Nora Roberts: Best Laid Plans

Her scent. He remembered watching her dab it on before dinner, absently, as an afterthought. It had faded as the night had worn on, and now it was no more than a whisper along her skin, and all the more intimate for that. He drew it in as he let his mouth glide over her throat and down to where her skin became impossibly soft, impossibly delicate.

Her hair. She had taken a brush through it quickly, impatiently. She was never fully satisfied with the way it looked. He thought it glorious. Now, as he combed a hand through it, he could luxuriate in the wildness of it. When she rolled over, stretching her body over his as if she couldn't get enough of him, her hair streamed over her shoulders and dipped to his.

Her lips. She had added color to them, worried it off, then replaced it. They were naked now, smooth as silk, soft as rain. He had only to touch his to them for them to part in welcome. If he asked more, she gave more.

Now, with him trapped beneath the tangle of her hair and her agile body, she took her mouth over him, giving him pleasure, seeking her own. There was an excitement in having the freedom to explore the man she loved. To touch him and feel him tremble. To taste him and hear him sigh.

The light in the hallway was still burning, so she could see him, the lean lines, the firm muscles. And his eyes. She could see his eyes as she brought her lips back to his. They were so dark, so completely focused on her.

She could sense something different but was unable to understand it. One moment he was impatient, almost brutal, in his loving. The next he held her, kissed her, as if she were precious and fragile. However his hands took, however his lips demanded, she belonged to him. Passions layered so tightly with emotions that she couldn't separate desire from love. There was no need to.

When he filled her, she found both.

It was later, much later, when she woke, disturbed by some sound or some dream. Murmuring, she shifted, reaching out-and found him gone.

"Cody?"

"I'm right here."

She saw him then, standing by the window. The end of his cigarette glowed red in the dark. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Can't sleep."

Sitting up, she pushed her hair away from her face. The sheet slid down to pool at her waist. "You can come back to bed. We don't have to sleep."

He laughed and tapped out his cigarette. "I never thought I'd meet a woman who could wear me out."

She threw a pillow at him. "Is that supposed to be a compliment?"

"Just an observation." He came over to sit on the side of the bed. "You're the best, Red." He wasn't talking about sex. Because she understood that, she smiled and fumbled for something to say.

"I'm glad you think so." As her eyes adjusted to the dark, she frowned. "You're dressed."

"I was going to go for a drive. I didn't know whether or not to wake you."

"Of course you should have. Where were you going?"

He took her hand, carefully, as though weighing it. "I have to see it, Abra. I might be able to get it out of my head for a few hours once I do."

Her fingers curled into his. "I'll go with you."

"You don't have to. It's late-early, I guess."

"I want to. Will you wait for me?"

"Sure." He brought her hand to his lips. "Thanks."

The air was cool and breathlessly clear. Overhead, the sky was a dark, calm sea pierced by stars. There was no traffic to dodge, only a long ribbon of road, banked first by houses and shops, then by nothing but acres of empty desert. With the windows down and the engine no more than a purr, Abra heard the lonesome call of a coyote.

"I've never driven through here at this time of night." Abra turned to look out the window at the distant buttes, which were no more than dark shadows rising and spreading. "It's so quiet. It makes you wonder."

"Wonder what?"

"That it's been this quiet, just this quiet, for centuries. I guess if we do it right it'll be just this quiet for centuries more."

"People in our business are supposed to see undeveloped land and think immediately of how it can be put to use."

She frowned a little and searched in her purse for a band or a string to tie back her hair. "Do you?"

He was silent for a moment, enjoying the drive, the quiet, the company. "There are places along the In-tracoastal where the brush is so dense you can't see beyond the first foot. It's not quiet, because it's as thick with life as it is with leaves. The waterway cuts through-that's man's contribution-but some things are meant to stay as they are."

She was smiling again as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "I like you, Johnson."

"Thanks, Wilson. I like you, too." He rested his arm on the back of the seat so that he could toy with the ends of her hair. "You said something before about the Barlow project being your last one with Thornway."

"Yeah. I've been thinking about it for a long time. After Tim took over I decided it was time to do more than think. I wish…" But it was no use wishing she had already cut her ties with the firm.

Because he understood, he massaged the tension at the back of her neck. "You got another offer?"

"No. I haven't exactly announced my resignation, but I'm not looking for another offer." She was afraid he would think her foolish, so she began to fiddle with the dial of the radio. Music poured out, as clear as the air. "I'm going to free-lance, maybe start up my own business. A small one." She shut off the radio and shot him a look. "I've been putting money aside for a while now, to see me through the rough spots."

"Do you want out on your own or do you just want a change of scene?''

She considered for a moment, then shook her head. "Both, I guess. I owe a lot to Thornway. Thornway senior," she explained. "He gave me a chance, let me prove myself. Over the past year or so, things have changed. I didn't know…never had any idea Tim was into something like this, but I was never comfortable with the way he did business." Her eyes were drawn to the east, where the sky was just beginning to lighten. "He always looked at the ledger sheets instead of the overall project, the payroll instead of the men who were earning the wage. Nobody goes into business without the idea of making money, but when it's the only thing…"

"When it's the only thing you end up in a situation like the one we're in now."

"I still can't believe it," she murmured. "I thought I knew him, but this- Cody, how can a man risk everything, everything he's been given, to please a woman?"

"I'd say he loves her, obviously more than he should."

"Maybe she loves him. Maybe all the jewelry, the cars and the cruises didn't matter."

He ran a finger down the back of her neck. "They mattered, Red. With a woman like that, they always matter. It's a safe bet that when all this hits Marci Thornway takes the high road."

"That's cruel. She's still his wife."

"Remember the night of the party? She was his wife then, too, but she invited me to… let's say she invited me to spend an afternoon with her."

"Oh." Whatever sympathy she had felt for Marci Thornway vanished. "You turned her down?"

"It wasn't a hardship. Besides, I had other things on my mind. In any case, I don't think we can dump the whole mess in Marci's lap. Tim wanted too much too soon. Maybe he'd been given too much all along. Apparently he's been going after success in all the wrong ways."

"He mentioned owing money to the wrong kind of people," Abra said.

"He wouldn't be the first businessman to make a connection with organized crime. He won't be the first to lose because of it. What's this?" As they approached the turnoff for the site, he spotted another car. It hesitated at the crossroads, then swept to the right and sped away.

"I don't know." Abra frowned at the receding tail-lights. "Probably kids. A lot of times construction sites end up as lovers' lanes."