WHITELAW'S WEDDING Page 11

  "Chris is the one who called and told us about the situation," Perry said. "He had heard the news break on our local TV station. He and Claire are on their way here. They should arrive any minute now. It doesn't take more than ten minutes longer to get from their house here than from our office to here. And I'm sure Claire called Gwen, so I expect she and Grams will be showing up soon, too."

  * * *

  An hour later Chief Burgess approached Hunter. Manda, who was surrounded by family and friends, broke away from Grams's and Claire's smothering attention and reached for Hunter's arm. She gripped his biceps tenaciously, nervous tremors rioting inside her.

  "We've gone over the clinic from top to bottom and found nothing," the chief said. "We're going to let everybody go home now, while we continue going over the place with a fine-tooth comb. But my guess is that your office received a prank call and there isn't a bomb and never was one. Ms. Munroe, I'd say somebody is trying their damnedest to scare the hell out of you."

  "I'd say they're succeeding," Manda said.

  "Will you need us for any further questioning?" Hunter asked.

  "I think I've got all the information I need," the chief replied. "Go ahead and take Ms. Munroe home. If we need anything else, I'll get in touch with you." Chief Burgess turned to go, then stopped and glanced back over his shoulder. "If I were you, I wouldn't let her out of my sight."

  "Don't worry, I don't intend to." Hunter eased his arm around Manda's waist.

  * * *

  Manda's hair whipped about her face as the evening breeze bombarded her. She closed her eyes as Hunter raced the old Chevrolet convertible down the highway. The car had once belonged to his grandfather, purchased secondhand over forty years ago. Pop had given Hunter the car on his sixteenth birthday and he'd driven it during high school and college, then left it behind when he joined the army. Over the years, he'd kept the car in tip-top shape and stored it there at the farm, inside the barn. When they'd arrived at his grandparents' home place several hours ago, he had parked his Lexus beside the old farmhouse, then they had hopped into the convertible and taken off to parts unknown. At least unknown to her.

  "Where are we going?" she'd asked.

  "As far away from Dearborn as we can get this afternoon," he had told her.

  They had been traveling for at least four hours and had stopped only once, to fill up with gas and to pick up fast food for supper. Neither of them had talked much, but Hunter had found a station that played nothing but classic country songs. Recordings by Eddy Arnold and Jim Reeves and Patsy Cline. Songs created to bring tears to the eyes and relief to the heart.

  Manda could hardly believe that Hunter had whisked her away from everyone—Grams, Perry and Gwen, as well as Claire and Chris and Boyd. He'd told them that he would take care of Manda and she would call them in the morning. Everyone except Perry had protested, but Hunter had ignored them all. He had told Perry to go by Manda's and feed Oxford. Then when he'd held out his hand to her, she'd taken it and run away with him. The really crazy thing was that at that precise moment she would have gone anywhere with Hunter, even if he'd asked her to fly to the moon with him. In a very brief span of time she had come to rely on him, to think of him as her protector, her rescuer and hopefully her salvation.

  While they had wolfed down greasy hamburgers and onion rings as they sat in the car outside the fast-food restaurant, she had asked Hunter why he hadn't just taken her home when they'd left the clinic.

  "You need a few hours of living in the moment instead of the past or the future. For one evening I want you to forget about what's happening in your life."

  "Before things get worse," she'd said.

  "You can worry about that tomorrow. Tonight, pretend that you don't have a care in the world."

  It had taken a while before she had actually given herself permission to put aside all her worries, to do as he'd asked and pretend for this one night that her life wasn't in utter chaos. Somewhere, back down the road an hour or so ago, she had, inside her mind, dumped her worries out of the old convertible and accepted these stolen hours of freedom from reality as a gift from Hunter.

  They reached the coast at sunset. The first full moon of May shone brightly in the twilight sky and cast a shimmering wash of transparent gold across the occasional glimpses she caught of the Atlantic Ocean. Hunter pulled the car to a halt, got out and unlocked an impressive set of iron gates. After which he drove the car onto the gravel road beyond the gate, then got back out to close and lock the gates behind them.

  "What is this place?" she asked.

  "There used to be an old antebellum mansion here," he said. "It was burned to the ground during the Civil War. The property belongs to one of the Dundee agents. He inherited it from a great-aunt. He's thinking about building some condos here and he'd like several of us to invest in the idea. He gave us keys to the gate, so that whenever we wanted to we could check out the property. There's supposed to be an old beach house close by."

  He drove over the bumpy, curving road for a good quarter of a mile before the ruins of the old mansion came into view. Eight massive columns stood like silent sentries, guarding the ghosts of the past. The scent of the sea was in the air. They couldn't be far from the ocean. About fifty yards past the ruins, the gravel road turned to a dirt pathway, no more than six feet wide. Within a few minutes, the beach came into view and the path came to an abrupt halt. To their right a ramshackle old beach house perched on the rise above the shoreline. He parked the car, then opened the driver's door and got out. He stretched, his big body a dark silhouette outlined by the moonlight.

  "Want to take a walk on the beach?" he asked.

  "Sure, why not."

  Bracing himself against the convertible, Hunter removed his shoes and socks and rolled up his pant legs. Manda removed her shoes, then reached up under her skirt and grabbed the waistband of her panty hose. She quickly tugged them down her legs, then tossed them into the back seat. Hunter rounded the hood and opened the passenger door for her.

  "I can't believe we're doing this," she said. "I haven't done something this spontaneous since I was a teenager."

  Hand-in-hand, they walked to the beach. The sand retained some warmth from the day's sunshine, but the water lapping at their feet was icy cold. As they strolled along the beach, they darted in and out of the surf, laughing happily as if they didn't have a care in the world. Feeling almost giddy, Manda broke away from Hunter and ran, daring him to chase her. As he raced to catch up with her, he called her name. When she glanced over her shoulder to reply, he caught her off guard.

  Hunter lifted her up and off the ground, then swung her around and around, until she squealed for him to put her down. When he lowered her to her feet, he brought her down slowly, languidly, sliding her body over his. When her toes burrowed into the sand, she lifted her arms and draped them around his neck.

  "Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

  "Yes." She sighed the word just as he brushed his lips over hers. She sucked in a deep breath. "Yes," she said again, knowing that he understood what she had given him permission to do.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

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  She looked at him with hungry eyes. Manda needed more than comfort and caring from a concerned friend. Hunter knew it had been a long time since she'd been with a man and understood that despite her hellion teenage years, Manda was a woman who took lovemaking seriously. Seeking release and fulfillment from casual relationships wasn't her style. Unlike his former wife. The more time he spent with Manda, the more he realized how completely different she was from Selina.

  He could offer Manda a brief sexual liaison, and he could make it good for both of them. Situations that thrust a person into the middle of danger usually heightened the senses and added an intimacy to the bodyguard and client bond. He'd been attracted to female clients and they to him, but he had never allowed those associations to become personal. With Manda, things were different. She was more than a client.
Not only was she his old pal Perry's sister, she was the golden girl he had always thought of as the ideal female. Making love to Manda would fulfill a long-time fantasy for him, and he suspected it would do the same for her.

  How could he resist what she was offering? He'd have to go slow, take things nice and easy. It had been a long time for her and she would need gentle handling. No matter how difficult it would be for him to hold back, to wait, to deny himself, he wanted this night to be for Manda.

  Then realization struck. If you have unprotected sex with her, she could get pregnant.

  Why hadn't he picked up some condoms when they'd stopped for gas? Damn, he would have, if he'd known this was going to happen.

  He brought her into his arms. Lifting her up on her tiptoes and lowering his head, he initiated a tender kiss. As soft, as luxuriously languid, as seductive as any kiss he'd ever shared with a woman. She eased one hand from his neck to grip his shoulder and lifted the other to caress the back of his head. Her body pressed against his. Full breasts to hard chest. Slowly, so as not to appear too eager, he slid his hands from her waist to her hips, then cupped her buttocks and lifted her so her feminine mound fit snugly against his rigid sex.

  Lips connected with furious passion and tongues mated frantically. He couldn't get enough of her and she seemed to be as wild for him as he was for her. When he rubbed her butt in a circular motion, wadding a section of her skirt in his hand, she whimpered and spread her thighs apart just enough to capture his leg between her knees. He delved his hand beneath her skirt and slipped his searching fingers inside the leg band of her panties. While his grip bit into the flesh of one firm, fleshy cheek, he thrust his tongue into her mouth and claimed her with the excitement he could no longer contain.

  He wanted her. Here. Now. And she wanted him. Overcome with the desire to take her, he dropped to his knees, bringing her down with him. She reached out to undo his shirt, popping buttons in her enthusiasm. He nuzzled her neck, then inched his way down to the first button on her V-necked blouse. A hint of her perfume lingered on her skin. He flicked out his tongue and tasted the damp, salty essence of her flesh. He longed to expose and explore, to bare her body and familiarize himself with every inch of luscious female flesh.

  Despite his sex ruling him at that moment, a vestige of sanity remained, enough so that he realized a bed of sand wasn't the ideal place for them to make love. He had tried it once, when he'd been younger, and found it less than ideal. Quickly, with need riding him hard, he rose to his feet, bringing her with him. Then he swept her up into his arms and strode toward the old beach house.

  "Hunter," she whispered his name against his neck, her warm breath arousing him all the more.

  "Let's see if this place has a bed." He took the groaning, whining wooden steps two at a time and prayed they wouldn't give way beneath his feet.

  She clung to him, her arm around his neck, her head resting against his shoulder. "I'm not sure … I—"

  He paused on the porch long enough to kiss her again—his intention clear—to erase any doubts from her mind. If he gave her time to think, to hesitate for more than a moment, she might start questioning the wisdom of her actions. And he didn't want her to think; he wanted her to feel. If she would allow him to make love to her, he would give such sweet pleasure.

  "I'll make it good for you," he told her. "And with what I have in mind, you'll be protected, if that's what concerns you."

  She sucked in a deep breath, as if his words had both enticed and frightened her. But when he sought her lips again, she made no protest, simply gave herself over completely. With his mouth on hers, he moved forward, heading straight toward the door. If it was locked, he'd kick the damn thing open. If that didn't work, he would lower her to the wooden porch floor and after he'd brought her to fulfillment, he would ask her to pleasure him in return.

  As he spread kisses along her neck, he felt for the doorknob. Finding the tarnished brass handle, he gave it a quick turn and the door creaked open. When he carried her over the threshold, she tensed in his arms.

  Don't stop now, his body told him. She may be having second thoughts, but if you don't hesitate, she'll give herself to you.

  His eyesight adjusted to the interior darkness in just a couple of minutes, but not before he had stumbled over what appeared to be the only piece of furniture in the room, a large, dusty table. Moonlight flowed in through the broken windowpanes and the series of wide cracks in the wooden exterior, as well as through the holes in the roof. The place was a dump. Hardly the setting for an unforgettable night of lovemaking.

  Keeping Manda in his arms, he went from room to room—four in all—and found them empty. No bed. Not even a lumpy mattress. The floor would have to do. When he set Manda on her feet, she surprised him by reaching for his face. She cupped his cheeks with her palms and gazed straight into his eyes.

  "It's all right," she told him. "All I need is to be with you."

  "You should have candlelight and music and satin sheets. I'm sorry, Manda. This was a bad idea. I must have been out of my mind."

  She smiled, and the sight of her, there in the shadows, took his breath away. He'd never seen anything as beautiful. Damn, how he wanted her!

  She ran her hands over his chest, then down his arms to clasp his hands in hers. "I want to be with you," she admitted. "I've wanted to belong to you since I was sixteen. If you had wanted me then, I would have come to you without hesitation, with no doubts and uncertainties. And I would never have regretted your being my first lover. It's all I wanted."

  He couldn't keep his hands off her. Did she have any idea how her declaration affected him? He'd already been aroused, but now he ached and throbbed.

  "I wanted you," he told her. "But at least back then I had sense enough to know I had no right to take your innocence. I think maybe I'd forgotten that I still have no rights where you're concerned. You may be an adult now, but tonight you're vulnerable and I was about to take advantage of you. I'm sorry, Manda."

  She squeezed his hands. "Don't be sorry. You didn't do anything I didn't want you to do." She lifted one of his hands to her lips.

  The touch of her wet, hot mouth against his skin set off explosions inside him. Didn't she have any idea how seductive she was acting or how difficult she was making it for him to keep his hands off her? Her actions were an odd mixture of experience and naiveté. But how was that possible? Manda was no innocent. She'd had boys swarming around her since she'd gone from being a plump little girl to an alluring femme fatale when she'd filled out a D-cup bra at sixteen. No male who came into contact with her was immune to her beauty. A woman who attracted men the way she did had probably experimented with sex long before Rodney Austin came on the scene.

  When Hunter grabbed her shoulders and shook her gently, she gasped and stared at him, a shocked expression on her face.

  "You're still a tempting little brat," he said. "But you know that, don't you? I'm hurting something awful." He clutched her hand and dragged it to the fly of his pants, then laid her open palm over his erection. "You're giving me mixed signals. If the answer is no, then we're going to have to put some distance between us or I'm liable to explode."

  "Oh, I'm sorry." Her hand at his crotch closed into a fist. "I didn't mean to… It's been a long time since I've been…" Suddenly she opened her hand and covered him intimately through the barrier of his slacks and briefs.

  He was so stunned that he didn't say anything when she unzipped his pants and maneuvered her hand inside and through the opening in his boxer shorts. The moment her fingers surrounded him, he sucked in a deep, startled breath, then groaned when she began a slow, tantalizing rhythm. Her movements were awkward, not those of a woman who had done this sort of thing often or recently. But the more she pumped him, the less he cared that she didn't possess a practiced touch. He covered her hand with his and began an immediate tutorial. Using his other hand, he molded his palm to her breast and kneaded softly. Her jutting nipple and her ragged breath told him
how aroused she was.

  Hunter sensed that his release was only moments away. He stilled her hand and murmured, "Are you sure you want—"

  She leaned into him, placing her lips on his. "I'm sure."

  The moment he allowed her to continue, she kissed him. Her mouth open. Her teeth nibbling. When she thrust her tongue inside, he climaxed. It was all he could do to not bellow like a rutting animal, but he somehow managed to keep his reaction down to a rumbling moan. When the aftershocks of release subsided, he jerked a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned her hand and then his sex. He tossed the soiled cloth on the floor, then pulled Manda into his arms and kissed her, all the while backing her toward the table in the center of the room.

  She didn't protest when he ravaged her mouth nor when he lifted her off the floor and onto the table. But when he unbuttoned her blouse, she grabbed his hands.

  "Didn't I satisfy you?" she asked.

  He noticed the disappointed look in her eyes. "Of course, you satisfied me. How could you doubt it? And now, it's my turn to pleasure you."

  "But I don't understand. How can you be ready to … to do it again, so soon?"

  "Believe me, I'm not ready." He chuckled. "Manda, my love, I'm nearly forty. I don't bounce back quite as fast as I once did. But I don't have to have an erection in order to give you the kind of pleasure you gave me."

  "Oh." The air rushed out of her lungs. "Do you mean, you're going to … to…"

  She acted as if no one had ever brought her to completion with his hand or mouth, as if the idea of reciprocal pleasure was an alien concept to her. Hadn't Rodney or any of the guys before him ever repaid her for the satisfaction she gave them? He could hardly ask her, could he? Some women wouldn't be embarrassed by the question, and he had to admit that he was surprised that he thought Manda would be. But instinctively he knew she felt uncomfortable discussing sex. She'd been more liberated when she was sixteen than she was now. How could a thirty-three-year-old woman act and react like a novice? Was it possible that she really hadn't been with a man in any way even remotely sexual since Rodney's death?