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“Sure I do.” He closed the distance she’d created between them. “If it solved your case, you’d do just about anything.”
His assured tone angered her—or so she tried to convince herself. The fact that his statement was true was irrelevant.
Hamilton cocked his head. “As far as your personal life, though, I think you’d make a man’s journey just about as difficult as you could.”
Also true. Though not out of any deliberate issue with men in general—except the chauvinistic, homophobic or idiotic ones. She simply hadn’t met many men worth giving her time to lately. And if she was lonely, she had her job to focus on. The SAC respected her. For now, that would have to be enough to keep the home fires burning.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did they teach you how to be an egomaniac at Yale?”
Ignoring her defensive stance, he leaned into her. “No, I think that particular quality is inborn.”
The challenge in his dark eyes hadn’t wavered once since the moment she met him.
She liked that.
Truth told, she liked him. But he was intimately involved in her case, and she knew an attraction to him wasn’t wise.
“Are you sure you didn’t come here to see me?” he asked.
“I came to interrogate a person of interest in my case.” If she figured the owner of the bar, who she’d learned spent many of his nights in that bar, showed up, well, that was simply a side benefit to a job that had sold her short on positive points so far.
His gaze roved her face. “And I’m irrelevant?”
“You’re…distracting,” she admitted, her heart racing with the crazy need that she sensed would always mark any encounter with Carr Hamilton.
“Then I’m doing my job.”
She angled her head. “Is that why you followed me out here—to do your job?”
His tongue moistened his lower lip, and she barely repressed a groan. “No.” He wrapped one arm around her waist. “I have other things on my mind right now.”
As he lowered his head, she knew she could stop him. Should stop him.
But there were times when her instincts took over, and while those interludes didn’t always end the way she’d anticipated or desired, she couldn’t deny they always made things interesting.
She doubted touching Carr Hamilton would be any different.
His hand cupped her jaw as he laid his mouth over hers. As his fingers gripped the back of her head, his tongue slid between her lips, sending sparks of desire and need shooting through her body. The lustful feelings smoldering inside exploded.
Their chests met; her nipples tightened.
Her body wanted him, even if her brain warned of the danger. With a moan of longing, she ignored her conscience. She clutched the front of his shirt as he continued to devour her mouth, seeming determined to absorb every part of her into him, and she was willing to let him.
Willing? Hell, she wanted more.
Much more.
He pressed her back against her car. “I’ve thought of nothing but you since yesterday,” he rasped in her ear.
Her pulse hammered. Her body throbbed.
Different didn’t even begin to describe the hunger pulsing through her. She’d anticipated a spark and gotten an inferno.
She pressed her lips to his throat and buried her hand in the inky locks of his hair that indeed felt like silk. “You’re part of my case. I shouldn’t—”
He silenced her with another kiss. Her protests died in the wake of the raw emotions consuming her. Her belly tightened, craving more of his touch, knowing instinctively he could drive away the loneliness and satisfy both her body and her mind.
She wanted his skin pressed against hers. She wanted to let loose the fire behind his dark eyes.
His hand slid up her stomach, and her breasts tingled in anticipation. But before he could reach his goal, his thumb brushed her shoulder holster.
She shoved him back instantly.
In the dimly lit parking lot, white sand beneath her shoes, ocean breeze brushing against her skin, she gasped for air and watched him. He looked as dazed as she felt.
“You touched—” She broke off and slid her hands into her pants pockets. Her fingers quivered with the need to brush an errant lock of his silky hair off his forehead. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Sorry. My weapon holster. It’s an instinctive thing for a cop to protect.”
Still breathing heavily, his mouth lifted on one side. “Remind me to disarm you next time.”
She shook her head. There shouldn’t be a next time.
And yet could she really imagine resisting the beautiful man standing before her for long? If he wanted her—and by the evidence presented in the past few minutes she could only assume he did—was there any way she wouldn’t be his?
She shivered at the thought.
“Cold?” he asked, stepping forward and bracing his palms beneath her elbows.
“No.” She shook her head. “That’s the last thing I am.”
His hands gripped her waist, and she noted he was careful to keep them away from her holster. “Come home with me.”
She turned away. “I can’t. I need to think.” She’d never been a coward in her life, but she wasn’t sure whether she should run toward or away from this man.
“Think about me?” he asked, his lips against her ear.
“Among other things. I need to go to the gun club.”
“The…what?”
She glanced over her shoulder into his confused eyes. “Gun club. They have an indoor shooting range that’s open twenty-four hours.” Then she remembered the whiskey she’d indulged in earlier. The club would have to wait for morning. “I like to shoot to relax.”
“I like to walk on the beach.”
Just another way they were opposites and completely wrong for each other.
When she opened her car door, he let go of her and stepped back. “You want a ride home?” she asked him.
He started off. “I’ll walk. Thanks.”
“Oh, Hamilton? By—”
“Do you think you could call me by my first name?”
“No, I really don’t think I can now.”
He scowled. “Then when?”
She shrugged. “When it’s the right time. And, by the way…” She let her gaze track down his body, long, lean and illuminated by the streetlight. “The Bureau couldn’t care less whether you wear boxers, briefs or nothing at all.”
“What about you?”
She had no doubt he’d look hot in anything. Or nothing. “I couldn’t care less either.”
3
BINOCULARS AROUND his neck, Carr leaned against the aft railing and stared at the moonlit water where his boat bobbed at the dock.
At nearly eleven o’clock on a Wednesday, the bar was the only place that was hopping. Jack’s boat was still out, so it seemed the only thing to do was wait.
His thoughts returned, as they had a million times, to the night before and the kiss he’d shared with Malina Blair. Of course, describing what they’d shared as a mere kiss diminished the encounter by miles.
Touching her had been like holding lightning in his bare hands.
She—
He halted his thoughts as he sensed movement behind him on the dock. He didn’t flinch or turn, but his heart rate picked up speed.
Were Jack’s buddies back?
He hadn’t seen them since that night he’d found the coffee grounds nearly three weeks ago.
Were more drugs being delivered? Were there even drugs involved at all? Something odd was certainly going on, but had he jumped to conclusions based on the coffee grounds? Malina had passed off the connection between drugs and coffee. Was she right, or was she simply trying to demonstrate that he had no business messing around in her case?
If these guys were drug dealers, they were certainly ruthless. And while he could hold his own in a courtroom, he acknowledged for a stark moment that he might just be out of his element in this particular world.
He could battle, but he wasn’t trained in any physical combat beyond the conniving elegance of the fencing ring. Brutality wasn’t part of his life. And, candidly, he was more brains than brawn.
As he heard a click on the starboard side of the boat, he spun on the balls of his feet and crouched at the same time.
“Smooth,” said a familiar voice. “But I still wouldn’t have missed.”
The next second, a powerful flashlight blinded him. Cursing, he rose and held his hands in front of his face. Malina Blair’s shadow was barely discernible. “Is that really necessary?”
The light flicked off.
He blinked and saw spots as his eyes adjusted back to the darkness. Before he’d fully recovered, she was inches from him.
She tapped the binoculars. “A little late for bird-watching.”
Dressed in black, her arm was a shadow that ended in a lethal-looking gun pointed to the sky. With her dark hair pulled back tightly from her face, the first thing he could see clearly was her startlingly turquoise eyes. He had the crazy, poetic urge to drown himself in them.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked, narrowing those eyes as she holstered her pistol.
He wanted to see her hair loose and tangled around her beautiful face. He wanted to feel the strands brush across his bare skin. He wanted to bury his body in her softness and hear her breath catch as she lost herself in the pleasure of his touch.
“Contemplating a late-night cruise,” he managed to return finally.
She shook her head in disbelief.
If he admitted the truth—that he was imagining her in his bed—would she shoot him or throw him overboard?
Or would she respond as she had the night before? With need and heat and a longing for even more?
She poked her finger in his chest, backing him against the railing. “I thought I made it clear that you should keep your distance from this case.”
“Did you?” He angled his head and gave her a smile that she clearly wasn’t buying. “I recall that conversation a bit differently. I remember saying I understood what you thought my involvement in the case should be.” He paused significantly. “I never agreed to the terms.”
She paced away, then back. “Why do you think lawyers get a bad rap when it comes to honesty?”
“Because honesty and truth are two entirely different concepts. Do you have on black underwear, too?” When she glared at him, he shrugged. “I’ve always wondered about the wardrobe for the undercover espionage thing.”
She stopped pacing. Her fists were clenched by her sides, and he decided he enjoyed needling her almost as much as he enjoyed touching her. “How about you leave the espionage to James Bond and me to handle this case?”
“Sorry, my investment in the outcome is too great.”
“What investment?”
He made a sweeping gesture to the area around him. “My island, remember?” Among other beautiful things I want to hold close. “I need to see this through.”
“And I said I’d consult you. The stakeouts you need to leave to me.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Stakeout? I’m just enjoying the night air.”
With a huff that was utterly female and so unlike her, Malina leaned back against the railing next to him. “How are honesty and truth different?”
“Honesty refers to integrity, candor. Truth is answering a question without lying.”
She cast him a surprised glance. “That’s a despicable distinction.”
He nodded, and the barb of criticism hit in ways she couldn’t imagine, even though he knew she’d read his case files. “It’s the law.”
“According to whom?”
“Anybody who’s called upon to defend themselves or someone else in court.”
“Someone guilty?”
The barb turned poisonous, spreading through him like cancer. “Everyone’s entitled to a defense—even the supposed guilty.”
“Is that how you sleep at night?”
With fury burning inside him, he faced her, crossing his arms over his chest. The fact that part of his anger stemmed from embarrassment only fueled his indignation. “Do you want to debate legal procedures? How about the merits of tort reform?” He nodded toward her holstered pistol. “As good as you might be with that, I’m better at the law, so don’t even think about screwing with me on that subject.
“A lawyer presents his or her case. A judge or jury determines guilt or the level of judgment. That’s it. That’s the system where we all work.” He leaned into her. “If, however, you want to screw me in other ways, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him. And either his honesty or his crudeness had finally shocked her into silence.
Unable to face her or himself, he stormed across the deck and down into the cabin. He slammed the door behind him, then tore the binoculars from around his neck and flung them and himself onto the couch. Through the window above him the moon cast its haunting light.
Several moments later, the cabin door opened.
“I’m sorry I took my frustration out on you,” she said, flopping against the wall opposite him and crossing her arms over her chest.
For some reason, her frustration calmed him instantly. “I’m sorry I did the same. Why are you so annoyed?”
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Why not?”
“The case. Concern for my job.”
“No other reason?”
She moved toward him. His heart jumped.
When she stopped beside the sofa, so close their legs nearly touched, he felt the heat pumping off her, as well as a seductive scent, which could have been perfume or simply the innate lure of her skin. Both twined their way around his senses.
“You,” she said. “I thought about you.”
Though her tone was an accusation, he wasn’t offended. She’d thrown his world off balance. Now he knew he’d done the same for her.
He also knew he should stand, but he wasn’t sure his legs would hold him.
She skimmed her fingertips across his shoulder. “What’ve you done to me?”
Part of him wanted to tell her to run. He wasn’t worthy of her time or attention. But he wasn’t capable of that kind of nobility.
He captured her hand in his and kissed the underside of her wrist, where her pulse beat strong and thick. “In an effort to be truly honest, I should admit I was enjoying the night air and hoping you’d show up for a stakeout.”
She slid down onto the sofa beside him. “And I knew you wouldn’t give up your involvement in this case.”
“Are we pursuing the case because we want to solve it, or are we pursuing it to have an excuse to be together?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Does it matter which is true?”
“Honestly?” She smiled, leaning toward him, her lips an inch from his. “No.”
Her tongue teased his bottom lip, then her teeth nipped the same spot. He hardened in an instant.
With a tug of her wrist, he pulled her against him, crushing her against his chest, relishing the way her heart hammered against him, as if trying to escape and join his. Angling her head, she deepened the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck.
He breathed in the scent of clean cotton and, if he wasn’t mistaken, gun oil.
She was a combination of tenderness and teeth that he found intriguing, stimulating and irresistible.
His erection throbbed. His ears buzzed.
The gentle rocking of the boat beneath them belied the electricity in the air. In the dark, shadows mingled. Hot breath and seeking hands sparked passion. Forgetting who she was and her real purpose in his life, he surrendered to the moment as he hadn’t in a very long time.
But before he’d taken his next breath, she had her pistol drawn and her back plastered against the wall next to the cabin’s exterior door. “Get down,” she whispered.
His hands tingled. He still had the scent of her clinging to him. “I—”
“That buzzing in your ears isn’t my substantial powers of seduction. It’s a boat motor.”
“How do you know my ears are buzzing?”
“Because mine are, too. Get down.”
He slid from the sofa onto the floor and watched her peek between the blinds on the glass door. With a great deal of effort, he could now separate the humming in his ears from the motor outside.
She was cool, calm and in charge. He was a quivering mass of need. There was a serious balance issue with this relationship already. If there even was a relationship, which he wasn’t sure about. They’d only been introduced two days ago. Didn’t these things take time to develop? Didn’t the fact that she was in his life only to solve a case make anything meaningful impractical? And hadn’t he decided he was through with anything that didn’t have meaning?
Then again, her ears were buzzing, too.
Eschewing dignity, he crawled across the cabin, then rose beside Malina. “There are times when I feel like a freshman in the throes of my first crush.”
“The throes of—” She stopped, turning her head to glare at him. “Don’t throw. Don’t crush. Be still.”
She looked lean and sexy, her pistol raised beside her and pointing at the ceiling. Her expression was focused, her body braced. Desire tightened his stomach. “Is that thing loaded?”
She peeked between the blinds again. “Do you ever shut up?”
He pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. “If you keep my mouth occupied in some other way.”
She ignored the invitation and said, “I think it’s your buddy Jack.”
“So we work now and play later?”
“I’m always working.”
She used the tip of her gun to move the blinds aside, and he watched over her shoulder as Jack’s boat puttered past and turned into its slip. “That’s him, right?” she asked in a hoarse whisper.
“That’s the boat.”
She snorted. “You’re such a lawyer.”
“Unless there’s now a rash of boat thieves running over the island intent on disrupting the general well-being of the citizenry, I assume Jack’s the pilot.”
“Hell. A wordy lawyer.”
“I’m well paid for each and every syllable.”
“Do you ever feel guilty for making that money on the tide of pain and suffering your clients have to weather?”
Something ugly clenched inside him. “All the time,” he said lightly.
Part of the tension he felt must have slipped through his tone, because she glanced at him. “Cheap shot. Sorry.”
“I’m used to it.”
“So I’m all the more sorry.”
“I appreciate the—”
“Hold on. He’s moving.”
And Jack was.
He emerged from the cabin with a small box tucked beneath his arm. The box appeared to be made of ordinary, brown cardboard. It measured no more than half a foot wide and long. Jack was whistling as he stepped off his boat and onto the dock.
For some reason, the upbeat tune made Carr’s blood boil. “Let’s follow him.”
Malina planted her hand in the center of his chest. “Let’s watch.”
After a few moments, Jack disappeared up the stairs toward the marina bar—and no doubt the parking lot beyond.
“We should go after him.”
“I will. I know where he lives.” Tucking her pistol back into its holster, Malina opened the door and stepped out. “Let’s look around a little first.”
As they moved slowly along the dock, Carr studied the bobbing American Dream. Something was fishy about Jack’s boat—and it didn’t have anything to do with nets or rods. “I don’t suppose you could turn your head while I pop the cabin lock and see what old Jack had hidden beneath his mattress?”
“Not yet.”
Though Malina’s back was to him, Carr raised his eyebrows. “So you’re not saying no? How liberal of you, Agent—”
“Hang on.”
As Malina bent to one knee, Carr moved closer to her. More coffee maybe? If so, Jack really ought to find a sealed box to carry his illicit merchandise in. Didn’t the man know about plastic containers? They even had fresh seal plastic bags now. Double-zippered to ensure the contents stayed tightly enclosed.
“Well, now,” Malina said in a low, excited tone that immediately captured his attention. “It seems your neighbor does have a side business, though I’m not sure how drugs, art or coffee enters into it.”
Carr moved his attention to her clenched fist, which she held out in front of her. “How so?”
“It appears Mr. Rafton went for the sparkle instead.”
When she opened her hand, sitting on a scrap of white cloth, a large, loose diamond glittered back at him from her steady palm.
4
RISING, Malina studied the stone in her hand. Four, maybe five carats. But the thrill of discovery was rapidly being overcome by questions with no answers.
Hamilton, standing so close she felt completely wrapped in his enticing, somewhat old-fashioned sandalwood scent, seemed to realize this as well. “You make people think you’re smuggling drugs, when you’re really smuggling diamonds? That seems…”
“Stupid.”
“And what about the artwork?” Hamilton asked. “I’ve bought enough paintings to recognize the crates in which they’re shipped.”
“Decoys? Or he’s into more than gems.”
“Coffee grounds and painting crates to disguise diamonds?”
Malina shrugged. “Gold and jewels are a big commodity now. With the stock market and economy shaky, tangible assets are hot. Banks, museums and collectors are being hit left and right. Smuggling stolen goods is in vogue once again.”
“But Jack—head of a smuggling operation?” Hamilton frowned. “He doesn’t have the nerve or the brains. He’s a nice, average guy.”
“And yet he’s already managed to stir up a lot of red tape. Paintings and diamonds are major theft—FBI jurisdiction, in other words. Drugs are DEA. Plus, there’s local law enforcement to coordinate and possibly the Coast Guard if any of us needed to board his boat in open water. Maybe this is a more complex operation than it seems.”
Hamilton shook his head. “Sorry. I can’t give Jack that kind of credit.” When her gaze flicked to his, he amended, “Bad guy credit, of course. He’s just not that creative a thinker, not devious enough.”
“Maybe you’re the one who’s not devious enough.”
“Oh, no. I am.”
How did she respond to that? His odd, self-deprecating humor had a darker source, she was sure. Were all those profitable lawsuits becoming mundane?
She knew he’d left his practice in New York City two years ago to settle on Palmer’s Island, where he’d volunteered to be the unpaid staff lawyer to a variety of charities and churches. Up until they’d met, she’d been certain he was behind the scenes building a big case—tort reform be damned—that would bust out on the national scene, sending him around the talk shows and law conferences for some time to come.
But that cold-blooded plan didn’t mesh with the man she’d met—and kissed.
I like to walk on the beach.
She believed those words more than she trusted the evidence she’d seen in her background check.
How far the mighty had fallen indeed.
“You observed Jack taking a payoff,” she said, to get her focus back on the case as she folded the cloth carefully around the diamond and tucked it in her pants pocket. “He could be a middleman with someone more creative pulling the strings.”
“True.”
“Who would have the nerves and the brains around here to smuggle diamonds?”
“I can find out.” A smile stretched across his gorgeous face. “In fact, we both can.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Malina crossed her arms over her chest. “I should be ordering you back to your office and out of my business.”
He slid his fingers down her sweater-covered arm, barely touching but easily reminding her of the intimacies they’d already shared. And the ones likely to come. Need shimmered between them like the glow of the moon overhead. “But you won’t.”
“No.”
“Because you know I won’t listen, or because you know you can use me to solve the case?”
“Both. I assume you already have an idea for finding out about the smuggling?”
“You know me well.”
“You constantly think several steps ahead.” She shrugged. “It’s a trait I recognize.”
He angled his head. “I imagine so. I’ve been invited to a yacht party on Friday night. All the island’s elite crowd will be there, including Jack.”