Obsession

CHAPTER TWELVE

EMMA DIDN’T SPEAK. She simply moved into his arms and laid her head against his chest. Raul wanted to tell her to stop, that what they were doing was wrong, that she’d hate him later, but he couldn’t. She was too beautiful and too warm and too sexy, and if keeping secrets from her was what he had to do, then he’d just have to add that to his growing list of sins and pray for mercy later.

He folded his arms around her and pulled her closer. Kelman had done or said something while Raul had been away from the table, and it had sent Emma over the edge. He was a bastard for knowing this and taking advantage of it, but he was a man, as well. He’d been able to think of little else but holding her in his arms ever since the last time they’d made love.

She moved into his embrace and made a sound deep in her throat, a sound that echoed inside him, then she lifted her face to his and started to speak. He stopped her by kissing her. Whatever she wanted to tell him, he didn’t want to know. All he wanted was to feel her body against his and somehow ease the pain he saw in her eyes. Nothing else mattered but that. The feel of her lips, so soft and giving, swept away the very last chance he had at resisting.

She accepted his kiss and opened her mouth to his. Beneath her sweet taste, he could sense her trembling desire. She wanted to forget as much as he wanted to erase.

They stood that way for another moment, consumed with the need to feel, then Raul picked her up and carried her across the tiny room to one of the beds. He set her down and began to undo her buttons, but she shook her head almost impatiently and replaced his fingers with her own. In seconds, she’d shed her blouse and her slacks and stood before him in a pale pink bra and panties edged with lace.

She was so beautiful, so perfect, and all she wanted from him was himself. She wasn’t getting who she thought she was, though. Once he had been a man a woman like her might have loved, but not now. He was too hard, too cold, too unforgiving. Women like Emma Toussaint didn’t make love with the kind of man he’d become, but he wasn’t about to tell her that.

Instead, in the cold darkness of the tiny hotel room, as the thunder rumbled and the rain pounded, he took off his own clothes. And then he reached for her.

HIS HANDS WERE COLD as they gripped her shoulders, but almost immediately, they warmed against the heat of her skin. Emma let Raul bring her closer, the wall of his chest flattening her breasts. The first time they’d made love she’d registered nothing but the passion inside her. This time, the details came into focus. His body was lean, hard and trim. Underneath the expensive clothing and polished appearance, he had the physique of a man accustomed to physical labor. She wondered about it briefly, then all thoughts fled as she was consumed by the sensations assaulting her-his fingers brushing her neck, his mouth pressing her own, his broad back beneath her hands.

Once again, his touch was magic, and the feel of his heated caress was more than she could handle. He seemed to sense her reaction and started to pull back…but she tightened her hands on his waist and murmured her assent. He moaned his own answer and cradled the back of her head in his hand, kissing her even more deeply, demanding she give just as much.

And so she gave-her tongue sought his, and her fingertips smoothed his body. She couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t fill herself with his strength as quickly as her heart demanded. Her hands flitted over his body, stopping here and there, the contact both hot and cold at once. He met each of her strokes with one of his own, his hands playing against her skin and making her tremble with a need she hadn’t ever known until meeting Raul.

A moment later, he lowered her to the bed behind them. The rest of her clothing-the bra and panties-disappeared under his expert touch until there was nothing between them. In the barest light coming through the high window overhead, his dark muscles gleamed against her pale skin.

After that, it was all a blur. She felt him kissing her, felt him touching her most private parts, felt herself giving to him everything she’d been holding back. Her secrets, her pain, every hurt and every ache, she relinquished them all to the heat of Raul’s passion. He took them, as she’d known he would, and turned them into pure desire.

His mouth covering hers, he rolled over on the bed and brought her to her side, tucking her back against his front. It was the only way they could both fit on the bed, but it didn’t matter to Emma. She was past the point of caring. All she could think about was the heat of his body as it pressed into hers. From her shoulders to her hips, to the bottoms of her feet, she felt consumed by this man-which was exactly what she wanted.

He threw a leg over her hip and she responded, fitting her body more comfortably against his. He rained kisses on her bare back, sending shivers up and down her spine. Reaching around, he cupped one breast and then the other. His touch was urgent and grew even more so as it slipped downward.

As his fingers came to the juncture of her thighs, she arched into his hand with a gasp. He murmured in her ear, his breath at once hot and sweet as he spoke. Her name, she realized through a haze. He was saying her name. Then she heard nothing, nothing but the blood rushing in her veins, nothing but her pulse as it roared, nothing but the call of her heart as he moved his hand quickly and increased the rhythm of his touch. She cried out and collapsed against him.

He didn’t wait for her to recover. Instead, he coaxed her around to face him. Limp with desire, she stared into his eyes. They were black and endless, and in them she read what she’d suspected all along. He was as lost as she was, and needed this almost more. Reaching down between them she grasped his erection with her hand. He was already prepared. She guided him toward her and a moment later her world exploded.

EMMA WOKE UP in the middle of the night, gasping and desperate. The room was so dark she felt as if she were underwater, in a tunnel, with no way out. Her heart pounding with fear, she struggled up from the twisted covers and started to scream.

Then Raul reached for her. “Emma…Emma. It’s okay, darling. Calm down!”

The words reached through the panic and returned her to reality. She fell back against the mattress, her pulse still racing, her breath coming fast. “Oh, God…” she moaned. “I…I didn’t know where I was for a minute. It was so dark…”

He patted her bare shoulder comfortingly, then pulled her closer to him. The bed seemed even smaller now than it had been when they were making love, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to absorb as much of his warmth and presence as she could.

“It’s okay,” he said again. “It’s all right.”

She laughed, a little self-conscious. “I’m sorry. I woke up and I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he answered. “I was already awake.”

She turned his wrist to look at his watch. “It’s 2 a.m. Why weren’t you sleeping?”

He took a slow, deep breath. She could feel his chest rise with the movement, and behind the motion she felt the weight of a decision he seemed to be making. She tensed.

“I was thinking…” he said.

“About what?”

“About you,” he answered. “And William Kelman.”

She lay perfectly still within his arms.

“I want to know what’s going on between the two of you. It’s time for you to tell me.”

“I could say the same,” she shot back. “I think you share some secrets with him, as well.”

He propped himself up with his elbow, then reached out with his other hand and pulled her chin toward him. When she was finally facing him, he spoke again. “William Kelman and I go back a very long way. I know what kind of man he is. Do I need to say more?”

“I don’t know,” Emma replied. Her heart was doing a funny dance. “Is there more?”

“Yes…but it’s not important.”

“I don’t believe you. I think it’s very important.”

He ignored her. “Tell me what’s going on between you two.”

She shook her head, then stopped. She’d just shared her body with this man, her body and her passion. Like some kind of a surgeon, he’d taken the pain from her heart, excised it cleanly-if only for a little while. She owed him.

But not this.

“I can’t,” she said quietly. “What happens in my office has to stay there. It’s the same kind of trust you talked to me about before-that’s what I have to have between myself and my clients.”

“Even if I can help you?”

“You can’t,” she said bluntly. “No one can.”

His eyes pierced hers in the darkness. “I know men like Kelman,” he told her. “I’ve fought them, too.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway.” She shook her head. “It’s over.”

“Did he win?”

“Win?” She looked at him curiously. “No…I wouldn’t say he won. But it wasn’t some kind of contest or anything.”

“Maybe not to you.” His expression was grim.

A shiver passed through her. “What do you mean?”

“He’s not the type to give up, Emma. If you didn’t provide him with what he wanted, whatever it was, he’ll return-and stay until he gets it.”

“I don’t think so.”

He had his hand on her arm, and when she answered, his grip tightened almost painfully. “Listen to me,” he said. “You don’t know this man like I do. He’s ruthless. You need to tell me what’s going on. I can help you.”

Something in his voice scared her. It was his intensity, she realized with a start. It was as strong as the passion they’d shared a few hours earlier. She pulled away and stared at him, then almost immediately, he seemed to realize what he was doing. He backed down, but only slightly.

“He uses people, Emma, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt as long as he gets what he wants. I’ve known lots of men like him, but he’s the worst.”

Emma took a deep breath. “Did you know these men…in prison?”

In the tiny line of light coming through the nearby window, his eyes glittered. “Why do you ask me that?”

“I’ve heard things,” she answered. “Santa Cruz is a small town. There’s gossip.”

“Would you care if it was true?”

She’d already asked herself that question, but the answer was as elusive as ever. “I don’t know,” she confessed.

“Then take it for what it is, and someday, if you still care, I’ll explain. Right now, you need to think about what’s going on, and it boils down to this-if William Kelman is doing something he shouldn’t be, and you’re involved, you need to tell me.”

He waited for her to say something-anything-but no words came. She was relieved he hadn’t answered her question, relieved yet frightened, and she struggled to know how to respond. Finally, he reached out and pulled her closer. With his hands on her body and her name on his breath, he took her back to the place where she felt safest…

THE DAWN WAS so beautiful it seemed as if the night before had been a dream. Raul would have thought he’d fantasized it all, except for the evidence-Emma sleeping beside him when he’d awoken.

He’d been tempted to tell her the truth earlier, the words right on his tongue. Who Kelman really was. How he’d framed him. What he would do to her, allowed half a chance.

But the fragile trust she’d given him would be instantly destroyed by that harsh reality. Emma was a smart woman, and she would figure out everything immediately. The consequence of that was obvious; she would never forgive him, and both of them would lose. He’d never get Kelman. And that was still his main goal, right?

No, Raul was going to have to hope for the best-that he’d be able to protect her when the time came and Kelman’s trap was sprung.

And there was a trap. There had to be, even if she wouldn’t tell Raul it was. He eased himself up in the bed and slowly pulled away from Emma’s still form. Reaching for her purse, he dug around until he found the proof he needed. The small black disk, disguised as a button, gleamed malevolently in the darkness.

A bug.

Kelman had had his man bump into Emma in the street to distract her. Then he’d slipped the tracking device into her purse and she hadn’t even known it. It was the only way he could have found her in Samaipata. But he hadn’t counted on Raul.

He looked at the tiny disk in the palm of his hand and nodded his head. This explained the truck. He hadn’t wanted to upset Emma, so he’d kept it to himself, but someone had tampered with the engine; it hadn’t been a simple mechanical breakdown that had stranded them last night. Now he understood. But why keep them here in Samaipata? The question left Raul uneasy.

Levering his thumbnail under the rim of the bug, he popped the plastic edges apart. The wires were thin and he snapped them with one twist.

Emma stirred as he put the bug back together and dropped it into her purse. When she finally opened her eyes, he was sitting in the chair opposite the bed, looking at her.

“You’re awake already,” she said. “Don’t you ever sleep?”

He shook his head. “Not when there’s a beautiful woman nearby.”

In the subtle light of early morning, she smiled softly, sensually. “If that’s how you feel, then what are you doing on the other side of the room?”

He answered her by putting the rest of his thoughts on hold, and crossing the space between them.

THE COBBLESTONE STREETS were washed and clean. Raul had left the hotel early and found a mechanic, and now Emma, heading for the newly repaired Range Rover, bag in hand, listened as the peal of the cathedral bells filled the square. The air felt different than it had yesterday, sharper and fresher, but glancing at Raul, Emma realized she was mistaken; it wasn’t the air that was different. It was her.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt a ray of hope. It was silly, really. Not a single thing had actually changed, but somehow she thought it might. Kelman’s offer was behind her, and despite Raul’s warning, she believed that problem was solved. She would just work harder…then work some more. The money she needed would come somehow.

They visited the orphanage to deliver the presents they’d bought the afternoon before, and soon they were on the road back to Santa Cruz. The pavement, crumbling and old, was washed out in places, but generally passable, and the hours flew by.

After a while, Raul glanced at Emma from across the truck. “Will you ever go back to New Orleans and live?”

The passing jungle was a blur of green as she turned to meet his eyes. “Absolutely,” she answered. “My mom’s gone, but it’s home. I miss it a lot.”

“And after that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t really given it any thought. Everything I think about stops at the point I get my kids back.”

“What if you lose the appeal?”

“Losing is not an option.”

He shook his head. “Losing is always an option, Emma. You need to think about that, you know.”

She refused even to consider the possibility. “Did you handle these kinds of cases when you were an attorney?”

“I did it all.” His hands gripped the steering wheel as he slowed to go around a huge hole in the road.

When he said nothing else, she realized belatedly that this was how he must have felt when she’d avoided all his questions. She forced away the queries flooding her mind. He was someone to be with for the moment, she told herself. Someone she could share her pain with, but not her life.

Someone she could be with…but not love.

He interrupted her thoughts with a question about Bolivia. She shook her head in exasperation.

“It’s a very poor country,” she said. “They’ll never become a more powerful force until they get rid of their corruption.”

“Is it bad?”

“The worst,” she answered. “Everything is tainted, every government office, every business transaction, everything. What do you think of the country so far?”

“I’ve lived a lot of places,” he answered, his voice noncommittal. “But I think I’ll stay here for a while. It’s not that bad a place, and there’s no good reason for me to go back to the States.”

His answer struck her hard, primarily because it reinforced her earlier thoughts. There could never be anything permanent between the two of them-even if she wanted it; she wouldn’t be overseas and away from home for a moment longer than she had to, and he was one of those men she often saw at the bank. Men with money who were simply passing through. She thought of them as permanent expatriates. They had no anchors and there was nothing to hold them down-no families, no friends, no necessary jobs-and so they wandered, looking for something but not knowing what. It made her sad to think of Raul in those terms, because he wasn’t truly that type of man. Remembering his earlier actions at the orphanage, she knew he should have a wife and children; fatherhood would suit him well.

It was late by the time they pulled up in front of Emma’s home, darkness edging into the yard and the house itself. Raul parked the truck, then walked to Emma’s side of the vehicle. Opening her door, he helped her out. As soon as they stepped into the entryway, she turned and began to say goodbye.

He shook his head. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he said, his voice low and liquid. “I can’t leave just like that.”

She looked up at him, desire twisting deep inside her. Let him in or keep him out? The question seemed a simple one, but there were too many layers surrounding it to count.

He read her hesitation. “If you don’t want me to stay, I won’t. I’ll leave right now.”

“I don’t know what I want,” she confessed.

“You probably find that hard to believe after last night, but it’s the truth.”

He lifted his hands and cradled her face, his thumb drawing a line around her mouth. Then he lowered his head to hers, his mouth suddenly pressing against her own, his tongue insistent. The kiss was like all his others-hot and demanding-and she was breathless when he finally pulled back. Todd had never left her reeling like this, nor had any other man, she thought with dazed amazement. But she could get used to it.

“It’s your choice.” His voice was hoarse and the sound of it rasped over her, leaving her trembling, just like his touch. “I’ll leave. You decide.”

Her heart screamed leave, but her body cried stay.

She hesitated a moment longer, then she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck. He closed the door behind him with a kick.

SHORTLY AFTER ONE in the morning, Emma walked Raul downstairs and let him out the front door. The street was silent and dark, a few clouds scudding across the moon, the hibiscus blooms rippling in the breeze. The only sound was her neighbor’s birds. In addition to his monkey, the man had an aviary in his garden filled with wild macaws and yellow-and-green parrots. The creatures’ cries, sharp and savage, lent a sense of unreality to the moment. Raul paused at the gate and kissed her, his lips so addictive she found it hard to let him go. He seemed to feel the same way, and only after a while could he finally tear himself away.

“I have to take care of some business in the morning,” he said, his hand on her neck. “Can I call you at the office?”

“I’d like that,” she answered. “I’ll be there.”

He nodded, kissed her again, then climbed into the truck. She watched him drive down the street. She hadn’t really wanted him to leave, but she needed to be alone after all their time together. She had to sort out her feelings, and she couldn’t do that with him in her bed.

Trudging back up the stairs a few minutes later, Emma went into her bathroom and began to draw water for a bath. The steam from the tub had just reached the mirror when she heard a noise downstairs. She twisted the taps off at once, and the sound repeated itself. It was louder this time, and more insistent. Finally she understood; someone was knocking on the front door. Pounding on it, in fact, as if he wanted to break it down.

She grabbed her robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around her, her racing heart mimicking the noise downstairs. Had Raul forgotten something? If he had, how had he gotten past the gate? And she doubted he would make the kind of racket that was coming up from the foyer now, but she bounded down the stairs just the same, her bare feet slapping across the wooden floor as she ran. The knocking didn’t cease until she threw open the door.

Six policemen stood on her front porch. Dressed in green fatigues, they each carried an automatic gun and wore belligerent frowns. Behind them, the iron gate swung crazily, the top hinge completely broken off.

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “What in the world-”

Interrupting her, the man in front spoke her name, his gaze insolent as it took in her robe. He wore extra gold braid across his shoulders and a cap with an insignia on it. He was blue-chinned and rough-looking. Threatening.

“Señorita Toussaint? Emma Toussaint?”

“Y-yes?” With a shaking hand, she pulled together the thick lapels of her housecoat. “What is it?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

He pushed the door back with one hand and stepped inside, forcing her backward. “We’re here to search your home,” he announced. “We’ve been told you have drugs.”