Perfect Strangers Page 5

  Piper Jo huffed in frustration and picked up the stub of a red crayon. She scribbled something on a piece of paper. Then she handed the paper to Silk with a solemn smile.

  “This man will probably treat you like the second coming. Just ignore that. He won’t look it, but he knows things.” Piper patted Silk on the back and her hand lingered in the manner of a mother who did not want her daughter’s visit to end. “I’d ask you to stay and listen to the evening news, but I can never pick up anything when I want to. It’s a sporadic thing at best. Sun spots, solar winds…who knows why.”

  Silk didn’t have the heart to tell her they were perfecting a scrambling technology that would end Piper Jo’s sporadic visitations before long. She squeezed the paper tightly in her fist and said goodbye to the closest contact she had had with home for a very long time.

  They headed out of Virginia toward the craggy hills on the border of West Virginia. It was a route Davis knew too well. The joke was only Midwestern farm folk saw UFOs, but many a rural community boasted its share of believers. Not all of them born and raised in the country. There were quite a few transplanted conspiracy theorists in them there hills. He’d met retired Harvard professors, multi-millionaire computer gurus and former beauty queens who all believed in one way or another.

  He operated on automatic as his brain tried to wrap itself around the incident back at Piper Jo’s. He wasn’t exactly up on the latest pop sound, but the eerie chorus of that song the two women had sung—Enya didn’t come close. And the sheet of lyrics that Silk had been holding hadn’t been scored with musical notes. Yet they had sung together like he and his old man would have if they’d decided to belt out an old Eagles hit.

  Curiouser and curiuoser.

  He was on a road trip with an enigma. He was making or breaking his career. And he was beginning to feel a whole lot like Alice down the rabbit hole.

  Silk was quiet beside him.

  He supposed she needed a nap as bad as he did. Ancient motor inns with clacking air conditioners weren’t very conducive to a good night’s sleep. Not that he could blame his wakefulness on a cantankerous window unit. Even after a shower with motel soap that smelled like disinfectant, Silk had filled the room with her honeysuckle scent.

  Suddenly, the object of his thoughts slid sideways and snuggled into his shoulder as if it was a long-lost feather pillow. Okay, so a decent man would have woken her and given her a lecture on the necessity of wearing a seat belt.

  He hadn’t felt very decent since the first night he’d met Silk.

  Risking a flat tire as the car pulled sideways to brush the edge of the highway, Davis leaned over. Her hair was so unusual—soft, yet heavy against his cheek. She could make twice the amount he’d found in her closet making shampoo commercials. Then again, he didn’t think any Breck Girl in history would deck the camera man for using a bad angle.

  Jeez, this was bad. He was driving to see another crazy person in another backwoods burg. He had a trunk full of cash that may or may not get him killed and he was enjoying it.

  He may as well admit it. He didn’t know how the case would unfold and he was so far from following procedure he may as well be labeled a rogue, but it was so much better than pencil pushing and cataloging tons of junk evidence that would never see the light of day.

  Piper Jo’s crayon scratchings for instance, who would ever see them? He knew his report on them was stacked in some numbered box in some numbered warehouse, forgotten.

  William Kale read over the sheet in front of him with interest. In fact, he gave the red crayon missive as much attention as he would have given a letter gilded in solid gold.

  He prided himself on his versatility. His ability to handle any situation.

  Take this turn of events with Davis Rule and “Silk Jones”. Who would have thought that a man like Rule would get sidetracked by a pretty face? Kale knew a by-the-book agent when he saw one. It was precisely why Davis had been handpicked by him to head up a mission Davis himself thought was a joke. Oh, he knew Rule thought he was being punished. And of course, there was that matter of the suspicious glint in Rule’s eyes every time the fellow was in the same room with him. But, in truth, Kale had thought he was the perfect man for a very important job. He may have miscalculated.

  The paper let out a crinkled gasp as his hand tightened around it. Kale forced himself to loosen his hold.

  Davis Rule had found Silk for him. And Rule’s inquisitive nature was busy with Silk rather than him. On those two counts, Kale had been successful. He could handle this current hiccup—this unexplainable lack of contact from Rule and the sudden movement of them, Rule and Jones, together.

  He smiled humorlessly as he fed the paper into the grinding teeth of a shredder. Dear Piper Harding. So painstakingly careful about her records. Only she would have taken the time to copy out in triplicate the information she had given Silk Jones. The nutty old gal was a jewel. Was being the operative word.

  William Kale walked away from his desk as strips of shredded paper fell into a waste basket, red splotches on white, floating down to be forgotten.

  His men were mere steps behind Rule. With the other resources at his disposal, he wouldn’t fail.

  She almost dismissed the feather-light touch of fingers on her face as a phantom of memory. It had been many, many months since the warm touch of a male hand had caressed her cheek.

  The fog of sleep slid farther away from her mind and she noticed the tangy scent of pine in her nostrils. It was then that she realized the touch came from the unlikeliest source.

  Rule.

  Davis Rule slid the pads of his fingers across one cheek and down to her chin. Her eyelids fluttered open and sleepiness fled. Her head was propped on rough blue material—a fabric called denim—and this material was wrapped around the very firm, very warm thigh of Rule himself.

  “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Wake her? Every nerve ending she possessed was on high alert.

  “Where are your antennae, anyway?” He sounded only half in jest. As if he had been softly searching for some physical evidence to prove her story as she slept.

  “Some say we have simian progenitors similar to those in this dimension. Some creationist theories hypothesize that we were all made by the same divine hand in His or Her image.” Silk reluctantly rose and put some distance between herself and her divinely fashioned pillow. It would be easy to believe Davis Rule’s thigh had been sculpted by something other than chance.

  “So, there are no little green men?”

  “There is variety, but nothing such as you see in one of your movie theatres.”

  Davis placed his wandering, wondering fingers back on the steering wheel.

  “I guess it’s safe then. You aren’t going to shape shift and morph into some kind of giant insect.”

  Silk sighed. Davis was indulging in humor. He would never believe her. Her desire for his belief was a surprise. It would be smarter to keep him in the dark, wouldn’t it?

  “These IL-Bah, aren’t they freaky enough to qualify for a Hollywood script?”

  “Even your scientists are beginning to experiment with genetic manipulation. Think of the IL-Bah as man-made monsters, engineered for a purpose.”

  “And their current purpose is to kill you.”

  “Us, if you are by my side when they attack.”

  Silk looked at Davis. His eyes were fixated on the road ahead. His fingers relaxed on the wheel. She resisted the urge to trace the warm trail those digits had made on her face with her own hand. Davis didn’t seem concerned with his fate and he didn’t seem aware of her reaction to his touch.

  “I am not prone to falsehood or exaggeration. We are in danger. I was bred to be a Justice Representative, but even I cannot go against the IL-Bah and expect to win.”

  “I was in the line of fire back at your house. I know danger. I’m just not sure you’re in a state of mind right now where you would recognize a falsehood if it bit you on your ass. Your perfect ass.
”

  His fingers tightened on the wheel as if he could wring a predictable, believable truth from its synthetic covering.

  “The truth is out there.” This time the phrase she pulled, taken from some vid she couldn’t remember, caused an instant reaction.

  Silk was thrown forward as Davis brought the vehicle to a skidding halt on the side of the road.

  “That’s it. The last straw. The icing on the cake.” Davis reached for her and wrenched her toward him, her shoulders griped in two strong hands. “You’ve completely lost touch with reality. This whole science fiction story you’ve invented is some kind of warped delusion fueled by late night TV.”

  His hands held her, but his eyes were the real reason for her immobility. His gaze was locked onto hers, willing her to be sane, needing her to negate everything she’d told him. For a moment, she was tempted to play along.

  He had pulled her close. Too close. Only inches from his chest. She wanted to be closer.

  Silk closed her eyes, willing his hands to soften. She willed him to accept reality. Normally, if she wanted something, she acted upon her desires. Many times she had climbed up on Miilos’ lap and kissed him into such a state that he was able to forget work for their few precious non-duty hours.

  This was different. She wanted to taste Davis. Badly. But his reluctance was palpable.

  His hands, so full of power, shook slightly as if he fought to control them. His breath fanned warmly over her face as he exhaled.

  Silk realized she had tilted her chin, daring him to take his loss of control to the next level, knowing he would not.

  Not for the first time since they had met, Davis surprised her.

  With an angry half-groan of protest, he pressed his lips to hers. That first contact was a shock, a sudden unexpected, hoped-for intimacy, but Silk was a woman of action and she wasn’t going to let shock slow her down.

  It was Silk who deepened the kiss. Silk who first teased her tongue into his mouth. Silk who pulled him over her. The awkward positioning caused by the tight quarters in the automobile only helped her to press him close.

  Davis responded to her hunger like an addict given his chance to overdose on his favorite drug. He moaned and shifted to slip one large thigh between her legs. The heat from it radiated upward to meet the heat her body generated in hidden, neglected places. Combustion followed. Oh, she was still neglected, but there was suddenly the tantalizing promise of touch, there, right there. If only he’d slide his thigh higher. His hands moved from her shoulders up to her face where he cupped her jaw. Several long dizzying seconds found her held in place for the explorations of his mouth. She remembered other kisses, with another man strong enough to give as good as he got, but those she pushed back into the recesses of memory where they belonged. This was now, achingly present, a crystallized moment.

  Davis had lips that were firm and sweet, faintly flavored by the mint paste he had used to cleanse his teeth.

  So much better than ice cream.

  His tongue teased, licking deep, sparring lightly.

  Better than strawberries. Better than chocolate.

  Silk enjoyed being held, firm and insistent. He showed his strength even as they both enjoyed his weakness, his capitulation to the desire he felt for her.

  His hands left her face to move down and press her curves more fully against him. She eagerly pressed back, unable to get the position her body demanded in the confines of the vehicle’s seat. She would have thought a man from this dimension would be overwhelmed by her strength, her passion. Davis met her and matched her, move for move.

  Silk gasped as he pulled back only to plunge his face into the valley of her neck where he slowed to lick and nibble and taste until she thought she would drown as her body responded.

  Her hands threaded through his curls and she gasped as they were finally able to maneuver their hips intimately together. She felt his arousal and responded by wrapping her legs around him to cradle his heat right where she needed it most.

  Only layers of clothing prevented the mating of her body to his. And even through these layers, she could feel the evidence of his desire for their coupling.

  He was hot when she pulled his mouth back to hers. His kisses slightly salty from the perspiration they were generating from their actions. In contrast, the air felt cool on her skin as Davis pulled her shirt up to gain access for his hands. He slid them up either side of her torso and once again he surprised her. Because it wasn’t a hurried groping. It was a soft exploration. Soft and slow. It was a sexy appreciation. Sexy and trembling.

  She followed suit, her shaking hands slipping down to his taunt stomach where a streak of springy curls disappeared. As her fingers fumbled to unfasten the barrier keeping them apart, Davis froze.

  His hands left her before they could cup one aching breast. He jerked them down to stall her movements. His warm fingers curled around hers. For long moments, as their breathing slowed, neither spoke or moved.

  The rejection angered her all the more because she should have expected it.

  Davis shifted to reclaim his seat behind the wheel. Silk was left, disheveled and alone. She didn’t move. She allowed anger to settle in her gut. Its warmth replaced the heat he had started to build. Yes, she was alone. Yes, she was attracted to Davis. Why had he stopped?

  The answer was clear. He felt sorry for her. The story he had invented came between them worse than any restrictive earth clothing. He thought she was imbalanced. In denying their passions, he thought he was being noble.

  Cold fury replaced the anger, replaced the more heated emotions from moments before.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched you. I can’t…that won’t happen again.” The shakiness in his deep voice did nothing to calm her.

  “For once, we agree.”

  Davis, in the process of pulling the car back onto the roadway, paused in surprise at her vehement agreement. Apparently, he thought she would beg him to take her, weep for his kisses, pray for his embrace.

  Silk spoke with a steady voice. The trembling in her body subsided. “If you ever start what you do not intend to finish with me again, I will make it very difficult for you to enjoy such pleasures with anyone ever again.”

  Davis mashed on the gas in response, as if he needed to expel energy on something. The vehicle’s controls were easier to handle than the forbidden attraction between them.

  His mouth was swollen and heated from her kisses. Her wild response was still causing him to ache in places he was trying damn hard to ignore.

  Davis was a considerate lover. Controlled, patient, gentle, seductive. None of that had been necessary with Silk. They had come together with an elemental force that left him feeling shaken, and not a little bit insane, for putting on the brakes.

  She was a fantasy. All sweet lips and luscious curves blended with a passionate response that would overwhelm a jaded sex addict in three seconds flat.

  Davis was not a sex addict. Though he was beginning to wonder if he didn’t harbor some kind of dark addiction for a woman obviously teetering on the edge of insanity.

  She is mad. In more ways than one.

  He could feel the emotion in the stiffened form at his side. On the outside, she had smoothed her clothes and hair and appeared calm. He didn’t want to know why he was so in tune with her emotions. He could feel the heat of her anger simmering beneath the cool exterior.

  “We’re going to follow the lead Piper Jo gave you. Only because I think you’ll realize we’re on a fool’s errand. When you come to your senses, maybe we can figure out who’s after the cash and why. These are dangerous men we’re dealing with. They aren’t playing games. You have something they want and they don’t care if you have to die for them to get it. Until I learn more, we’ll have to suffer each other’s company.”

  Silk didn’t acknowledge his words in any way. It would be foolish to point out that he’d been far from suffering moments before. Foolish to illustrate that she was with him of her own
accord. He wouldn’t believe her if she told him that he was the one who would need to come to his senses before it was too late.

  The IL-Bah would be coming.

  She had seen them hunt and kill her whole life. They wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t hesitate. There was a cold savagery to their determination. They were flesh and blood machines and they’d been manufactured for one purpose.

  Death.

  She’d always thought of them as invulnerable. It had bothered her deep down even when she hadn’t been a target. Now? It left her with a feeling of desperation no JR should ever have to experience.

  She knew the days of her life were numbered. And Rule’s were as well whether he believed it or not.

  Chapter Seven

  The next day was rainy and Davis couldn’t blame it. If he’d had the ability to express himself with storm clouds, he would have. It was just that kind of day. The air turned cool as they drove to a higher elevation, but the coolness didn’t bring any crispness with it. It was a soggy scene outside the car’s windows. In the forest around the country lane, leaves sagged as the weight of a morning’s worth of moisture weighted them down.

  Damn.

  She was still mad. And he didn’t mean insane, although she was still that too. She hadn’t woken from a night’s sleep with the cobwebs of delusion dusted from her brain. What he meant was that she was still angry—like a hornet stirred from its nest. He’d been the stirrer. Had enjoyed the stirring more than he should have.

  The taste of her lips had followed him into his dreams until he’d awoken half crazy this morning himself. So nuts that he’d been tempted to toss aside reality long enough to taste those lips again.

  Thank God, the wet, cold weather and an icy shower had dispelled his momentary lunacy.

  They were on their way to an address provided by Piper Jo. It was one Davis didn’t recognize. And apparently, it was one that was going to be hard to find without a four-wheel drive.