Til Death Do Us Part (41 page)

“If you're right, that leaves only Hugh Winfield. And he'd have nothing to gain unless he can persuade Daphne to marry him. Of course, I'm not as generous in my estimation of Daphne as you are. I believe she'd use anyone to get what she wanted. It's possible that she's capable of setting up her own father. Could be that she and Winfield are working together.”

“Anything's possible, isn't it?” Cleo lay flat on her
back, looking up through a fluttering, feathery green curtain at the bright blue sky overhead. “We're really no closer to the truth than we were two weeks ago.”

“Have I failed you, Cleo?” he asked. “Did you expect—”

She covered his lips with two fingers, silencing him. “McNamara Industries is secure and well policed by Mr. Kane and his security force. That was your doing.” She traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “I'm alive and well and happier than I've ever been in my life. And that, too, is your doing.”

“Ah, honey, you shouldn't say things like that to a naked man.”

“Then you'd better put on your clothes,” she told him.

“Later.” He reached for her, grasping her by the shoulders and drawing her into his embrace. “I have something in mind that requires both of us to be naked.”

“Oh, is that right?” She rubbed her breasts against his chest and smiled when he moaned. “Just what do you have in mind?”

“It involves a little payback for my loving wife,” he said, slipping his hand between her legs.

“Payback? Tit for tat?”

He massaged the tiny kernel hidden in the apex between her thighs. Cleo lifted her hips up off the ground. “You've got the idea, honey,” he said.

“You're going to give me what I gave you.” Her body dampened against his fingers, surrounding them with moisture.

“Lick for lick.” Roarke inserted his finger inside her welcoming warmth.

Cleo blew out a deep breath. “No one has ever…I mean…well, it'll be a new experience.”

“What you did for me was a new experience, too, wasn't it?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“And afterward, we'll rest for a while, then later, I want us to go for a ride in your Sherwood Forest.” Lowering his head, he kissed her belly. “And you're going to experience another first once we enter Sherwood.”

“Another—” she gasped when he kissed her triangle of fiery curls. “Another first? When we ride into the woods?”

“When we ride into Sherwood Forest,” he corrected her. “Today you're going to be Maid Marian.”

“Oh, I am, am I?”

He spread her legs and lifted her hips. “Yes, my Cleo Belle, you are.”

She swallowed hard. “I suppose that means you want to be Robin Hood.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he said.

He flicked her intimately with his tongue. She moaned, the sound reverberating in her throat.

“All right, just this once—” she gasped as his mouth moved over her “—I'll be Maid Marian and you'll be Robin Hood.”

“Whatever you say, Boss Lady.”

Roarke took her where she'd never been, into an erotic paradise of pleasure. His mouth worshipped her femininity, savoring the smell and taste of her body, reveling in the feel of her undulating against his tongue, loving the sound of her hot, ecstatic cries.

And when she fell apart, shattering into a million shards of pleasure, he lifted her on top of him and told her to ride him hard and fast, to pretend he was a wild stallion she had to tame.

And tame him she did.

R
OARKE READ THE
report Morgan Kane had given him, then glanced up over the edge of the manila folder, looking his fellow Dundee agent square in the eye.

“All this does is make me wonder if we're dealing with more than one person.” Roarke flung the file on the desk. “And whether or not the attempts on Cleo's life and the problems at McNamara Industries have a common perpetrator or if we have two family members working independently of each other.”

“My guess is that we're dealing with at least two individuals,” Kane said. “And they have separate agendas. Whoever was behind the problems at the plant wanted to force Ms. McNa—that is, Mrs. Roarke…” Kane hesitated, but continued when Roarke smiled. “To sell her uncle's company. But I'd say the person threatening your wife wants to see her dead.”

“Yeah, I'm afraid you're right.” It had been a long time since an assignment had frustrated Roarke to such an extent. Hell, who was he kidding? Despite the failures and near failures he'd experienced, despite all the stress and frustration of his worst assignments, nothing compared with this one. But then, he'd never allowed himself to become so personally involved before.

It wasn't as if Cleo was nothing more than a client. Dammit, she was his wife, albeit only temporarily, but still she
was
his wife. She slept in his arms every night.

He worked at her side every day. And in stolen moments out of time, like yesterday's swim in the Great Mississippi, the hours spent shaded beneath the willow trees and an unforgettable trip into Sherwood Forest, he could almost convince himself that he and Cleo belonged together. But he knew better. He couldn't allow great sex with an incredible lady to cloud his vision of reality or give him any delusions that life actually offered people happily ever afters.

“Unfortunately all the evidence I've collected and the sheriff's department has collected is nothing more than circumstantial,” Kane said. “The rifle that fired the shot that barely missed Mrs. Roarke belonged to her great-uncle and everyone in the house had access to the gun case. Since the person didn't hit the target, we don't know whether they were a poor shot or just didn't intend to kill in the first place.”

Pushing the oversize leather swivel chair back away from the Jacobean desk in the study, Roarke motioned toward a chair across from him. “Sit down.”

Kane slumped into the chair, his big, hard body filling it completely. “The brown recluse incident and the tea poisoning both point the finger at Perry Sutton, but there's nothing to link him to any of the problems at the plant. According to the guards and the secretaries at McNamara Industries, Mr. Sutton seldom even visits the place.”

“My gut instincts tell me that Sutton isn't our man.” Roarke tapped his index finger on the manila folder he'd tossed on top of the desk. “What I hate most about this situation is that there's not much we can do about unearthing this would-be killer until he or she strikes again. And I'll be honest with you, Kane. I hate like hell that Cleo is the only bait we can use to catch this person.”

“I wouldn't want to be in your shoes.” Leaning slightly
forward, Kane rested his arms on his thighs and allowed his hands to dangle between his legs. “Protecting a woman you're married to can't be easy. I mean, even if there's no love between y'all and the marriage is a business arrangement, the two of you having a relationship has to make it difficult for you to view things objectively.”

Roarke wanted to vehemently deny Kane's observation, but there was no way he could. The man was right. “I'm trying to handle things, not to let what's between Cleo and me get in the way of my judgment or interfere with doing my best to keep her safe.”

“Maybe we can't catch the person trying to kill Mrs. Roarke until another attempt is made on her life, but we can do something about catching whoever wreaked havoc at McNamara Industries.”

Roarke glanced down at the folder. “Trey Sutton was a prime suspect, until I read your report. Now I have to place Hugh Winfield and perhaps Daphne Sutton at the top of my list.”

“I know Ms. Sutton and Winfield are dating, but why suddenly, after her uncle's death, did she start stopping by the plant on the nights Winfield worked late, when she'd never done that before? Was she encouraging Winfield to tamper with McNamara's computer system? Were they planning the accidents that plagued the plant for weeks?”

“It's possible,” Roarke admitted. “Very possible. But the fact that Marla Sutton started having lunch at the plant with her husband, in his office, a couple of times a week, is suspicious. According to Trey's secretary, his wife seldom if ever had lunch with him at the plant before George McNamara's death. And Trey wasn't known for eating in his office.”

“That means that during her lunch visits, Marla Sutton could have been using her computer knowledge to do
some major damage. Since she was once a secretary at McNamara's, she'd be familiar with their computer system.”

“What do you suggest we do, short of eliminating all the security systems you've put into place, to catch our culprit?” Roarke asked.

“I suggest we set a trap for our big rat,” Kane said.

“Using what as bait?” Leaning back in the enormous leather chair, Roarke narrowed his eyes and grinned. “Ellen Denby?”

“The fact that Ellen is a woman has worked to our advantage before when we've brought her in on a case. Men tend to make the mistake of believing that because she's an attractive female, she's not as smart or tough or capable as her fellow agents.”

Laughing robustly, Roarke shook his head. “That's why you brought her in and pretended to hire her as part of McNamara's new security team. You wanted her in place, just in case we needed her.”

“She can play the dumb blonde around Trey Sutton and Hugh Winfield. And when we think the time is right, we'll put her on night duty. Alone. She'll tell each one of our boys in advance.”

“Hell, who knows, it just might work,” Roarke said.

“It's worked before. Ellen can be mighty convincing when she wants to be.”

“Yeah, but woe be it to any who gets fooled by her. Behind that pretty face and gorgeous figure, our little Ellen is a pit bull.”

A knock at the closed door interrupted Roarke and Kane's private meeting. Both of them tensed instantly.

“Yes?” Roarke asked.

The pocket doors slid open. Daphne Sutton, dressed in a micromini, skintight, backless, red sundress, sauntered
into the room. “I hate to disturb y'all, but Phil Bacon just called and said for Kane to call him right back. He's home from church, but he'll be leaving to go to his mother-in-law's for a late Sunday dinner in about thirty minutes.”

“The sheriff wants to talk to Kane?” Roarke asked. “The phone in here didn't ring.”

“I was walking by Kane's room and heard his phone ringing. Did you know you'd left your cellular phone lying on your bed?” Daphne asked. “The door was unlocked, so I went in and answered the phone for you.”

“I'll go give Bacon a call,” Kane said.

Daphne sashayed across the study, her slender hips shifting seductively. “When I asked Phil why he'd bother a body on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, he said he was just returning Kane's earlier telephone call. Something about his using the sheriff's department's firing range.” Daphne sat down on the edge of the Jacobean desk and looked back and forth from Roarke to Kane.

“Yeah, I asked the sheriff if he'd set up a convenient schedule for me to get in a little practice.” Kane rose from the chair, excused himself and exited the room, leaving the doors open behind him.

“I take it that our Mr. Kane is a crack shot and doesn't want his skills to get rusty while he's on an assignment.” Daphne draped her body across the top of the desk, lifting herself in a semiupright position. “Are you a sharpshooter, too, Roarke?” She slithered across the desk until she reached him, then dangled her long, bare legs off the side.

“I'm not as good as Kane,” Roarke said. “But I usually hit whatever I aim at.”

“I can't picture a man like you married to my little cousin, Cleo.” Daphne lifted one leg and stretched it out
toward Roarke. The toe of her red sandal hit the edge of his chair. She tapped her foot repeatedly against the chair.

“What sort of man do you think I am? And why can't you picture me married to Cleo?”

“I'd say you're an adventurer, a man who's lived his life on the edge. And my bet is you like your sex hot and wild and as untamed as the life you've lived.” Slipping her hips off the desk, Daphne grasped the side with her hands to balance her body, then slid her foot between Roarke's thighs, pressing him intimately when her foot hit its mark. “Cleo is a tame little tabby, who's never done anything exciting in her entire life. Business is the only thing that matters to her.”

Roarke knocked Daphne's foot away so quickly that she almost lost her balance. While she struggled to climb back on top of the desk, he stood up and glared at her.

“That just goes to show how little you know your cousin,” Roarke said. “My wife happens to be the most exciting woman I've ever known.”

“Is she paying you to say things like that, too?” Daphne glowered at Roarke, her breathing harsh and her cheeks slightly flushed. “We all know that she went off to Atlanta on a shopping trip and bought herself a husband.”

“Think what you want to,” he told her. “The bottom line is that I'm Cleo's husband and I intend to take good care of her and protect her from any and all harm.”

“Are you going to get her pregnant, too?” Daphne asked. “If she isn't pregnant within a year, she'll lose control of McNamara Industries, you know.”

Roarke grinned. “Let's just say that we're doing everything we can at every available opportunity to make that happen.”

Daphne's exotically beautiful face hardened. Her green
eyes sizzled with a barely contained anger. Slithering off the desk, she walked over to Roarke.

“Cleo must be paying you plenty to screw her.” Daphne eased her arms around Roarke's neck and rubbed herself against him. “You must be getting pretty bored with all that cool, controlled sweetness.”

Just as Roarke reached out to remove himself from Daphne's clutches, she pressed her lips against his and tried to force his lips apart with her tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Cleo said as she walked into the room.

Roarke grabbed Daphne's arms and threw her away from him with such force that she almost fell. She caught the arm of the swivel chair and laughed, then turned around to face Cleo.

“We thought we were alone,” Daphne said. “I'm afraid I don't know what to say. How to explain.”

“Cleo, this wasn't what it looked like,” Roarke told his wife.

“Oh, I think it was exactly what it looked like.” Cleo walked across the study and rounded the desk. Opening a bottom side drawer, she withdrew a laptop computer. “I forgot and left this down here. I need to do a little work this evening.” She took several steps toward the door.

“Cleo?” Roarke called out to her.

“Yes, dear?”

“Don't you want an explanation of what you saw?”

Hugging herself around the waist, Daphne nibbled on her bottom lip. “I'm really sorry, Cleo.”

Cleo's loud laughter filled the room. She turned slowly and glared at her cousin. “Simon isn't Paine Emerson or Hugh Winfield. He's twice the man either of them ever was. And he's
my
man!”

“Well, your man is a wonderful kisser,” Daphne said.

“How would you know?” Cleo smiled devilishly. “He didn't kiss you. You kissed him. Or you were trying to. And Simon was trying to push you away when you attacked him.”

“You're deluding yourself if you think he didn't want me.”

“No, Daffie, you're deluding yourself if you think he did.”

Roarke stood there speechless as his wife turned around and walked out of the study. Daphne huffed loudly. Roarke chuckled. Well, he'd be damned. Cleo trusted him. She trusted him completely.

When he rushed past Daphne, she called out, “Where do you think you're going?”

“I'm going to find my wife so I can kiss her,” he said.

He left Daphne in the study and raced up the stairs, catching up with Cleo in the upstairs hallway. Without saying a word, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her into their suite. He tossed her down on the bed, then came down on top of her, kissing her breathless.

They tore at each other's clothes, and when they had removed enough essential garments, Roarke took her hard and fast and wild. They reached their climaxes simultaneously, their bodies joined in ecstasy, their hearts beating in unison and their souls touching for one spellbinding moment.

They both treasured what they shared, but knew, despite the trust they had in each other, the magic couldn't last.

 

C
LEO HAD DIFFICULTY
concentrating. She couldn't seem to keep focused on the row of figures before her. Her mind kept wandering off in a decidedly different direction. The past weekend with Roarke had been so incredibly won
derful that she questioned if it had really happened. But it had. All she had needed to do to confirm the reality of their uncontrollable passion for each other was to glance across the room at Roarke. Every time he'd looked at her during the past few days, she'd seen the desire in his eyes and had known he wanted her. And just that one look had set her pulse to racing. Dear Lord, would it always be that way? Would she never get enough of loving and being loved by Simon Roarke?

With Roarke in the same room with her, she hadn't been able to think straight. She kept thinking about Saturday, when they'd gone riding and spent the day making love outside, in the creek, under the willows, in the woods. And Sunday, when she'd caught Daphne trying to seduce Roarke. How good it felt to know that she could trust her husband. After Roarke had carried her into their suite, they hadn't come out again until that morning, when they'd left for work.