should pretend to be tourists and take a look around before we contact any officials. If the government
is
hiding Liam, we don’t want them to bury him so deep that we’ll never find him.”
He was silent, still turning his hat around and around and around.
“We should wait,” she added, “and go through official channels only if we don’t find out anything any other way—if we need to shake things up.”
He nodded slowly, glancing at her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Their presence in San Salustiano could very well put Liam in even more danger.
“So we’re tourists,” he said, his eyes suddenly as cold and as grim as the thin line of his lips, “coming to a war-torn island for a fun-filled vacation. Who the hell is going to believe
that
?”
Cal watched Kayla smile sunnily at the customs official as the dour-faced man perused both of their passports.
Despite what he’d thought, there was a surprising number of vacationers going through customs. But despite the country’s desire for a brisker tourist trade, the customs officials were unfriendly, and escorted several people to a private room for a thorough body search.
Cal didn’t want that to happen. He was carrying copies of the documents he’d received from the San Salustiano government concerning Liam’s death. His alleged death. But if he and Kayla were going to pretend to be tourists and not tip anyone off as to the real reason they’d come to the island, it was important those papers weren’t uncovered in a strip search.
He didn’t know what papers Kayla had hidden under her lightweight jacket, but he suspected she was carrying something equally incriminating.
“We don’t want to be strip-searched,” he breathed into her ear. She nodded, her smile never faltering. God, after what she’d told him on the plane, she may not have wanted to be strip-searched for an entirely different reason.
The customs official said something to them in Spanish, and Kayla replied, rapid fire, going on and on and on—about what, Cal didn’t know. She stopped just as quickly as she’d started and smiled up at Cal, slipping her arm around his waist.
The shock of the sudden full body contact was nearly overwhelming, and he started to pull away—until she pinched him, just above the waistband of his jeans, her hand hidden underneath his jacket.
“Act like you like me, for God’s sake,” she hissed through still-smiling teeth. “Pretend that you want me.”
Pretend that he wanted her.
Cal was a lousy actor, but this was something he could handle. Because despite all his attempts to convince himself otherwise, he
did
want her.
He pulled her in front of him, encircling her with his arms, letting his hands wander the curve of her hips, across and up her taut stomach, his thumbs brushing the soft undersides of her breasts. Her derriere was pressed against him, and he pulled her even closer as he nuzzled her neck. Sweet God, she smelled good and tasted even better.
“What did you tell him?” he breathed into Kayla’s ear.
She turned to face him, slipping her arms up around his neck, and the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest was nearly too much to handle.
“I said we’d come here because this was the last place my father would think to look for us,” she whispered breathlessly. “I said you’d talked me into running away with you, and that even though you had a terrible reputation as a Don Juan, I was certain you were going to propose marriage any minute.”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, pulling his head down until his lips met hers.
He shouldn’t be kissing her—for more than one reason, not the least of which was that story she’d told him on the plane. But he had to help her fool the customs official into thinking they were harmless vacationers. He
had
to kiss her, whether or not either of them wanted to.
But God knows he
did
want to kiss her. And this could very well be the
is
hiding Liam, we don’t want them to bury him so deep that we’ll never find him.”
He was silent, still turning his hat around and around and around.
“We should wait,” she added, “and go through official channels only if we don’t find out anything any other way—if we need to shake things up.”
He nodded slowly, glancing at her, and she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Their presence in San Salustiano could very well put Liam in even more danger.
“So we’re tourists,” he said, his eyes suddenly as cold and as grim as the thin line of his lips, “coming to a war-torn island for a fun-filled vacation. Who the hell is going to believe
that
?”
Cal watched Kayla smile sunnily at the customs official as the dour-faced man perused both of their passports.
Despite what he’d thought, there was a surprising number of vacationers going through customs. But despite the country’s desire for a brisker tourist trade, the customs officials were unfriendly, and escorted several people to a private room for a thorough body search.
Cal didn’t want that to happen. He was carrying copies of the documents he’d received from the San Salustiano government concerning Liam’s death. His alleged death. But if he and Kayla were going to pretend to be tourists and not tip anyone off as to the real reason they’d come to the island, it was important those papers weren’t uncovered in a strip search.
He didn’t know what papers Kayla had hidden under her lightweight jacket, but he suspected she was carrying something equally incriminating.
“We don’t want to be strip-searched,” he breathed into her ear. She nodded, her smile never faltering. God, after what she’d told him on the plane, she may not have wanted to be strip-searched for an entirely different reason.
The customs official said something to them in Spanish, and Kayla replied, rapid fire, going on and on and on—about what, Cal didn’t know. She stopped just as quickly as she’d started and smiled up at Cal, slipping her arm around his waist.
The shock of the sudden full body contact was nearly overwhelming, and he started to pull away—until she pinched him, just above the waistband of his jeans, her hand hidden underneath his jacket.
“Act like you like me, for God’s sake,” she hissed through still-smiling teeth. “Pretend that you want me.”
Pretend that he wanted her.
Cal was a lousy actor, but this was something he could handle. Because despite all his attempts to convince himself otherwise, he
did
want her.
He pulled her in front of him, encircling her with his arms, letting his hands wander the curve of her hips, across and up her taut stomach, his thumbs brushing the soft undersides of her breasts. Her derriere was pressed against him, and he pulled her even closer as he nuzzled her neck. Sweet God, she smelled good and tasted even better.
“What did you tell him?” he breathed into Kayla’s ear.
She turned to face him, slipping her arms up around his neck, and the sensation of her breasts pressed against his chest was nearly too much to handle.
“I said we’d come here because this was the last place my father would think to look for us,” she whispered breathlessly. “I said you’d talked me into running away with you, and that even though you had a terrible reputation as a Don Juan, I was certain you were going to propose marriage any minute.”
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, pulling his head down until his lips met hers.
He shouldn’t be kissing her—for more than one reason, not the least of which was that story she’d told him on the plane. But he had to help her fool the customs official into thinking they were harmless vacationers. He
had
to kiss her, whether or not either of them wanted to.
But God knows he
did
want to kiss her. And this could very well be the
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