And that seemed to do it. She tilted her chin up the last fraction of an inch and their lips met. Her mouth was luxuriously soft against his, and he inhaled appreciatively, tasting sweetness on her breath. Their kiss was languid, a warm and easy thing this time, the slow savoring of something rare and exquisite. Gradually, she pressed herself against him, bit by bit losing her inhibition. For him, it was torture. Talk about self-control! But he had to let her set the pace.
Her tongue traced his lips, then ventured beyond, shyly inviting him to deepen the kiss. Groaning in relief, he accepted. His tongue swirled around hers, stroking approvingly. Her hips surged against his, and he blinked down at her in surprise. Her eyes were closed, the look upon her face rapturous in the moonlight.
She was going to be one of a kind when they finally got naked together.
He slipped his hand beneath her shirt, running his fingertips lightly up her spine. She shivered beneath the caress, and her entire body undulated against his. His brain locked up on the spot.
“We’ve got to stop doing this in public,” she mumbled against his lips.
“You’ll have to pull the plug,” he muttered back. “I can’t do it.”
“Me, neither.”
Their smiles met and merged as they became more familiar with one another, found the best angles of approach and retreat, explored more freely with hands and lips and tongues.
While the surf rolled in rhythmically behind them, the moon smiled down on them approvingly and a warm breeze wrapped them in the beguiling romance of the islands. Soft sand beckoned them to stretch out upon its residual warmth and succumb to the allure of the night and the moment.
“We’re in trouble,” she sighed.
“Why? Seems to me like we’re finally working things out the way they’re supposed to be.”
She laughed ruefully. “Allow me to rephrase. I’m in trouble.”
He drew back far enough to look down at her, but not far enough to break the delicious contact of her lithe body against his. “How so?”
“You’re distracting me from being who I am.”
“What if I’m helping you discover who you really are?”
She stared up at him. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
“I want to believe you.”
“Why don’t we go scratch that itch and then see what you think?”
She smiled widely. “Let me guess. In your mind that logic is flawless.”
“And it’s not in yours? Honey, I can smell the desire on you. I can taste it. Hell, your entire body’s humming with it. Your control has been superhuman. And, frankly, so has mine. Now that we’ve proven we can resist this thing between us, don’t you think it’s time to see what happens when we give in to it?”
That made her laugh. “I give up. Your argument is impeccable.”
Thank God. He wasted no time heading for the new car the folks at the H.O.T. Watch had arranged for that morning. The drive back to the hotel was quiet. Kat sat, lost in thought. Hopefully, she was pondering which sexy little thing she was coming to bed in. He was just grateful that the awful tension of waiting was about to be over.
They didn’t have to act to race through the lobby of the hotel like a pair of impatient lovers. They tumbled into the elevator, falling into each other’s arms before the doors had even finished sliding shut. Only the ding announcing their floor tore them apart, and they took off racing down the hall to their room. He unlocked the door and held it for her with an old-fashioned bow that made her laugh.
She stepped past him into the dark, and as the hall door opened fully, the white sheers billowed into the room on a soft breeze.
Kat dropped into a defensive crouch and spun right, away from the opening. What the hell? He didn’t question her reaction, though. He spun low and left, scanning the living room urgently as his eyes sluggishly adjusted to the dark. She glided on silent feet toward her bedroom door, and he headed for his. What in the world was going on? The room looked deserted. Felt deserted. Not that gut feelings were always reliable. A seasoned operator could fade into the woodwork right in front of you. He proceeded with caution, operating on the assumption that there was an intruder until a thorough search proved otherwise.
A quick glance under the bed was clear. He flung the closet door open and pushed aside all his clothes. Nothing. That left only his bathroom. On the way past his backpack, he pulled out a pistol. Behind the door-clear. Shower-clear. Linen closet-too small to conceal a man, but cleared nonetheless. He’d just started to straighten to his full height when Kat called out sharply from her bedroom.
“In here!”
His heart leaped into his throat. Was she in trouble? The protective instincts of a lion roared through him, and by the time he reached her bedroom door, he was in full kill mode. Nobody was messing with his woman. He burst through the half-closed door, looking around wildly for a target to blow away.
“Easy, Rambo. It’s just a note.”
“A note?” His mind didn’t initially make sense of the word, so frantic was he to make sure she was safe.
“Yes. You know. A piece of paper with words written on it that kids pass back and forth in school without getting caught.”
“What note?”
She pointed at her bed.
He looked, and tucked partially beneath her pillow was an envelope. “Can I turn on the light?”
“I doubt we’ll be able to read the note unless we do,” she replied dryly.
Scowling, he hit the light switch. Bright light flooded the room, and he squinted in its glare.
Kat reached for the envelope and he bit out, “Don’t touch it.”
She looked up, surprised. “You want to treat this as an explosive device?”
“Let’s assume the worst until we check it out.”
She shrugged and moved to her closet. She pulled out a small nylon bag and unzipped it. “Stand back.”
While he stepped back, using the doorframe to block him from direct line of sight of the envelope, she pulled out a handheld meter and passed it over the note.
She announced, “No electronic or magnetic emissions.”
He nodded tersely.
She used a long pair of tweezers to lift the edge of the pillowcase away from the note and pointed a flashlight beneath the eiderdown pillow. “No visible wires,” she called.
“Any fluid stains or visible powder?”
She took out a magnifying glass and shone her flashlight on the envelope for extra illumination. After a minute’s examination, she shook her head. “Nothing. I think it’s just a note.”
“Any writing on the envelope?”
“Nope. It’s plain linen. Cream colored. The kind that might come with personalized stationery.”
“Do you have gloves to pick it up with?”
She glanced over at him. “If this is from who I think it is, he won’t have left any fingerprints on it.”
Jeff stared at her for a blank moment and then his brain finally kicked into gear. The billowing curtains. An open window. And they hadn’t left any open this morning. Only one person he knew of would enter a fifth-floor hotel room through the freaking window. He remarked, “Let’s see what the Ghost has to say to us. This should be interesting.”
Kat picked up the envelope gingerly and opened it. She unfolded a single piece of paper, and he moved to her side swiftly to read over her shoulder.
I must speak with you. I appeal to the same honor you displayed last night in not killing me. It is a matter of utmost importance. My word of honor-I mean you no harm. Welchman Hall Gully. Tomorrow. Midnight. By the old entrance to Harrison’s Cave.
It wasn’t signed.
She tipped the heavy envelope over and a single Polaroid picture fell out into her hand. It showed a loosely unrolled canvas, its edges frayed like a painting that had been cut out of its frame. The Turner landscape.
Kat frowned. “The Ghost wants to talk to me?”