In Her Secret Fantasy Page 8

  Chrissy searched his eyes, glanced at his hands, which weren’t bloody or bruised. She nodded. What the hell did it matter? She still hated Aidan.

  Glenn stood up to go. He seemed to hesitate, then, “He’s keeping the cops off our backs, Chrissy.”

  “I think he is a cop. Still.” Her voice sounded hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “He’s been lying to us.”

  Glenn nodded as if that was perfectly understandable. “Aye, but you’re not his agenda.”

  “Are you?”

  “Only if this Gowan leads him back to me.”

  “Will he?”

  Glenn shook his head. She shouldn’t have asked. Aidan’s betrayal had churned everything up.

  “I may be wrong,” Glenn said. “But I think he was looking out for you the only way he could.”

  Chrissy let out a bitter laugh. “Then there’s something far wrong with him.”

  “Probably,” Glenn said vaguely, and walked away.

  Chrissy snapped her earphones back on and returned to the dancing numbers. It was only moments before she sensed Aidan’s presence. When she looked up, he stood in the doorway, one shoulder against the white wooden frame. He looked nothing like a policeman. He looked more like some enterprising young criminal, intelligent, ruthless and slightly dangerous.

  She stared at him without removing the earphones. He straightened and walked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. Her heart lurched once.

  This time, he didn’t even sit. He said, “You got hold of a gun to feel safe.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” She pulled off the earphones, switched off the music. “It was more about control than safety, but I suppose it amounts to the same thing.”

  “What did you do with it? After you threatened Izzy’s ex with it?”

  “I buried it.”

  “How?”

  “I really buried it. I dug a hole in the ground, dropped it in and shovelled earth over it.”

  Aidan blinked. “Here at Ardknocken? Will you show me?”

  “Okay.” She rose and walked round the desk, grabbing her coat from the old sofa on the way past.

  In silence, she walked across the hall and outside, leading the way across the yard and across the open ground in the direction of the woods. Although the light was fading, she remembered the way exactly.

  Beside her, Aidan strode with equal purpose, although his head was constantly turning, searching, observing.

  “We can be seen from the house quite easily,” she said. “Should do your cover story more good. Although I have to tell you, Len seems to’ve been unhelpfully discreet. No one seems to imagine we’re having an affair.”

  She felt his gaze on her face. “You really think that’s why I’m pursuing you?” he asked.

  She laughed. It wasn’t a nice sound. “Pursuing me?” she said grimly. “You’re not.”

  “That sounds like an order.”

  She didn’t grace that with a reply. In truth, her mouth had gone dry, and she’d no idea what response she should make. So she just led him straight to the big tree whose markings had made her imagine the face of an old man who resembled her grandfather, and crouched down among its roots.

  It was definitely dusk now. Unexpectedly, a beam of light shone around the ground at her feet. Aidan’s flashlight showed the grass lumpy and recently churned up.

  “Someone dug it up,” she said blankly. “I thought you’d made a mistake about the fingerprints. But someone dug it up.”

  “Who else knew it was here?” he asked, crouching beside her and pushing his fingers into the dirt.

  “No one. I buried it alone, and I never told anyone. No one asked.”

  “You bury it at night?”

  She shook her head. “No, I did it in daylight while everyone was busy.”

  “But in theory, anyone could have seen you do it?”

  “But no one comes up here. The locals leave us alone.”

  He glanced up at her, then back at the earth.

  From the house, anyone could have seen her enter the woods. But they wouldn’t have seen what she did there…unless they’d followed her.

  “No,” she said. “I buried it in October. There were only the eight originals, plus me. Even Izzy didn’t live here then.”

  He pounced immediately. “You don’t trust the new guys?”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust them,” she said hastily. “I just don’t know them so well. I’d vouch for all the others—and I’m pretty sure Glenn would vouch for Frog—Thierry. But it can’t be the new guys either, can it? None of them were here in October, and I haven’t touched this area since.”

  Aidan sat back on his heels. “Someone knew where to look. The rest of the ground here is hard and he made an effort—a recent effort, last couple of day, I’d say—to dig up just this area. Unless you built a cairn over it or added a signpost, they knew.”

  Chrissy dragged her hand through her hair. “I hate this,” she said intensely. “I trust these men.”

  “You want to trust them.”

  She scowled. “I’m not an idiot. I’m a pretty good judge of character.” She broke off as a harsh laugh escaped. “Was.”

  “Maybe one of the old guard saw you, dug up the gun and passed it to someone else? They could have been pressured by old loyalties, or straightforward threat.”

  “I think they’d have gone to Glenn in a case like that. He’s still pretty scary when he wants to be. And…”

  “And what?”

  “You might think I’m kidding myself,” she muttered. “Maybe I am. But I think they’re loyal to me. We all look out for each other.”

  “You don’t get into Barlinnie Prison by sticking to Boy Scout oaths.”

  “I know that. They’re just people, though, underneath. People make mistakes. Some don’t care. Some do.”

  His gaze lifted to hers and fell again. For the first time, she realized how close he was, almost touching her. The silvery stream of his breath mingled intimately with hers. He said, “They’re not your saviours, Chrissy. You save yourself.”

  “You’re wonderful, strong and amazing…”

  For some reason, anger surged back with a vengeance. And yet it felt different because he crouched here with her in the dark. She could feel the heat from his thigh, and he wasn’t even touching her. In spite of everything he’d said and done, desire prickled on her skin, slid insidiously down her belly and between her legs.

  “You think that’s what I do? Latch on to strong men to save me from what another strong man once did to me? Trust me, I’m self-reliant.”

  He looked at her, an unreadable smile curving his lips. The ignored beam from the flashlight cast shadows over one side of face, adding somehow to the forbidden attraction of the man.

  “You don’t believe me,” she said. “You think I ran to you, held you, to rely on you?”

  “For a moment,” he said steadily.

  “Moron. I’m just a woman like any other. I just fancied you.” She swayed against him before he could respond, reached up and pressed her parted lips to his. It was a fierce kiss, from anger and bitterness at a betrayal he wouldn’t even comprehend existed. But it was lustful too, and she wanted him to know that, to understand what he’d lost by lying and interrogating and mistrusting her.

  But, heaven help her, she liked the feel of his stunned lips. He tasted like…sex. Strong, male. Sheer desire. And she was done with him.

  She was.

  Only his lips quivered, and surprise—or perhaps a simple need to prolong the pleasure—kept her there. And then his mouth moved. No simple pressing and tasting of lips, but opening and taking. Her stomach flipped and dived. His arm closed around her; he stumbled back against the tree trunk, and she fell across him, gasping as he kissed her.

  And, God, he could kiss. Strength and sensuality mingled in every caress of his lips, every touch of his tongue sweeping inside her mouth and stroking hers. And everything in her, every long dormant desire, every instinc
t, leapt to meet him. She caught his nape in her hand, holding him, kissing him, and it went on and on, growing deeper and deeper.

  She sprawled against his chest, her coat open, so it seemed quite natural for his hand to settle over her breast. Heat surged through her; delicious lust pooled between her thighs, arching her hips in search of comfort as his mouth devastated her and his hand moved, caressing her breast, the aching peak of her nipple poking stiffly against the fabric of her sweater.

  His mouth opened wide, drawing in a ragged breath before it kissed some more. She welcomed it eagerly, touching his rough, stubbly cheek with wonder as she kissed and kissed. She never wanted it to end. She wanted his caressing hand on her naked skin, on the throbbing juncture of her thighs. She wanted— He released her mouth with a breathless groan. “Don’t fancy me, Chrissy. I want you far too much, and I’m a total, total bastard.”

  Reality hit her like a bucket of water. She’d begun this. So much for her quick, punishing demonstration of self-reliance and sophisticated desire. Another moment and she’d have spread her legs and invited him in.

  A further jolt of inconvenient desire sliced through her. Would that really be so bad?

  Yes, because whatever he wanted, he was rejecting her.

  She wriggled out of his hold, and he immediately dropped his arms. She jumped to her feet with a breathless laugh.

  “Don’t panic,” she said, ignoring the trembling of her legs. “I was only kidding you on.” And she strolled off through the trees, leaving him to follow or not as he chose.

  Kidding me on, he thought stupidly, gazing after her swaggering rear. Fuck. Just fuck.

  What the hell had he done? He could still taste her. Her light, sexy scent still filled his nostrils, and his cock was hard as the tree trunk that was about all that supported him.

  Oh no, she hadn’t been kidding. She’d wanted him, and the knowledge fired his blood and deluged his brain with visions of all the things he could do to her if he followed her back to the house.

  He rose and followed her back to the house. At least, he went far enough to see her go inside. Then he veered away to the drive where he’d parked his car. He’d been right to warn her off. Even with his blood on fire, he couldn’t do that to her. She needed time to build a relationship with a good man. He didn’t have time, and he wasn’t a good man. He didn’t know who or what he was anymore, and the last thing she needed in her life was another mess around her neck.

  But it had been sweet to kiss her, he acknowledged as he drove down the winding path to the road, even sweeter to feel her passionate response. There was undoubtedly chemistry between them, hot and urgent, and he wanted nothing more than to explore that, to bury himself in her soft, welcoming depths all night. He’d only exist inside her, be what she wanted, what she needed, and he had the oddest feeling that then he’d be who he’d always been, who he must still be somewhere deep inside… More than that, her desire flattered him, told him he could help her. Sexual healing.

  Fuck, yes.

  Fuck, no! He turned onto the road and drove down to the village, parking his car in the lock-up garage he still paid for, even though his dad didn’t have a car anymore. Neither did Louise. Even if she’d learned to drive, the B & B just didn’t do well enough to let her buy one.

  But then, she couldn’t fill the place and look after their parents. She wouldn’t have the time or the energy. Vicious circle. And one he had to break before he left.

  Several hours later, he pushed the rickety chair away from the desk in his old bedroom and rubbed the back of his neck. Neither he nor his colleagues could find any connection between Gowan and Chrissy, or anyone else at Ardknocken for that matter. The gun was almost certainly Chrissy’s, though—forensics had found traces of earth in it.

  And he was sick of looking repeatedly over the profiles and biographies of the Ardknocken residents. He’d no time to get in among them and read the actual people. That was his speciality, but this was to have been a fast operation, which was why his actual life was his cover here.

  He needed alibis for all of them. He even wanted to vindicate them for Chrissy’s sake, and yet if he did, if there was no connection, it left his investigation dead in the water. There was undoubtedly a connection—someone had shot Gowan with Chrissy’s gun. He just wished he could see what it was.

  He glanced at his watch. A quarter past midnight. Impulsively, he stood, grabbed his jacket from the bed and left the quiet house. He saw no one as he walked through the village, past the harbour and down on to the beach. He walked fast, trying to release his frustrations—not just those of this impossible investigation, but the physical frustration inspired by Chrissy’s kisses. He still didn’t know how he’d managed to hold her in his arms and then let her go.

  But the fresh air seemed to feed his lust. Her deep eyes, the softness of her breast, the passion of her kisses, all haunted him. And she wasn’t someone he could lay and leave. He didn’t want that either.

  What the hell did he want? He needed to get away, leave this country and all its tangled mess of morals and ethics and loyalties far behind him. Soon. Less than two months now, and he’d be gone.

  Why did even that seem bleak? Of course, he could die in Iraq. But he could have been murdered any time in the last five years.

  Didn’t stop him wanting Chrissy Lennox.

  Shit.

  Staring out at the sea, he thought he saw the bobbing heads of seals. He wondered if she was watching them too. He walked on, waiting for calm to descend.

  Close in to the cliff, something moved. Aidan paused, his body automatically going into defence mode. Even in Ardknocken.

  He switched on the flashlight, shining it straight at whoever lurked there.

  A naked woman with long, silky black hair.

  Aidan blinked, and soft laughter drifted on the cold air. “Sorry,” she said. “I lost my clothes.”

  “Lost your… You weren’t swimming, were you?”

  “I swim all the year round. But I don’t always lose my clothes.”

  Aidan shrugged off his jacket, walking swiftly towards the woman. She smelled of the sea. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight. “Put this on before you freeze. Where do you live?”

  He peered at her face as she took his coat and unhurriedly slipped her arms into it. Deliberately, he kept his gaze on her face. Alluring as her shapely body undoubtedly was, he didn’t want lust getting in the way of judgement. Again. She looked young, probably a few years younger than he was, but he couldn’t place her features to any of Louise’s friends or any family he knew. On the other hand, surely something about her was familiar?

  “I live here,” she said. “For now. Don’t you recognize me? I know you, Aidan.”

  A picture, a memory flashed into his mind and vanished. A half-forgotten dream. A highly erotic dream from his randy youth. A woman with a mouth made for pleasure, who straddled him and took him inside her and showed him how…

  Damn. What had he just decided about lust and judgement? This was Chrissy’s fault for kissing him. Swallowing, he said, “I’ve been away too long.”

  “Is that why you’re lonely?”

  He blinked. “What makes you say that?”

  As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she took his arm and began to walk on along the beach. “I can sense such things. I’m very empathic.”

  “Are you?” he said dryly. “Are your clothes along here?”

  “Probably. I’m quite warm now.”

  “Good,” Aidan said, and she laughed.

  “Sorry. You aren’t, are you? Look, there’s a cave along here.” She tugged his arm, trying to pull him towards a dent in the cliff side. There was a cave there. He knew it well.

  “I don’t want to keep warm in a cave,” he said repressively. “I want to find your clothes and have my jacket back.”

  She turned into his arms, all mysterious and undoubtedly sexy woman. And in his continuing state of frustrated arousal, she was undeni
ably welcome.

  “I can keep you warm, Aidan. Let me soothe you and love you. I’ve always loved you.” Her voice was beguiling, her words comforting to his ego. And her naked body pressing against his erection was…explosive. More than that, she was familiar. The rest of that old teenage dream flooded his memory.

  He’d imagined it was real at the time. His dream lover had looked so very like this woman… But that was his imagination, his clamouring desire and the night, playing tricks on his brain.

  In fact, this whole encounter felt like a dream, a timely answer to his raging lust, as if he’d conjured her up. A beautiful woman to give him sex, soothe him and feed his ego.

  I don’t want that.

  “You know what?” He took her by the shoulders, and her eyes seemed to melt with triumph—until he pushed her a step back from him. “Keep the coat. I’ll get it another time. Go home and keep warm.”

  And he walked away, back towards the village.

  He was a policeman. She’d no idea what sort of danger she was in, wandering the beach naked and accosting strangers for sex. Even here in Ardknocken.

  Fuck.

  He swung back, his mouth already open to give commands in his policeman’s voice. The beach was empty. She’d vanished.

  Chapter Seven At her bedroom window, Chrissy lowered her binoculars and turned her back on the unbearable sight.

  What had she expected? Really, what had she expected? That a man as sexy and fascinating as Aidan Grieve, wouldn’t have a girlfriend? She hadn’t known. She’d never even asked. And yet somehow, she’d never expected to see him walking along the seal beach with another girl dangling from his arm. A girl wearing his jacket and not much else.

  Not on this beach, where twice now, she’d found some kind of connection with him. Not on this night, only hours after he’d kissed her…

  Well, after she’d jumped him. He’d told her he was a bastard. The trouble was, in her experience, men who claimed to be bastards rarely were. It was the ones who pretended otherwise you had to watch for. Or so she’d always believed.

  Well, no wonder he’d pushed her away. If he’d ever wanted her, it had been in a purely transitory sort of a way. A physical reaction. She was just work.