Forget Me Not (32 page)

"Apology accepted," he said, even though it still irked him that he'd spent months trying to track her down. He'd questioned people who had been at the Shifting Sands. He'd even asked the guards at the gate. Tracing her license plate number, he'd discovered that she'd used a rental car that evening, and the rental agency wouldn't give him her real name. In all, she'd been so effective in covering her trail, he'd wondered for three long months if he'd been duped by a spy.

"Just tell me why you did it," he demanded, even though he suspected he knew. She was lonely. She was needy. She was terrified of a relationship.

His question clearly unsettled her. She clasped her hands together, bracelets jangling. "I needed... I needed to do it," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "Please don't ask me."

"For yourself?" He wanted clarification. "Or for someone else?"

She looked at him not understanding. "What do you mean?"

"Did someone put you up to it?"

"Of course not." Speculation turned to humor. "What, do you think I'm an agent or something?" She laughed then, surprising him.

Laughter transformed her face from merely lovely to breathtaking. Sebastian sucked in a breath.
There she was!
The woman who'd smiled up at him as he held her in his arms, dancing them slowly about the patio of the club, the moon luminous overhead, the ocean purring in their ears.

"Leila," he muttered, giving up pretending that his passion for her was subdued. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Please do not push me away. I must get to know you better."

"No!" she said, her smile fleeing. She shifted away from him, as if fearful that he might leap on top of her and leave her no choice.

He was seriously tempted. But honor squashed the impulse. If she ever invited his touch again, he wanted it to be with the same warmth she'd shown him three months ago.

His frustration grew. "I'm not going to touch you," he said, seeing that she was about to bolt from him. "I just want to hear your reasons. Given how good we are together, it makes no sense that you don't want to be with me now."

He was upsetting her. He could see the turmoil in her eyes. She was a complicated woman. He liked that about her, though her pride frustrated him.

"All right," she said, having struggled with herself. "I suppose I owe you an explanation." She took a shuddering breath. Her food and drink sat on the blanket, forgotten. He'd never get her drunk enough to take off the dress at this point.

"My marriage was short and stormy," she began. "I was not the kind of wife my husband expected, though I tried. God knows I tried. One day, I went home and found my house empty. Altul had taken everything but my clothes. I never saw him again. He went to Turkey," she added miserably. "He'd threatened to do it, to find a wife who knew how to care for him better..." She trailed off, a hitch in her voice. "He left me with a lot of debt," she added bitterly.

And a broken heart,
Sebastian thought. He wished fervently that he could find that bastard and teach him a lesson. He'd trampled Leila's untamed spirit by making her feel less than what she was. "I know people who could help you to find him," he offered, thinking he just might pay the man a social call.

"No," she retorted. "I want nothing from him." She lifted her chin and looked at Sebastian proudly. "I repaid the debts, and I filed for divorce. It was complicated without his consent, but I managed just fine."

Her bravery stirred a powerful emotion in him. "Your story touches my heart,
bonita."
he admitted, like a true red-blooded Mexican.

"Don't do that," she begged him, looking away. "Sadness is a waste of time and energy. I should know. I've wept an ocean full of tears, and it changes nothing. Besides, I'm not finished. You won't be half as sympathetic when I've told you the rest."

"Told me what?" he asked, intrigued.

"The reason I picked you up that night."

The air in his lungs evaporated as he waited for the other shoe to drop.

"I was hoping to get pregnant," she said in a rush. "I want to have a baby. Before it's too late." She looked down at the pattern on the blanket. "I just don't want the father of that baby, or any man for that matter, in my life."

Glaring insight lit the romantic shadows of Sebastian's memories. Here he'd thought she'd picked him up because she found him irresistible. He'd dazzled her with the admission that he was a SEAL, one of the few elite warriors in the world. She'd seemed so hot for him, so eager to climb into his bed, when all she'd really wanted from him was his sperm.

Well,
pendejo!
If that didn't bring a man down a peg or two he didn't know what would. What had been a night of heated passion for him was no more than a frenzy on her part to conceive!

Still, he managed to put a positive spin on this revelation. If she'd been so desperate for his sperm three months ago, then perhaps she was still desperate for it. He had plenty to go 'round. An endless supply, actually.

"It's understandable you would want a child," he said, measuring his words carefully. "Someone to love... who loves you back unconditionally."

She searched his face, clearly suspicious of his easy acceptance. "Aren't you furious that I was using you?" She shook her head, her color deepening. "I am mortified that I was so bold about it. But time is running out for me. I... I had just turned thirty-eight."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "You mean, it was your birthday?" What a hell of a way to celebrate.

"Yes," she admitted, looking away.

"Well, well," he murmured, satisfied that he'd given her something special that night. "That makes you, what, a Gemini?"

"Taurus," she replied. "I'm right on the cusp."

He smiled at her slowly. Ah, yes, the bull. He should have realized, given her stubborn nature.

"That night was so out of character for me," she insisted. "I couldn't face you again and explain. I knew I would, eventually. Just... not then."

"But you came to my house, to speak with Jaguar. You must have known you'd run into me."

"It was time," she said softly. "I am so sorry," she added, wringing her hands.

Sebastian didn't want her remembering that night and cringing. He wanted her to think of it as he did: as an epiphany, an encounter that had changed their lives forever.

"Stop apologizing," he demanded. "I don't want your mortification. I don't want your explanations."

She fell silent on him, and he realized he'd spoken too harshly. "Do you still want a child?" he asked, snatching up his only ace and playing it.

She raised startled eyes at him. "Why?"

"Sleep with me again," he offered. "And again until it happens."

Of course, he was offering her much more than his DNA. He was offering marriage, a house, a future for the two of them and their unborn children—in the plural. Only he sensed she would run the other way if he even hinted at any of that.

She was looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Are you serious?" she asked.

Hell, yes.
"Yes," he said.

"Why would you do that, after the way I used you?"

Was she kidding?
"I'm a very magnanimous person," he answered with a straight face. He ruined it by laughing. "You want the truth? The truth is, that night with you was the best experience in my life,
querida.
I would do anything to relive it."

"You would agree to give me a baby," she said slowly, "with no strings attached?"

She was eyeing him so hopefully he couldn't bring himself to stipulate the offer. "I would," he said. Of course, he had no intention of letting it end that way. If he planned it right, she would fall in love with him and marry him. And then she would see that not all men made lousy husbands.

"I need to think about it," she said, sounding stunned.

He shrugged. "Fair enough. Care to go for a swim in the meantime?" The first step in his seduction was getting that dress off.

"I didn't bring my swimsuit," she said, looking him up and down.

"So?" He unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside, along with his sleeveless undershirt. When he reached for his belt, Leila's gaze skittered away. "I'm going to wear my boxers," he said. "You can wear your underwear. It's no less than a bikini." He came to his feet and let his pants drop. He saw her take a peek at his light blue boxers.

"Aren't the sharks feeding at this time?" she asked.

"I'll keep you safe," he promised, giving her an encouraging smile.

She looked tempted, she truly did. Her eyes strayed to his naked chest and lingered on his flat abdomen. "I don't know," she said, wavering. "You go first I'll think about it."

That was enough for him. Relishing the future, Sebastian took off running to the waves, his feet scarcely touching the sand. Spanish had the perfect expression for this feeling—
Qué maravilla la vida!
Wasn't life just grand?

G
abe wasn't at his home for more than five minutes when the phone rang. He was holding Helen in his arms, asking himself what the hell he'd been doing, staying away from her. She pushed herself away from him at the first ring and snatched up the receiver.

"Hello?" Two seconds elapsed. "Yes, it is." Another two seconds. "Oh, my God."

The color leached out of her face. As her gaze locked on to Gabe, he experienced a sick lurching in his gut that went hand in hand with receiving bad news.

"Yes, he's here. I'll bring him," she said. Then she turned and hung up the phone.

"Who was it?" He dreaded asking.

"Security at Back Bay. Mal's okay," she said, clutching the counter for support. "But she's in trouble. She was caught smoking pot on the beach there. We have to go pick her up and pay a fine, apparently."

Relief made him weak. At the same time, anger swamped him, rocking him on his feet. "What the hell was she doing smoking pot? I thought we'd been through this before!"

Helen went rigid. "Well, maybe the stress was just too much for her!" she shot back, color reappearing in her cheeks.

He acknowledged her accusation with a nod. "You're right," he muttered. "I just thought Mallory was smarter than that. How much is the fee?"

Helen blinked at him. "They didn't say."

He found that odd. "Really."

"We need to go." She headed for her purse. "She must be terrified."

She'd better be,
Gabe thought grimly. He couldn't believe Mallory would defy them both so openly—smoking marijuana on a nature reserve, for God's sake. The fine was probably huge.

But if she'd actually been smoking the stuff, then it was obvious he'd screwed her up with his decision to leave. Maybe he ought to have stuck around. Maybe Helen and Mallory were better off with him than without him. He cursed under his breath, confused.

Helen led the way outside. Gabe paused to retrieve his gun from Master Chief's car, ignoring Helen's look of dismay. To her credit, she didn't say anything about him being paranoid or crazy. He took the keys from her fingers and drove the Jaguar himself, pointing it toward Back Bay.

It took less than five minutes to arrive at the entrance. The gate was already down, signifying that the reserve was closed for the night. The sun was still setting, however, shedding a crimson glow over the sand dunes. Gabe leapt out and manually raised the bar, which wasn't locked.

Driving into the deserted reserve, he glanced sidelong at Helen and found her rigid in the seat, looking as tense as he felt. As she turned her head to look at him, he saw the shadowed worry in her gold-brown eyes, and he knew what she was thinking. Poor Mallory was out here all alone with the park security. She must be feeling very intimidated, very scared.

Gabe wanted to reassure his wife. But he didn't like the cold feeling in his stomach. Something didn't feel right. As he guided the car toward the parking lot, he reviewed what Helen had told him earlier. It wasn't like Mallory to abandon her dog. Nor had she ever mentioned Back Bay Wildlife Refuge as a place for teens to hang out.

He coasted into a parking space, surprised to see Westy's 300ZX parked on the side closest to the beach. It was the only civilian car in the parking lot.

"That's your chief's car," Helen said, recognizing it also.

"Master Chief borrowed it for his date with Leila. They must be out here, somewhere."

She perked right up. "Leila's on a date with Master Chief?"

Gabe chuckled. "I think he's been bit by the love bug."

A Park Ranger SUV and a police car were the only other vehicles present, both parked near the information office. Gabe did a double take. The police car was a carbon copy of the one that had nearly run him over.

Helen was out of the Jaguar and heading toward the office, a wooden bungalow painted in driftwood gray.

"Wait a minute," Gabe called, hurrying to catch up with her. "I don't like this," he admitted, considering their options. Suddenly he wished he hadn't been so quick to leave Rodriguez behind.

"Come on, Gabe," she urged, reaching for his hand. "Mal's got to be scared to death!"

Maybe. Maybe it was paranoia, playing tricks on him. Maybe it wasn't What if his faceless opponent had taken desperate measures to pull Gabe away from his men? What If he'd kidnapped Mallory to lure him to this remote area?

He had to think fast. At this point, all he could do was to keep alert. At the first sign of trouble, he'd react. "Stay behind me," he said, pulling Helen back.

With a look of annoyance, she stepped behind him.

They approached the bungalow cautiously. Other than the crash of the ocean and the whistling of wind through the sea grasses, the place was eerily quiet. Their footsteps sounded loud on the wooden stoop. Just as they reached the solid wood door, it opened, propelled by the arm of a big man in a policeman's uniform. "Evening," he said curtly.

Even with the sun sucking daylight from the sky, the man wore suspiciously dark sunglasses. But it was the jaw Gabe recognized. Without so much as a second's hesitation, he grabbed the man by his hair and hauled him forward, planting a knee in his midriff and landing a double-handed chop to the back of his neck. The cop collapsed face first on the wooden porch, out for the count.