The Other Lady Vanishes

A rare flash of warm laughter lightened Jake’s avenging-angel eyes. “Living with you and having a steady job sounds like the perfect future,” he said.

“Yes, it does,” she said. “And just think, you will have a convenient supply of your favorite green tea.”

“I hoped that would be part of the deal.” His amusement faded. He tightened his grip on her face. “I know it’s too soon to say this, but I love you, Adelaide. You should know that sooner or later I will ask you to marry me. In fact, I will beg you to marry me.”

“In that case, I would suggest that you ask me sooner rather than later. One thing I have learned recently is that life can be unpredictable. One should not put off until tomorrow what one wants very much to do today.”

“You can say yes today?”

She smiled. “Yes.”

There was a new emotion in his eyes now. She could have sworn that she caught the glint of tears. But that was impossible, she told herself. A man like Jake would not cry.

Concerned, she raised her fingertips and touched the corner of his eye.

“Jake?” she said.

He did not answer. Instead, he kissed her with an aching tenderness that let her know the tears were real. It was a kiss that promised a soul-stirring love.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave herself up to the embrace.

“Adelaide,” Jake said against her mouth. “Adelaide.”

The kiss became more intense. The thrill of shared desire consumed them. Jake started to undress her but soon they were fighting each other for the embrace.

They made it to one of the two narrow beds, leaving a trail of discarded clothing behind. Jake yanked the quilt aside and stretched out on his back. He pulled her down so that she sprawled on top of him. They were still very new at the business of making love together, Adelaide thought. There was so much to learn about each other.

She could have sworn his hand shook a little when he touched her breasts, as if he could not quite believe that she was real.

She trailed her fingertips down the length of him, from his sleek, strong shoulders to his thighs. She explored his lean, muscled body with a sense of wonder and satisfaction. He was her lover and she was his.

When she reached the hard, rigid evidence of his desire, he exhaled on a harsh groan and fitted his hands to her waist. He positioned her so that she straddled him, and drove himself slowly, relentlessly into her welcoming body.

“I need you,” he rasped. “I need you so much. Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come while I’m in you.”

She loved knowing that he wanted her so desperately, loved knowing that she could thrill him, loved knowing that he thrilled her.

He reached between her legs and found the exquisitely sensitive spot. She caught her breath.

Moments later her climax struck in cascading waves, carrying her away.

“Jake.”

“Yes,” Jake said. “Yes.”

He watched her with half-closed eyes, enthralled. She sensed that he was trying to hold back but his formidable willpower failed him. The storm of his own release crashed through him.

When it was over, she collapsed on top of him. He held her very close and very tight.



* * *



? ? ?

?She felt him stir a long time later.

“There’s something you should know about me before we get married,” he said.

“Something else besides the fact that once upon a time you were a secret agent?”

She was lying on top of him, her head pillowed on his chest. The cabin was getting cold but Jake’s body was warm enough to melt a glacier. She did not want to move.

“I do have a job,” he said.

“What?” She raised her head so that she could look down at him. “Why didn’t you tell me?

“Because it’s not a very secure job. I could be fired at any time. The pay is erratic and uncertain. The hours are sometimes very odd. But on the positive side, I can do my work in Burning Cove just as easily as in Los Angeles.”

“I don’t understand. Do you sell real estate or stocks?”

“No.” Jake threaded his fingers through her hair. “I write the Cooper Boone spy novels under the name Simon Winslow.”

“You’re joking.”

He shook his head.

She eyed him warily. “You’re not joking.”

“No. I haven’t been writing for long, just a couple of years. I’ve only had two books in the series published. I can’t assure you that I’m going to be a success in that line of work.”

She thought about the yellow legal pad and the sharpened pencils that he kept in his briefcase. She wrinkled her nose.

“Does Luther Pell know about your writing career?” she asked.

“He’s one of the very few people who does know.”

She groaned. “You must have been very amused by my efforts to get you to concentrate on finding a new job.”

“No,” he said. He twisted a lock of her hair around his fingers and tugged her gently down on his chest. “I was touched that you cared enough to be concerned. I can’t remember the last time someone worried about me.”

She glared at him. And then she started to laugh. He watched her, bemused for a moment, and then he grinned.

“You’re not mad?” he said.

“No. Why should I be mad? I’m going to marry the author of the Cooper Boone novels. I won’t have to wait for the next one to be released. I’ll get to read it before anyone else.”

“Yes,” he said. “You will.”

She widened her eyes. “Gosh, could I have your autograph?”

It was his turn to laugh.

“How about something a little more useful?” he said.

“Such as?”

“Such as this.”

He released his grip on her hair, cupped his hand around the back of her head, and drew her down so that he could kiss her.

“This is all right,” she said against his mouth. “But I still want you to sign my copy of your latest book.”

“Fine. I’ll sign anything if you’ll promise to stop talking and kiss me.”

“I can do that.”





Chapter 50


The following morning Raina opened the drawer of her desk and took out the slender file folder that contained the flawlessly typed report she had prepared. She put the folder on the desk but she did not open it. Instead she folded her hands on top, anchoring it securely in place.

“I have the names of your liquor thieves, Mr. Pell,” she said. “But we need to discuss this situation before I give you the report.”

Luther lounged back in the client chair and eyed the folder. When he looked at her again, his expression was perfectly neutral. He gave nothing away.

“What is there to discuss?” he asked. “I hired you to find out who was stealing liquor from my club. You say you were successful. Now you are going to give me the names of the thieves and I will pay you for your time. That does not sound complicated.”

“Actually, it is somewhat complicated. You see, there are nuances.”

“Nuances.” He made it sound as if it were an unfamiliar word.

“The people involved in the theft are not expert thieves,” she said. “That, by the way, is probably why your security people didn’t identify them. They were looking for professionals.”

“Then we aren’t talking about an organized ring.”

“No, Mr. Pell, we are dealing with a couple of young people.”

“Kids?”

“Not exactly. They are working for you, after all. But they are young and in love and planning to marry.”

Luther’s expression was no longer neutral. He looked deeply pained.

“Spare me any excuses that involve romance,” he said. “If you think that I’m going to overlook the thefts because you imagine that the two crooks are modern-day versions of Romeo and Juliet—”

“They aren’t stealing the liquor to pay for a honeymoon,” Raina said. “One of the thieves has a mother who is quite ill. Her doctor has told her that her only hope is an operation. Unfortunately the family can’t afford to pay for it.”

“Before we go any deeper into this subject, are you telling me that you actually believe the tale of the poor, sick mother?”

“Yes. I verified the facts of the situation. Before I give you the names of the two young people, I want your word that you won’t do anything to them.”