The Undercover Affair Page 15

  He locked the door behind them, then swept her up into his big black truck, along with a soft blanket that smelled of clean laundry soap and a heavy stainless steel thermos filled with hot coffee that smelled like heaven.

  They drove through the small beach town she was beginning to think of as home. She really had no idea where he was taking her, which meant she felt a little nervous, too. Pete was monitoring the cameras at the cottage in real time. A hardship, he’d groaned, given that everyone but fishermen and lobstermen were in their beds.

  Maybe that was why John pulled the pickup truck into the local marina. Boats of all sorts were moored at the line of docks, bobbing gently with the tide.

  “We’re going on a boat?” she asked.

  He frowned. “Sorry. I should’ve asked that, too. Do you get seasick?”

  “No. I love the ocean.”

  “Good.” He grinned in relief. “Because my buddy is on his tenth-anniversary vacation, and I have the keys to his boats while he’s gone.”

  She hopped out of the cab. “Boats, as in plural?”

  “He’s a lobsterman. His brother is watching his pots for him, but he’s also got a powerboat that he entrusted to me. It’s what we’re going to take this morning.”

  “Oh.” She carried the blanket and coffee and followed him, lingering behind only while he spoke with the harbormaster, retrieving the keys. Then John led her over to a speedboat docked at one of the outer berths.

  “Your friend won’t mind if we use it?” she asked.

  “On the contrary. I’m just sorry you won’t get a chance to meet him. He’s not due back for two weeks.”

  “He asked you to watch his boats?” On top of everything else, how many responsibilities did John Reilly have?

  “Yes, he did.” John lifted his arms to help her, and she stepped inside.

  The boat was beautiful. It even smelled new. John settled her into a snug leather seat beside the driver’s wheel, then he set about untying rope and peeling back tarpaulin. It was still dark outside—the only light was from a lamp on the dock beside them—and cool, so she wrapped the woolen blanket around her shoulders.

  John settled into the driver’s seat. He turned on the ignition and kept the engine on low. She smelled the faint scent of fuel. John turned on the heater, and warm air began to blow at her feet.

  They motored slowly away from the dock, their pace almost a standstill so as not to raise a wake. She looked behind them and watched as the little harbor gradually receded into the distance, its lights twinkling in miniature.

  She faced forward. The boat’s headlights cut a glare across the dark ocean. Strangely, the water seemed calmer than she’d seen it. Almost like glass.

  She held on to the dash in front of her and leaned over to speak into John’s ear. With the noise of the engine, she had to raise her voice to be heard.

  “It’s beautiful out here!”

  “It is. I haven’t done this in quite a while.”

  And when they were far enough away, out in the middle of the vast ocean, not near any other boat, not where anyone could see them, John slowed the boat to a stop, then cut the engine.

  They bobbed in place, in time with the swells.

  He turned to smile at her. The sky on the horizon was brightening, bit by bit, the darkness lifting. She felt a tingle of anticipation.

  John pointed to the skyline. “Another minute or so, and we’ll see the sun.”

  Swallowing, she unwrapped herself from the blanket, then pressed it over his shoulders, too, so they were both cocooned. He gave her a short look of surprise, then understanding, then gratitude.

  She supposed he was so used to taking care of everybody else that it surprised him when others did something to help him.

  His arm slid around her waist. He leaned his mouth close to her lips.

  “It would’ve been nice to jet you off to someplace warm,” he said, “but we’ll have to make do.”

  “I like that no one can see us,” she murmured. “We’re in our own world out here alone.”

  “I can’t imagine not living near the ocean.”

  She drew in her breath. “There it is.”

  A faint ray of light appeared on the eastern horizon. And while she held her breath, it grew larger and larger. She could now see John clearly. He had a wide smile on his face, one she hadn’t seen yet.

  “This is the best time of the day.”

  It felt magical to her. “Is it always this calm?” she whispered.

  “Never.” His voice was low. “This is my first time, at least.”

  She turned her chin, and caught his gaze directly. For a moment they shared a look, then with a low groan, he leaned into her.

  “I can’t fight it anymore,” he said, before catching her mouth with his. She drank deeply of his kiss. Tinged with coffee, and full of the desire that they’d both been fighting. She licked at his tongue when it pushed between her lips, and she wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. She needed him, too.

  With a low groan, he shifted her so she was on his lap, tugging her closer to him. If the mood had been sweet earlier, it wasn’t anymore. They might never have this opportunity again. But now she had him, alone, unwatched, on a bobbing boat in the middle of a calm sea, while the sun rose around them. It seemed to glow off the water in sparks of orange and gold.

  His breath exhaled, and he paused to gaze at her. She had slid upward, over his lap. She blessed her foresight in wearing a long, flimsy skirt, because she easily hiked it up, nestling so close to him that she felt him against the soft juncture of her thighs, just where she needed him most. If she’d been a little afraid before, nervous about her first time with a man since her husband had passed, she didn’t feel it now. She just wanted to be close to John. His hands cupped her bottom and he pulled her even closer. A feeling so sweet and achy that she could have cried aloud.

  He took all his passion and poured it into loving her. Maybe because she’d seen him in his most private and vulnerable moments, unguarded, she could appreciate how different he was with her. Their kisses grew hotter, frantic, even. She was openly rubbing against him, grinding urgently, wanting more and more closeness with him. Wanting him to carry her away into a delicious feeling of ecstasy with him. She had so much built-up hunger, she knew she was being selfish, pleasing herself instead of heeding the responsibilities in her life, but it felt exhilarating. The smell of the sea, the vastness of the blue waves, the absolute aloneness they had—the only two people on earth—that made her feel safe with him.

  She reached for the button on his pants. His hand rested on hers, and he helped by lowering the zipper. She closed her hand around him. His flesh was hot and hard. He sighed deeply.

  The ocean. Such heat. No thoughts.

  He kissed her, caressing her softly with his fingers, stroking her. She squirmed, feeling she could cry out with the pleasure of it. He pressed his mouth to her ear, whispering gently, “I have condoms. In the backpack behind you. If you could bring it over here...”

  Fumbling, in a haze, she found the box, and took one out. Opened it. Sheathed him, kissing him as she did so.

  She looked at John. Gazed into his blue-gray eyes. Sifted his hair through her fingers as they rocked up and down in the swells that the wind suddenly worked up. Making love with him was sweet, and glorious, and fun.

  Afterward, she lay against him, his head against hers. Then he slowly nudged down her top. Kissed the tips of her breasts.

  “I swear to you I didn’t plan this when I woke up today,” he murmured. “I only bought the condoms in case.”

  “I hoped it would happen for us.” She smiled. “But I never imagined it like this.”

  “It can’t be permanent, Lyn.”

  She reached over and gathered her flung-away skirt. “I know th
at.”

  He took her hand. “You don’t like hearing that.”

  She pulled her hand away. “You could be kind about it. I know it’s temporary, what we have. You don’t need to say it again.”

  His mouth quirked. “You wish it wasn’t.”

  She took a deep cleansing breath and thought about what he’d said. “You’re right. In a lot of ways, I wish we could explore this as long as we want to,” she said slowly. “But I also know that some things can’t be changed. It’s the way things are.”

  He stilled, looking up at her. “That’s a depressing thought.”

  Her stomach sank. She wasn’t going to let him have bad thoughts about what had just happened, because it had been wonderful for her. So she decided to let the bad thoughts slide. She leaned over and gently kissed him. Stroked her hand along his masculine cheek, smooth and freshly shaven. “I won’t regret this, not for a minute.”

  He kissed her as gently as he ever had.

  It was too bad she needed to be going. Pete would be waiting for her call. She sat back on her heels and sighed.

  He leaned forward and pulled her closer. “Let’s not go yet. I want to memorize you.”

  She let herself be caressed in a most loving way. He rested his palm on her belly and with his fingers, brought her to arousal again.

  And just like that, she couldn’t have enough of him again.

  He grabbed the blanket and, with one hand, awkwardly spread it on the deck of the boat. Getting up from his chair, he pulled her down with him. Lowering her to her back, he drew up her legs and spread his hot tongue flat on her. She arched and gasped. He enclosed her with his lips and gently suckled, and she thought she would be driven mad.

  “You’re perfect to me.” He rose, whispering into her ear, and she moaned. She clasped him closer until he was buried deep inside her. He filled her. She felt more deeply intimate with him.

  They moved more slowly this time. It was less frenzied, and even nicer to her.

  “Lyn.” He said her name this time. “Lyn.”

  “It’s Lyndsay,” she whispered. She couldn’t help it.

  The sun glistening on his forehead, he gazed down at her.

  “Lyndsay is my real name,” she said quietly. “Lyn is a nickname.”

  “Lyndsay,” he murmured.

  “But nobody calls me that.” It was true—here, at least.

  “May I call you that?”

  “Please do.”

  “I’m just John.” His eyes seemed naked and vulnerable to her.

  “I know,” she whispered.

  He closed his eyes, shading them from the sun, getting brighter by the moment.

  “I came back to Wallis Point because I had to,” he said finally. “My family was falling apart without me here, and I felt guilty. But if I could ever overcome it...”

  She let him take his time forming his thoughts.

  He sighed, and she knew he was speaking from his heart. “I’d like to drive away in this boat with you. I’d keep going, all the way south until it got warm. All the way to the Caribbean. And we’d stay there for a good long vacation together.”

  “That sounds lovely,” she said dreamily.

  “Yeah, it does. Until they call me home again,” he said bitterly.

  She knew who he meant. He thought all that came between them was his family. If only he knew the truth about her...

  He shook his head. “Darling, I need to take you home now.”

  “Yes.” Pete would be looking for her. She sat up. She was stark naked, out in the middle of the ocean with the sun shining on parts of her that had never been exposed before.

  Funny, though, she was no longer cold. But her private interlude with John was...

  “A memory I’ll always have for myself,” she heard herself muttering aloud.

  “Lyndsay?”

  “Nothing.” She smiled at him. “Do you want me to pour you some coffee for the drive back?”

  “Yeah. I’m covering for Millie this morning. She has an early doctor appointment.”

  “Okay. We’ll see each other when we can.”

  He smiled sadly at her.

  No matter what, she would enjoy what they had—these snatched moments alone—while they still had them.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LYNDSAY NEVER WOULD have thought that John would make certain to see her every minute he could after that morning on his friend’s boat. But he did. Their days together were some of the happiest times that she could remember.

  On Sunday, she walked through the MacLaine cottage with her clipboard, noting what was yet to be finished with the renovation. She was still waiting for word from Commander Harris regarding his conversation with Congressman MacLaine. That was making her antsy, but there wasn’t much she could do to speed him up.

  A text message pinged on her phone, surprising her.

  Frowning, she put down her clipboard. It definitely wasn’t from John—he didn’t have her phone number. The message could only be from a member of her task force. But they’d never sent a text before.

  With a foreboding in her chest, she crossed the room and picked up the phone.

  Report to headquarters in one hour.

  She blinked, wanting to call Pete to verify that what she’d read was real, but it was a bad idea to use the emergency number for anything but an emergency.

  Most likely the order to return to headquarters was due to the congressman. Maybe he’d been set up to Skype her on a secure line. If she left now, dressed as she was, then she just might make it to Concord in time.

  She tucked away her clipboard and put on a professional-looking jacket from her bedroom upstairs. It occurred to Lyndsay that in just three weeks this cottage had become more home to her than her real home was. She hardly gave a thought, these days, to her apartment, her own clothing that didn’t seem to suit her as well anymore, even her ancient SUV that she kept in an outdoor parking space. By now, its battery was probably dead.

  So well had she assumed the persona of Lyn Francis, interior designer, that she dreaded going back to that lonely apartment when her assignment was over.

  Sighing, she grabbed her purse and Glock. Outside in the beautifully landscaped front driveway, she climbed into her trendy car and faced the route that led to the state capital.

  The Wallis Point peninsula receded in her rearview mirror. A wave of sadness overtook her. When the time came to leave for good, she would miss her newfound family in the beachside cul-de-sac. John she would miss most of all.

  * * *

  “OFFICER FAIRFAX, PLEASE be seated.”

  Hitching in a breath, Lyndsay chose an empty seat at the oval conference table among the three men who’d been her support crew. Wesley, her shy young camera technician. Simon, of the sarcastic temperament and hard-core investigative beliefs. Pete, the seasoned detective who had ended up being her best ally.

  She nodded to Commander Harris, then to each of the men. “Good morning, everyone.”

  “I like your purse,” Simon remarked.

  She nudged his knee out of her personal space. “I can get one for you, if you’d like.”

  He gave her a wide grin. Wesley snickered. Pete managed a smile.

  “Congressman MacLaine wants to speak with you, Officer Fairfax.” Commander Harris indicated a speakerphone in the center of the table. “He’s currently in London.”

  “Great. But will Kitty be with him? I’d like to question him about the watercolor paintings, and that isn’t a topic she appreciates.”

  “Good thinking. But no, the call will just include the congressman.”

  She nodded. To admit to Congressman MacLaine that she’d seen the watercolors in his bedroom would give his wife away for opening the room to Lyndsay, but
Lyndsay was prepared to deal with any fallout.

  Wesley made the telephone connection.

  “Good morning,” came Congressman MacLaine’s distinctive, sharp voice from the speakerphone. “Am I speaking with the task force?”

  “Good morning, Congressman.” Commander Harris spoke for all of them. “I’m present with our detectives, including the officer whom your wife knows as Lyn Francis.”

  “Yes, good morning, Lyn,” said Congressman MacLaine.

  Commander Harris nodded to her. Lyndsay sat ramrod straight. “Good morning, Congressman.”

  “My wife is looking forward to seeing your work at the cottage.”

  “I’m looking forward to showing her, sir.”

  “Wonderful. We’ve decided to stay an extra week in London. I trust that gives you enough time to finish?”

  She really only needed another day or two at most, but Commander Harris was signaling to her, nodding, so she said, “Yes, it does, sir.”

  “Would Mrs. MacLaine like to speak with Lyn today?” Commander Harris asked smoothly.

  “No, she’s not with me at the moment, but she’s looking forward to the big reveal, as she’s taken to calling it. Were there any difficulties we should be aware of?”

  Commander Harris shook his head at her. In fact, all of the members of the task force collectively shot her a look. She couldn’t help smiling.

  “Everything has gone smoothly,” she fibbed. She glanced at Commander Harris. The watercolors? she mouthed.

  He made a gesture with his palm pushing downward, which she took to mean that he wanted her to wait. All in good time.

  “That’s what I like to hear.” The congressman chuckled. “I’m looking forward to relaxing on the beach once we’re home and the good weather starts.”

  It was a beautiful home, in quite a beautiful location, but she was getting tired of this chitchat.

  “Well, if you need me—” the congressman seemed to be wrapping up “—I’m reachable by phone. Commander Harris may give you my number.”

  “Thank you for your contact information. I appreciate that.” Lyndsay passed her department phone to Commander Harris so that he could add the congressman’s information to her contact list. She wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to get the congressman’s phone number directly so that she could call him if she needed to. She’d rather avoid the rigmarole of driving all the way to Concord to ask him a question in future.