Riptide

would light without having to hold a match to a
    burner."
    She smiled. She nearly had her breathing back to normal.
    "I had one of the two upstairs bathrooms redone, too," he said,
    looking straight ahead. They climbed the three deep steps to walk
    across the narrow veranda to the large white front door. He stuck a
    key in the lock and turned it. "My mom said that no woman wanted
    to bathe in a claw-footed tub that was so old rust was peeling off the
    toes."

"That does sound pretty gross. Oh my, Adam, it's lovely."
    They stood together in a large entryway, with a ceiling that
    soared two stories, a chandelier hanging down over their heads and
    a lovely buffed oak floor. "I know, you redid the floors. Your mom
    told you no woman would marry you if she had to be carried into
    a house across a mess of old ratty linoleum."
    "How did you know?"
    He'd preserved all the original charm of the house--the deeply
    carved, rich moldings, the high ceilings, the lovely cherry wood
    carved fireplaces, the incredible set-in windows.
    They prepared to hunker down in the library, a light-filled room
    with built-in bookshelves, beautiful oak floors, a big mahogany
    desk, and lots of red leather. She looked around at the bookshelves
    stuffed with all kinds of books--nonfiction, fiction, hardcovers,
    paperbacks--stuck in indiscriminately.
    Adam said as he handed her two folders, "My mom also told me
    that women liked to read all cozied up in deep chairs. It was just
    men, she said, who preferred to read in the bathroom."
    "You've even got women's fiction here."
    "Yeah, it seems a man can never stack the deck too much in his
    favor."
    "I want to meet your mama," Becca said.
    "Undoubtedly you will, real soon." Then he couldn't stand it.
    He walked to her and pulled her tightly against him. She looked up
    at him and said, "I want to forget Krimakov for just a minute."
    "All right."
    "Have I told you lately that I think you're really sexy?"
    He smiled slowly and kissed her lightly on the mouth. "Not
    since last night." She wrapped her arms around his neck, stood on
    her tiptoes, and kissed him back, thoroughly.

"I don't want you to forget it," she said after several minutes had
    passed. "You've gotten me a bit breathless. I really like it, Adam."
    "We're in my house now," he said, and this time he kissed her,
    really kissed her, no holding back, letting himself crash and burn,
    letting himself burrow into her. He brought her tightly against
    him, feeling all of her against him, and he wanted to jerk down her
    jeans, he wanted to devour her, take her until both of them shattered
    with the pleasure of it. He wanted to kiss her breasts, touch
    and kiss every inch of her, and not stop until he was unconscious.
    And then there was her mouth. Jesus, he was making himself crazy.
    It was so good he really didn't want to stop, and why should they
    stop?
    His hands were on the buttons of her jeans when he felt the
    change not only in himself but in her. It was Krimakov and he was
    there, just over their shoulders. Waiting. He was close, too close.
    Krimakov was out there, only it wasn't really Krimakov now. Whoever
    he was, he was a madman. Adam sighed, kissed her once more,
    then once again, and said, "I want you very much, but now, at this
    moment, we've got to solve this thing, Becca."
    "I know," she said when she could speak. "I'm getting myself
    back together. I'm getting myself focused now. You're quite a distraction,
    Adam, it's hard." She pulled away from him, stiffened her
    legs. "Okay, I'm ready to think again."
    'I promise there'll be more," he said, grabbing her and giving
    her one last kiss. "How about a lifetime full of more?"
    She gave him a dazzling smile. "Given that gorgeous modern
    kitchen and how I believe, without a doubt, that you're about the
    best kisser in the whole world, I think bunches of years might be a
    wonderful thing." Then she looked at his groin and he nearly expired
    on the spot.

"Good," he said finally, just a slight shiver in his voice, and she
    loved the way those dark eyes of his were brilliant with pleasure in
    the afternoon light shining in through the windows. "Now, let's do
    it."
    Two hours, three cups of coffee, a demolished plate of Wheat
    Thins and cheddar cheese later, Adam looked up. "I was going
    over my notes on Krimakov's travel out of Greece over the years.
    It's been here all the time, just staring up at me, and I didn't see it
    until now." He gave her a mad grin, jumped up, and gathered