Zach's mouth turned fierce, and the sheer pressure against Lily's lips ground her head back against the wall. She barely noticed. All she was truly cognizant of was the taste of his kiss, the heat of his body, and the hardness of his sex rocking, rocking, rocking against hers.
Then, without warning, he ripped his mouth free and, his breath sawing harshly, whispered a foul word. A second later, Lily was dumped back on her feet. Blinking like a mole suddenly flung into the light, she leaned weakly against the wall and peered up at him. "Zach?"
Then she, too, heard what his sharper ears had obviously already picked up. Footsteps tapped rapidly up the stairs. Smoothing her hair back, then nervously running her hands over herself to make sure all her clothing was still in place, she watched as Jessica's bitchy sister raced into view.
"Good, you're here," Cassidy said breathlessly. "The kidnapper just called."
Chapter 12
ZACH SWORE AND HEADED FOR THE STAIRS WITHground-eating strides. What the hell was the matter with him? He was a trained strategist, for God's sake, but when his sister was in the clutches of a kidnapper and he should be manning, or at the very least somewhere in the vicinity of a telephone, what was he doing? Making out with little Lily Morrisette, that's what! It made him furious, not only with himself and the kidnapper, but with her, too, for being the constant temptation that she was.
And yet…
Lily wasn't the one who'd initiated that red-hot necking session. She wasn't the one who'd said "I want to kiss you," and then picked him up and dry humped him against the nearest wall. This one's all on you, cowboy .
Big mistake. Big, big mistake. Yet even so, he found he couldn't completely regret having gotten his mitts on something as purely delicious as she was—no matter how irresponsible. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, he hesitated, and hearing her clattering down the steps behind him, twisted around.
She caught up in that instant, arriving in his wake slightly out of breath—no doubt from racing after him in those silly-ass shoes. She faltered to a stop one step above him, which put them on a more equitable level than usual, and staring at him, she was all hot pink cheeks, mussed-up hair, and guilty eyes.
He grasped her chin. "You okay?" he demanded, and couldn't quite prevent his thumb from making a brief pass over her bottom lip. It was soft and damp.
She nodded.
"Good." Turning her loose, he then did what years in the military had taught him to do: He compartmentalized, putting her firmly out of his mind as he walked into the parlor.
Mrs. Beaumont was there, once again in hysterics. He gritted his teeth, not wanting the kidnappers to hear her panic. He opened his mouth to shut her up, then snapped his teeth closed when he looked at the phone and saw that wouldn't present a particular problem today.
The receiver was firmly on the hook.
He about-faced smartly to look at her. "What the hell is this?"
"I tried to get him to hold on until you got here," she cried. "I did."
"That's right, she did," Cassidy said, strolling into the room behind Lily. "She told him she was the maid , of all things." She shook her head as if lowering one's standards to such a degree was simply beyond her comprehension, then shrugged and stepped in close to Zach. "She also sent me after you. And let me tell you"—reaching out, she trailed a fingernail from his collarbone to his chest—"I haven't run that fast since… well, I've never run that fast." She lightly traced a downward path over the ridges of his abdomen.
He snatched her hand before it reached his belt and pressed it back against her own midsection. "Lady, don't waste my time."
Ignoring the sudden anger that replaced her seductive expression, he turned his attention back to Mrs. Beaumont. He had some anger of his own to deal with, but he sucked it in. This wasn't the time. In truth, were he to do a quick soul search, he had the unsettling thought he might discover that his own anger had been misplaced just a little too often recently.
He swallowed a curse, then a sigh, and admitted to himself that he hadn't handled this situation very well. He'd been commanding soldiers for so long he'd sort of forgotten that a middle-aged woman wasn't a recruit to be slapped into shape. Standing in front of him was a distraught mother, and he should never have taken her disregard of his sister's danger personally. He was all shook up at suddenly finding himself on the relative-of-the-victim end of the spectrum, and at least he had some experience with the sort of tactics kidnappers used. He could only imagine how terrified they'd made her. So he bit back the harsh words on the tip of his tongue and asked gently, "You attempted to convince him you were the maid?"
"I did. I really tried, Zach, but he said 'don't give me that, you old bitch,' and called me other horrid names, and he kept hammering at me and hammering at me to admit who I was. He told me over and over again what he'd do to David if I didn't confess who I was and start talking to him—if I didn't do exactly as he said. And I got so rattled, I didn't know if I was coming or going."
Her face was deathly white, her breathing too rapid and shallow, and Zach stepped forward and rubbed his hands up and down her arms. "Take slow, deep breaths, Mrs. B.," he said. "I want you to listen to me. You gave it your best, and that's all anyone can ask of you. Remember what I told you about terror tactics. The kidnapper wants you rattled, so let's work on not letting him win. We can beat him if you don't fail apart on me."
She stared up at him pleadingly, and he said firmly, "We are going to get David and Glynnis back—you can take that to the bank. That's right," he commended as she finally drew in a breath that was deep enough to be steadying and then slowly exhaled it. "Breathe. Now another." Once her respiration slowed and a little color returned to her cheeks, he held her at arm's length. "Tell me as concisely as you can everything that was said. You can leave off the parts you've already told me." he added hastily when her breathing promptly sped up and grew choppy again. "For instance, are we definitely dealing with a man?"
"Yes. of cour—" She gave him a startled look. "That is—I just assumed he was. But he never actually spoke above a whisper."
"So it's not impossible it was a woman?"
"No, but—" She cut herself off, waving her hand as if to push her objection aside. "Never mind. You'll think I'm silly."
"Tell me anyhow."
"Well… it's just that I got the feeling it was a man." Color touched her cheeks. "I told you it was silly."
"Not necessarily. I'm a soldier, ma'am; I never discount the gut. Quite often a hunch, or woman's intuition, or whatever you want to call it, is actually an observation that you can't put an exact name to, but which the subconscious has noted all the same. So, for now, we'll go with your feeling and assume our kidnapper's a man. Did he make any demands?"
Lily's scent curled around his senses a nanosecond before her manicured hand came into view with a cup of coffee that she offered to the older woman. "Here, Mrs. B.," she said. "I poured this from the thermal pot in the dining room. It's hot and it's bracing. Take a sip—the caffeine will do you good."
"Thank you." Mrs. Beaumont wrapped her hands around the eggshell-thin china cup. Although she didn't immediately drink the coffee, she seemed to take comfort from the warmth that emanated from its container. She stared down into it as if mesmerized for a moment, then looked back up at Zach. "He said he wants a million dollars, and he wants it in bills of small denomination. Nothing larger than a fifty."
"Do you have that kind of money?" If she didn't, he could sell off enough of the Taylor holdings so that, between them, they could come up with it.
She nodded. "Yes. But it will probably take a few days to liquidate part of the business in order to put that much together. Christopher and Richard would know more about that aspect of it than I do."