“What do you mean? You haven’t pulled anyone out of that river in two years?”
“I’ve helped a few dumb tourists who popped out of a vessel while I was lead guide. Not exactly a rescue. Not pulling a drowning person away from death’s door. Not risking my life to save one. It hasn’t happened yet, but it will.”
“And you’ll rise to the occasion.” She pulled him closer. “I have no doubt of that.”
“I better.” But he still had some doubt and dreaded the first real test. “Ryder’s starting a search-and-rescue team,” he said. “He told Zane and me about it first, and I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he expected me to pounce on it. He’ll need trained men, he’ll need team leaders, he’ll need…”
“You.”
The you I used to be. “I just told him it sounded great. That’s all.”
He stabbed his fingers through his hair as exhaustion pressed, and not just because it was the middle of the night. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” he murmured.
“Not telling Ryder you’d work on a search-and-rescue team?”
“No, telling you all this. Dredging it up. Sharing it.”
“You’re looking for comfort.” She tunneled her fingers into his hair, her hands warm and tender as they ministered sympathy and tenderness. “A way to cope with pain.”
“Mmm. Spoken like a person who knows a lot about pain,” he said.
She lightly tugged a strand of hair. “Spoken by a person posing a leading question.”
He turned, looking at her. “You still aren’t going to tell me anything? Going to withhold that last name?”
“So that heartfelt confession was quid pro quo.”
“Not completely.” He held her closer, rubbing his hands over the shape of her body under the quilt. “But I do have to make a decision.”
“About what?” She made the decision, and everything else, harder by kissing his chin lightly.
“I could say good night and hold out for a last name—a real one—and more.”
“That’d be a dumb decision.”
He agreed. “Or we could talk for a few more hours and hold each other until we both fall asleep.”
“Uh-huh.” She arched her back just enough to press against him. “Getting better.”
He inhaled that sweet scent again, moaning as her hand dragged from his face to his chest, caressing his pecs. Blood thrummed, making every nerve ending sing with the need to get under the covers and take comfort and pleasure in a woman whose name he didn’t know.
And with each touch of her fingers and spark of her lips, he cared less and less about that.
“What’s behind door number three?” she asked.
He reached one hand to the window crank and turned, opening the pane to let the clean, chilled air over them. “I think you’ll have to knock and find out.”
“Knock, knock.” She tapped her knuckles on his chest. “Let me in, Adam Tucker.”
“I just did. Now you have to do the same. Name, please.”
She kissed him, and instantly he grew achingly hard as their tongues tangled and her hand moved over him.
Fisting the quilt, she pulled it lower to let him inside the cocoon of cotton and woman and warmth. With his sweats still on, he slid in, his hands finding her slender body and pulling it to him. She had on a thin T-shirt that bunched up and gave him access to her soft, sweet skin.
“Tell me your last name, Jane Anne.”
She moaned and arched, offering herself completely. Her body, but not her name. Not her truth. Not her trust. He wanted to withdraw and ask again, but his hands had a mind of their own, and they didn’t give a rat’s ass what her last name was.
He caressed her breast and ribs and hip, finding nothing in his way but a flimsy piece of lace.
“Touch me,” she invited. “Touch me, Adam.”
He flicked his finger over the lace and watched her face flush with pleasure. And again, slipping under the thong to stroke her. She instantly responded, whimpering and spreading her legs to let him have more.
But he wanted her. All of her. The part of her she wouldn’t give. “Please,” he moaned, finding that sweet spot that made her shudder and quake. “Please, Jane.”
She bit her lip and opened her eyes, looking right into his, her eyes so damn dark he could see his own reflection.
“It’s McAllen,” she whispered. “Jane Anne McAllen.”
Her fingers dipped inside the sweat pants, grazing him. But the impact of her words was even better.
“Can you make love to me now?” she asked.
“Yes,” he whispered. “Let me love you, Jane Anne McAllen.”
Chapter Fifteen
Jane wasn’t the most experienced lover in the world, since sex generally required emotional exposure. But she certainly had never had to ask before.
Oddly, it didn’t bother her a bit. Maybe because her entire being was consumed by an explosion of sensual pleasures that rolled over her from top to bottom. Adam’s hands were capable, talented, and able to make her melt with every caress. His mouth wasn’t content to be on hers, but traveled south, licking and sucking and tasting her. His muscles were like granite, every cut and angle something new to explore, and when she stroked the length of him, they both sighed with delight.
He left her briefly to get a condom. Long enough for her to try and catch her breath and tamp down any doubts about telling him her real name. But the fact was, she didn’t want to sleep with him until she trusted him implicitly.
Moonlight played over his face as he straddled her and looked down with nothing but desire in his eyes. His jaw clenched, his neck muscles pulled tight, he sheathed himself with a steely, sexy intent.
“It isn’t gonna be enough,” he murmured as he got closer and cupped her thighs to wrap them around him.
“It’s not?”
He shook his head. “I already want more.”
If she hadn’t been so close to the edge of losing control, she’d have laughed. “So you’ve said.”
“More of you.” He entered her slowly, hissing when their bodies joined and letting out a groan as they started to move. “More.”
“How much more is there?” She bit her lip as electrical pulses of pleasure crackled as he filled her up.
“So much more, Jane.” He rocked slowly, building a rhythm and heat and exquisite pleasure. “More. More. More.” He kissed her mouth, held her tight, and finally stopped asking for anything as words evaporated into ragged breaths on the precipice of utter satisfaction.
But she could still hear his pleas in her head. As she gave in to the need, felt everything burn, and cried out his name, she could still hear that he wanted more.
The one thing she could never give him.
She clung to him while his body quaked with release, held him against her as they fought for gulps of that crisp oxygen, and finally sighed when he slipped out of her and eased onto his side. Finally, hearts were still and bodies were sated.
Except…more.
They lay next to each other in silence, hovering on the edge of sleep and complete satisfaction.
“It’s not about the whole FBI thing, is it?”
Adam’s question pulled her from a haze of contentment, making her turn to face him. “What?”
“The things you won’t tell me. It’s not about this drug guy or the FBI. Or at least it’s not only about that. Am I right?”
“So you believe me now.” She sat up, automatically reaching for the T-shirt she didn’t even remember taking off. Closing her fist on the cotton, she lifted it, and he snagged her wrist.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting dressed.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m cold.”
He gave her a look. “You’re scared. You’re vulnerable. And you’re still steaming from sex, so don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not lying.” But she dropped the T-shirt and snuggled deeper under the quilted covers. “I’
m just not going to give you any ‘more’ like you asked for.”
She felt him tense, then relax, sliding his hands over her. “You will. Gimme an hour and you will.”
“That’s not the ‘more’ you were talking about.”
“True.” He moved his hands up and down her body, making her overly sensitive breasts tingle and leaving a path of heat on her now cool skin. “But I will want more of you. Of this.” He circled her nipple. “And this.” He pressed his lips over her heart. “And this.” He tapped the side of her temple. “Am I missing anything?”
So much. “My life. My history. My personal pain.”
For a long time, he said nothing, just grazed a finger over her jaw, her lips, down to her throat. He never took his eyes off hers, and she’d never felt more…connected. To anyone.
“You’ll tell me eventually,” he said with quiet confidence. “Because you trust me now.”
He might be right. “Do you trust me?” she asked.
He didn’t say a word for a long, long time. Then he sighed, kissed her, and whispered, “Yes.”
“Then we’ve made progress.”
“Some.” He propped up on an elbow, looking down at her. “You’re still going to disappear the minute that phone you won’t let out of your sight rings.”
She couldn’t answer, couldn’t deny that.
“Is your life so great there that you’d never leave? I mean, now that you’ve been west of the Mississippi, can’t you see how nice it is?” He added a playful grin. “’Specially because I’m here.”
She couldn’t leave. Couldn’t. Then…Susan McAllen would never find her. She closed her eyes as the thought punched her, shameful and stupid and true.
“Sorry,” he said, misreading the reaction. “Too much. Too soon. Too fast. We just met.”
“It’s not that,” she said, wanting to reassure him. “It’s…other things.”
He searched her face, thinking hard, then he inched back. “For God’s sake, if you’re married, I’ll…I’ll…”
“No, I’m not married.” She smiled at the reaction, though, at how important that was. “I promise,” she added. “I’m not married, never have been, barely had any close relationships with men. Just…casual.”
He still scrutinized her, harder, in fact. “So I’m not special.”
“You’re very special,” she assured him. “The most special man I’ve ever met.”
“But you’re like this with everyone.”
She glanced down at their naked bodies. “No, I’m not like this with everyone.”
“Secretive. Protective, I mean.”
She swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I’m like that with every man, woman, and child.” Before he could ask, she put her hand over his mouth. “Don’t, Adam. Don’t push. Just keep the window open, hold me for the rest of the night, and make love to me when the sun comes up over those mountains.”
He closed his eyes and let his head drop against hers. “I think I just officially fell in love.”
She held him, silent, hearing the words, even spoken playfully, over and over in her head.
I think I just officially fell in love.
Funny, so had she.
* * *
“Out of the way. Get out of the damn way.”
At the sound of his brother’s voice, Adam turned from the stair he was nailing into place and did a double take at the sight of Zane, Ryder, and Wyatt struggling to cart a four-blade propeller into the boathouse.
He didn’t know what surprised him more—that they actually got it, or that Zane helped.
They managed to get it into the middle of the living room, and everyone who’d come to help, including Dad, Bailey, and Brenda, gathered around the four blades that had a span of about twelve feet and were connected by a bright yellow knob in the middle.
“It’s amazing!” Jane exclaimed, practically clapping with delight. “It’ll fill almost the whole wall. Can you mount it?”
The three delivery men looked at each other, then at Adam, as if to ask if he knew she was out of her mind.
“What are you doing here?” Adam asked Zane.
“I finished the morning tour, and these two enlisted my help, which they obviously needed.” He gestured toward the behemoth propeller. “You sure as hell don’t do things the easy way, Adam.”
“But you’re helping. To lose your own bet.”
Zane grinned and started walking around the place, almost tripping over a two-by-four under his huge foot. “Oh hell, I got FOMO.”
“What’s FOMO?” Dad asked.
“Fear Of Missing Out,” Zane supplied, still drinking it all in. “This is incredible, Adam. I can’t believe what you’ve done in here in a few days.”
Adam felt a swell of pride at his brother’s compliment. “It’s all Jane, really.”
He glanced at her, seeing her blanch and noting that, for a second, the whole room seemed unnaturally quiet, as if he’d said…oh shit.
“Jane?” Bailey asked.
“It’s a nickname,” Adam said quickly. “I just call her that for short. It’s easier than, you know, Jadyn. Hard to say and…”
He could have sworn she swayed for a second, leaning against her map wall a bit for support. “My real name is Jane,” she said simply to the group, who seemed to look from one to the other for an explanation. “Jadyn is the name I use professionally. And this professional could not be happier with this find that will absolutely become the centerpiece for the whole room design. Adam, did you tell Zane the theme is ‘straighten up and fly right’? So the propeller is perfectly symbolic.”
Her lie had been much smoother than his. Remarkably smooth, actually, and it did the trick to fix his mistake and get everyone’s attention to shift from her name.
“A rudder would be more symbolic,” Ryder said. “You don’t actually steer with a prop.”
“Yeah?” Wyatt choked a laugh. “You can carry a rudder on your own. I have my limits for free labor.”
“Speaking of free,” Zane said, plucking at his T-shirt sleeves as if they chafed his muscles. “A To Z is closed for the day, and I’m ready to work.”
“You’re going to help?” Adam asked, surprised. Zane had helped with the floor and some of the drywall, but that had been before the bet.
“Why not?” Zane asked. “You still might not win if you don’t finish the stairway to heaven.” He pointed to the loft, where Ford was hard at work measuring and installing the missing top three stairs.
“He’s gonna win,” Ford said. “And since I won’t be here to see you shame yourself in front of Miss Woody, Wyatt’s promised to record the whole thing. And we’ll send it to Noah and Jack. Does that cover everyone?”
“Everyone who was in detention with us,” Wyatt said. “I may send it to more.”
“Don’t forget Augie,” Ryder said.
“Augie?” Jane asked, looking up from the propeller. “You’ve never mentioned an eighth guy in your friend group.”
“’Cause he’s not in our friend group,” Adam said quickly.
“That geek wasn’t in anyone’s friend group,” Ford said. “August Kensington was a nerdy little suck-up who took out Miss Woody’s trash and tried not to trip over his tongue when he looked at her.”
“Didn’t we all?” Wyatt joked.
They all laughed, but Adam put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I appreciate this, man.”
Zane grinned. “If you pull this off, you can pay for the roses. What do you need me to do?”
Adam gave a playful punch to his “little” brother’s famously large bicep. “You can use that pile of lumber to build a bookshelf or install the fridge.”
“Or finish painting,” Jane added, holding up her brush.
“I’ll tackle the fridge.” Zane smiled at her. “I like your real name, by the way. Jane. Rhymes with awesome.”
Adam felt his phone vibrate and checked the caller ID. “Speak of the devil from detention.”
“Is it Augie
?” Wyatt asked, cracking them up.
“Noah.” He glanced at the phone and instantly remembered why Noah would be calling him. “I’ll take it outside.”
There was enough laughter and yakking going on that nobody questioned that, including Jane. Outside in the parking lot, he tapped the phone.
“Hey, Noah. What’s up?”
“Adam, I talked to Kenny, my FBI agent roommate, and he did a little snooping around.”
“And?”
“He couldn’t find an undercover gig in Miami, but it’s possible it’s very deep. No agent named Lydia, so it’s probably an alias. Has she mentioned the name Sergio Valverde?”
“No. She barely mentions her own name, let alone someone else’s from Miami. Who is that?”
“He’s a major Bolivian drug trafficker who lives in Miami. Pretty easy to pinpoint since that’s a fairly tight description. There are others, but he’s the biggest, and there was an attempt to arrest him not long ago, but not through any undercover op. They thought they had something on him, but the asset disappeared, and everything fizzled. All they have on him now are some parking tickets in Miami Beach.”
So the drug guy fit her story, but there was no undercover operation? That made him doubt her again.
“Did you get her real name yet?”
Adam swallowed. Did he need to break that confidence?
“Let me help you make your decision,” Noah said, obviously sensing his hesitation. “The missing asset is definitely a woman, and she has the key to bringing down one of the biggest drug trafficking rings on the East Coast. All Kenny could find out is that the last time anyone saw her, she was at the Miami airport.”
“You think Jane’s the asset? The informer? The one with the information?”
Noah didn’t answer for a minute, then, “Look, if you don’t think that, then give me her name and let me make sure she’s in the clear. Don’t you want to know that?”
Did he think that it was even remotely possible that Jane was an informant? A participant in a drug cartel? Not for a minute.
But what if there was no arrest of this guy? Would she stay in Eagle’s Ridge indefinitely? Didn’t he want her here by her own choice, not because she was stuck by circumstances?