Hell on Heels Page 11

  She felt his touch even after he pulled his hand away and leaned down to retrieve his attaché case. She couldn’t remember Luke ever touching her before, although she knew he had at one time or another. There was no explaining the electric currents his touch had shot through her.

  Crazy, she thought as they prepared to leave the plane. She dismissed the moment from her mind as they entered the small Tamillo airport and headed for the baggage area.

  “I thought I’d go ahead and rent a car from here,” she said as they waited for the bags to appear on the conveyor belt.

  He shook his head. “They won’t have what we need here. We’ll find a place to rent once we get settled into the hotel. I want something with both speed and off-road capabilities.”

  “Okay,” she agreed easily. “Then we’ll take a taxi from here to the hotel.” She grabbed one of her large suitcases from the conveyor belt.

  “Is that it?” he asked and grabbed a small black duffel bag.

  “There’s one more,” she said.

  He frowned and looked at the size of her suitcase. “How long were you planning on staying?”

  “A week or so.”

  “Don’t believe in traveling light?” he asked dryly.

  She didn’t reply as her second large suitcase appeared. She pulled it from the conveyor belt then looked around to find a Skycap to help her with the luggage.

  Luke handed her his duffel, then grimaced and picked up her two suitcases and headed for the airport exit.

  Chantal hurried after him, deciding that even though she found him arrogant and underhanded in his dealings, he was at least handy when it came to grunt work.

  Within minutes they were in a taxi and headed for the hotel. Chantal rolled down her window and looked out with interest.

  The streets of Tamillo were narrow and cobblestoned and lined with white adobe homes, each sporting a red tile roof and flower-laden wrought-iron balconies.

  Hot, humid air, scented with the fragrance of the Gulf and the flowers that seemed to be everywhere, drifted into the cab through her open window.

  “Nice. You ever been here before?” Luke asked from beside her.

  “Never. I’ve been to Acapulco and Puerto Vallerta, but never here. It’s much smaller than I’d expected.”

  “That definitely works to our advantage,” he said. “According to my research there are only four five-star hotels and maybe half a dozen clubs where somebody like Willowby would hang out. We should be able to check everything out within a week easily.”

  She nodded her agreement. If Willowby was here in Tamillo, surely within a week they could sniff out his scent. As much as she didn’t particularly want to work with Luke and definitely wasn’t thrilled about their cover as newlyweds, she reluctantly admitted that he was right about this being a two-man job.

  She glanced over at him once again. At least she didn’t have to worry about becoming intimately involved with him. With his long hair, worn jeans and floral shirt he looked like a nightmare tourist from the seventies. Definitely not her type.

  It was just after four when the taxi pulled up in front of the Hacienda Hotel, a luxury high-rise structure on the shore of a sandy beach.

  A middle-aged man clad in a crisp red uniform greeted them as he loaded their luggage on a brass carrier. Together Chantal and Luke headed inside for the check-in desk.

  The lobby whispered of elegance and Chantal immediately felt at home. If she couldn’t be in her own house then a five-star hotel was the next best thing.

  Although the reservation Harrah had made was in Chantal’s name, Luke paid for the room with his credit card and registered them as Mr. and Mrs. Luke Kelly.

  He took one of the two keys provided, then grinned at her. “I’ll be back in a little while. Prepare to be amazed.”

  “Whatever,” she replied. She watched him head back toward the front door, noting the confident set of his shoulders.

  She immediately dismissed Luke Coleman from her mind as she took an elevator to her room on the fifteenth floor. The bellman followed just behind her with the luggage.

  Within minutes she was in her room alone, having tipped the bellman and sent him on his way. She looked around, pleased that the tense knots that had formed in her stomach at Luke’s appearance had relaxed when he’d disappeared.

  The room was sumptuous, large and airy and furnished with oversized furniture in dark wood with black wrought-iron trim. The bed was a king-size with a massive wrought-iron headboard. A table and four chairs graced one corner of the room.

  Chantal placed one of her suitcases on the bed, but before she began the task of unpacking, she went to the French doors, opened them and stepped out on the balcony.

  The scene before her nearly stole her breath away. White sandy beach and sparkling blue water stretched seemingly endlessly before her.

  People sprawled beneath colorful umbrellas, frolicked in the waves and lounged on oversized towels. She moved closer to the edge of the balcony and stared at the people below.

  Right at this very moment it was possible Marcus Willowby was tucked into a swim suit and chatting up his next potential victim. She hoped they could find him before he added another rape to his list.

  She walked back into the room and thought about calling Belinda, but rejected the idea. She’d called her friend that morning to tell her that the next time she spoke to her it would be to tell her that Willowby was in custody. There was no point in calling her again right now.

  Instead she focused on the task of unpacking. The first suitcase yielded her handcuffs, which she set on the nightstand while she finished removing and hanging her clothing.

  Because of the rigid security standards she hadn’t packed her gun and hoped they could get Willowby in hand without the need for a weapon.

  Although she’d agreed to Luke’s plan where their cover was concerned, she had no intention of allowing him to run the show fully.

  That was the problem with men, she thought as she began to unpack her second suitcase. They all had major control issues. That had been what had ended each and every relationship she’d had: the man’s need to control her.

  That wasn’t going to happen with Luke. She’d make sure he understood that just because she’d agreed to work with him didn’t mean he got to be boss. They were partners, and that meant fifty-fifty. She’d play nice as long as he played nice as well.

  She finished her unpacking, then went into the bathroom and stared at the Jacuzzi tub with longing. She’d love a long, hot soak, but didn’t want to take time for such a luxury.

  She caught her reflection in the mirror and frowned. Was it even remotely possible that Willowby would recognize her?

  She supposed it was conceivable. Maybe she should change her hair color, go darker. She could pick up a temporary color and do it herself. Surely she could find a nearby drug store or market and buy a box of transformation.

  She left the bathroom and once again wandered back to the balcony and stared out at the beach below. It was possible this trip was a waste of time, that Willowby was not even in Mexico. There were a million places a man like Marcus could run to to escape facing the sentence the jury had handed down.

  But her gut instinct told her he was here, that he would have escaped to a place he knew, a place where he’d been before, a place where he felt safe.

  Tamillo held all the ingredients that would make it a haven for the escaped criminal. First and foremost because he’d traveled here in the past there would be a familiarity for him here. The exciting nightlife would draw him, the upscale living would please him and the scantily clad women on the beach would tempt him.

  This place made sense more than any other place on earth and she knew in her gut he was here, it was just a matter of finding him.

  Luke had said on the plane that he had the feeling that she was taking this case too personally. She’d protested his assessment at the time, but the truth was she took it very personally.

  Whenever she
thought about what Marcus had done to Belinda, it made her sick. It would have been better had Belinda been one of his drugged victims, if she’d awakened the next morning with no memory of the violation that had taken place. Of course, it would have been better if the crime had never taken place in any shape or form.

  But it had, and Chantal wanted to be the one to bring the bastard in. She needed to do this for Belinda. It might prove to be the one thing that would save Belinda’s life. It might be the one thing that would get Belinda off the pills, off the booze and back to living a happy, productive life.

  Her thoughts turned back to Luke. It was strange. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him when it came to their work, but she trusted him enough to share a room, share the intimate spaces of a bed with him.

  She wasn’t at all convinced that he wouldn’t use her to get close to Willowby, make the collar himself then leave her high and dry. But, she instinctively knew she could trust him with her personal safety.

  She didn’t know how long she stood on the balcony, thinking about Luke, about Willowby and about how to catch a narcissistic rapist when she heard the hotel-room door open then close.

  She left the balcony and took only two steps into the room before stopping, frozen in stunned surprise. Luke stood just inside the door, but it wasn’t the Luke Coleman who had left over an hour before.

  His long hair was gone, replaced by a short, stylish cut that emphasized his starkly handsome features. He was clad in beige linen slacks and a beige-and-pale-green shirt that fitted across his broad shoulders as if it had been tailor-made. He looked ruggedly elegant and unbelievably hot.

  “Hi, honey, I’m home,” he said and smiled that grin that instantly retied the knots of tension in the pit of her stomach. He dropped a large shopping bag on the floor.

  It was at that moment that Chantal recognized what exactly it was that always caused her tension whenever he was around. Lust. It roared through her with a force that threatened to knock her right off her feet.

  “Bagels from Benny’s, Times Square, scented candles.” Her mantra sprang to her lips unbidden.

  “Excuse me?” He sauntered toward her, a confident smile on lips she’d never noticed were quite so full, quite so…so…hot-looking.

  “Nothing,” she exclaimed.

  “So, what do you think?” He stopped just in front of her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, see the flecks of silver in his dark eyes. “Do I meet your standards?”

  Her stomach fluttered and her heartbeat revved up as the full extent of her desire filled her. “You’ll do,” she managed to reply, then swallowed hard once…twice in an attempt to gain control.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking.” He took one last step toward her, his chest mere inches from hers. He reached up and stroked a hand through her hair, down her cheek, then his fingers lingered on the curve of her jaw. “I was thinking if we really want to pull off this newlywed stuff, maybe we should practice a little.”

  Even as she recognized that she wanted him, she wasn’t mindless enough to follow through on it, and, in truth, she was suspicious of his motives.

  “Practice? Just what do you have in mind, Mr. Kelly?” She tried to keep her voice light, even though her blood thundered in her veins and her suspicion of him grew.

  What was his game? Other than telling her she had a nice ass, he’d never shown any kind of a personal interest in her before.

  Was this some sort of control thing? Maybe he figured that if he could get her into bed then she would be more malleable as a partner.

  He wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her close against him. “I was thinking that if I’m going to play your groom then I should know what you taste like right here.” He dipped his head and pressed his lips against the hollow of her throat.

  His mouth was hot and under any other circumstance Chantal would have followed where he led, but the truth was she didn’t trust Luke Coleman and she sure as hell wasn’t going to tumble into his bed.

  And that might just be a damn shame, she thought, because he definitely knew how to use his lips on her neck and she could easily imagine how those lips would feel on other areas of her body.

  Despite the fact that he knew how to kiss a neck and Chantal’s neck had always been particularly sensitive to a man’s lips, she fought against the sensations his lips evoked.

  She pushed away from him and moved toward the side of the bed. “If you really want to practice playing newlyweds, maybe we should get into bed.” She gave him a come-hither look, all the while wondering how far he’d push this particular game.

  She had her answer when he kicked off his loafers and quickly stretched out on the bed. He lay down on his back, then opened his arms as if to welcome her.

  Apparently if she allowed it he’d take it all the way. But she had no intention of allowing it.

  She moved to the side of the bed and with one hand unbuttoned the first button on her blouse. He stared at her, a hint of hunger darkening his eyes.

  For just a brief moment she wondered what it would be like to have sex with Luke? She had a feeling he’d be good at sex, that he’d be the kind of man who knew not only how to take pleasure, but to give it as well.

  As she unfastened the second button of her blouse, with her other hand she reached behind her and grabbed her handcuffs off the nightstand.

  With one smooth movement she leaned over him, cuffed his wrist, then yanked his arm up to snap the other cuff over the wrought-iron headboard. She wanted to crow with success as she realized that for the first time her cuffs had locked tight.

  As he bolted upright, she jumped back from the side of the bed. “Does this mean you’re into kinky stuff?” he asked, his eyes now glittering with just a touch of danger.

  “No, it means I’m not into playing newlywed with you. Oh, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m no longer handcuff-challenged.”

  “Point taken, now unlock the cuffs.” Although his voice remained deceptively smooth and calm, she noticed that muscle ticking in his jaw.

  “I’m heading down to the bar for a drink and I’m going to scout out the hotel a bit. I shouldn’t be too long.” She grabbed her purse from the dresser and headed toward the door.

  “Chantal.” She paused at the door and turned to look at him. He grinned. “Just keep in mind that payback is a bitch.”

  Chapter 9

  Chantal supposed she should be worried about Luke’s threat, but she was too busy celebrating her success with the cuffs to worry too much.

  She figured she’d go to the bar, have a quick drink then go back to the room and release him. No harm. No foul. She knew she should also feel guilty about what she’d done, but she didn’t.

  He’d deserved it. There was no way she’d believe that he hadn’t had some sort of ulterior motive in trying to get her into bed. Maybe he thought he’d blow her away with his lovemaking and she’d become a mewling, passive partner he could take advantage of.

  No way. No how.

  She’d probably pay for her little bit of fun, but the shocked expression on his face when she’d snapped the cuff onto the headboard had been worth whatever the consequence.

  As she headed toward the hotel bar she recognized that it was going to be difficult sharing her space with Luke. When she’d initially agreed to his plan she hadn’t really thought it all through, hadn’t really considered that the plan meant they’d share the same room, share the same bathroom…the same bed.

  At the time she’d agreed she hadn’t recognized that there was some perverse part of her that was drawn to him on a physical level. Jeez, when he’d walked through that door, every hormone in her body had jumped to life.

  If he thought his little act of seduction would make sharing a room with her easier, he’d definitely miscalculated. As hot as she thought he looked with his new haircut and clothes, she wasn’t about to muddle up this tenuous partnership by having sex with him.

  The lounge
in the Hacienda Hotel was called the Sombrero. A long polished wooden bar ran the width of the room and behind that bar the wall was decorated with a variety of fancy, glittering, sequin-spotted Mexican hats.

  Several couples were seated at the tables but Chantal headed for one of the empty barstools. She hoped the bartender, an attractive Hispanic young man, spoke some English, for her Spanish was rusty at best.

  “Good evening, señorita,” he greeted her with a diamond-bright smile. “What can I get for such a pretty lady?”

  Belinda would slather this dark-eyed, dark-haired man on a cracker and eat him right up, she thought as she remembered the fundraiser at the Kansas City Club. “How about a margarita and a little information?” she replied.

  “What kind of information?” he asked a moment later as he placed the drink on a napkin in front of her.

  Chantal opened her purse and took out a small picture of Marcus Willowby. She’d gotten the photo from Rebecca Willowby and it showed the young man standing on a porch, the sun sparking off his blond hair.

  “I’m looking for an old college friend of my husband’s,” she said. “We heard he was down here in Tamillo and thought we would look him up while we were here.” She slid the photo toward the bartender. “Have you seen him around here?”

  The bartender, who wore a nametag that identified him as Carlos, picked up the photo and looked at it. “I’m not so good with names, but I never forget a face,” he said, then shook his head. “Nah, I’ve never seen him before.” He handed her back the photo.

  She hadn’t expected it to be easy. She tucked the photo back into her purse then asked Carlos about the location of the nearest drug or discount store.

  She’d decided to color her hair. She didn’t want to take any chances that Willowby might recognize her if they ran into him.

  He’d just answered her when two hands fell on her shoulders. She stiffened, then turned to see Luke and jumped out of her seat to face him.