Chapter 26

Somehow, she made it through dinner. The scallops Clive had prepared were nothing short of a work of art, but she had to force herself to eat them. In her lame attempt to explain why she had Jiggs, she’d made her plight even worse. She had given Dexxter every reason to believe she might recall something that could be dangerous to him.

Not that Dexxter acted as if it bothered him. He kept flirting with her and ignoring Irene. All through the meal and the fabulous mango crème brûlé that was Clive’s specialty, Matt had been quiet. He chatted with others, seldom talking to her.

But he wasn’t himself.

She suspected that he hadn’t bought her story about Jiggs. She tried to think how to handle the situation. It was difficult to concentrate with everyone talking to her and Dexxter tracking her every move with his reptilian eyes.

“We really must go,” Irene said when the group had finished their coffee.

Dexxter opened his mouth to protest, but the look Irene shot at him would have buckled steel. Everyone else stood to leave and complimented Clive and Trevor on the meal.

“It was great meeting all of you,” Dexxter said, but his eyes were on her. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

What she was looking forward to was seeing him in handcuffs.

They left with Kyle, who was house-sitting next door to Half Moon Bay. Bubbles wandered off. She went into the kitchen to help clean up.

“Run along,” Clive said. “We’ve got this handled.”

She turned, expecting to find Matt at her elbow, the way he’d been all evening. He was nowhere in sight. Something was wrong, and she dreaded finding out what it was.

She had told so many lies.

If Matt confronted her, she was half tempted to tell him the truth. But Dexxter was right there on the island. She refused to jeopardize the people who had helped her—especially Matt.

Until tonight, when she was faced with leaving him, she hadn’t allowed herself to admit that she had fallen head over heels in love with him. She’d led an insular life, and now, having found such a wonderful man, she didn’t want anything to happen to him.

She’d rather die herself.

Walking out to the terrace, she saw Matt standing down by the water, where he liked to go. She slowed her pace, reluctant to face him, yet knowing she had no other choice. Putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier. She walked across the grass and left her thongs beside Matt’s shoes.

“When are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked as she stopped beside him. His eyes were sharp and assessing; unbridled anger punctuated every word.

“What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I saw how you acted when you were in the hospital. You cried when we brought you Jiggs. Don’t expect me to believe that bullshit about him being someone else’s dog.”

He put his hands lightly on her waist, then let them drift upward. Through the sheer dress, she felt his warm fingers skimming her rib cage. When he reached her breasts, he cradled them, one in each hand, and squeezed gently.

“This isn’t Clive’s work. He told me so. These babies are the real thing.” He leaned a little closer until they were almost nose to nose and said, “Who are you? Why in hell are you pretending to be Shelly?”

Torn by conflicting emotions, she hesitated. You can’t tell him, cautioned an inner voice. Get away from him before you drag him into this.

She turned and sprinted across the sand, hit the grass full speed, and kept going without stopping for her shoes. Scott Phillips had given her an emergency number. If she called him now, he could get her out of here tonight.

She reached the terrace. Matt thundered up behind her. His powerful hands grabbed her shoulders and whirled her around, bringing her flush against the muscular length of him.

“Don’t even think of running away from me, babe.”

She’d seen that look in his eyes before and knew exactly what it meant. He backed her up against one of the limestone pillars, supporting the lattice overhang that shaded the terrace. The stone was cold and hard against her back, his body hot and unyielding against her front side.

“You have a way of getting to me even when I’m pissed at you big-time.” He pressed a burgeoning erection against her, just in case she misunderstood. “Then my brain goes below my belt.”

“Surprise, surprise.”

“Don’t tell me, whoever you are, that you’re not hot for me.”

She struggled to get away, but his body was too strong. In a way, it was exciting to be trapped like this. Savoring the heat rising from his chest and the pounding of his heart against hers, she waited.

He captured one breast with his hand and tested the nipple with his thumb. “See? You can’t help yourself.”

There was no use denying it. The needs of her body, so long denied, eagerly responded to him. It had been that way from the first. Now that she had experienced the height of sensual pleasure, her body yearned for him all the time.

“Even without knowing your name, I want you so much I hate myself.”

He kneed her legs apart and settled his erection between her thighs. Moist heat seeped into her loins, and she couldn’t resist arching her hips just a little to get closer.

He lowered his head, his lips seeking hers. There was nothing artistic about the bruising kiss. With a savage thrust of his tongue, he was inside her mouth. She couldn’t help curling her own tongue around his as she clung to his shoulders.

He cupped her bottom in his hands, moving her up and down against the iron heat of his sex. The silky fabric of the dress slid back and forth in a way that was even more erotic than if they had been undressed.

Any second he was going to take her, standing up on the terrace. She wrenched her head away from the wildly carnal kiss. “L-let’s go inside.”

His answer was to hoist up her dress and yank down her panty hose. The sheer nylons ripped apart before they cleared her thighs.

“What’s, like, going on out there?” Bubbles called from inside the house.

“Mind your own damn business,” Matt snarled.

“Well, I, like never …” Bubble’s voice trailed off.

“My room is closest,” she managed to gasp as Matt kissed the sensitive curve of her neck just below her ear.

“I won’t make it.”

His voice was a low rasp with a slight tremor to it. She believed him; she was remarkably close to an orgasm herself, considering he’d just kissed her once.

He unzipped his trousers, freeing himself with a low moan and shoving the trousers to his knees. Protruding from a dark tuft of hair, his stiff erection jutted outward. He guided it forward, probing at the delicate folds between her legs, searching for the right spot. She clung to his shoulders as the velvet-smooth tip of his sex found its target.

His breath coming in heavy, uneven pants, he grabbed her buttocks with both hands and buried himself to the hilt. “Aw, hell, there’s nothing better than being inside you. Nothing.”

She could tell he was angry with himself, but she couldn’t stop being just a little proud. She loved this man and couldn’t resist him even when he was making love to her out of anger. It was only fair that she have the same power over him.

He’d filled her completely, stretching her until she was positive she would rip apart. He began to move, pummeling her with hard, demanding thrusts.

“Yes, yes,” she heard herself moan softly.

He pounded away, lancing her body with pleasure each time he drove into her. Seconds later, a series of small contractions became one overpowering sensation. The orgasm lasted and lasted as her own body shattered around her with unimaginable pleasure.

She opened her eyes, not realizing she had squeezed them shut. He was still working, his face a mask of pain. Then his whole body convulsed. He let out a curse that could have been heard in Key West. And stopped.

He released her and she sagged against the cool pillar. With as much dignity as she could muster, she removed the torn panty hose and straightened her dress. She hurried to her room and locked the door.

Somehow Bingo and Jiggs had gotten in and were on her bed, sleeping. “Change your clothes and make that call,” she said out loud.

An angry fist pounded on the door. Bingo and Jiggs jumped off the bed and raced for the bathroom. She didn’t have to ask who it was.

“Go away. We’ll talk in the morning.” Of course, she didn’t plan to be here then.

“Let me in or I’ll break down the door.”

A moment later a thunk rattled the door’s hinges. Matt meant it. He was going to break down Trevor’s beautiful door. She flipped the latch, and he exploded into the room.

He stood before her, breathing like a long distance runner. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his temple.

“You didn’t let me finish talking to you.”

“Conversation wasn’t on your mind.”

“Back at the beach it was.”

“All right, I’m listening.” She closed the door, then turned to him.

“You know, I thought we had something going … something special. But you don’t trust me. What’s a relationship without trust? Nothing.”

There was an edge to his voice that some might have mistaken for anger. But she’d seen him angry and had been the object of his fury. This wasn’t anger; it was hurt.

A lump rose in her throat and tears pricked hotly at the back of her eyes. No man had ever cared about her—ever. If she didn’t do something, she would destroy their relationship.

“You’re wrong, Matt. I do trust you—with my life. What’s more, I love you with all my heart.”

Evidently, he hadn’t expected this. His expression stilled and became even more serious. “Oh, angel,” he said as he pulled her into his arms. “You know I’m crazy about you. Tell me who you really are. I’ll do anything to help you.”

That was what she was afraid of. He was the kind of man who would die trying to protect her. She opted to tell him part of the truth. “You can help me most if you don’t let anyone know I’m not Shelly. She died in the crash. I’m Amy Joyce Conroy, and I’m in terrible danger if certain people know I’m alive.”

“I don’t get it. The cop just said—”

“Scott Phillips is an FBI agent. He was only posing as a police officer. He really came to take me back into the Witness Protection Program, but I wouldn’t go. Now that I found you, I didn’t want to leave you.”

He hugged her so tight that she could barely draw a breath, then he kissed the top of her head. He gazed down at her, asking, “I don’t want anything to happen to you. Are you safe here?”

“Yes,” she hedged, “as long as everyone believes I’m Shelly, then it’s just as good as being in the Witness Protection Program. Much, much better, actually, because I’m with you.”

The even, whiteness of his thrilled smile dazzled her. She was glad she’d told him she loved him. Granted, he was only “crazy” about her, but after a lifetime of loneliness, it was enough.

“Why are you in the program?”

“If I tell you, they might kill you.” She caressed his cheek with her hand. “For your own protection, that’s all I can say. Trust me.”

He frowned, but reluctantly nodded, seeming to accept her decision.