BRIDAL JEOPARDY (10 page)

Chapter Ten

Craig kissed her again, his hands moving over her back, down to her hips, pressing her middle to his erection, knowing they were about to change everything.

Everything already changed the first time we touched.

That was true, too.

His head was pounding, a counterpoint that he wished he could banish. But it seemed to come with the arousal.

Maybe this is like the first time a woman makes love—there’s pain,
she suggested.

Not a headache. That’s a different cliché. But we should go back to what you said first. What if we have to break through a barrier between us?

How?

He sent her a very graphic picture. When she moved her body against his, he knew they were on the same wavelength.

He slipped his hands under the edge of her knit top, sighing as he stroked the soft skin of her back.

Then he reached up to unhook her bra so that he could slide his hands to her front and cup her breasts, gliding his thumbs across the hardened crests.

“Oh.”

He bent to kiss her again, his goal to make her so hot that she couldn’t think about anything besides what they were doing together. Maybe that was the way to wipe out the pain building inside his skull.

He knew she’d captured that thought when she slid her hand down the front of his body, cupping his erection, rocking her palm against him.

Not too much of that. I want this to last.

She raised her hands, doing what he had done, slipping her fingers under his T-shirt so that she could stroke his back before pushing the fabric up.

He stepped away from her and pulled the shirt over his head.

By the time he’d tossed the shirt away, he saw that she was standing in front of him naked to the waist.

He stared at her in the dim light coming through the crack at the edge of the curtains. “You are so beautiful.”

She grinned. “Your chest isn’t bad, either.”

He crossed to the bathroom, turning on the light and leaving the door a little ajar. When he looked back to her, he saw that she had turned down the covers and was reaching for the button at the top of her slacks.

“Let me.”

She went still as he crossed to her, worked the button, then slowly lowered the zipper so that he could shuck her pants down her legs, taking her panties with them.

He felt so much. Too much. Sexual arousal, the thoughts leaping toward him—and the pounding in his head that might wipe out everything else.

He strove to put that worry out of his mind. It wouldn’t happen if they did this right.

Which was what, exactly?

As he caressed her, he moved his lips against hers, stroking then nibbling with his teeth. He knew the exact amount of pressure that would bring her pleasure instead of pain, because he felt her reactions as well as his own.

She was busy, too, removing his pants and briefs.

Finally they were naked in each other’s arms, and his need for her threatened to overwhelm him.

If he didn’t make love with her...

He couldn’t finish the thought because he knew that neither one of them could stop. If he pulled away from her now, his brain would explode. And if he didn’t pull away, the same thing might happen.

She understood all that, and he sensed her fear. But they clung together, never breaking the contact as they staggered to the bed and fell onto the mattress. He rolled toward her, gathering her close, his body rocking against hers, both of them gasping at the sensation of skin against skin.

They were both trembling, coping with more than it seemed possible to bear. His head throbbed, and he knew that he might stroke out from the intensity.

He heard her gasp. Not just the sound, but in his mind—generated by the same pain he felt.

But he couldn’t let her go.

Maybe that was the key to survival. The courage to see this through—no matter where it led.

Remembering his vow to arouse her to fever pitch, he slid his hand down her body again, dipping into the folds high up between her legs. She was wet and molten for him, and he didn’t have to ask if she was ready to take the final step. He knew.

And she didn’t have to use her hand to guide him into her. They simply did it, moving from separate individuals to one being in a smooth, sure motion.

He was inside her. Or was she inside him? He didn’t know anymore where he ended and she began. He only knew that every sense was tuned to her. Every thought. And she to him.

One of them began to move. No, it was both of them, because the pressure in their brains was too great and the only way to relieve it was through sexual climax.

That didn’t make sense. Yet he thought it was true, at least with the part of his mind that could still function coherently.

Or was it simply instinct that had him grasping for orgasm and bringing her along with him, because if it didn’t end soon, he knew he would die.

He couldn’t make absolute sense of that, but he was far beyond trying to understand what was happening. He was captive to the fiery sensations—his and hers—that were rushing them toward ecstasy...or death.

He couldn’t have stopped now if the door had burst open and men with guns had come charging in, firing at point-blank range.

He clung to Stephanie and she to him. Not just with his hands but with his mind. He had thought he was searching for remembered intimacy. This was so much more that he was at a loss to comprehend it. Yet as he hovered on the edge of a blinding explosion inside his brain, he wasn’t sure he would survive.

Only the woman who held him in her arms saved him from destruction.

And because every barrier between them had vanished, he knew it was the same for her. They would die together—or pull each other into a new life.

They crashed through an invisible barrier that separated them from everything they had always known. Climax shook them, blinding them to everything but what they had forged. They clung tightly to each other as they came down to earth, each of them panting, each of them marveling at what they had done together.

In that moment, there was nothing he could hide from her. Nothing she could hide from him. He didn’t even try, just drifted on the perfect oneness of their shared consciousness.

Since his brother’s death, he had felt cut off from humanity. This woman had filled the empty void within himself. More than filled it. She had given him a perfect union that he never could have imagined.

I always felt alone,
she whispered in his mind.
Not now.

He held her and stroked her, so grateful that she was in his arms.

But I still don’t understand it,
she silently added.

I thought I did. This is more than I ever imagined,
he answered.

She clasped his hand and held on tight.
Making love gave us everything we wanted, but it could have killed us. If...

If we had a failure of nerve.

You knew what we could gain.

I only thought I knew.

Neither one of us was going to give up.

Rolling to his side, he took her with him, feeling more peaceful than he had since the terrible day Sam had died.

Emotionally exhausted, he felt sleep wafting over him and tried to fight it off.

Yes, I don’t want to lose a moment of this,
she whispered in his mind.

I’ll be here when you wake up. I’ll always be here,
he answered. But for the moment, it was impossible not to drift off after the energy they had expended.

* * *

B
ACK
IN
N
EW
O
RLEANS
, a woman named Rachel Harper went very still. She was alone in her shop in the French Quarter where she did tarot-card readings and sold psychic paraphernalia. Once she had been alone and isolated, and she’d used her ability with the cards to connect with people on a level that would have been impossible otherwise. But last year she had met a man who had changed her life. Jake Harper.

The two of them had bonded in a way she had never dared imagine. And being with him had changed her life in ways she was still trying to understand.

As she sat alone in her darkened reading room, a burst of mental energy came to her from miles away. It startled her, and she knew she wouldn’t be alone here for long. Only a few minutes passed before the door to her shop burst open, and her husband, Jake, rushed in, out of breath from running.

He’d been in his office at one of the restaurants he owned in the city.

Something happened. Are you all right?
he asked.

Yes.

Are we in danger?

I don’t know,
she answered honestly.

Jake crossed to her side, reaching for her hand and folding her fingers around his. For long moments, neither of them moved or spoke, although speech was no longer necessary for the two of them to communicate.

You sensed another couple bonding,
he finally said.

I think so.

Are they going to attack us?

Someone who didn’t know their history might have thought the question paranoid, but the first couple like them that they’d encountered, Tanya and Mickey, had tried to kill them. The fight for their lives had made them cautious.

They were thinking the same thing now.

We have to wait and see what happens.

Are they in trouble?

Probably.

Does that mean
we
have a new enemy? I don’t mean them. I mean...someone connected with the Solomon Clinic.

I guess we’ll find out.

* * *

S
OMETIME
DURING
THE
NIGHT
,
Stephanie woke. Beside her, so did Craig.

He eased far enough away to switch on the bedside lamp, and they both blinked in the sudden glow.

When he raised himself on his elbow and smiled down at her, she felt her own smile starting with her mouth and spreading through her whole body.

“Would you have believed that could happen—if anyone had told you?”

“No.”

“We’ve found something nobody else has.”

“Maybe somebody,” she answered.

“Who?”

“You think there’s nobody like us? I mean, you and Sam had it.”

“Close. But not exactly.”

“Before we had to leave my dad’s house, we were talking about the Solomon Clinic. About maybe it having something to do with...” She raised one shoulder. “I don’t know how to put it, exactly. With children who had special abilities. Maybe we should look up the place.”

“Nice that I was able to get my computer from the bed-and-breakfast.”

As he went to retrieve his laptop, she admired his broad shoulders and tight butt.

I heard that.

She flushed.
I guess there are some disadvantages to...being so...open to each other.

Sam and I used to practice closing off our minds from each other. We could try that.

And that other thing—that you didn’t mention.

He went still, then turned around.
You mean putting thoughts into people’s minds.

Yes, that. Why didn’t you say something about it?

Even as she asked the question, she knew that he’d considered it a questionable skill. Like stealing.

I understand,
she answered.
But it might come in handy when someone is trying to kidnap you—or kill you.

Yeah.

When he returned with the laptop, she had an opportunity to admire him from the front. And although she did her best to keep her thoughts to herself, she knew he’d picked them up again.

As he slipped into bed beside her, she asked, “How
do
you keep from having everything in your mind like an open book?”

“You build a wall.”

“Like how?”

“With Sam, I used to picture a wall made out of metal plates. Let me show you.”

She saw the concentration on his face as he made the wall. Reaching for his hand, she held on tight as she tried to get into his mind and came up against the barrier. Maybe there was a way around it, but she didn’t find it as she searched.

You try it,
he suggested.

She tried to do the same thing he had done, make a wall that would block out her thoughts. It was easy to picture the wall but not so easy to keep it in place.

I’d spend a lot of energy keeping it intact,
she said, struggling with a sense of defeat.

Keep practicing, and you’ll get better.
I hadn’t done it in years, and it came back to me.

She built fortresses in her head while he booted up his computer.

“You think there’s anything on the web after all these years?”

“We’ll find out.”

She moved beside him where she could see the screen, pulling the sheet up over her breasts.

He glanced at her and grinned. “I’ve seen them.”

She flushed. “I know, but I’m not as casual about walking around naked as you are.”

She knew from his thoughts that he planned to desensitize her—in the shower.

I should practice that wall thing,
he answered.

She smiled and moved her shoulder against his. It would have been impossible for her to imagine this wonderful closeness with anyone. But Craig had changed her world.

Mine, too.
When the computer finished its start-up routine, he went to Google, looking for information about the Solomon Clinic. At first they found nothing. Then he added Houma, and a startling newspaper entry came up.

“The explosion at a research laboratory owned by Dr. Douglas Solomon is under investigation. The facility was being used by Dr. Solomon for medical research. His body was found in the wreckage of the lab, along with Violet Goodell, who was the head nurse at the doctor’s former fertility clinic and also a close personal friend. She was active in charity work in Houma. Another body found in the wreckage was that of William Wellington, former head of the Howell Institute, a Washington think tank. According to anonymous sources in Houma, Wellington may have had a financial interest in the Solomon fertility clinic, but it is not known why he was at the research facility when it exploded.