Marry in Haste... (15 page)

His arm came around her. “Mallory…” His voice was filled with the same need she saw in his eyes. But she knew he needed rest more than he needed anything else. She pushed his hair back from his brow as she'd wanted to do so very often. “You need to sleep now, Reed. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Stay close,” he murmured as he closed his eyes.

She curled up beside him, careful not to hurt him, knowing she had lost her heart irrevocably.

 

The sun wasn't quite up when she felt Reed move. “Do you need another ice bag?” she asked.

“I need you.”

The way he was looking at her in the predawn light, she knew he meant it. “You shouldn't.”

“That doesn't mean I can't.”

Her gaze dropped to his briefs where it was very evident what he could do. “Maybe you should put the ice bag down there,” she teased.

“You're a little witch,” he responded, slipping his hand under her hair, cradling her head, bringing her to him. “Kissing's a little tough right now,” he murmured as his lips brushed her cheek and then over her mouth.

“I think everything else would be, too.”

“The pleasure would definitely be worth the pain,” he whispered into her ear. His beard stubble was an erotic tease against her skin, his breath warm and sensual.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he answered. But when he went to prop himself up on his elbow, he couldn't, and he swore.

She wanted to give him a gift for everything he'd given her. But she didn't know if he'd accept it. Kissing his forehead, she murmured, “It's all right. Stay still. We'll do this another way.” Before he could protest, she slipped her nightgown over her head and lay naked beside him.

He managed to skim off his briefs and drop them to the floor. “You can straddle me,” he said, his voice husky.

“I'm afraid I'll hurt you. Let me just try something
else.” Before he had a chance to ask her what, her hand tenderly slid over his navel. When he sucked in a breath, she knew it was pleasure, not pain. He was fully aroused. Bending to him, her hair brushed his stomach, and then she touched her lips to him.

“Mallory, you can't.”

She raised her head. “Oh, yes, I can. Let me do this for you, Reed. Please. You've done so much for me.”

It was several moments until he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She bent toward him again and loved him with her hands, and her lips and her tongue—soft caresses, gentle sucking, long strokes—until he clasped her shoulder and roughly said, “Turn onto your side.” Somehow he managed to roll onto his. Then he took her leg over his hip and eased into her.

Arousing him had aroused her, and she met each thrust, wanting to give him as much pleasure as he could handle. But he was giving her pleasure, too. He caressed her thigh, then touched the flash point of her pleasure until an undulating wave of ecstasy rolled over her, lifting her, throwing her, sweeping her closer to him. Her name was a deep guttural groan as he found his own release and clasped her to him tightly.

When they opened their eyes, they gazed at each other. “You're a special woman, Mallory.”

She wanted to tell him he was more than special to her, that he was the love of her life…her only love…her true love. But she couldn't go chasing off after him to Australia when her life had to be sorted out here. Besides, he'd made no mention of his feel
ings, and for all she knew, they were still wrapped up in Stephanie Milton.

Mallory and Reed were still joined when she said, “I should leave. I don't want to put you in any more danger. I should have known when I overheard Winston—” She stopped.

“What did you overhear?”

She told Reed about the conversation she'd overheard before she'd left San Francisco.

After listening, Reed muttered, “We're going to get him off of our backs, once and for all.”

“But how can we?”

He kissed her forehead. “I'm going to shower, then call Dawson and Griff. After a strategy session, I'll tell you how.”

Reed's jaw had turned more black and blue, but the determined set of it told her she couldn't dissuade him from whatever plan he was coming up with. After he showered, he made the two phone calls. He was moving slowly, but moving, and she realized that nothing was going to keep him down. But she had her own plans on how she was going to get him to rest for the day.

When he hung up the phone, he explained, “Dawson's going to call me after he gets what I need.”

“What do you need?”

“Dirt on Bentley. Dawson says Sam Waterman isn't only a security expert, but he knows some of the best P.I.'s in the business. We should have something by this afternoon. Griff's going to meet us here around five. The only way to get Bentley is to beat him at his own game, and I can do that if I have the right information.”

Stepping close to him, she said, “I don't want you to get hurt again.”

He enfolded her in his arms. “I don't intend to.”

She was naked, too, and their heartbeats synchronized. Tipping her head up, she offered, “I could bring you breakfast in bed.”

“Is this a bribe so I'll stay here today?”

“Could be. Will it work?”

“Only if you'll let me do for you what you did for me early this morning.”

The pictures that exploded in her head excited her and aroused her just thinking about them. “I'll let you do anything you want,” she promised, standing on tiptoe to kiss him, hoping she could make him forget about Stephanie Milton altogether.

 

When Reed received the information he needed, realizing he should have gone on the offensive earlier with Bentley, he developed a plan. According to Sam Waterman, most of Bentley's deals were a matter of public record, and he trod a thin legal line. But what went on behind the scenes wasn't on the public record, and that's where Reed needed to concentrate. As he discovered, using the information Dawson had secured for him, Bentley usually bought whatever he wanted. When he couldn't, he terrorized until he got it.

Monday morning, five days after Bentley's men had jumped him, Reed and Griff flew to San Francisco—against Mallory's protests. Reed had decided not to take the company jet; he didn't want to announce to Bentley that he was coming. The worry in Mallory's eyes had bothered him, but he knew this
was something he had to do to get her free of Bentley. When he wasn't on the phone investigating further leads over the weekend, they'd spent the rest of the time in bed. The desire he felt for her was all-consuming and never seemed to lessen. He didn't understand it now, any more than he had the first night he'd met her.

When he and Griff arrived in San Francisco, they checked into a hotel and then visited one person after another—all people Bentley had stepped on—and documented everything they could. None of Bentley's victims could be convinced to file charges or testify against him. Some of them had been hurt physically by Bentley's thugs, but insisted they didn't want to cause trouble because they had families to protect. Yet Reed suspected they could be prodded if they knew they weren't alone. But it would take reassurance…convincing…and time. He needed to insure Mallory's safety
now.

Reed had reserved an executive suite. That night after phoning Mallory, who was staying at the big house for safety's sake, and exchanging erotic words with her about what they'd do when he got home, he typed up a lengthy report and printed several copies.

Griff, who had insisted on coming with him, was a valuable asset, knowing exactly what questions to ask. But on Tuesday morning, Reed went to Winston Bentley IV's office alone.

The building was steel and smoked glass, and Bentley's suite of offices was luxuriously appointed. Reed stood in front of the man's secretary. “I want to see Winston Bentley.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

“No. Just tell him Reed Fortune is here. He'll see me.”

She looked curiously at Reed's bruised jaw, and then pressed the intercom and announced him. A few moments later she said, “You can go back. Second door on the right.”

Knowing he had to challenge Bentley on his own turf, he strode down the hall. The door to the office was open, and he stepped inside.

Bentley didn't bother to stand. “I hope this is important. I have an appointment in fifteen minutes.”

There was no point wasting time in verbal battle. Reed slapped a manila envelope onto Bentley's desk. “It shouldn't take you that long to read this.”

Bentley's eyes darted to the envelope. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Because if you or anyone you employ ever comes near Mallory or me again, I'll make sure that these people band together against you.”

Picking up the envelope, Bentley pulled out the report inside and scanned it. “These people will never testify against me,” he responded smugly.

“Maybe…maybe not. But if you lift a finger to hurt Mallory or me again, I won't wait for them to band together. I'll go to the press and expose you for the terrorist and swindler you are.”

“Look here, Fortune. Mallory doesn't need your interference or anything else you can provide. With her stepfather's inheritance…” He stopped as if waiting for a reaction.

Reed didn't know what Bentley was getting at and he didn't care. “This isn't open for discussion. Stay away from her or you'll be sorry.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and left Winston Bentley IV's office.

Remembering the look of chagrin that had passed over Bentley's face briefly when he'd seen the report, Reed took the elevator down to the lobby. When he exited it, he saw Griff standing by a potted palm, arms folded over his chest. Sometimes his brothers were as frustrating as they were loyal. As he reached Griff, he said, “I thought I told you I wanted to do this alone.”

Griff said simply, “You did.”

With a wry grin, Reed hung his arm around his brother's shoulders. “Let's go back to San Antonio.”

T
o keep from worrying about Reed, Mallory had kept busy since he'd left. Their weekend together had been so wonderful that, when he'd left for California, she'd missed him desperately. She couldn't imagine how she'd feel when he went back to Australia, and there was no doubt that he would.

Ryan had insisted Mallory stay with them up at the house, rather than at the adobe, and she hadn't argued. She felt part of their family now, and spent many of her hours with Matilda. She was watching Reed's sister work a two-year-old filly in the corral when Hank yelled for Mallory, and she saw a Federal Express truck parked by the barn. Crossing to the gate, she opened it and met the driver there. He asked for her signature, and she signed for an overnight letter. It was from Winston.

Tempted to toss it without opening it, she decided it was better to know her enemy than to ignore him. Inside she found a copy of a real estate contract, a brochure with a picture of a magnificent house and a letter from Winston.

The man just wouldn't give up!

Mallory was going to call the real estate agent, all right—to tell her she wanted nothing to do with the transaction.

Had Reed spoken to Winston yet? Were he and Griff safe?

Coming up beside her, Hank said, “Phone call in the barn. It's your husband.”

Stuffing the letter, brochure and contract into the envelope, she rushed into the barn and picked up the cordless phone. “Hi,” she said breathlessly.

“Hi, yourself. How's everything on the Double Crown?”

She wanted to say “lonely” even though there were people all around her. But instead she answered, “Quiet. Are you all right? How did it go with Winston?”

“I can't be sure yet. He didn't agree to anything, of course. But there's enough information in that report to cause him serious damage, one way or another. He won't dare try anything now. His position is too precarious. When I get back, Ryan, Griff and I will put our heads together to make sure he gets what he deserves.”

She didn't know if Winston Bentley IV backed off from anything. She could tell Reed about the contract, but this was something she needed to take care of herself. “When are you coming home?”

“Tonight. But we'll probably be late.”

“Ryan won't let me spend any time at the cabin alone. Will you pick me up when you get back no matter what time it is?”

After a pause he asked, “Are you saying you'd rather spend the night with me than in one of Ryan and Lily's beautiful bedrooms?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.”

He laughed. “All right. I'll see you tonight then.”

I miss you,
almost slipped out.
I love you,
almost slipped out. But she didn't want to push Reed or pressure him. If she just had more time with him maybe he'd think about taking her home with him.

That thought startled her so much she said, “See you later,” then hung up.

Would she really consider going to Australia and forgetting about a life in Texas?

 

Winston stood in George Pennington Smythe's office, his anger raging just below the surface. It didn't matter what Reed Fortune did or said. He couldn't prove a thing. And it would be easy to further intimidate anyone whom Bentley Inc. had bought out. Maybe the house would be enough to lure Mallory back to San Francisco, but he couldn't take any chances. He had to stay calm and put together a plan.

Fortune hadn't reacted to the mention of Mallory's inheritance—the check George had sent her. Winston sensed the Australian didn't know about it. He cer
tainly didn't know about the house, yet. Mallory should have gotten those papers today. If he could make Fortune believe she was coming back to San Francisco, he'd turn away from her. A man such as Reed Fortune was loyal and honest to a fault. He'd want any woman of his to be the same. Winston would bet his life on it. He'd taken lots of gambles, he'd might as well try a last one here.

All he had to do was drive a wedge between Mallory and her new husband.

Mallory's stepfather knew nothing about the tactics he used to get what he wanted, and that's the way he intended to keep it. Winston needed George on his side. “You should have seen Reed Fortune standing in my office, threatening me. I'll tell you, George, that man could be dangerous. I mean, I keep myself in good shape, but if he wouldn't do it himself, I wouldn't put it past him to have thugs come after me in some dark alley. We've got to get Mallory away from him.”

“I just don't know what to do about her. She's so high-strung. You should have heard her after I sent her that check, telling me she'd frame it. I think she meant it, too.”

Winston analyzed the situation again. If she had decided to frame the check, she'd still have it. According to his investigator, that cabin wasn't very large, and Fortune might very well know where she'd keep it. Even if he didn't…. “I think we've been going about this the wrong way, George. We've been trying to convince Mallory to do something she doesn't want to do. That doesn't work with her.”

“But what else can we do?” George asked.

“We need to turn her so-called husband against her. Then maybe he'll want to get out of this marriage as fast as he got into it.”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Nothing complicated. Very simple, actually. I'm going to call him and tell him about your check and the house I'm buying her. If he thinks she's going to return to her life here, he might think she's lied to him about wanting a life in Texas—or in Australia or anywhere else. I don't know if it'll work, but it's certainly worth a try.”

“It seems almost too easy,” George said with a smile.

“Sometimes the easiest plans are the best ones. It probably wouldn't hurt if you went down there for a visit. What do you think?”

“I'll make the plane reservations right now.”

 

The morning after Reed's return home, Mallory lay in bed with him. He nuzzled her neck, and she sighed contentedly. They'd kissed and made love most of the night. Once when Reed had dozed off, lying on his stomach, she'd awakened him by putting butterfly kisses around the crown birthmark on his back. He'd rewarded her by rolling over, pulling her to him and giving her pleasure such as she'd never known. She loved him so.

“We didn't get much sleep last night,” she mused.

“Are you complaining?” he asked, propping himself up on an elbow.

She smiled at him. “Nope.”

“You could go back to sleep while I'm up at the barn.”

“I have an appointment this morning.” She'd promised Matilda that she'd take her out driving. Matilda had an international driver's license, but she needed practice driving on the opposite side of the road than she was used to. Since she didn't want her brothers to know what she was doing until she was proficient, Mallory had agreed to keep their outing a secret.

“An appointment?”

“With Matilda. We have some things to do.”

“In San Antonio?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

She didn't like being evasive with Reed. Soon Matilda would tell him about it herself. When he didn't ask more questions, Mallory wrapped her arms around Reed's neck and her lips met his. Hunger for each other took the place of thoughts, and they came together again as they had most of the night.

An hour later, after Reed had left with a last prolonged kiss, Mallory dressed, humming to herself as she did. She was in love and the feeling was wonderful! She'd thought about the idea of moving to Australia. She'd do anything to be near Reed—if he wanted her. She could open a shop in Sydney!

Seeing her overnight bag on the floor by the nightstand, she unzipped it and spotted the house brochure Winston had sent her. Yesterday, after she'd torn up the contract along with Winston's letter, she'd tried to call the real estate agent, but the agent was out of the office. By the time Reed had gotten back last night, the agent hadn't returned her call. Time to try again to eradicate this last connection to Winston.

But as she looked at her watch, she realized it was
too early to call now with the time difference. She'd do it after she returned from Matilda's driving lesson. Putting the brochure into her desk, she then collected her purse and left the cabin.

 

It was late morning when Reed entered the tack room for a saddle. He wondered again what Mallory was up to with Matilda. Soon enough he'd get it out of one of them. He looked forward to tonight when he and Mallory would share that bed again.

The phone in the barn rang, and he went to answer it. “Double Crown,” he said automatically.

“Fortune? This is Winston Bentley.”

Reed wondered if it was dumb luck Bentley had reached him directly or if he had a spy lurking around. “What do you want?”

“You went to a lot of trouble to collect the information you handed to me. It's a shame you wasted your time.”

“If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Mallory is going to be coming back to me, no matter who you talk to.”

“When hell freezes over.”

“I suspect much sooner than that. Has she told you about the house I'm buying her?”

Mallory hadn't mentioned anything about a house. Was Bentley bluffing?

When Reed didn't answer immediately, Bentley added, “And did she tell you about the check her stepfather sent her?”

Reed wanted to shout,
What house? What check?
But he wouldn't give Bentley the satisfaction.

“Ask her, Fortune. If she tells you she tore up the
check, then maybe you
have
won. But since the amount constitutes enough of her inheritance to make her feel like a princess, I think that's highly unlikely. It could be Mallory doesn't want or need your interference anymore.”

Reed hardly noticed the click of the phone as Bentley hung up. The man had to be crazy.

Didn't he?

But then Reed thought about Mallory's background—how she'd been a virtual prisoner at the ranch the past few weeks, how she'd chafed under his protection. The night of the rodeo, she'd been planning to move out, and just because they'd spent a lot of time in bed since didn't mean she'd changed her plans. Now that he'd thought about it, maybe he
had
ridden into her life like a cowboy on a white horse. How many times had she told him she didn't want his protection? She'd only taken advantage of it since it was the expedient thing to do. And now….

True, he could ask her about the check, but he didn't know when she'd be back. Maybe she wasn't with his sister after all. Maybe—

Cutting off his thoughts, he decided to go back to the cabin and take a look around. Then maybe he'd get an answer whether or not Bentley was deluded or just trying to cause trouble.

He pulled into the driveway of the adobe and screeched to a stop, dust trailing in his wake. When he unlocked the door, he deactivated the security system. Looking around, he couldn't help but notice again all of Mallory's touches. She'd added so much brightness to his life.

There was only one place she'd probably keep the
check if she didn't have it with her. Pulling out the supports, he dropped the lid on the secretary. His chest tightened when he saw the real estate brochure and the house pictured on it. It was in San Francisco. Had all Mallory's protestations about being independent and settling in San Antonio been a lie? Is this why she hadn't wanted him to go see Bentley?

His heart pounding, Reed leafed through the other papers stacked in the desk. There was the budget for a shop she could open anywhere. Then he saw it—the incriminating evidence—an envelope with her stepfather's return address. Picking it up, he took it out, read the letter and stared at the check. Then he saw when it was dated. Why hadn't she told him about it? And why had she kept it?

Taking it over to the table, he laid it there. Then he made a pot of coffee and sat down to wait.

When Mallory came in, she was obviously surprised to see him. “Hi, there. I thought you'd be up at the barn.”

“Did you? Tell me something, Mallory. Were you really with Matilda?”

She frowned. “Yes, I was with Matilda. What's the matter?”

After he pushed back his chair and stood, he pointed to the envelope with the check on the table and to the real estate brochure. “When were you going to tell me Bentley is buying you a house in San Francisco? And that you'll have a bit of pocket money to furnish it?”

Her eyes widened. “What are you accusing me of, Reed?”

He raked his hand through his hair. “That's just it,
isn't it? I can't accuse you of anything. We only have a fake marriage, so I suppose it doesn't matter if you hide things from me, or you lie to me.”

Her shoulders straightened and her chin came up. “I haven't lied. Not about anything. There's a reason I kept that check.”

“Other than to cash it?” he asked cynically.

“You think I'd cash it after all the things I told you the past few weeks? You think I'd cash it when you know how much I want to be independent from my parents?”

“As your stepfather said in his letter, you can be very independent with that amount.”

“Married to Winston? Reed, what's happening to you? Why are you doubting what I told you?”

“It's easy to doubt when the proof's in front of my nose.”

Where before she had looked confused and hurt, now he recognized sparks of anger in her hazel eyes. “If you can't trust me or accept my word, we don't even have a
fake
marriage.” Keys still in her hand, she spun around, walked out and slammed the door behind her.