot of catching up to do, wouldn't you?”

Crandall laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm not arguing with you. All I'm saying is that we need to proceed carefully. There's still the possibility—”

“No, there isn't,” Tessa cut in firmly. “She's our granddaughter, and we both know it. And she's not after your money, either. That girl doesn't have a scheming bone in her body. If she genuinely knew who you were, she would have told you up front. She has character, Crandall, the kind that was obviously shaped by the good, loving parents who raised her.” Tessa paused as a fresh sheen of tears sprang to her eyes. Averting her gaze, she added in a choked whisper, “Thank God she was dealt a better hand than Melanie.”

They shared a moment of somber reflection, forever bound by guilt and sorrow for the role they'd each played in the tragedy that became their daughter's life.

After another moment, Tessa turned to him with dark, imploring eyes. “When are you going to tell her the truth?”

As Crandall stared back at her, this woman he would love until his dying day, he reached a momentous decision. “Christmas. I'm going to tell her on Christmas Day.” Remembering the sight of Solange laughing and sharing her favorite holiday memories with Rita as they'd decorated the tree last night, he smiled softly. “It'll be my gift to her. The gift of a new family.”

Tessa beamed with pleasure and approval. Surprising him, she reached on tiptoe and kissed him gently on the cheek. “Thank you, Crandall,” she whispered with feeling.

He could only nod, then stand and watch as she climbed into her silver Mercedes and drove off. Oblivious to the cold, he remained there, watching until her taillights disappeared behind a moonlit thicket of trees down the road before he returned to the house.

And now, as he stood in the entrance to the living room, staring at the sleeping faces of Caleb and Daniela—who had kicked off her shoes, curled up next to her husband on the sofa and laid her head upon his chest—Crandall felt a deep sense of pride and contentment wash over him.

He couldn't have asked for a more perfect evening.

Now where the hell was his granddaughter?

“I
f you get me fired, Dane Roarke, I swear I will never forgive you.”

Chuckling softly, Dane slid an amused glance at Solange in the shadowy interior of his Durango, which was parked in a small clearing down the road from the ranch. Close enough to get her back to the house in a timely manner, but obscure enough to give them privacy—which he intended to take full advantage of.

“Relax,” he drawled. “You're not going to get fired.”

“How do you know? We snuck out before the last guest had even left!”

“The last guest was Tessa Philbin, and she doesn't really count, since Crandall has the hots for her.”

Solange paused. “You sensed that, too, huh?”

Dane snorted. “Hell, yeah. Everyone under that roof sensed it. And I think it's pretty safe to assume his feelings aren't one-sided.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.” Solange frowned. “But Tessa Philbin is married.”

“Hey, all's fair in love and war.”

It was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

Her dark, glittering eyes narrowed accusingly on his face. “Then I guess you also think it's okay to use any means to get what you want. Like the way you sweet-talked Rita into telling you I'd be at that meeting yesterday morning, so you could show up and pretend it was purely coincidental that we were both there.”

Dane grinned sheepishly. “Oh, that.”

“Yes,
that.
”

“Hey, I didn't lie about Roarke Investigations belonging to the Alamo City Chamber of Commerce, and my cousins and I
do
take turns attending the monthly meetings. It's just that…well, this month wasn't exactly my turn…until Rita told me you'd be there. What's the problem?”

She stared at him. “Are you serious? You can't see how I might find that information just
a little
disconcerting? You played me for a fool, Dane!”

He scowled. “How? I wanted to see you again—badly, it so happens. When Rita called to let me know where you'd be that morning, I wasn't about to pass up the chance to see you and spend more time with you. I make no apologies for that.”

She folded her arms across her chest, unconsciously drawing more attention to the enticing swell of her cleavage. “I suppose some women would be flattered by that explanation,” she muttered mutinously.

Dane was too distracted to respond. She looked like an absolute goddess in that sexy little black dress he'd been itching to peel off her beautiful body all evening. It clung to every sublime curve and flared softly above her knees in a way that tempted him to lift the flirty hem and take a peek. He wondered if it was too much to hope that she wasn't wearing any panties.

“Hello? Did you just hear what I said?”

Dane blinked, feeling like a horny adolescent who'd been caught daydreaming about the big-breasted head cheerleader. Except
he'd
never had to settle for daydreaming. He'd always been given whatever he wanted.

He'd never wanted as much as he did now.

Leaning back against the headrest, he gazed at her from beneath his lashes. “Look, Solange, I didn't mean to offend you or make you think I was running game on you. I meant what I said when I told you I really enjoyed spending time with you yesterday.” When she remained stubbornly silent, her face averted to the window, he sighed heavily. “What do I have to do to convince you that I'm serious about wanting to get to know you better?”

She turned to look at him. Her thick-lashed dark eyes, which were naturally wide and exotically slanted, were even more dramatic with the smoky eye shadow and mascara she'd applied that evening. Man, she was a knockout.

“Believe it or not, Dane, I want to get to know you better, too,” she said softly. “As wonderful as our, uh, encounter was, there's still so much I don't know about you.”

He turned slightly in the seat to face her. “Ask me anything, and I'll tell you.”

“Anything?”

“Anything,” he said, but with a little less gusto than before, because he suddenly realized she might ask him about the very thing he didn't want to discuss.

“What's your favorite pastime?
Besides
that,” she added at the wolfish gleam that filled his eyes.

Dane chuckled, secretly relieved she'd started with an easy question. “Favorite pastime? I love playing basketball. Not necessarily as a competitive sport, although I grew up on a steady diet of street ball. I love to just go out by myself and shoot around. Gets the heart pumping and the juices flowing, and it helps me unwind after a long day. I don't have to think about anything deep or stressful. It's just me and the hoop. Very relaxing, therapeutic.”

Solange nodded, smiling. “Where do you usually play?”

“Well, right now I'm renting out Daniela's house in the King William District. Historic town filled with a bunch of Victorian houses and antiques stores. Not really my scene, but hey, the rent is affordable and I'm helping out Daniela by letting her hold on to a house she really loves.”

“Awww. Aren't you a sweetheart.” Solange cooed.

Dane grinned. “That's what I keep trying to tell you, woman. Anyway, I described the neighborhood to give you some context, so you can understand how pleasantly surprised I was to find this hidden treasure right around the corner from Daniela's house.”

“What hidden treasure?”

“A full basketball court, old but still in very good condition. I go there all the time, and it's almost always deserted.”

She smiled. “Lucky you, then.”

“Yep. Your turn. What's your favorite pastime?”

“Oh, that's easy. Reading a good mystery novel and watching football. I'm a huge Dallas Cowboys fan, along with everyone else in Haskell. Well, maybe not
everyone,
” she amended, grinning. “When I grew up, I found out that my father had been a closet Redskins fan the whole time.”

“Shameful,” Dane pronounced in mock disgust.

Solange giggled. “I know, right? Anyway, any man I marry
must
be a bona fide Cowboys fan, or it can never work.”

Dane grinned. “You drive a hard bargain, woman.”

She sighed. “What can I say? I have my standards.”

They exchanged teasing smiles, then lapsed into companionable silence for a few moments.

The diamond pendant nestled between Solange's plump breasts twinkled in the moonlight as she shifted in the passenger seat, turning her body to face him better. “There's something else I want to ask you about.”

Dane stiffened.
Here it comes.
“Go ahead,” he murmured.

She hesitated, biting her lush lower lip. “Why did you leave the FBI?”

“It's a long story.”

“I'd like to hear it,” she said quietly. “If you don't mind.”

He minded very much, but not because he didn't want to confide in her. On the contrary. Talking to Solange was as easy and natural as breathing.

So he found himself opening up to her, telling her about the sports-bribery investigation and the resulting probe involving him and his former partner. She listened in rapt absorption, never interrupting, not speaking until he'd finished his account.

“Oh, Dane, I'm so sorry,” she said almost tenderly. “I can't even imagine how terrible that must have been for you, to be wrongfully accused of a crime-and by someone you trusted. You must have been devastated.”

“I was,” he quietly admitted, gazing out the windshield. And for the first time in two years, he didn't want to put his fist through it at the memory of Rosalind's betrayal. What had changed? he wondered. Had confiding in Solange lessened the burden of anger and disillusionment he'd been carrying around all this time?

“Have you spoken to her…since then?”

Dane shook his head. “She got transferred to another field office and hasn't been heard from since.” He didn't bother adding that Rosalind had called and e-mailed him several times over the last two years, but he'd never responded.

“I hope she got demoted,” Solange grumbled under her breath.

Surprised by the cutting remark, Dane stared at her, then burst out laughing. Solange chuckled sheepishly.

Without thinking, he leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Thank you,” he said simply.

She gazed up at him. “You're welcome.”

His eyes lowered, drifting to her lips, and the next thing he knew they were kissing and tonguing each other like their very lives depended on it.

She didn't protest as he dragged her across the console and into his lap, her legs straddling him. He slid his hands beneath her short dress and discovered, to his everlasting delight, that she wore a garter and silk thigh-high stockings, which gave him easy access to what he desperately sought. With a low growl of approval at the convenience, he slid his hands over the curvy, delicious swell of her bottom and delved inside her lace panties, his fingers tangling in the soft nest of curls between her thighs. She shivered, arching against him with a trembling moan.

He slid his tongue along her parted lips while his fingers probed the wet, silky heat hidden in her soft folds. She whimpered uncontrollably, writhing against him.

“You like that?” he whispered against her mouth.

She nodded, licking her lips, teasing his tongue with the velvety tip of hers. It was enough to send a rush of blood straight to his groin.

He reached for the thin straps of her dress and yanked them down over her shoulders, dimly aware that the designer dress had probably cost Crandall a pretty penny.
Too damned bad,
Dane thought, too ravenous to be gentle. He tugged at the fitted bodice, then swore hoarsely as her magnificent breasts spilled out over the top, her nipples puckered with arousal. Greedily he reached for them, cupping their weight in his palms before using the pad of his thumbs to rasp her nipples. She sucked in a tiny breath, then moaned as he dipped his head and began suckling her left breast before moving to the other.

Unable to ignore his raging erection a second longer, he reached down and quickly unzipped his pants, freeing himself. Nudging aside the damp scrap of lace between Solange's thighs, he circled the swollen head of his penis around her clitoris, making her groan and quiver with anticipation.

He shifted in the seat, dislodging her a little as he dug his wallet out of his pocket and fished out a condom.

“Let me,” Solange murmured, taking it from his hand.

She smoothed the condom over his rigid shaft with a slow, lingering caress that drove him out of his mind. Straddling his lap once again, she guided him into her body, sinking down on his engorged length with a shuddering moan of pleasure.

Dane grasped her waist, groaning as she rose above him and sank down again, taking more of him into her—deeper, bolder, fueling his hunger with her silken heat.

Soon he was thrusting hard and fast, driven by an insatiable thirst that demanded quenching. His breath was harsh and ragged against the scented hollow of her throat. He squeezed her buttocks and her shapely thighs, his fingers digging into her flesh as he surged in and out of her.

Throwing back her head, she gripped his shoulder with one hand, while the other was flattened against the closed window as she tried to keep her balance astride his bucking body. He watched her beautiful bouncing breasts, then exulted in the tremors that convulsed her body as she climaxed with a breathless cry, pulsing and contracting rapidly around his penis.

He shuddered as he came in a violent rush, wedged high and deep inside her. Time froze. Everything froze. The two of them were clenched together as tightly as a fist. They stared into each other's eyes, not speaking, barely breathing, as if afraid to shatter the exquisitely profound moment.

And Dane knew right then and there that he'd do whatever it took to keep this incredible woman in his life.