Kitabı oku: «Game For Anything», sayfa 2

2

IT TOOK A MINUTE for the question to register in his mind, and another minute for Tracker to gather enough of his scattered wits to recognize the man who’d spoken: John Landry, the perfect match for Sophie Wainwright.

Yes, I mind. The words formed in his mind, but he managed to keep them from reaching his lips. He also managed to keep from shoving the man off the platform. Past Landry’s shoulder, he could see couples were still dancing, and reality slipped fully into focus. One taste of Sophie and he’d nearly lost all control. He’d nearly taken her right on the dance floor. What had he been thinking?

“Sophie? Are you all right?” Landry asked.

Tracker glanced at her. She looked as shaken as he felt. More than anything, he wanted to reach out, draw her into his arms and just hold her. He might have if Landry hadn’t reached out and taken her arm.

“Sophie.” Mac nudged her way past two couples to join them. Giving Landry a quick smile, she said, “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I need to borrow my maid of honor. Just a little fashion emergency. It won’t take long.” She shot an apologetic smile at both John Landry and Tracker before she grabbed Sophie’s hand and drew her off the dance floor.

Lucas was grinning from ear to ear as he joined the two men. “Mac needs a little help with her wardrobe. Shouldn’t take long, Landry. Then Sophie will be all yours.”

Over my dead body. The thought sprang to Tracker’s mind before he could stifle it. He hoped to God that he hadn’t said it out loud.

“No problem,” John Landry said. “I’ll just help myself to a drink.”

Tracker kept his eyes on the man until he was off the dance floor.

“I sense a little hostility in the air,” Lucas said. “Mac and I are happy that Sophie is dating again, but if you’ve discovered something about Landry I should know…”

Tracker studied his friend, but there wasn’t any sign that Lucas had seen him kiss Sophie. Good, he told himself. The kiss had been a mistake—one he wasn’t going to repeat. “No. Landry’s background checks out. There’s nothing to show that he’s after Sophie’s money.”

Jealousy had a bitter, coppery taste, Tracker discovered. Landry was the perfect man for Sophie; he wasn’t. That simple fact had been a lot easier to live with before he’d kissed her. Ruthlessly, he shoved the memory aside. “Mac looks fine. What’s the emergency?”

Lucas leaned closer. “She has to change because she just popped a button on her skirt. The baby’s growing.”

Tracker studied his friend. There was no mistaking the pride in his voice or the joy in his eyes. A stab of envy pierced him. “You hit the jackpot, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” Lucas threw an arm around Tracker’s shoulders. “C’mon, let’s go into my study for a minute and we can drink to that. Plus, I have a surprise—an old friend you and I haven’t seen for a long time.”

“THERE, I might look like I’m wearing pajamas, but I feel much better.” Mac pressed her hands against her rounding stomach as she studied herself in the full-length mirror. She’d changed from her two-piece evening gown into a white silk pantsuit in a stretchy fabric.

“You look beautiful,” Sophie said. “And you have no need to worry that your husband is going to develop a wandering eye just because you’re having a baby. He’s totally besotted with you.”

“It’s mutual.” Mac smiled as tears began to fill her eyes. “And I’m not worried. He’s throwing this party and taking me back to the island where we spent our honeymoon to let me know that even though I look like a blimp, nothing has changed—he’ll be with me forever.”

Sophie felt a knot of envy tighten in her stomach.

“No one has ever done anything like that for me,” Mac continued. “And I have you to thank for it. If you hadn’t pushed me into using my research on Lucas last year…”

Taking Tracker’s handkerchief from her evening bag, Sophie handed it to Mac. “Yeah, well, my motives were not entirely altruistic.”

Sophie remembered quite clearly how she’d felt at the time, fresh from the humiliation of having her brother and Tracker McBride prove to her that her fiancé was only interested in her money. “I used you. I was more than a little annoyed at Lucas, and I thought having you practice your sexual fantasy research on him would get me out from under his constant surveillance.” Plus, it had given her great pleasure to outwit Tracker McBride.

Mac took Sophie’s hands. “You insisted that I use Lucas as a guinea pig to test my research on sexual fantasies because you didn’t want me to practice them on a stranger. Not only that, when I wanted to cut and run, you gave me the courage to stick it out. You were my role model. And I owe you for that.”

“That’s nonsense,” Sophie said. “You and Lucas were made for each other.”

Mac shook her head. “Being meant for each other isn’t enough. Take it from an expert on the subject. I wouldn’t be here today if you hadn’t nudged me into flying out to that island in your place. The last thing Lucas was looking for was a relationship. And I wasn’t even the type he preferred to date. He told me that he’d decided never to marry.” Mac waved a hand. “I wouldn’t have all this if you hadn’t badgered me until I worked up the courage to tell Lucas just why I was there.”

“Mac, I—” Embarrassed, Sophie tried to pull her hands away, but Mac held tight.

“No. I’m going to finish this. It’s my turn to nudge you. I saw you kissing Tracker on the dance floor.”

Everyone must have seen them. “I…that is, we…” She hadn’t let herself think about the kiss since Mac had led her off the dance floor. When Sophie had started the game, she certainly hadn’t expected it to go as far as it had. She’d forgotten everything—the game, her plan, everything but Tracker. “You must be thinking…”

“I’m thinking it’s about time you made a move on him.”

Sophie blinked. “Really?”

“Since he’s one of the most self-disciplined and self-contained men I’ve ever met, I think you were wise to take the initiative. I’m dying to know what you did to get him to kiss you.”

Sophie let out a dry laugh. “Would you believe I asked him to play a game of twenty questions, and the penalty for not answering a question was a kiss?”

“What a great idea,” Mac said with delight, reaching for a small notepad on the nightstand. “I don’t think I have an example of that in my research. Twenty questions,” she murmured as she scribbled on the pad.

“Yeah, well, you better add a warning that the game is best played in private.”

Mac glanced up. “He’s that good a kisser, huh?”

Sophie nodded. “I’m pretty sure some of my brain cells died. I couldn’t even feel my legs when I followed you off of the dance floor. And if Tracker hadn’t all of a sudden ended it, I would have…” A vivid image of exactly what she might have done formed in her mind. “Mac, you might have had an X-rated incident right in the middle of your anniversary party.”

Mac threw back her head and laughed, and in a moment, Sophie joined her. By the time they could both breathe again, they had settled on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing,” Sophie said. “Tracker will probably have disappeared again by the time I get back downstairs.”

“I don’t think so,” Mac said. “There’s something between the two of you. I can see it whenever you’re in the same room together.”

“Well, that doesn’t happen often. He avoids me like the plague. And when he’s forced into my company, he treats me like a kid sister.”

“Not tonight. And he never looks at you like a man looks at his sister. Tracker looks at you like he wants to throw you over his shoulder and carry you off somewhere. And he talks about you, you know.”

Sophie met Mac’s eyes. “He does?”

She nodded. “He thinks you’re one of the bravest women he’s ever known. And the smartest.”

Sophie knew that Tracker was a frequent visitor at Mac and Lucas’s house in Georgetown, but he never visited when she was there.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him, too,” Mac said. “After that kiss, you can’t tell me you’re not interested in him, or that you don’t lust after him, at least.”

Sophie drew in a deep breath. “To tell you the truth, I’ve been toying with the idea of having an affair with him. But he’s so…intimidating. I think I have a plan—but then he looks at me and my brains cells start to leak. I’m going to need more than a game of twenty questions with penalties.”

Mac beamed a smile at her as she rose and moved to her dresser. “I have just the thing. In fact, I put some items together as a little first-anniversary gift, bride to maid of honor. I was going to give this to you anyway, since you’ve started dating again. But I’m much more comfortable knowing that you’ll use them on Tracker. He has a weakness for games—especially games of chance.”

“He does?” Sophie looked curiously at the small bag Mac was lifting off the dresser.

Nodding, she sat back down on the bed and reached into the bag. “I was thinking of Tracker when I selected these items. Must have been ESP or something. There, I’ve got it.” She held out a coin to Sophie.

“A quarter?”

“A two-headed quarter. I had a few good times using it with Lucas—until he figured it out.”

Sophie took the coin and examined it. Her mind was already racing with ideas as she glanced back at Mac. “You are a continual surprise to me.”

Mac beamed a smile at her as she pulled out a giant-size pair of dice. “Lucas says the same thing.”

Sophie stared at the dice. Instead of numbers, there were words printed on the sides. One die named actions: stroke, lick, kiss. The other named body parts: back, neck, breasts.

“They’re a lot of fun,” Mac said.

Sophie turned the stuffed dice over in her hands. “Any way you roll them, it looks like a win-win situation to me. Where did you get them?”

“My friend in Paris told me about this great Web site.” She drew a final item out of the bag.

“A deck of cards?” Sophie asked.

“They look like playing cards,” Mac said as she fanned them open. “But they’re really coupons.”

Sophie drew one. “‘This card entitles you to a quickie on demand. You name the time and place.’”

“You give it to the person and it’s up to them to decide where and when to demand the quickie. I pick riskier places than Lucas does. It throws him off balance.”

Sophie grinned. “You’re so good for him, Mac.”

“You’ll be good for Tracker, too. He’s lonely.”

She’d never thought of Tracker as having any vulnerabilities.

“He probably needs a little encouragement. Lucas did. And some of these little toys get amazing results.”

Sophie picked up the final item that Mac took out of the bag, a black velvet ribbon, and drew it through her fingers. “What kind of game do you play with this?”

Mac tilted her head to one side. “Bondage comes to mind, but there’s a tag with an interesting suggestion.”

Sophie glanced at the tag and saw that it even included a diagram with what she suspected was a highly inventive Kama Sutra position. The man was seated, the woman was on his lap—backward—and the ribbon was looped around his… Tilting the card sideways, Sophie narrowed her eyes. Yep, the ribbon was looped around exactly what she’d thought. “Are you sure this is anatomically possible?”

Mac cleared her throat. “Not from personal experience. I think you have to have great powers of concentration to actually… My advice would be to improvise.”

Sophie glanced around the bed at the sex toys that Mac had taken out of the gift bag. “I’m getting that message loud and clear.”

“Tracker would be a safe person to try these out on.”

Safe. Yes. In spite of his air of mystery and danger, she’d never felt safer than when Tracker had held her in his arms that very first day in Lucas’s office. Right after she’d punched her brother.

“Go for it, Sophie.”

“TRACKER, I’d like you to meet Carter Mitchell,” Lucas said as he closed the French doors leading to the patio, and strode into his office. “He’s one of the two men Sophie brought this evening.”

Tracker recognized the name. Carter Mitchell was the manager of the art gallery next door to Sophie’s shop. Since Mitchell’s relationship with Sophie had been strictly business, Tracker had had one of his men run a routine check. Now Tracker caught something familiar in the way Mitchell moved as he rose from his chair. The face was familiar, too. Although it was leaner now and harder, there were still traces of the baby-faced twenty-two-year-old he and Lucas had worked with on their last mission six years ago.

“Chance?” he said, narrowing his eyes as he took in the Italian designer suit, the slim gold bracelet he wore on one wrist and the diamond earring in his left ear. Chance had been the only name he’d known this man by when they’d worked together. They’d called him that because there wasn’t a chance that he wouldn’t take.

“Yeah.” He stepped toward Tracker and extended his hand. “I figured I’d have to come clean the moment I walked through that door with Sophie. The name’s Carter Mitchell now.”

Lucas moved to stand behind his desk. “Seems our old friend Chance is working undercover and he wants to make sure we don’t spoil things for him.”

There was a steeliness in Lucas’s voice that had Tracker withdrawing his hand from Chance’s grasp.

“He took me aside and asked me not to give away his cover,” Lucas said. Then he turned to Chance. “Now, I want an uncut, uncensored version of who you’re working for, and if my sister is involved.”

“I work for a group of insurance companies that want to recover some stolen artifacts from an archeological find in Turkey, most importantly three rare coins. They were in England when they were stolen, and it’s caused quite an international stir. Various investigative agencies including Interpol and the feds have concluded that the stuff’s being brought into this country cleverly concealed in shipments to selected commercial locations. Sophie’s shop had been identified as warranting close surveillance.”

“How long has she been a target of the investigation?” Lucas asked.

“For about a month and a half. That’s when I became the new manager of the art gallery next to her shop. A month ago we got our first big break in the case. An operative on this side got close enough to the head guy to actually buy a piece we believe contained one of the coins. She purchased it at One of a Kind, and she was supposed to deliver it in person to her boss.”

“Supposed to?” Tracker’s eyes narrowed.

“Five minutes after she left the shop, she was the victim of a hit-and-run driver. Two men came out of nowhere. One pushed her into an oncoming car, the other took the package and then both ran.”

“And you’ve waited a month to let me know my sister might be in mortal danger?”

Chance switched his gaze to Lucas. “I swear I didn’t put Sophie together with you until I walked in here tonight. None of us went by our real names when we worked together. Hell, I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Everything Chance said was true enough. The kind of operations they’d worked on never appeared in the newspapers, and real names were never mentioned.

“And now you’ve decided to date her?” Tracker asked, silently cursing himself. He’d focused his time and the time of his staff checking out the men Sophie went out with even casually. If she’d gone out with Chance sooner, he’d have had a photo of the man standing in front of him, and he’d have known over a month ago that something was up.

Once again, Chance raised his hands, but this time he grinned. “Hey, I’m not her date tonight. I’m just her tag-along gay friend.”

“You’re not gay,” Tracker said.

Chance shrugged. “It’s part of my cover. Telling a woman you’re gay is the quickest way to lower barriers short of taking her to bed—and that’s a little complicated if she’s one of your prime suspects.”

For a moment, Tracker didn’t say a word. He had to get a grip. Anger wasn’t going to help—nor was fear. “Sophie’s not involved in smuggling anything.”

“I eliminated her as soon as I got to know her. She doesn’t have a dishonest bone in her body. And she loves that shop of hers too much to risk it by getting involved in something like this.” Chance’s eyes narrowed and grew colder. “But someone on this side is funneling the goods to the right person.”

“Do you suspect Noah Danforth, her assistant?” Lucas asked.

“It could be him,” Chance replied. “Or it could be any one of her regular customers. She makes them feel like family. All it would take was a word that they were looking for a particular piece, and she’d see that it was set aside. Noah would do the same.”

“So the only thing you really know is that anyone who gets close to the head guy ends up dead.” Lucas turned to Tracker. “I want her out of that shop until the investigation is over.”

“That won’t necessarily keep her safe,” Chance said quickly. “Whoever is behind this is very clever. His nickname is ‘Puppet Master’ because he stays in the background and just pulls the strings. We got close to him three months ago when he shipped the first of the coins. He used a small shop in Connecticut, and the owner was killed in a fire that destroyed his shop. If this guy gets even a hint that Sophie knows anything, she could still be in mortal danger. The only way to really keep her safe is to find out who’s behind this.”

Tracker paced to the French doors. The hell of it was Chance was making sense. From the sounds of it, the bastard behind the smuggling ring didn’t leave any loose ends that could be traced back to him.

“I’ll cancel my trip,” Lucas said.

“No.” Tracker turned to face him. “If you do, Sophie will know something is wrong. And so will Mac.”

“It should all be over in the next week,” Chance said. “Sophie has a shipment due in tomorrow, and the last of the three coins is supposed to be on it. Together, they’re worth more than they are apart. We’re pretty sure that the first coin went to the shop in Connecticut. The second one was picked up by the woman who was hit and killed after she left Sophie’s store. I’ve already offered to help Sophie unpack the delivery and arrange the pieces in the shop. Whoever is behind this will move quickly. All we have to do is trace the piece containing the coin to the buyer, and we’ll have our man.”

Through the glass of the French doors, Tracker’s eyes went unerringly to one couple on the dance floor. Sophie was dancing with John Landry. Silently, he cursed himself. He’d missed Sophie’s growing friendship with the gallery owner, Carter Mitchell. What had he overlooked in her relationship with John Landry?

“What about this Landry fellow?” Tracker asked. “Sophie met him on her last trip to England.”

“He’s clean. I checked him out myself.”

Tracker turned back to Lucas. “I’ll be there, too, when she unpacks the shipment.”

“How? You can’t do anything to alert her to what’s going on. The worst thing that could happen is for her to start acting strangely with Danforth or her customers,” Chance warned.

“I won’t alert her,” Tracker promised.

“She’s not an easy woman to fool,” Lucas said.

“I’ll figure something out,” Tracker said. “And she’ll never suspect a thing.” Then he turned back to Chance. “Right now I want you to fill me in on everything, including a list of your top suspects.”

3

SOPHIE HATED DUMPING anyone. She’d suffered enough rejection in her own life to know how much it hurt. But she ran the risk of hurting John Landry even more if she wasn’t honest with him. That’s what she’d been telling herself as she’d avoided him for the two hours since she’d left Mac’s bedroom. But even now, dancing with him, she was putting off the inevitable moment.

“Sophie?”

“Hmm?” It didn’t help one bit that she could feel Tracker’s gaze on the back of her neck. She hadn’t actually seen him since she and Mac had left the dance floor hours ago, but now the tension that she felt whenever he was near was back in full force. He was watching her dance with John Landry. The certainty of that gave her spirits a little lift, and she was very tempted to give him something to watch. But she couldn’t flirt with John Landry—or kiss him—and then dump him.

Besides, all she could think of was kissing Tracker again. She had to know if lightning could strike twice. Her mind drifted back to the time she’d spent with Mac in the bedroom. Those toys. Just thinking about using them with Tracker sent a wave of heat rushing through Sophie.

First she had to come up with a plan to get him within using distance. And she’d have to get him very close to use that black ribbon.

“Sophie?”

“Hmm?” She glanced up to find John Landry frowning down at her. Had he been talking to her?

“Sophie, your body is here dancing with me, but your mind is a million miles away.”

No, not a million. She figured it was about fifty yards to the French doors where Tracker was standing, watching her. And she wasn’t being fair to John.

“I want you to come with me to my hotel,” he murmured. “Leave your car here and I’ll drive you back to get it tomorrow.”

She drew in a deep breath. She’d insisted on bringing her own car because she’d known she wouldn’t be returning with John. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“I’ll follow you, then. I want time with you. Alone.”

“John.” With a quick look around, she took his hand and led him off the dance floor toward the shelter of some trees, where they could have a little privacy. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to spend time with you alone—the way you mean it. I…” For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, but it was masked so quickly that she might have been mistaken.

“I don’t mean to rush you,” he said.

“It’s not that you’re rushing me,” she said. “I think you’ve been very patient, but I don’t think that I’ll change my mind with time. And I’m sorry if I led you on. You’re such a nice man, and I value you as a friend and a business colleague.” Sophie stopped then because she felt little prickles of awareness along her nerve endings. Tracker was near. He was listening to every word she said.

“Well,” John said, and then cleared his throat. “I won’t tell you that I didn’t hope for more. But I value your friendship also, enough so that I won’t jeopardize it by pushing you further than you want to go. But I do want to see you again, strictly for business. You’ve aroused my curiosity about that shipment you’re receiving tomorrow.”

Sophie smiled at him. “I’ll expect you at the shop bright and early. And I’ll put you to work unloading it.”

“Good.” He took her hands and squeezed them. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As he turned and walked away toward the front of the house, Sophie took one step after him, wanting to say something more.

“I wouldn’t,” said a low voice, so close that she jumped. “It’s always best to make a clean break.”

She turned to see Tracker separate himself from the shadow of the trees. “It’s rude to eavesdrop.”

He moved closer then, and it was all she could do not to take a quick step back at the overwhelming effect of his proximity.

“If you wanted your conversation to be private, you shouldn’t have had it in a garden. Besides, when you’re going to dump guys, it’s good to have someone close by. They think twice before they get violent.”

“John Landry is a very nice man. He would never get violent.” She thought of the flash of anger she’d seen in his eyes.

“Take it from me, he was pissed.” Tracker grinned at her. “You’re lucky he’s such a nice guy.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes. She didn’t like the way he’d said “nice” as if it meant wimp. “There’s nothing wrong with being nice.”

“Right.” Tracker’s chuckle was deep and so infectious that for a moment she wanted nothing more than to join him. She stifled the impulse.

“When was the last time being nice got you what you wanted in this world?” he asked.

Well, that was true enough, she thought. And hadn’t she already decided that being nice wasn’t going to get her very far with him, either? He probably preferred naughty over nice twenty-four–seven. The idea sent a little thrill running through her.

“Being nice didn’t get Landry what he wanted.”

It occurred to her that this was the longest conversation she’d ever had with Tracker McBride. “And your suggestion to him would be?”

His expression sobered and he met her eyes directly. “If he wants you, he should reach out and take you.”

The words, combined with the look he gave her, were enough to tighten all the muscles deep inside of her.

She lifted her chin. “And just what do you want?”

For a moment he said nothing. Then he smiled slowly, and she felt her knees go weak. “Me? I’m just going to do my job and follow you home.”

So they were back to that, were they? Temper stiffened her spine. “I don’t need an escort.”

“Look, Princess, it’s late, both of your dates have driven home in their own cars, and Lucas doesn’t want you going home alone.” Tracker waited a beat and then continued. “You’ll just waste your energy if you try to lose me. Don’t expect to play that little game again and win.”

Although it cost her, she said nothing. Five years in business had taught her that keeping her temper was crucial if she wanted to sell a customer on her way of thinking. And her way of thinking—until he’d annoyed her by reminding her that he was her guardian angel—was to get Tracker within touching distance. If he followed her to her apartment, all she had to do was get him inside.

She tilted her head at him. “Relax, Tracker. I’m not going to run away again. That game bores me. I’d much rather continue the one we started on the dance floor.”

His eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.

“Why don’t we leave it up to chance?” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the coin Mac had given her. “A simple toss of the coin. Heads, you come up when we get to my place and we continue our game of twenty questions. Tails, you follow me home and slide back into the shadows. Are you game?”

He studied her for a moment. “Okay. Toss the coin.”

She tossed it up, caught it and let him look. “Heads. And since it’s my turn to ask a question, I’ll tell you what it is so you can think about it. I want to know what your real name is.”

Pocketing the coin, she turned and headed toward her car. Let him chew on that while he followed her home.

WHAT IN HELL KIND OF GAME was she playing? The question had been plaguing him ever since the Princess had flipped that damn coin. Easing his foot off the gas, he allowed the car to drop back a little farther behind Sophie’s as they sped along the expressway that would take them into the District of Columbia. The last thing he was going to do was crowd her. She’d surprised him three times tonight. First of all, she’d kissed him. Then she’d dumped Landry. And now she’d invited Tracker into her apartment for a continuation of their game of twenty questions. He didn’t like surprises where the Princess was concerned, especially when the stakes were this high.

Since he couldn’t predict what kind of game she was playing, he’d make sure the odds were in his favor.

When she slowed and signaled a turn onto an off-ramp, he eased his foot from the gas.

He should never have kissed her on the dance floor. He hadn’t been able to resist her. And that one kiss had confirmed his worst suspicion: one was not going to be enough with Sophie Wainright. Not nearly. Whatever he’d imagined in his fantasies hadn’t come close to reality. One taste and his control had slipped. The pull between them was so elemental that before he’d found the strength to set her away, he’d lost something of himself.

He wanted her, and he was beginning to understand that he would have her. The need he had for her might not leave him with any choice. The thought chilled him even as it made every pulse in his body throb. But for now—tonight and the next few days—he had a job to do, and he would do it much better if he could maintain some distance.

Pressing his foot on the accelerator, he closed the distance between them. It was time for plan A. Uncapping the bottle he’d pulled from his pocket, he took a good swallow. It would take about five minutes for the contents to work its magic on his stomach.

He planned to spend the night in Sophie’s apartment, but not in her bed. Tonight, he wasn’t going to take any chances. He hadn’t kept watch over the Princess for two years without figuring out what her weaknesses were, and she was a sucker for strays and under-dogs.

When the first stomach cramp hit, he closed the distance between the cars and let his weave all the way onto the shoulder. Slamming on the brakes, he made sure the tires made plenty of noise on the gravel before he came to a complete stop. Then he stumbled out of the car and emptied his stomach on the grass verge.

If he knew the Princess, just pretending to be sick wasn’t going to work. She was going to need to see the evidence, and there it was. One of his foster mothers had introduced him to the curative powers of ipecac when he’d gotten into her medicine cabinet. He kept a bottle in the kit with his other “tools.”

Leaning against the fender, weaker than he’d thought he would be, he watched Sophie gun her car backward along the shoulder until she screeched to a halt about five feet in front of him. She was out of the car and running toward him so fast that watching her brought on another wave of nausea. He pressed a hand against his stomach.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

The concern in her eyes was everything he’d hoped for. Plan A was going to work just fine.

“It must have been something I ate.”

When she glanced past him at the grass, he tried to block her view after he was sure she’d seen the evidence.