The Reckoning (11 page)

Emmett, though silent, was using the brakes on his side of the car—the imaginary ones that she could see causing the muscles in both of his thighs to strain.

“I'm not doing that bad,” she said, glancing over at him.

“Look ahead, okay? Not at me.”

She rolled her eyes, but kept driving, trying to ignore the
tension rolling off of him. But then he winced as she avoided that big metal pole another time.

She jammed on the brakes and was satisfied when his head thunked against the headrest. “Look, if you don't want to help me learn to drive, fine. But I can't take your obvious fear that I'm going to smash into the first inanimate object that crosses my path.”

“I don't mind helping you drive.” He sounded defensive.

“Yeah, sure. You're over there digging a hole into the floorboards on your side of the car.”

“So I'm a little tense.”

“You're a lot tense!”

He muttered something under his breath.

“Was that ‘woman driver' that you just mumbled?” she said, incensed.

“No! It was, ‘Woman, you're driving me nuts,'” he corrected. “There's a distinct difference.”

“Oh, yeah?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Yes, yeah.” He mimicked her pose. “Your way, I'm passing judgment on all the females out there behind the wheel. My way—”

“It's just
me
behind the wheel.”

“No. It's you.” He sighed. “God damn it. Fine. It's you behind the wheel, on the mat, in the kitchen, in the bedroom. You make me tense anywhere that you're around me.”

She stared at him. “Huh?”

“I want you every damn minute and I'm fighting a losing battle not to do something about that.”

 

Emmett scowled at Linda, who was gazing at him from behind the driver's wheel as if she thought he was nuts. He felt nuts. She
made
him nuts. The vow he'd made to himself during his lunch with Collin the other day, to cool things be
tween them until the Jason problem was finished, had been sensible. Reasonable. Cautious.

But she made him forget all about playing it safe.

“I'm really mad at you,” Linda whispered.

“So you've made clear during our little driving lesson.”

“Not because of that, but because you've made me wait.”

Half turned, he watched her put the car in Park, turn off the key, set the parking brake. “Made you wait for what?”

She launched herself from her seat into his lap. His spine thunked against the passenger's door. Her arms went around his neck and he heard the distinct click of the lock being set.

“Wait, wait, wait.” His hands grasped her waist in preparation for lifting her off of him. But he couldn't do it, because her hip was grinding against his too-ready erection and it felt so damn good.

“I'm waiting for nothing,” she said. Her hair brushed his cheeks as she lowered her mouth.

The kiss started sweet. He didn't think Linda had it in her to start with anything less than sweetness, so it was up to him to turn up the heat. For the moment he couldn't think of why he shouldn't. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and slid his hands up her rib cage to cup her breasts.

He loved the little sound she made deep in her throat. It burned through his blood, turning him on. His thumbs rubbed against her nipples.

Her fingers slid into the hair at the nape of his neck. They bit as he found the first button of her shirt and slipped it free. “Emmett?”

There was no one around them. Leaving the headquarters of Fortune TX, Ltd. he'd had the prickly sensation of a watcher's eyes. He'd momentarily regretted his decision to lock up his FBI-issued weapons in Ryan's gun cabinet before moving in with Linda—knowing that Ricky would be in and
out of the guest house—and he'd been extra careful as he returned to the Armstrongs, first driving through another residential area clear on the other side of town. He was certain he hadn't been followed to the guest house, certain they hadn't been followed to this deserted parking lot, certain that he couldn't wait any longer to have more of Linda.

“Shh, honey, shh. You'll like this, I promise.” He spread the sides of her shirt to find the near-transparent bra beneath. It only took a second to unfasten the front clasp and push both straps off her shoulders.

Naked to the waist and riding his lap, Linda stared at him with those wide, blue eyes. He smiled, letting only the tension touch her, as he let his gaze wander from her pretty, pretty face, down the length of her neck to her fluttering pulse.

Her pink nipples were just a hop and skip from there, and he saw them tighten into darker pink buds under the weight of his gaze.

“It's hot,” she whispered. “So hot.”

“I know.” Dusk was settling around them, but with the car off the air-conditioning was off, too. He punched the window controls, letting the passenger's side down, then leaned the other way to unroll the driver's window. A warm cross breeze meandered through the car, fluttering the ends of Linda's blond hair and brushing across her naked skin. Emmett watched goose bumps spring to life across her delicate collarbone. Her nipples went an even darker pink.

“Cooler now, honey?” he asked, his voice rough.

She shook her head, her hair swirling over her shoulders to cover her breasts. “Hotter.”

“I'll help.” With his fingers, he lifted the ends of her long hair from her areolas and budded nipples. He saw her fighting against the light touch, her body radiating sensual tension. Then he leaned forward and, without touching her anywhere
else, he ran his tongue around and around the stiff crest of her left breast.

She whimpered.

He lifted his head and blew a stream of cool air against the wet tip. Her thighs, straddling his, tightened against his outer muscles. Knowing what she needed, he brought his head to the other breast, lapping at the nipple and then blowing more cool air against it.

“Emmett…” Her lashes fluttered against her cheeks.

“I'm here, honey.”

“Not here enough,” her voice broke. “I need more.”

He smiled to himself. He needed more, too, but this was so good. Waiting had its uses. His thumbs grazed across the damp tips, and her head fell back. She was so damned beautiful.

He kissed her breasts again, then took one into his mouth, rolling his tongue over the nipple as he played the other with his fingers. She rocked against his lap, rubbing his erection at the apex of her thighs. Heat rocketed down his spine, tightened his legs. He grasped her hips.

“We need to get home now,” he said, his voice raw. “We need to wait to finish this until we get home.”

She was still riding him with those sinuous, needy movements. “I can't wait, Emmett.”

“You can.” They both could. It was one thing to play with her pretty breasts in the front seat of a car, but hell, they were adults. They had beds, a whole house to have sex in that was just a few minutes away.

“Don't make me wait.”

He groaned, then took her hard nipples between his fingers, applying just the gentlest pressure. “Okay, honey. Okay.” He couldn't refuse her, a thought that he stashed away in his mind to worry over later. It was the protector in him
that had him going against his better judgment, he told himself now. He was doing what he must to take care of her. He'd bring her to climax.

She slid the warm heat between her thighs against his groin. He caught one of her nipples in his mouth and sucked at it, and she whimpered again, the movement of her hips going wilder. That burn burst through his blood again.

He'd never been with a woman who was so open about her responses. Who held nothing back from him.

It was so damn seductive.

She clutched at his T-shirt with her fingers, and then began yanking it up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, lifting his head from her breast.

“Take this off,” she said.

“I don't need to take that off.” He glanced around the empty parking area. No one was in sight, but he was trying to keep control here. Her fingers on his naked skin could ruin that.

“Emmett, please.” The husky little plea in her voice was his undoing. Grabbing the hem himself, he yanked the shirt over his head.

With a little sigh, she pressed her naked torso to his.

He groaned. This wasn't good. Her heart was thudding wildly against his bare flesh, and the silky heat of her skin was setting fire to his. His hands settled on her waist to lift her up, to lift her away, but at that same moment she met his mouth with another of her deceptively sweet kisses.

Coupled with the carnal way her body was sliding against his,
sweet
wasn't innocent, white-sugar sweet, but sticky, caramel, can't-get-enough-of-it sweet. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and as if she thought his taste was candy, too, she sucked on it.

He almost lost it then, right in the tight fit of his jeans.

His control was lost.

He wasn't waiting anymore, either.

She was soft and pliable beneath his hands, lifting up, shifting here, moving there, so that he could get her bottom half as naked as her top. He unzipped his fly with shaking hands and pulled out his shaft, heavy and hard and more than ready to lose itself in the melting center of her body.

He directed it with one hand and pushed down on her shoulder with the other. Half an inch from paradise, he froze.

“No. Stop.”

“No, don't stop.” She made to lower herself farther.

He grabbed her upper arm. “Honey, no. No condom.”

She stilled. Her eyes popped open. “No condom?”

He nodded his head with a jerky movement.

She was breathing hard. “In rehab, I went on the Pill. They thought it was best in case of…impulsive decisions like…”

He laughed harshly. “Like this? But it's not just pregnancy—”

“I've been tested for every disease known to man.”

“Me, too. FBI protocol. I'm clean, but—”

“But what?”

“But I'm still having trouble getting a word in edgewise around you.”

Linda sighed. “I'm sorry.” She made a little go-ahead gesture.

He forced himself to look into her eyes instead of at her nakedness. “But you shouldn't listen to some man on this, honey. He could be lying to you, not caring whether he hurts you or not.”

“Are you lying to me, Emmett? Are you going to hurt me?”

“No.”

“Then love me. Oh, Emmett, just love me.”

He groaned, then let her body settle over him.
Emmett, just love me.
He stashed that away to worry about later, too. Right now, there was just the absolute perfection of her body over his, surrounding his.

He thrust up his hips, needing more of her, needing all of her, and he didn't stop to worry about that, either.

Now wasn't time for control or time to wait. Now was time for Emmett and Linda, naked with each other, naked to each other. He saw the wonder of that in her eyes and in her cry as she climaxed around him.

And he followed.

“I'
m not a teenager,” Emmett groaned to Linda, as he parted her thighs to settle between her legs. “Even if I'm acting like one.”

She laughed at him, lifting her body to his. It was dawn, and they were in her bed, making love as they'd done each morning—and each night—since that evening in the parking lot. It had been three days and she was wallowing in every glorious moment of togetherness. “I think I've discovered a new talent,” she said, closing her eyes as he rubbed his hard chest against her tight nipples. “I think I'm good at sex.”

He groaned again. “You're very good at sex, honey.”

His mouth started on a decadent path from her mouth, along her neck, and she tilted back her chin to give him access. Could any woman be so happy?

She was wallowing in that, too, rolling herself in happi
ness and not letting any thoughts of problems or the future shadow the past sunny days.

“What are you doing?” She lifted up on her elbows as Emmett slid his mouth over one breast and down her midriff. He lapped at her belly button, and she gasped.

“I've gotta taste all your sweetness, honey,” he said, his mouth on the move again. “A girl who's good at sex should know that.”

But she was no more a girl than he was a teenager, and it was adult pleasure that burst along her skin and then through her bloodstream as his tongue stroked the soft petals of her body. “Emmett—” The wet heat of his mouth tore her protest away.
“Emmett.”

He held her hips while he helped himself to the uncontrollable responses of her body. She put her hands over his, gripping him, holding on tight until she was riding the waves of pleasure. Her knees folded back as he crawled up her sated body. One thrust and she was tingling again, taking him in with a new abandon.

He lasted just long enough to bring her to climax again, then slid to the side of her body and rested his cheek on her breast. As the sun rose higher, he drifted into sleep. “Don't let me stay under too long,” he murmured. “Meeting a man at nine.”

“Okay,” she whispered, stroking his thick dark hair. It had so fascinated her from the first, and now it was hers to touch at will. Ten years “asleep” and she'd woken to this. To Emmett.

She reached for the notebook and pen on her bedside table.

Linda didn't let herself worry about that, though. She just went about the usual morning routine—shower, coffee, a perusal of the newspaper—until Ricky knocked on the door before leaving for school. He didn't bother with the excuse of the permission slip anymore. He still snitched cookies. She still pretended to look the other way.

She had hope.

As usual, she waved him off when it was time for him to leave, standing in the doorway until he was out of sight. She loved the guest house's small porch. It was bounded by a white-painted balustrade and rails. An old weathered carousel horse was installed in one corner. The sunshine felt so good on her face that she stood there a little longer, her eyes closing.

“Good morning!” A stranger's voice.

Her eyes popping open, Linda jerked back. The man's face was unfamiliar, too. He was wearing khakis and a sports shirt. He carried a duffel bag. “I'm looking for Emmett Jamison,” he said.

She stepped backward into the house. Her back bumped against Emmett's front. His hand on her shoulder steadied her.

“Nolan Green?”

The stranger nodded. “Photographer,
San Antonio Express-News.
”

Emmett passed Linda to shake his hand. “This is Linda Faraday. Honey, he's going to take a few pictures of me, okay? I didn't get a chance to tell you.”

Because they'd been making love and then he'd fallen asleep. She'd woken him on the way to opening the front door for Ricky. “All right.”

He chucked her under the chin. “Get me coffee?”

“Sure.” She wanted to ask what the photos were all about, but didn't want to pry. Being in love with Emmett didn't mean that he was in love with her. “Mr. Green, coffee?”

At the shake of his head, she headed back to the kitchen as the photographer began unpacking his cameras from the duffel bag. She could hear the men talking through the open door. Nolan Green wanted to take the shots outside. “Right here on the porch will be great,” he said. “The setting will make you appear more accessible.”

“Lawyers aren't usually going for the friendly look,” Emmett said.

“FBI agents, either,” the other man responded. “I've read the article these photos will run with—about you and the foundation you're putting together in Ryan Fortune's name. We have some archived photos of him that we'll be running with the article as well, I'm sure.”

“Good. But I want my photo there, too. And my name front and center in the article.”

On her way back to the front porch, the coffee in hand, Linda paused at his words. Emmett, looking for publicity? That seemed odd.

Moving again, she made it to the front porch quickly. He took the proffered coffee. “Thank you.” Half of it went down in the first swallow. “Now I know I'll live to see another day.”

Something about the light words scared her. She swallowed. “You…you talked to Lily about that foundation idea I had?”

An expression she didn't recognize—guilt?—crossed his face. “That day I went to the Fortune headquarters. We talked out the terms, got the ball rolling, even put together a press release. Both Lily and I did an interview with a reporter at the
Express-News
about it.”

The photographer was snapping pictures, so Linda moved out of camera range. “You didn't mention it.”

His gaze found hers. “I've been thinking of other things when I'm with you.”

And making plans that he didn't want her to know about.

It was confirmed when he shot a glance at the reporter. “Make sure she's not in the photos, okay, Nolan?”

Protecting her again.

From what?

“I'm going to be at the press conference you've scheduled, as well,” Nolan said. “Noon on Friday?”

“That's right,” Emmett said. “We'll be outside the Fortune headquarters. The TV stations should be on hand, too.”

“Fortunes are big news in this town.” Nolan said, then hesitated. “Our article might include a sidebar on your brother Jason. Is that going to be all right?”

Emmett shot a look at Linda and shrugged. “I can't control the press.”

But he wanted to, Linda suddenly realized. That was what this was about, the photos, the timing of the foundation announcement, the press conference on Friday. He wanted to make a big splash in the press, to attract attention.

One person's attention.

Our article might include a sidebar on your brother Jason.

This was about Jason Jamison.

“Isn't your brother in South America or somewhere?” Her voice sounded high and breathless, but she couldn't help it. “He got away with the ransom money, right?”

Emmett shrugged again, not looking at her. “He's somewhere.”

Nolan took his camera away from his face. “I heard the FBI thinks he's still around here. Word in the newsroom is that he's been making threatening phone calls to you.”

Emmett frowned. “Somebody is talking more than they should.”

Linda's heart froze. That sounded like it was true. “No, Emmett, no.”

He glanced over at her, then glanced away. “Don't worry, Linda. Nothing's going to happen. Not to you, not to Ricky.”

Because Emmett Jamison, FBI agent, was still on the job. The interview, the photos weren't about the foundation, they were about his other job, as a federal agent. As the man determined to stop his brother.

The man she'd fallen in love with was setting himself up as bait.

 

Linda didn't know what to do. Her brain was muddled again and she didn't trust herself to voice her fears and objections to Emmett just yet. Leaving him with the photographer, she wandered toward the main house.

The cook let her into the kitchen and set her up with a comforting cup of tea at the long farmhouse table in the middle of the room. A small TV broadcast one of the network morning programs. She let the newscaster's voice drone over her as she sipped at the tea and tried to get her new bearings.

She was in love with a man who would do anything to capture his brother.

How could she possibly stop him?

A few minutes later, Nancy Armstrong came bustling in the kitchen, and she smiled as she caught sight of Linda. “Good morning! I'm so happy to see you. Why have you happened by on this lovely day?”

Lovely day? Linda glanced outside. She supposed the sun was shining, but it didn't feel very warm and bright inside her soul. Inside, she felt jittery and unbalanced and…afraid. “Emmett was having some photos taken for a newspaper article, so I decided to get out of the way.”

Nan poured herself a cup of tea from the waiting pot and pulled out another chair at the table. “Well, good. We don't have enough chance to gab, you know.”

“Gab?”

“Girl talk. Fashion analysis. Possibly even celebrity gossip. My bridge club was canceled this week and I'm in desperate need of feminine conversation. With Dean retired and home all day long every day, I spend too much time answering questions like where I keep his socks, the stapler, and have I seen the strawberry jelly. It doesn't matter that they're in the same places they've been for the last forty years. He doesn't look for them himself first. He just asks me where I'm hiding them.”

Despite her mood, Linda found herself smiling at that. She knew that Dean Armstrong had been a successful CEO before his retirement. To think that he was stumped by locating his socks! “I don't feel so bad about my own mental lapses now.”

Nan took a sip from her tea. “It appears that you're making incredible progress.”

“I think I am.” She still had her little routines and her props, but her notebook, which had kept her mind straight for months, was now more of a diary than a necessity. “The headaches are coming less often. I don't need as many naps as I used to. A few more lessons behind the wheel and I think I'll be ready for my driver's test.”

“You're forging a relationship with Ricky, too.”

“He had me sign his permission slip this week,” Linda said. “Emmett thought that was a very good sign.”

Nan nodded, smiling. “He's recognizing you as his parent.”

Something in the tone of the older woman's voice had Linda setting down her teacup and reaching across the table. “Oh, Nan. I haven't thought hard enough about how all this has been for you. You and Dean were his parents for all these years. And now—”

“His
grandparents,
” Nan corrected. “We always made that distinction in our own minds and we tried to in Ricky's, as well.”

Linda squeezed the older woman's hand. “You two are the most special people I've ever met. I'll never be able to say how grateful I am to you. To have taken in a stranger's child…”

“Oh, shh.” Nan's face was a pleased pink. “The child was no stranger to me the instant I held him in my arms. It's not difficult to love such an innocent little bundle.”

“But he wasn't a blood relation.” Linda didn't say it aloud, but she still was insecure about the strength of the relationship that
she
could forge with the boy, and she'd given birth to him. It wasn't that she didn't know she should forge it, it wasn't that she would stop trying to forge it, but could an adult and an older child really develop a love for each other?

Could she feel a maternal love for Ricky? Could she be his
mother?

“Why such a long face?” Nan asked.

“I shouldn't have one,” she said. “It's just that sometimes…” How could she express her doubts to the older woman? Maybe she would think Linda didn't deserve Ricky or was trying to pass off the responsibility.

“How are Ricky and Emmett getting along?”

That question had Linda brightening again. She leaned forward in her chair. “Peas in a pod. They like the same kind of pizza, the same kind of pie, the same cartoons. I believe that Ricky is the better speller, but he likes Emmett to help him with his math homework more than me. Apparently my examples can't hold a candle to Emmett's. He creates word problems rife with references to Nintendo games and
Rugrats
episodes that go right over my head.”

Nan laughed. “He'll make an excellent father.”

Linda fell back against her seat. A father? Emmett a father? Ricky's father? Her husband? Is that where she was hoping her feelings for him were heading? “I've never really thought of him in that way before,” she murmured.

Nan raised her eyebrows. “Maybe you should, Linda.”

Linda's gaze jumped to the speculative gleam in the older woman's eyes. “I don't— I haven't— We—”

“Don't leave me to start bringing up hemlines, Linda, or, God forbid, make my only interesting conversation today to be about where I have secretly stashed Dean's tackle box.”

“Emmett's just helping me out because of his promise to Ryan.” That was how it had started, anyway. And she couldn't know if he had any deeper feelings for her than that, despite the fact that they'd been sharing a bed. Despite the fact that he'd soothed her head and opened her heart and reminded her what it felt like to be a woman. To be wanted, desperately.

“I've seen the way he looks at you, Linda. Like you're the sun and he's basking in your light.”

Oh, if that were true. But she'd seen it in his face when they made love. He never closed his eyes. He loved to watch her as he touched her, taking in her responses in a way that made her only burn hotter. He'd given her so, so much.