Rafferty's Wife (11 page)

Zach was intently studying what remained of a drumstick. “By radio,” he murmured.

Sarah, startled, said, “But then he’d have to be—”

“Not in the South Pacific,” Rafferty said. “And not in New York. Don’t tell me—”

Lucas was grinning a little. “The
Corsair
,
we think. His own yacht. And since Zach wired that boat, anybody could run anything from it. So, Josh
is
minding the store. By remote control.”

“Where is he?”

“He wouldn’t say,” Zach replied. “My guess is that he’s somewhere here in the Caribbean. But he knows the situation on Kadeira, Rafferty, and he won’t get anywhere near the place. He’s just standing by.”

“In case I get into trouble,” Rafferty muttered.

“In case any of us do. He’ll call out the troops if something goes wrong. And we all know that when Josh calls out the troops, things happen. Hell, he even knows Sereno personally.”

Both Rafferty and Sarah blinked. “He does?” she asked.

“He does. The guy wanted businessmen to invest in his country a few years ago, just after he came to power, and Josh was at the top of his list. That was when the political situation
on Kadeira was better—relatively speaking, of course.”

“Josh actually met with him?” Rafferty asked, clearly surprised.

“Yeah. You were over in Europe straightening out something for Rena—Josh’s sister,” he explained in an aside to Sarah. “Sereno was in New York. He called and asked for an appointment. Then he came to the office, and not thirty minutes later Josh canceled his appointments for the rest of the afternoon. Sereno and Josh spent hours talking.”

Still incredulous, Rafferty said, “Now there’s something I wouldn’t have believed. Josh is so rabid against anyone with that brand of ruthlessness. And even then Sereno was known for his ruthlessness. I’m amazed he met with Sereno at all, much less spent hours talking to him.”

Zach looked at him thoughtfully. “Josh sent a message to you, by the way. Said you should keep it in mind while dealing with Sereno.”

“What?”

“ ‘Shades of gray.’ ”

The
Thespian
got under way just before dusk, and Rafferty and Sarah remained on deck to watch the fiery sunset. The atmosphere between them was both better and worse than it had been before their trip to the little island. It was better because they had cleared up some of the tensions resulting from their situation, and worse for the same reason.

The clock was ticking away their private moments together.

“Shades of gray,” Sarah mused, standing beside Rafferty as they gazed out on blue water touched with crimson. “Did he mean what I think he meant?”

Rafferty, too, was troubled by that cryptic message. “That a man painted black still has shades of gray in his character? I can’t think of another meaning. I
know
Josh, and he wouldn’t have spent any time at all with Sereno unless there was something positive in the man. Something redeeming.”

Sarah looked at him curiously. “
Would
he have known? I mean, is he that perceptive?”

“Josh? Oh, yes. He’s a world-mover, Sarah; he’s dealt with powerful men most of his life. And he’s a prime target for every sort of con, every kind of sob story you could name. People have always tried to win him over for one reason or another—mostly financial ones. If he met with Sereno at all, it was because he was willing to listen. And the fact that he
did
listen for hours tells me that it was a difficult decision for him to make. He didn’t invest in Kadeira, but he had to think it over carefully before he decided not to.”

“I wonder if Sereno’s bitter about that.”

“Who knows.”

She thought awhile, thought about complex men and world-movers. Then she looked at Rafferty and smiled. “Tell me something?”

“Sure.”

“In your work, you’ve faced off against both male and female attorneys in court. Right?”

“Of course.” He looked at her curiously.

“Would I be right in assuming that you usually win against men, and usually lose against women?”

Rafferty was obviously startled. “Well, yes, as a matter of fact. I’ve never been able to figure it out. Honestly speaking, I’ve won against male attorneys I knew were better lawyers, and lost to women I knew weren’t particularly strong. I assume you mean
won
in the sense of courtroom tactics, where a case depended more on the presentation of facts rather than the facts themselves?”

“That’s what I mean.” She laughed a little when he lifted a questioning brow. “Yes, I think I know why.”

“Why, then? I’ve always wondered. I don’t
think
I treat a female opponent any differently.”

“No, probably not. But I’ll bet they treat you differently, Rafferty.”

“In what way?”

“They don’t underestimate you.”

For a brief moment, there was a curious gleam in the depths of his golden eyes. Then it was gone, and he slid his arms around her to
pull her close. “Ah. And do you underestimate me?”

Her hands crept beneath his unbuttoned shirt until the warm flesh of his back was smooth beneath her palms. “I hope not,” she murmured. “Underestimating you would be very dangerous, I think.”

His arms tightened, and Rafferty’s eyes focused on her mouth. When he spoke, his voice was husky. “One of these days, you’ll have to explain that to me.”

Drawn inexorably by those topaz eyes, Sarah had begun to move up on tiptoe to be even closer to him when her peripheral vision caught sight of Tom or Dick—she could never tell which was which—moving past them with an armful of ropes. She drew back a step.

Rafferty had seen him as well. “Damn. When this is over, you and I are going someplace where we can be alone.” He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. “Really alone.”

Sarah rubbed her cheek against his warm, rough palm, feeling very conscious of both their lack of privacy and the heavy ache deep
inside her. She wanted him. And there was no hiding or disguising that hunger when she looked at him.

He caught his breath, and the last rays of the setting sun painted his lean face with a hot reddish light. For a timeless moment he did indeed look dangerous, his features carved out of fire and his eyes ablaze. There was a hardness in his face, a driven strength. There was something primitive and savage.

She watched the transformation, as one would watch the rippling of subtle muscles beneath the gleaming skin of a caged tiger, with wonder and fascination but no fear. It was not a trick of light, she thought dimly, but something else, some momentary revelation of what lay beneath his civilized exterior. He had hidden that part of himself, and she wondered why it had escaped now, never realizing that she had looked at him with naked hunger for the first time.

The hand against her cheek trembled slightly even as the last of the sunlight vanished, and Rafferty’s face was his own again.
Almost his own. There had been a subtle alteration during the moment of blazing light, leaving that inner core of him nearer the surface, more exposed. The deceptive layer of easygoing softness seemed to have been partially stripped away, and he was visibly more powerful, stronger, tougher.

She wondered, vaguely, if men would underestimate him now.

She didn’t think so.

“Sarah …” He drew a ragged breath, as if his lungs were starved for air, and in the deepening twilight it was easy to see he was shaken. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” she murmured, still fascinated by him.

Hoarsely, he said, “Like we’re in bed together with nothing between us.”

After a moment, she slowly moved back away from him. It was not a rejection, or even a denial of his words. She was smiling a little, unconsciously sensual. “I think I’ll go—wash away the sand and salt.”

He swallowed. “I’ll be along later.”

Rafferty moved slowly to the bow, welcoming the cool, brisk wind on his face. His entire body was throbbing, slowly and heavily, and he stared at the darkening horizon without really seeing it.

There were a hundred things he should have been thinking of. The coming poker game with Sereno, danger, the presence of his friends, Josh’s cryptic message. But what he thought of was Sarah, and the question branded in his mind was whether the interlude on the island had truly freed her, strengthened her.

Gripping the chrome railing, Rafferty acknowledged to himself that the answer to that question made little difference now. It was clear she wouldn’t “fight” him, wouldn’t resist the passion between them. Only time would tell if that decision was wise, and the right one. Only time would tell if Sarah was indeed in control of her destiny.

Rafferty didn’t know how long he stood in the cooling wind, but at the same moment he became aware of darkness and of a presence at
his side. And he tensed, an instinctive recognition of power, feeling physically what he had only sensed before now.

“Mr. Lewis?”

Danger. Siran was dangerous. In the darkness especially, he was dangerous. “Yes?”

“Harry asked that I tell you dinner is served.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Rafferty felt rather than saw Siran vanish, and he was both elated and bothered by that. Elated because this newfound instinct boded well for the coming foray into Kadeira. And bothered because he didn’t know what had unleashed it. He knew only that he had never felt so aware, so acutely sensitive to his surroundings.

Rafferty made his way below deck and into their cabin, surprised to find the lighting dim and the room apparently deserted. And then she spoke, from the shadows.

“Harry’s serving dinner in a few minutes; I told him you’d probably want to take a shower first.”

“You were right.” He cleared his throat, not
seeing her clearly, but very aware of her presence. She was still and silent now. After a brief hesitation, he headed for the shower.

When he returned to the main cabin, wearing slacks and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms, he found a table set for two, the dishes under silver covers and wine chilling on ice. Harry was absent, and when Sarah came forward and into the faint light, Rafferty realized that she had planned this.

“Pushy lady,” he murmured, but his gaze was moving over her hotly. Obviously, Sarah had decided that subtlety was a waste of time. Her hair, falling loosely over her shoulders, gleamed richly, and her creamy skin was a perfect foil for the stark black creation she had chosen to wear.

The negligee was silk, shimmering in the half-light. The sleeves were long and full, caught tightly at her wrists, and they were fashioned of lace that allowed the warmth of her flesh to show. The negligee fell straight from her shoulders to the floor, and beneath it her gown boasted a deep V-neck and was gathered tightly
beneath her breasts. Her every movement caused the thin fabric to mold itself against her, outlining the delicate curves of her hips and thighs.

“We were interrupted on the island,” she said softly, her eyes glowing with the mystery of a cat’s. “But not tonight. Harry has his orders.”

Rafferty glanced at the table awaiting them, and he knew he’d never force food past the tightness of his throat. He looked back at her, watching her as she moved closer, and he could hardly breathe. But he managed a last reluctant, automatic protest.

“This is—definitely blatant.”

Sarah halted barely an arm’s length from him, smiling. “No more rules,” she reminded him. “You stopped that game, remember? So you have nothing to lose.”

Rafferty tried to think of practicalities. “Sarah, I can’t protect you. I just haven’t been thinking—”

Her eyes softened even more. “Don’t worry. It’s a requirement for female agents on field
assignments. He might not know much about the human element, but Hagen does anticipate some human failings.”

Not even conscious of moving, Rafferty watched as his hands came to rest on her shoulders, feeling the silk and the warm flesh beneath. “I love you,” he murmured huskily as the last thread of his willpower snapped.

They stood as they were for an eternal moment, as if each was giving the other a last opportunity to draw back, to stop before anything irrevocable happened. But neither drew back. Instead, Sarah stepped closer, lifting her face, long dark lashes shadowing her gleaming eyes. Rafferty’s head bent, and his lips touched hers. At first his kiss was a whisper, a gently tentative caress, but that wasn’t enough for either of them.

Sarah felt his fingers tighten, and her own hands lifted to slide around his waist. The heavy ache inside her intensified, spreading throughout her body, and she pressed against him suddenly in an attempt to ease that hurt. Her mouth opened to the fierce demand of his,
and all her senses whirled at the thrusting possession of his tongue.

What she felt was still new to her, wonderfully unfamiliar, yet Sarah recognized what was born in her then, and accepted the inescapable, overpowering need to belong to him. There was no future, no past, there was only this night. And it was not fatalism that bred her need, but rather something far deeper and utterly feminine.

His hands slid down her back and to her hips, shaping the rounded flesh and pulling her closer, until she could feel the swelling demand of his body. Her hands clutched at his back unconsciously, and she gasped when his mouth left hers to trail fire down her throat. Her head fell back to allow more room for his exploration, her heart hammering out of control.