Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
“ A re we being watched?” Kelli asked, taking a sip of wine as she tried to look inconspicuous studying the other patrons in the restaurant.
There was the middle-aged couple feeding each other bites of scampi and laughing with their heads bent close together. There was a table with five men in Bermuda shorts slapping each other on the back while repeatedly using the word balls , and it took Kelli a moment to realize they were discussing golf. She turned away and studied the gray-haired foursome enjoying a quiet dinner together at the table near the window.
Was one of them a spy for Zapata?
Mac cleared his throat and picked up the saltshaker. He inspected the bottom of it, then set it down and repeated the process with the pepper, the utensils, and the tiny vase of wildflowers on the table. She saw his hands moving under the table, and for a moment, thought he was reaching for her knee. Then she realized he was searching for something. “Bugs?” she guessed, her stomach lurching a little at the thought of someone going to such lengths to eavesdrop. “All clear,” he said, returning his hands to the top of the table and clasping them together. “But even if we’re not being recorded, we’re almost certainly being watched.”
“Well, then,” she said, sliding her hands toward his and moving her fingers over the tops of his knuckles. “We’d probably better look like we’re on intimate terms, shouldn’t we?”
Mac seemed to hesitate, then unclasped his hands and folded them around hers. “Easier to do now than two hours ago.”
Kelli felt some heat rush to her cheeks as she remembered the way she’d teased him. It had been good payback for his earlier tease in the car. She smiled and freed one hand, taking another sip of wine. “Between the emergency surgery, the carjacking, and our time spent in the closet, I haven’t had a free moment to study your info packet today.”
“Thank you for filling out the questionnaire last night,” he said. “We’ll both have time for review tomorrow before the dinner. That should be enough to make sure we’re covered.”
“Hopefully,” she said, returning her hands to his and savoring the feel of being engulfed in his large palms. “Do you really think those questionnaires are enough?”
He frowned, forming what looked like a permanent crease between his brows. Kelli was struck by a sudden urge to kiss that spot.
“Enough for what?” he asked.
“To seem like two people who know each other well enough to get married.”
He shrugged and glanced toward the kitchen where their waiter had disappeared five minutes ago with their dinner order. Kelli followed his gaze, wondering if he was assessing the possibility the waiter was a spy. What would it be like to constantly look over your shoulder like that? His urge to protect her was comforting, but also a little unnerving. Almost an obsession, though for the life of her she wasn’t sure what drove it.
“Let’s play a game,” she said.
Mac raised one eyebrow. “You’ll have to excuse me, I forgot my chessboard.”
“A get-to-know-you game,” she continued, ignoring the sarcasm. “I’m still of the opinion it’s the quirky little personality details that will make or break our story.”
“What sort of game did you have in mind?”
“How about this or that?”
“What or what?”
“It’s a game,” she said. “I’ll name two things, and you have to choose this or that. Ready?”
“I’m not sure I understand the intent of the exercise?—”
“Mac or PC?”
“I beg your pardon?”
“For a computer. Does Mac use a Mac, or is Mac a stuffy PC guy?”
That got a small smile out of him, and his hands curved tighter around hers. “Mac is most definitely a stuffy PC guy.”
“Excellent. See? I’ve learned something about you already.”
“I take it you’re a Mac guy?”
“God, no. I don’t even own a computer. Okay, next question. Bacon or cupcakes?”
“Cupcakes,” he said automatically.
“Bacon for me,” she said, nodding. “You have a sweet tooth then?”
“Definitely.” He’d skipped the sunglasses for once, and the molten quality in those dark brown eyes made her shiver. “But no peanut butter and chocolate—I remember that from our meeting with Anna.”
“Right.”
“Are you allergic?”
“Something like that.”
He didn’t elaborate, but the dark shadow that flashed in his eyes told her not to press it. Weird, but okay. She cleared her throat. “Automatic or manual transmission?”
“Manual. I prefer the control.”
“Of course.”
“And you?” he asked.
“Same.”
“After your performance in the closet, it doesn’t surprise me you’re adept with a stick shift.”
She grinned, ignoring the rush of heat to her cheeks. “Cats or dogs?”
“Cats. They’re calm. Serene. Detached.”
“Hmm, that one doesn’t surprise me.” Kelli crossed her legs under the table. “I like cats and dogs and hedgehogs and lizards and pretty much every animal under the sun. Except centipedes.”
“I’ll have Hank cancel that shipment of one hundred centipedes I’d planned to give you as a wedding gift. Do I get to ask one?”
“Be my guest,” she said.
“Panties or no panties?”
She laughed and glanced toward the closest table, where the scampi-eating couple had moved on to feeding each other bites of something that looked like roasted yam. She turned back to Mac and gave him her sweetest, most angelic smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
He stared at her for two breaths, unblinking. Then he reached out, grabbed the edge of her chair, and jerked her toward him. She squeaked in surprise, nearly toppling from the chair, but he caught her with one hand on her bare thigh. Her flesh tingled and her brain spun dizzily. Mac’s face was inches from hers now, and she felt her heart lodge in her throat.
“Yes,” he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair. “I would.” He didn’t wait for her to respond. He slid one massive palm between her thighs, parting them just enough to move his fingers up. Kelli gasped as he grazed her most sensitive flesh. He was gentler than she expected, but still rough, still in control as the pads of his fingers made one slow, gentle circle, then another.
She started to resist—to wrestle control back from him and keep the conversation moving in the direction she’d chosen. But his touch felt too damn good.
She moaned and moved her thighs apart. Breeze from the ceiling fan brushed her bare skin as the ocean crashed in the distance and the scent of pineapple daiquiris wafted from the bar. Mac circled her with his fingertip, barely moving, but shockwaves of pleasure rocketed though her core.
He smiled. “And now I know.”
She licked her lips. “Now you know,” she whispered, thankful he didn’t know the half of it. What was really going on in her head.
“Tell me something,” he said, taking a sip of his wine as he looked away from her and surveyed the room with a look of perfect nonchalance. “Do you find eschewing panties keeps you in a constant state of arousal?”
“What?” Kelli breathed, her brain too addled to grasp the question.
Mac set his wineglass on the table and leaned back in his chair, fingers still working their magic under the table. “It’s either that, or you got wet the second I touched your thigh. Which is it, darling?”
She pressed against his hand, ignoring his words and savoring his actions instead. His fingers moved between her legs with a certainty that surprised her. She gasped as he plunged into her, curling his finger in a come-hither motion.
“My, my,” he said. He picked up his napkin, spreading it over his lap in a gesture the other patrons would probably mistake for politeness.
But there was nothing polite about what he was doing under the table. She stifled a moan as his fingers glided expertly over her sensitive folds, teasing, stroking, caressing.
Her breath was coming fast now, her hands clammy as she gripped the edge of the table. She could still take charge again. Get a grip on herself and the situation and keep things safe and flirty.
Then Mac drove deeper into her while his thumb made languid strokes across her clit, and all of herself-control melted away like the ice in her water glass.
Mac picked up his glass and took another sip of wine, his expression stoic as he surveyed the other patrons in the restaurant. A waiter whisked fajitas onto a plate at the next table, the bright red peppers sizzling and hissing. A woman at the bar took a bite of chocolate flan and moaned with pleasure. Kelli dug her nails into her palms and stifled a groan.
Mac slid another finger into her.
This time, she moaned aloud as his thumb caressed her again. She was growing dizzy, the heat building inside her as her brain throbbed and her thighs clenched and her toes curled in her shoes and?—
“Oh, God!”
She brought her napkin to her lips, smothering her cries as he plunged into her. Small explosions seized her from the inside, pulsing out with the rhythm of his fingers. She knocked over her water glass and prayed the waiter didn’t rush over to mop it up. Another wave of pleasure hit her with more force than the last, throwing her back in her chair as his thumb stroked her.
When the swells of sensation ebbed away, Kelli felt herself drifting back to earth. Mac drained the last of his wine, the faintest hint of a smile quirking his lips. She slammed her thighs together and pushed his hand away. His smugness should have brought her crashing back to earth, but it didn’t. Not entirely.
She felt too damn good.
She took a breath and righted her water glass, crossing her legs beneath the table. Her heart throbbed in her ears, and she had to grip the napkin in her lap to keep her hands from shaking.
“You’re all wet,” Mac said.
“No kidding.”
He smiled. “I mean your water glass. Let me get the waiter over here to clean it up.”
“Just give me a minute,” she said, her voice high and shaky as she struggled to regain control of it. “The game. This or that?”
Mac raised an eyebrow. “We’re still playing?”
“Of course.” She grabbed his water glass and took a big gulp, then another. When she set it down, she noticed her hands had stopped shaking. She turned back to Mac, feeling duly fortified.
“End world hunger, or create world peace?” She turned her face up toward the fan, wondering if her cheeks looked as flushed as they felt.
Mac studied her, his expression infuriatingly self- satisfied. “Dish it out, or take it?” He smiled. “Wait, I can answer that one for you. Certainly not the latter, hmm?”
“What?”
“The teasing. This wrestling for control. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”
“Right. Um, well, I believe I asked my question first. World peace or—uh—something like that.”
He smiled. “Very well. I’m inclined to suggest world peace and ending world hunger aren’t an either/or proposition. I know enough about politics and social economics to believe if you solved one, it would likely solve the other. Morning person or night owl?”
“Night owl,” Kelli replied, using her napkin to blot at the water spill as her heart rate returned to normal. “You?”
“Depends on what duty requires of me.”
“But which comes more naturally to you?”
“That is what comes naturally to me.”
“Duty?”
“Yes.”
“Not pleasure?”
“Sometimes, the two overlap.”
Kelli nodded, understanding him better than she had all week. Maybe ever.
She took another sip of water and recrossed her still-shaky legs.