“Pardon me?” Her heart leapt into her throat.
“You heard me. Take your pants off.”
“If this is some kind of a joke…”
“It’s no joke, Colette. Running will be a lot less attractive to you if you’re only wearing a T-shirt.” He grabbed the jeans she’d been wearing before she’d showered and looked at her expectantly. “Now please, don’t make me physically remove those pants from you.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” she exclaimed, rising from the bed to face him.
He grinned, as always the gesture not quite alleviating the shadows in his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.” He hesitated a moment. “What are you afraid of, Colette?” His voice was as silky smooth as a snake oil salesman’s.
“Nothing. Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of anything,” she countered.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll make sure this will be the only time I’ll force you to take your pants off for me.”
“Oh, honestly.” She quickly removed the sweatpants, grateful for the length of the T-shirt. His gaze swept the length of her bare legs, making her wish the shirt extended to the floor. Beneath the heat of his eyes she felt far too vulnerable, and the vulnerability created anger. “There,” she exclaimed as she threw the pants to him.
“Thank you,” he returned evenly. “And as I said, I won’t force you to take them off again.” A wicked smile curved his lips and his dark eyes gleamed with a heat that burned her from across the room. “The next time you take them off for me, it will be because you want to.” Without giving her a chance to reply, he picked up the bag of items he’d bought and disappeared into the bathroom.
Colette fought the impulse to throw something at the door, vent her frustration, the rage his arrogant self-assurance provoked. And the thing that frustrated her most was the possibility that he might be right.
She finished combing her hair, then settled back against the headboard on the bed where Brook slept. She couldn’t deny that she was sexually attracted to Hank, but that certainly didn’t mean she intended to follow through on the attraction.
She had to hold on to her belief that before her amnesia, before she’d overheard the dreadful conversation that had placed her in this situation, there had been a man in her life, a special man whom she’d loved. Brook’s father. Whoever he was, she just knew she’d loved him to distraction and she wouldn’t sully that love by indulging herself in a few moments of lust with Hank Cooper.
The sound of the running shower filled the room. She thought about turning on the television, then decided not to, preferring the relative silence to the sitcom reruns that would be on at this time of the night.
What were Abby and Belinda doing at this moment? She frowned as she imagined their horror. They’d discover quickly not only that she was missing, but also that her window had been shot out and bullet holes decorated the wall of her room.
If only she could call them, just let them know she and Brook were all right. She looked at the phone and frowned, remembering Hank had pocketed the cord.
Frustration built in her. She wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her sisters at risk, wouldn’t have to say anything that would put her and Hank in further danger. All she wanted to do was assure them she was okay.
On impulse she got up off the bed and approached the bathroom door. It wasn’t closed all the way and steam swirled out like slender ghostly fingers. If she could just get to that cord. In a matter of seconds she could hook it back into the phone and make the call. All she needed was that damned cord.
Sucking in a deep breath, she pushed the door open an inch, grateful there was no telltale squeak. Gaining courage, she shoved it open another couple of inches and spied Hank’s jeans in a pile on the floor.
Just beneath the splatter of the water against the tub, she could hear him humming. The scent of soap hung heavy in the air and the steam continued to roll out from above the plastic shower curtain.
Sinking to her hands and knees, Colette kept her gaze firmly fixed on his jeans as she crawled forward. She could see the end of the phone cord peeking out from the pocket. She couldn’t see anything through the opaque curtain, so assumed he couldn’t see outside the shower.
She crawled forward another couple of inches, her heart thundering as her fingers closed around the cord. Now if she could just get out of here and use the phone before he finished his shower.
Scooting back out of the bathroom, she prayed he couldn’t hear the sound of her frantic heartbeat over the sound of the running water. Once outside of the bathroom, she pulled the door closed, then jumped up and raced toward the phone.
It took her a moment to plug the cord into the wall socket, then into the back of the phone. Her fingers shook as she punched in the number at the ranch.
She cried out as the phone was yanked out of her hand from behind. She whirled around to see Hank, clad only in a towel draped around his hips, his body still wet and his eyes flashing danger.
“Dammit, Colette, I thought I could trust you,” he yelled. With one swift tug, he snapped the cord from the wall socket and tossed the phone across his bed.
“I just wanted to call my sisters, tell them I’m all right.” Hot tears burned at her eyes.
“And I told you, it’s not safe to call them.”
Colette sank to her knees on the floor, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. The day’s events were too much, the shooting, the chase, the total isolation from those she loved and trusted.
The tears that had stung her eyes now trekked down her cheeks unchecked. “I just wanted to hear their voices…I just…I feel so all alone.”
He took her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, then held her against his still damp chest. “You aren’t alone. I’m here.”
His words, softly spoken, combined with the strength of his arms around her back, caused sobs to erupt from deep within her. She leaned into him, needing the warmth of the human connection to battle the chill that had taken residence in her body from the moment she’d realized her memories were gone.
She mourned now the loss of those memories, cried from fear and frustration, ached with the thought that she might never remember Brook’s father, might never remember love.
Coiling her arms around Hank’s neck, she gave in to the sobs, letting them overtake her as she leaned weakly into his strength.
His hands rubbed up and down her back as he murmured softly, attempting to comfort her. Within minutes her sobs had ceased and she knew she should pull away from him, step out of his warm embrace. But she lingered, reluctant to leave the protective circle of his arms.
As her tears ceased, she became aware of other sensations. His skin smelled good, so clean and fresh. His chest beneath her cheek was smooth skin over hard muscle. Velvet-covered steel.
Fear subsided, her loneliness fell away as she realized how intimately they were pressed together. His bare legs against hers, nothing but his towel and her shirt separating them from each other.
His hands no longer caressed her back in an effort to comfort, but rather languidly worked up and down, evoking fire where they touched. He no longer whispered gentle, comforting words in her ear; his breathing had quickened, just as her own had.
She raised her head to look at him and gasped as she saw the fire in his eyes creating a flame that ignited deep within her.
“Colette,” he murmured, then his lips claimed hers in a fiery kiss that stole her breath and banished any rational thoughts.
She tightened her arms around his neck, rising up on tiptoe to more fully experience the depth of his kiss. The silken strands of his hair curled around her fingers, beckoning her to bury her fingers in their richness.
Shivers of delight danced up her spine as his tongue deepened the kiss, touching first the edge of her teeth, then swirling deeper.
All thoughts of danger and uncertainty faded beneath the onslaught of his kiss. Fear fell away as desire swelled, banishing everything else from her mind except the pleasurable sensations soaring through her.
She gasped as his hands moved up beneath her shirt, stroking the bare skin of her back as his mouth left hers and traveled down the line of her jaw. Her gasp transformed into a moan as his hands cupped her buttocks, pulling her solidly against him, letting her know the extent of his arousal.
This is madness! her mind screamed. But her body begged for more, wanting the insanity of this passion to last forever. She was lost in his heat and wanted to remain lost until the ache that was building inside her was sated.
She frowned as she heard a noise rising above the sound of their ragged breathing, louder than the beating of their hearts. A baby. Brook.
Brook’s cry sliced through her passion-induced haze and Colette stepped away from Hank, grateful that he didn’t try to hold on to her. “I’m sorry…that was foolish…” Colette’s face burned.
“Probably a reaction of stress,” he said, and she flashed him a grateful look.
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it.”
“You’d better take care of the kid.”
Irritation swept through Colette, a welcomed diversion from other, more frightening emotions. “She has a name. Her name is Brook.”
“Whatever.” He turned and disappeared back into the bathroom.
Colette sank down next to Brook, who fussed and sputtered halfhearted cries, on the bed. She was probably wet, Colette thought. As she changed the baby’s diaper, she thought of those moments in Hank’s arms.
How easily he’d brought her to the brink of submission. How masterful his caresses, his kisses had been to evoke such a violent response in her.
Had Brook not cried, they would have made love. There was no doubt in Colette’s mind. He would have taken her, and she would have willingly succumbed. With a few mind-numbing kisses, he’d managed to banish all thoughts of Brook’s father from her mind. What kind of a woman was she? To respond so easily to a man who’d kidnapped her and intended to take her to a trial that would put the rest of her life at risk?
After changing Brook, Colette pulled down the bedspread and got into bed, confused and disturbed by her quicksilver response to Hank. She cuddled Brook close against her. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to the little girl. “I won’t forget that someplace out there is your daddy. We’ll find him and everything will be all right.”
She tensed as Hank came out of the bathroom, this time clad in a worn pair of sweatpants. Again she was struck by his physique. Why couldn’t he have a pot belly and sunken chest? She turned over, presenting him her back.
* * *
HANK SHUT OFF the light, then got into the remaining bed. Through the windows, pale light seeped in around the curtains, making Colette and the baby visible as his eyes adjusted to the semidarkness.
He’d had the choice of being taken off this case. When Colette had disappeared, his boss had offered him an out, knowing that the entire situation had somehow gone beyond Hank’s control.
However Hank had opted to stay on, needing not only to prove to his boss, but to himself that he was still the man for the job, still able to hold on to his objectivity. At the moment objectivity wasn’t a problem. His hormones were.
Something about Colette Connor stirred him as no other woman had for a very long time. Lust. Pure and simple lust. He’d forgotten what it felt like, how difficult it was to fight.
“Hank?”
He tensed as her voice drifted across the small space that separated them. “What?”
“Before I ran away…before I got amnesia and we were stuck together, did we like each other? I mean, were we friends?”
“Friends?” He rolled the word around in his head. When had he ever had friends? Not for years. Not since he’d lost his dreams. Not since he became a man with nothing more to lose. “We got along all right. I wouldn’t exactly say we were friends.”
He heard the rustle of her covers as she turned over. “You said we were holed up in a hotel room. What did we do all day?”
“We watched television. We played cards. We paced and watched the clock.”
She sighed. “I wish I could remember. I think everything would be much easier if I could just remember it all.”
“Go to sleep, Colette. We’ve got a long day of travel ahead of us tomorrow.” He didn’t want to hear her voice whispering in the dark. It was too intimate, evoked too many memories.
“Good night, Hank.”
“’Night.”
The room fell silent, the only sounds the whisper of their breathing. Hank stared up at the ceiling, deep weariness sweeping through him. She made him tired. Fighting his feelings of lust, fearing all the things she might remember at any time, anticipating her trying to run again…all of it combined to exhaust him.
Sixteen more days. Then he would be forever rid of her. He’d forget the taste of her lips, the scent that so stirred him. He’d forget the sound of her laughter, the pain of her tears. He’d give her up to the court, then put her out of his life as effectively as he’d done with other witnesses a dozen times before.
“Hank?”
“What?” he snapped, wishing she’d shut up, go to sleep, and stop tossing and turning into his thoughts.
“Promise me everything is going to be all right.”
Hank closed his eyes, hardening his heart against the plea in her words. “I never make promises.”
There was a moment of silence. “Never?”
“Never,” he answered firmly. “Now for heaven’s sake, get some sleep,” he finished, his tone harsh.
He knew the moment she fell asleep, heard the rhythm of her breathing change, deepen and slow. Slowly Hank began to relax. For the first time in months, things were back on track. He had Colette where she was supposed to be and he’d see his job through to the end.
Although he knew Colette needed to remember, to do what the prosecution wanted her to do, for the moment he was grateful she remembered nothing. As long as she didn’t remember why she’d run before, it made his job easier.
She’d been right about one thing. In the time he’d known her, he’d never heard her break a promise. She didn’t break them…and he didn’t make them. And that’s exactly why she’d run.
* * *
“WHAT THE HELL do you mean, you lost them?”
The cowboy winced beneath Collier’s rage. “At least I got his license number. Trust me, I’ll find them.”
“Trust you?” Collier snorted derisively. “It’s your fault I’m in this mess. You knew better than to come to the office in the first place. No. I’m through leaving this up to you. I’m sending out some of my boys. They’ll get the job done.”
“I’m guessing they’re headed your way. They’ll want to get someplace safe in San Bernardino as soon as possible to wait for the trial.”
“I’ll find them. I’ll call in every damned marker owed to me.” Collier heaved a sigh of aggravation. “Give me the damned license number. We’ll find her. I don’t care if we have to blow up all of Wyoming and half of California. I want that woman dead within the week.”
“Understood.” The cowboy hung up the phone, narrowing his eyes against the neon lights on the convenience store where he’d stopped to use the phone. Where before this had simply been just another job, it was now becoming personal. Colette Connor was making him look like a fool.
He shook out a cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lit one, his mind whirling. Not only did he intend to be the one to kill Colette Connor, but he would also see to it that Hank Cooper died with her. In fact, if done right, it would tie up loose ends and nobody would be looking for a murderer.
A smile curved his lips as he imagined the newspaper headlines: Tragic Murder/Suicide For Key Witness And Protecting Agent. Oh, yes. Collier would be proud of him. Hell, he’d probably pay a bonus if the murders could be done so no finger could ever point to him.
He took a drag on his cigarette, then flicked the butt away. Thoughtfully he scratched his cheek. He had work to do. He intended to be the one to find Colette and Hank. He wanted to be the one to kill them. In fact, although he wasn’t about to tell Collier, he’d be willing to do this one for free.