Rafferty's Wife (10 page)

“We’re not talking about sex, Sarah. We’re talking about emotions. And if you don’t think you can fight me—how you feel with me—then how could you possibly think you’d be able to fight
him
?”

Hovering on the edge of anger, Sarah was drawn back by the sudden understanding of what he meant. He wasn’t accusing her of having no moral standards, nor was he implying that she was so sexually susceptible even a charming animal could get her into his bed. What he was saying was that if she allowed herself to remain passive in a man’s arms
once
 … then it would be the easiest thing in the world for that to happen again.

Appalled at the realization, she asked a little breathlessly, “Are you telling me to fight you?”

“Yes.” His response was instant. “I don’t
want
to sweep you off your feet, Sarah. I don’t want a blind lover. I want you to
know
what making love with me will mean. Not an affair, not a shipboard romance, and not a fling because we’ve been thrown together in an impossible situation and it’s easier to give in rather than understand.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “That’s what—I was afraid it’d happen to us. Afraid that if my mind was involved, I’d somehow get us killed when there was danger. I thought if—if we were lovers without being in love …”

Rafferry remembered her agent friend, and understood. He nodded slowly. “You wanted to be swept away, because you’d convinced yourself that if it was only passion, there was no danger. You weren’t afraid ours would be a passing affair, Sarah. You
wanted
it to be just that. Nothing dangerous. Nothing threatening. We’d part when it was over … but we’d both be alive. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“I think it is,” she whispered, staring at him. “Rafferty … I’m sorry.” She buried her face in
his neck, her arms slipping inside his shirt to hold him.

His arms tightened, and his voice was husky. “I’m just glad you realize that now. Sarah? I do love you.”

Because she knew he was waiting, she looked at him finally, and felt her heart turn over. “I—thought I was feeling so much before, but I wasn’t letting myself feel at all.” But now she was feeling, and it was in her eyes.

“Sarah …” His head bent, slowly, and his lips found hers. For an instant he was gentle, tentative, but then the ragged emotions of the past hour overwhelmed restraint and his mouth slanted across hers, deepening the touch.

He could feel her melt against him instantly, her hands sliding over his back, her mouth opening to him in a surging response. Through the thin silklike material of her caftan he could feel the heat of her flesh, and he moved without even thinking about it, lifting her, placing her on the blanket and lying next to her.

They had shared a bed. They had shared a burst of flame on a moonlit beach and agreed
on a lighthearted game to cope with the fire. They had weathered the first deceit, each believing the other beyond reach. They had laughed together and argued. They had spent this interlude on a deserted island tautly stripping away pretense and illusion. They had even been cruel to each other.

And for the first time, they were truly themselves together, vulnerable, still not quite certain what had burst into life between them and still not quite certain how to cope.

Sarah had been told to fight, but that was beyond her at the moment. At the same time, she was no longer being carried blindly away by desire; she knew very well what was happening. Her body was responding in a fiery urgency to the man holding her, kissing her, and what she was feeling was more than passion.

She didn’t want to fight that.

Rafferty kissed her as if he were starving for her, and her response only deepened the hunger. He explored the warmth of her mouth, his tongue possessing starkly. One hand tangled in the silk of her hair while the other slid
down along her side, and the slight friction of thin material between his flesh and hers reminded them both of maddening barriers.

Sarah couldn’t breathe even when his lips left hers to trail down her neck; she tilted her head mindlessly, her hands stroking his back, probing strong muscles that were hard with tension. For the second time an interlude on a beach was awakening astonishing feelings in her body and mind, but this time she was not conscious of the risk in taking an unexplored road; being with Rafferty was the most natural, inevitable thing in the world.

“Dammit, fight me,” he murmured against her ear, and there was a strained thread of humor in his deep voice.

She smiled when he lifted his head to gaze down at her, unaware that her own eyes were darkened like his, dazed like his. “I don’t want to fight you,” she said huskily.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her in a thickened voice. “And I want you so much.… For heaven’s sake, tell me to stop, tell me you need time to think things through.…”

“You changed the rules on me,” she complained. “
You
were supposed to fight
me
off, remember?”

“Somebody else changed the rules.” He kissed her briefly, hard. “Damn Hagen.”

Uninterested in anyone else at the moment, Sarah brushed her fingers up his spine slowly, glorying in his instant response. “What would you say … if I said I didn’t need time to think things through?”

Rafferty half closed his eyes, his expression midway between pain and pleasure. “I’d say it’s too soon. You have to be sure, Sarah.”

“We’ll be in Kadeira soon,” she reminded him softly.

He sighed a bit raggedly, his eyes flaring at her. “I know. Still, we have a little time.”

“Rafferty—”

“Excuse me?”

The sound was a shock, since it was a third voice on an island supposedly containing only two people. And the fact that the voice, while deep and utterly male, was also soft and effortless did nothing to cushion the blow. The shock
factor on a scale of ten was several points over the top.

After the first second Rafferty turned his head slowly. His face was frozen with astonishment. “I don’t believe it,” he murmured.

“T
HIS IS BECOMING
a habit,” Zachary Steele commented about a minute later. “It’s the second time in a couple of months I’ve had to interrupt a pair of lovers at what I judge to be a critical moment.”

Rafferty and Sarah had disentangled themselves and were sitting side by side on the blanket, both gazing at their visitor. They were too bemused to be embarrassed, and the abrupt end to their interlude alone had left them feeling somewhat suspended.

Sarah, who had recognized Zach’s name when he’d politely introduced himself, studied him with surprise. She didn’t know what mental image had formed when Rafferty had described this friend, but his appearance was rather startling. He was big, for one thing—four or five inches over six feet—and built to fill doorways. He was a potentially dangerous man, she thought, despite the almost bland expression on his rugged face and his serene gray eyes. And the long narrow scar on his left cheek hinted at dangerous things he’d done in the past. Wearing only swim trunks, he exuded a peculiarly animal vitality, every inch of tanned flesh covering corded muscle; the smooth expanse of bronze was broken only by the jet-black hair covering his chest and lightly furring his long powerful legs.

In a detached manner, Sarah thought that most women would find him utterly riveting physically and curiously fascinating otherwise; he was unquestionably masculine from head to toe. If they’d met on a street corner, she didn’t doubt he would have frightened her, but here
on a tropical island and seeing a gleam of amusement in his eyes, she decided she liked him very much.

“Oh, good, lunch.”

Amazed, Sarah looked up at their second visitor, who had emerged from somewhere behind Zach and was now cheerfully exploring the picnic basket. She barely heard Rafferty sputtering beside her.

This, she decided, would have to be Lucas Kendrick, Rafferty’s other friend. The investigator. He, too, was a big man, a bit over six feet and broad-shouldered, with the beautifully defined muscles of a very active man. He was also strikingly handsome, with classical features and a leonine mane of silvery blond hair. That hair, Sarah decided thoughtfully, could easily inspire a woman to want to run barefoot through it. And if he didn’t exude quite the raw force of Zach or the keen intelligence of Rafferty, he could certainly talk the devil out of hell with that charming voice.

Sarah was mildly pleased with herself because these two men aroused no more than a
spark of interest and a detached curiosity in her. Attractive though they undoubtedly were, she would have instantly traded them and every other man she’d ever met for Rafferty.

Andrés Sereno, I’m ready for you!
she thought in satisfaction.

“What the hell,” Rafferty was asking coldly, “are you two doing here?”

Lucas took it upon himself to answer, elaborately casual and still looking through the basket. “Oh, we were in the neighborhood. Just passing by. Would you look at this spread? That boat of yours must have some chef.”

Rafferty turned his stony gaze to Zach, who had settled himself on the blanket and now returned Rafferty’s stare blandly. And it occurred to Sarah that both visitors shared a healthy respect for Rafferty, and that each was somewhat wary at the moment, despite calm expressions and casual words.

These men, she thought, were certain of what she had sensed in Rafferty: that understated power of his. She made a mental note to
discover more about their friendship. Apparently, it had weathered a few storms.

Infinitely patient, Rafferty said, “Just passing by, huh? Passing by a supposedly deserted island in the Caribbean? How far’d you have to swim to just pass by?” He looked pointedly at the wet trunks both men were wearing.

“Our boat’s anchored offshore,” Zach told him. “On the other side of the island. Don’t worry, I doubt your skipper saw us. And if he did, we’re just fishermen.”

A little fiercely, Rafferty said, “
You
are supposed to be in California.” He turned his stare on Lucas, adding, “And
you
in New York. Who the hell’s minding the store?”

“By now, Josh,” Zach answered. “He got tired of people interrupting his honeymoon and said he might as well come home.”

That surprised a laugh out of Rafferty, but he was almost instantly grim again. “Now I know how he felt when we butted into
his
business. Look guys, go home.”

“And miss the opportunity to fish off the shores of Kadeira?” Lucas asked, his tone ironic.

Sarah giggled, but hastily straightened her face when Rafferty gave her an offended glance. She was enjoying this immensely, and had the sneaking suspicion that Rafferty wasn’t quite as angry as he seemed. From the sound of it, these three made it a habit to watch out for one another, and she liked that. Their kind of friendship was rare in her experience.

Still striving for patience, Rafferty told his friends, “You’ve both helped enough. Besides, this is a difficult situation. You two can’t possibly get into Kadeira without attracting just the kind of attention we’re trying to avoid.”

“You couldn’t pass for a native,” Zach observed. “Neither could Sarah.”

Hearing her name, Lucas looked up long enough to charmingly introduce himself. Sarah responded gravely, trying not to laugh in the face of Rafferty’s comical despair.

“Hagen arranged—”

“Oh,
Hagen
did,” Zach said in a surprised but somehow odd tone, as if he were implying something.

Rafferty gritted his teeth. “All right, so he’s
sneaky as hell and prone to keep certain things to himself. I
know
that. And I’m none too happy about this scheme, but—” He glanced at Sarah, then swore under his breath.

He wouldn’t tell them, Sarah realized, because it was her assignment too. So she told them, trusting them because he did, and because she liked them. She told them the plan, explaining everything—except one tiny detail even Rafferty didn’t know yet, and which she couldn’t tell him until they were on the island.

She told herself that it was hardly professional to disclose so many particulars of their assignment—let alone to strangers—but she was following instinct. She was also half-consciously rebelling against Hagen’s secretive orders, plans, and general disposition.

Zach looked at her, then at Lucas, who had also listened intently to the story. “That seems to let us out,” he commented.

The blond man made a faint grimace of agreement. “Seems to. Too many nosy Americans on the island could gum up the works nicely, I’d say.”

“Let’s have lunch,” Zach suggested.

Rafferty regarded him suspiciously, and it was Sarah who responded. “Harry packed enough.” She measured Zach’s huge frame with a musing gaze, adding, “I think.”

Zach’s smile was surprisingly gentle. “Oh, I don’t eat much.”

Lucas, who was examining the bottle of wine with a critical eye, did an exaggerated double take and stared at the big man incredulously. “You don’t what?”

“Luc, would you care to swim to the nearest country that’ll have you?”

“He eats like a bird,” Lucas told Sarah somewhat hastily.

Sarah was trying not to giggle, and Rafferty seemed resigned to the situation. But he wasn’t nearly as glum as he appeared, because he winked at Sarah when neither of the other two was looking.

Lunch was enjoyable, even though there weren’t enough plates or glasses to go around, and Zach and Lucas took turns drinking from the wine bottle. Sarah was fascinated by the
friendship of the three men. They were utterly comfortable with each other, and with her, and though rude remarks and cheerful insults seemed the order of the day, there was also an obvious closeness among them.

And there was, she learned not entirely to her surprise, a fourth friend present in spirit.

“Is Josh really back at the helm?” Rafferty asked the other two.

“He got in touch this morning,” Zach affirmed. “Told us very politely that since we’d all decided to be idiots, he thought he should come home.”

“Heard Raven laughing in the background,” Lucas added.

Rafferty frowned a little. “Wait a minute. Got in touch
how
?”