Standing in the Shadows (McClouds & Friends #2)(28)

Oh, Christ, enough already. This wasn't a goddamn beauty contest. If he'd come here sporting his usual Clan of the Cave Bear hairdo, the airport National Guardsmen would've hauled him away before he even got in the door. Even decently groomed, dragging a beautiful, protesting young woman through an international airport was a delicate undertaking. The trick would be in that fateful split second that Erin caught sight of him.

He'd be lucky if she didn't scream.

He let his breath out slowly. He felt so damn nervous. He'd looked death in the face plenty of times and kept his cool, but one quiet, self-possessed girl scared him to death. Maybe he really was losing it. Interpol was dead sure that Novak was in Europe. Nick was convinced that Novak was no threat to Erin. Her mystery client checked out. There was no reason he could put his finger on to follow her around and hassle her. So why?

Fuck it. He just had to. It was one of those bone-deep feelings that could not be reasoned with. He shoved the Mueller papers into the glove compartment and got out of the car.

He could torture himself all day, and he would just keep limping along, following marching orders from an authority deep inside himself. His conscience, maybe. Davy and Sean called it his hero complex. He himself sometimes referred to it as dumber than shit, particularly when it almost got him killed.

It didn't really matter what it was called. Fact #1, he was doing a stupid, self-destructive thing that could prove to be dangerous, not to mention embarrassing. Fact #2, there wasn't a damn thing he could do to stop himself. Conclusion?

Go for it.

First he checked out the shuttle carousel in the luggage claim, to see who was waiting for Erin. Sure enough, a big, dark-haired, Spanish-looking guy in a uniform was holding a sign that read "Erin Riggs." Connor scanned the rest of the crowd. His plan would only work if Erin hadn't checked her luggage. Chances were good she just had a carry-on, but with women, you never knew.

And she wouldn't take kindly to being separated from her bag. Hell hath no fury like a woman deprived of her toiletries.

He took the escalator back up. There was a quivery feeling in his belly. He glanced at his watch. Eight minutes. He sauntered over to the Coffee People booth in the mall, bought a cup, drank it down faster than he should. He fingered the bag of tobacco in his pocket. He should have had the presence of mind to have a quick smoke outside. Damn smoke-free environments.

Three more minutes to wait. Coffee had been a big mistake. He studied the people around him. A woman with a baby and a four-year-old boy jumping up and down, waiting for his dad to come home. An elderly couple, their faces creased with smiles as they waited for their grandkids. Finally, the shuttle passengers started trickling out. One minute… two… and there she was, dressed in a deep green suit. Hair swept up, gleaming. Gold earrings dangled beneath her ears. She looked so gorgeous, he wanted to kick himself for not at least attempting to iron the shirt. It wouldn't have killed him to try.

Too late for regrets. She was wheeling a carry-on suitcase behind her, thank God. Time to put his half-assed plan into action.

His heart slammed against his ribs like a jackhammer as she came through the gate. She still hadn't caught sight of him. He chose a diagonal collision course that brought him right up behind her, and grabbed her arm. "Hey, sweetheart."

She spun around. He took full advantage of her shocked confusion and yanked her closer, staring down into wide, startled gold-brown eyes. Her mouth was moist with tinted lip gloss, hanging open in adorable confusion.

"Good to see you again, babe." He scooped her close and tight against his body, and kissed her.

She stiffened, latching onto his upper arms for balance. She made a soft, frightened sound against his mouth.

He deepened the kiss, sliding his arm to the deep flare of her hip, splaying his hand over her beautiful ass. He hadn't planned on kissing her. The impulse had sneaked up on him, but it was perfect. Inspired. It all looked like lovers' play, and that soft, luscious mouth of hers was too busy to complain.

Then her scent rose up around him, like a hot pink cloud, and his mind went blank. It was spring-like and tangy and sweet. Intensely female. A secret weapon that he was unprepared for. He wanted to gasp in huge, gulping lungfuls of it, like a man who'd been trapped underwater and had finally reached air.

Her scent blended with her taste, just as silky sweet, and a confusion of soft, unbelievable textures, the yielding tenderness of her lips, the satiny wisps of hair at the nape of her neck, her baby-smooth skin. His senses were overwhelmed.

She vibrated in his arms, a delicate tremor like a trapped bird. He forgot about Novak, about the airport, about the National Guardsmen. He forgot everything but his own desperate, clawing need to coax her mouth to open, to taste more of her.

She flung her head back, gasping for air. A stain of wild-rose pink was burned into her cheeks, startling against the delicate gold tone of her skin. Her pupils were black wells ringed with jewel-toned agate brown. Sunset, honey, and chocolate. Her dark, curling lashes fluttered with dazed confusion.

She licked her lips. "Connor? What… what are you—"

He shifted to keep her off balance and slanted his mouth across her lips again. He slid his hand down her graceful spine and pressed her against his lower body as he cupped the nape of her neck. He dove deep into one of those waves-crashing-on-the-beach kisses, sweet and devouring and desperate. When he finally released her, he was trembling harder than she was.