One Secret Night (2 page)

“Not afraid of much, either,” he said. “You handled yourself pretty well back there.”

She shrugged off the compliment. She had been afraid. “Nothing to fear but fear itself, right?” That was survival.

He seemed to like her response. “Right.”

More time rolled by as they just stood there looking at each other.

“Are you staying at this hotel?” she asked, shamelessly flirting.

“No.” He glanced at her still-closed hotel room door.

It suddenly occurred to her that she’d never see him again after this.

Another long moment passed where they said nothing and communicated only with their eyes.

“I could come in for a little while...” he finally said.

She watched his mouth as he said that and while caution reared up inside her, a natural, insistent response kept it from taking over. She didn’t know him. Should she let a stranger into her room? He worked for the FBI. And she wasn’t getting any eerie vibes from him. She could sense a person’s overall goodness and he came across as relatively harmless.

Not one to shy away from impulse and chances, she said, “All right.”

She dug out her room key from her purse and opened the suite door.

Wood flooring and modern furnishings welcomed them. Dim light came from a lamp on a table next to a taupe-colored sofa with red-and-white pillows. The windows all along the far wall were dark now.

Russ wandered over there. Autumn joined him, seeing flashing lights in the parking lot below. She wanted to ignore the reminder of what had brought them to this moment.

“When will you call your SAC?” she asked him.

“In the morning. He doesn’t like to be bothered at night.”

She supposed that was reasonable. The assassin was dead and local authorities were on the scene. But was he using delay tactics? How would she know if he called his SAC? And did it matter if she did? Maybe she was still shaken up over what had happened.

Turning away from the window, she asked, “Something to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

At the small bar area, she began to uncork a bottle of red wine she’d asked to be brought to her room. Maybe this would help her sleep tonight.

Russ appeared beside her, making her jump. He was so quiet. Reaching for the bottle opener, his hand touched hers as he took it from her. Seared by acute awareness, she inched away and waited for him to open the bottle and pour two glasses. Why did strange new men appeal to her so much? Strange, new,
masculine
men. Good-looking men. Maybe this was dangerous behavior. Maybe she deserved what the media said about her and her dating habits.

She often justified herself with the explanation that she wasn’t ready to settle down, but what if there was more to her taste for men like Russ?

He handed her a glass of wine and she held it while he took a sip from his and observed her with those gorgeous green eyes.

“Where do you live?” she asked.

“Lander, Wyoming.”

“Hmm.” She nodded. “Do you like it there?” Mundane conversation defused some of the puzzling chemistry mixing between them.

“Yes. It’s quiet and remote.”

Agents like him probably preferred their solitude. Or was there a different reason he preferred quiet and remote?

“You?” he asked.

“Dallas, Texas. And sometimes Colorado. I just bought a new place in Denver.” She scanned the room of the suite. “But I travel a lot.” And that’s the way she liked it.

“You must be doing well in your career. Two houses.” Since he was keeping secrets from her, she’d keep one of her own. “Yes, I am.” He didn’t need to know who her father was. The great Jackson Ivy, famous movie producer. He was the reason many of her relationships didn’t last. Either the men she met already knew who her father was, or as soon as they found out, the game changed and she became desirable for that rather than her charming personality and good looks.

“Do you have family in Wyoming?” she asked.

“No.” He didn’t say more, taking his glass and walking over to the sofa.

Autumn found that curious. Following him, she asked, “Not a big family?”

Bending for the remote, he held the glass in the other as he turned on the television. “I have a dad in Phoenix and a brother in San Diego. He has a family of his own. I don’t see them much.”

Watching him surf channels, she wondered if he needed the distraction. She moved closer, a warm part of her drawing her to do so. “Because of your work?”

Finding a sports channel, he put the remote down and straightened to face her, taking in her close proximity before he finally answered. “I haven’t spoken to my dad since I was seventeen.” She caught a brief flash of emotion in his eyes before he continued. “My brother left the house when I was fourteen. He’s four years older than me. My mother died a few months before he left.”

“Oh.” She almost regretted asking. Although he explained his family so matter-of-factly, he had to have some negative baggage over losing his mother at the age of fourteen. “I’m sorry...about your mother.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“How old are you now?”

“Forty. Your turn.” He took a big sip, clearly finished discussing his family.

Okaaay...

“I have a
big
family.” She felt the megawatt smile spreading on her face as she thought of them all. “Seven brothers and sisters. Parents are still married. We’re spread all over the States. I’m second oldest, and I’m thirty-nine.” They were so close in age.

He lifted his gaze from her smiling mouth. “And not married.”

Sparks showered through her. “No. Are you?”

He laughed once. “No.”

“You say that as though it was a joke.”

Now he sobered. “I’ve never met anyone independent enough to put up with me.”

She was independent. Fiercely so. She had the reputation to prove it. Taming the wild attraction racing through her, Autumn stepped around him and sat on the sofa. He put his glass down on a side table and sat beside her.

“Is adventure what made you decide to become an FBI agent?” she asked, needing to keep the topic casual.

“That was part of it.”

“What was the other part?” He intrigued her so much. She couldn’t pinpoint why. His mystery. His masculinity. Both...

“It seemed better than going into politics.”

He didn’t strike her as the political type, not the conventional kind anyway. “You were going to get into politics?”

“I studied international relations in college.”

Mmm...a college man...rugged
and
educated. “Did you aspire to be president?”

“Of course. Political issues interested me.”

In his youth, he’d thought anything was possible, but as he grew older, something had changed his mind. “So, why didn’t you follow that path?”

“I realized politicians only care about their own special interests. Nothing moves where it should in the time that it should. They have their perks and holidays and no one really takes any real risks to make a true difference. They get in the way of progress rather than move it forward.”

He felt strongly on the matter. She liked a man with an opinion.

“Are you a Republican or a Democrat?” she asked in a flirtatious tone.

“I’m a nonconformist,” he answered in kind.

“Rebel?”

He grinned, really sexy. “All the way.”

She leaned toward him, loving his candor. “I bet you’re a really good agent.”

Leaning closer to her, he murmured, “Among other things.”

When he kissed her, she closed her eyes, surrendering to sweet sensation while a faint inner voice cautioned,
Don’t do it.

Chapter 2

C
aution had never been one of Autumn’s strongest traits. Caution deprived her of excitement. And this man excited her.

After kissing for several minutes, Autumn stood and backed up, giving him a come-hither look he couldn’t mistake.

Russ got up and she walked backward all the way to the suite bedroom. When she came to the bed, she stopped and began to undress.

“Take your clothes off, agent man,” she said.

He complied, both of them not looking away until the last of their clothes lay in piles on the floor. He aroused her further with the caress of his gaze all over her nakedness. She did the same but took less time. When he finished and took a step toward her, she pulled the covers back and got onto the bed.

Lying back on the cool sheets, she reveled in the sight of Russ climbing over her. She reached for him, touching rigid muscles, running her hands down his beautiful body and then curling her hand around his impressive hardness. If she wasn’t so taken by him, she’d be ashamed of her wantonness.

“I don’t normally do this,” she confessed.

He lowered himself onto her and pressed his mouth to hers.

“I usually get to know a man first.” And then left them.

“Me, too.” He kept kissing her, but she wasn’t ready yet.

“Except the last one.” She almost lost her train of thought as he kissed her deeper. “I didn’t know him, either.”

Now Russ lifted his head and looked down at her as she continued.

“I broke up with him before coming to Iceland.”

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He started to roll off of her.

“No.” She tightened her arm around his back. “No.” He felt so good on her. Knox was a one-time thing. This...this felt different. With Knox, it had been sexual. With Russ, there was something else. A connection.

“I just need you to know that I don’t usually do this.”

“I heard you the first time.”

His was patient, ready for whatever she decided. And his gravelly voice turned her on.

“I’m ready now,” she murmured, in pure response to his voice.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes.” Oh, yes. “This is different than the last one.”

With heat in his eyes, he kissed her. Softly but briefly.

“This is different than anyone,” he said, his voice doing intimate things to her.

He couldn’t have chosen a better response. He felt it, too. What tomorrow brought, neither could speculate, but the reward of being together right now outweighed stopping and going their separate ways.

“Let’s see how sure you are.” He kissed her again, a sensuous caress that went on for endless moments.

When she groaned against his mouth and tilted her head to seek more of him, he lifted his head, depriving her of what she craved. Entwining his fingers into her hair, he kissed her hard. He moved on her, rubbing his hardness against her, searching for and finding her sensitive spot.

Autumn ran her hands over his toned butt, up his rippling back, to his shoulders.

He raised up, his gaze roaming over her naked breasts and lower. His mouth slightly parted, passion burned from him and heated hers. Sitting up on his knees, he lifted her with him. She straddled him. With her hands holding his face, she kissed him while he raised her up once more, and then brought her down on his erection. Putting her hands on his shoulders, she helped guide him into her. When she sat with him inside of her, she gasped for air, riding him and letting her head fall back in sheer ecstasy. She was going to come, grinding her hips over him.

He grunted, telling her he was just as close.

Laying her back on the mattress, he entered her again and thrust urgently back and forth. When she reached for him, he took her hands and pinned them on each side of her head, intent only on pleasure. She tipped her hips to take more of him and won another grunt. She won something for herself, too. With each stroke, the pleasure built to a crescendo. She was barely aware that she was screaming as she came, a deep and wrenching yell that was all-consuming.

He lay still on her and they both had to spend some time catching their breath. Autumn also tried to make sense of how this could feel so intense. Why him? Was it his mystery? She couldn’t allow that to matter. She’d have no regrets in the morning. She’d vow to take this glorious memory with her, whether she ever saw him again or not.

* * *

Sometime later that night, Autumn woke, still beside him but no longer touching. She propped her head up on her hand, elbow on the mattress, and watched him sleep. After that first time, they’d dozed off for an hour or so, and then he’d made love to her again. Slower, longer and with his eyes looking into hers. She’d never experienced anything like it. A disturbing connection. She was so drawn to him.

Troubled over how she felt, she stood from the bed and went into the other room for a bottle of water. As she drank, she noticed Russ’s cell phone on the coffee table. He’d left the assassin’s phone in his pant pocket. This one he’d removed from the pocket of his Under Armour shirt.

Walking there, she stopped and listened. Russ hadn’t stirred. She picked up the phone and navigated to the new text message.

Not the way we planned, but the problem is solved. Thanks. Let’s talk when you can.

There was no name, only a number. Russ’s SAC? Or had he lied about that? He’d said he would call his boss in the morning. Had he lied about that? Why would he lie?

There were no other contacts in the phone, and any calls and texts Russ had sent or received had been deleted, even the one to the hotel front desk. It was a clean phone, deliberately kept that way.

A little disturbed by that, she put the phone down and dug out a pen from her purse. The man was probably Russ’s boss, who might have contacted him before Russ had planned, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about this text that wasn’t right. She’d jot down the number. If she never needed it, then good.

Writing the number down on a hotel notepad, she tore the page off, opened her purse and put it into her wallet. Then she took the bottle of water back into the bedroom. Russ was working undercover, so a clean phone wasn’t all that unusual, she reminded herself. As she climbed back into bed, he began to stir. His sleepy eyes opened as she curled onto her side.

God, he was gorgeous.

Reaching up, he slid his hand behind her head and pulled her down for a kiss. Again? Feeling her body respond, she didn’t resist, forgetting all about the text message.

He rolled her onto her back and kissed her while he slid into her for the third time that night. He aroused her into a steaming eddy in a matter of seconds. He thrust with gradual force, bringing her to a mind-erasing orgasm.

She floated back down to earth while he finished with a long groan. Then he lay on his side behind her, holding her close as they once again fell asleep, Autumn to fitful dreams of tearful goodbyes.

* * *

Autumn stretched along with a long breath as she slowly woke. Sunlight streamed into the room. And then her cheery mood settled. She flattened her hand over the other side of the bed. Empty.

Empty?

She lifted her head. Russ was gone. She looked around the room. Not there. The bathroom door was open. Not there. She flung the covers off and walked to the bedroom door, still naked. The suite was quiet. Too quiet.

Had he gone to get them breakfast or coffee? Why not call room service?

A knock on the door sent her searching for a robe. She donned a white terry-cloth one from the bathroom and went to open the door. A hotel staff member stood there holding a vase full of red roses, about two dozen of them.

“A gentleman asked us to deliver these to you,” the man said.

She took the vase. “Thank you. Just a minute.” She put the vase down on the entry table and opened her purse for some money. She tipped him then let the door swing shut. A small card was tucked in an envelope fastened to a plastic holder. She slipped it free and removed the card.

Sorry I had to leave so early. I will never forget last night.

He’d signed it
R.

She looked at the beautiful red roses. He couldn’t face her and say goodbye? Didn’t he intend that they see each other again? Hadn’t she known, deep down, that they wouldn’t? Her gaze fell on her purse and she recalled writing the cell number down. The only number in Russ’s phone...

* * *

Stepping up to the checkout counter at a Lander, Wyoming, hardware store, Raith De Matteis set down the new router he’d found. While he waited for someone to help him, his mind wandered to a beautiful redhead with sensual eyes. Ever since leaving Iceland, he couldn’t stop thinking about Autumn. He wished he could have done more than leave her flowers. At least the initial he’d signed on the card hadn’t been a lie.

He looked around for George and saw him wave as he approached.

“Got another project?” George started the register. He and his wife ran the hardware store and kept a couple of teenagers busy stocking inventory a few times a week.

“Shelves.” He needed a project. Nothing had turned up from Tabor Creighton’s cell phone, and the bodyguard he’d assigned to protect Kai had reported nothing unusual. There was little he could do with Creighton dead and no other leads to follow. He’d searched every database he could find to dig up information on Creighton. There wasn’t much. He hadn’t expected much. An assassin of Creighton’s caliber was no amateur when it came to anonymity.

“Didn’t you just make those last year?”

“That was for my bedroom. This is for the living room.”

George smiled fondly. “Between jobs?”

“It appears that way.”

George never questioned him about his job. He must have caught on that Raith couldn’t talk about it.

“Brew Festival is this weekend,” George said. “You should stop by.”

Usually, it was George’s wife who tried to get him out of the house. Most knew Raith, but didn’t really
know
him. He kept to himself whenever he was home, and that wasn’t often or for long periods of time.

“I might.” He paid for the router. “Thanks, George.”

“We’ll save you a seat in the main tent. They’re serving ribs at five tomorrow.”

That meant he’d better show up. “All right. See you then.”

He left to George’s pleased chuckle.

George and Frieda invited him to their house for dinner a lot. He accepted most of the time, but only because they never asked him about his business. They had at first but must have gotten the hint that it wasn’t something he could openly discuss. He appreciated that they accepted him despite his secrets. Frieda thought he should find himself a nice woman and start a family. George just liked to talk shop with him and watch an occasional game. He spent Christmas and Thanksgiving with them. Sometimes he thought they felt sorry for him. He was such a loner. But what they didn’t understand was that he preferred to live that way.

George and Frieda were special, though. He could never say no to them. They’d lost their only son to leukemia when the boy was just fifteen. Raith wasn’t comfortable with filling that void in their lives, but he knew that in some ways, he did. Their son would be about the same age.

“Good afternoon, Mr. De Matteis.”

Raith turned to see the owner of a gift shop stop sweeping in front of the door to greet him.

“Dory.”

“Will we see you at the festival tomorrow?”

“George is saving me a seat for the barbecue.” Why had he chosen a small town to live in? He’d blend in more in a big city.

He drove home and it was long enough to bring his thoughts back to Autumn. That night with her had been burned into his mind. And not only the phenomenal sex. Her. He’d never, ever met any woman like her.

He’d almost called her when he returned home. She didn’t know it but he’d looked on her phone and gotten her number. She’d still been asleep that morning. Taking her number was the only thing that had stopped him from climbing back in bed with her.

What harm would there be in seeing her for a while? He hadn’t told her the truth about himself. Not all of it. That was one giant reason. She hadn’t completely trusted him or his story. If she had, she wouldn’t have been compelled to look at his phone. The text message from Kai had already been opened. Autumn had read it. He’d discovered that after looking up her cell number. Both of them had checked each other’s phone. He suspected her motive was more out of suspicion, however. That he’d slept through her checking his so revealed a lot about the state of his head that night. He’d been so taken into the seduction that he’d been complacent. She didn’t have his real name, but if she tried to get it from the number, she’d learn he wasn’t an FBI agent. And worse, she’d expose herself to Raith’s investigation. Tabor Creighton might be dead, but whoever had hired him was still an unknown and a danger.

But what had really doused his temptation was the internet search he’d done. It hadn’t been difficult to learn more about her. Autumn Ivy was Jackson Ivy’s daughter. He’d laughed when he’d first read that. Of all the things that would keep them apart, he hadn’t imagined that one. Seeing Autumn was impossible. No way in hell could he risk that kind of publicity. Especially since she generated a fair amount of it all on her own...breaking all those men’s hearts. Raith had read all about the actor, Deangelo Cassa-something, and the detective, Knox.

Funny, the woman he’d spent a night with was nothing like the one who’s face was plastered all over the Hollywood tabloids. He hadn’t laughed when he’d read about her dating escapades. Her relationship with the detective should have been normal. Why had she broken it off with him? Clearly, the woman was not one to commit or settle down. While that bothered him, he could hardly fault her. He was no different.

As he drove off the long, winding dirt road and onto his driveway, he saw a car parked in front of the closed gate. The gate was the most visible security feature he’d installed. That was enough to get the town talking, and every Halloween, some kids came by to throw toilet paper on it. He knew who they were—the cameras recorded every toss. But he let them have their fun.