her weakened limbs to move. Before she could escape, he wound a hand roughly through her hair and drew her lips to his, scorching them in one last, taunting kiss. She sagged against him as his mouth sapped her of the desire to do anything but draw his hot, powerful erection into her again.
As she was about to wrap her arms about his broad shoulders and drag him back down to blanket her—to put to lovely use that remaining condom—he whispered huskily against her lips, “Let me get this straight. Your bottom line is, you found out what you wanted to know. Now we move on?”
She pulled back and studied his face. He was regarding her with dark, earnest eyes.
She looked away unhappily, then struggled to her feet. “That’s about it.”
Lucas scooped up his slacks and stood, also. “I see,” he said. “There’s just one thing.”
Jess had plucked up her robe and was searching for the armhole, but his ominous tone stilled her movement. “What?” she asked.
“Some people might say that’s a little cold-blooded,” he softly rebuked.
His quiet censure unstrung her, and she countered defensively, “Oh? Well, why don’t we ask Mary Anne Brown her opinion of you?”
His eyes flashed with anger, but a tentative knock at the door shattered any further debate. Horrified at the thought that someone might find her in such a compromising position, Jess fumbled nervously and dropped her robe.
He frowned, snatched up her robe and tossed it at her as he called out, “Who is it?”
“Maxim, sir,” came the hushed reply.
“What is it, Maxim?” Lucas asked. He struggled into his slacks as he motioned for Jess to get behind the door. When he’d thrown on his shirt, he pulled the door open. Jess cowered, not daring to breathe. “What could be so important at this time of night?” he asked, sounding more weary than angry.
“Sir,” Maxim began, then paused, coughing as though embarrassed, and began again, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there was a call on the house phone for Mrs. Glen, and…” He paused again. “She doesn’t seem to be in her room.”
“Thank you, Maxim,” Lucas said. “I’ll handle it.”
When the door was closed, Jess finished putting on her robe, whispering fearfully, “Do you think he suspected?”
Lucas’s expression turned cynical. “I don’t know. Maybe he thinks I caught my shirt on the computer keyboard.”
Jess scanned the dress shirt he’d tossed on. One lone button dangled from it. She cringed to think how he must have looked to his butler—with his torn shirt, its tail out, and his belt undone. She had to admit he didn’t look much like a man who had been quietly occupied working on a computer program! “Oh, Lord,” she moaned. “He knows. He must have heard us!”
“Maxim doesn’t gossip,” Lucas assured her tersely as he headed to his desk. Pressing a button, he lifted the receiver. “This is Lucas Brand. May I help you?”
In the waiting silence, Jess cinched her robe belt tightly and padded over to the desk. She watched Lucas’s expression change from angry to perplexed. “Yes, I understand. I’ll tell her.” He hung up.
“What is it? Didn’t they want to talk to me?” she asked, worry coiling along her spine.
He turned to face her, his expression troubled. “Get dressed,” he said, an unspoken question clouding his eyes. “That was the police. It seems they have your mother in custody.”
THOUGH JESS HAD INSISTED that Lucas absolutely not take her, he refused to wake Jerry, and was emphatic about driving. His Ferrari was too small, so he grabbed up keys for a BMW sedan and practically shoved her inside while she protested vigorously. How humiliating for him to see her mother, Mamie Ritter, having one of her attacks of premature senility, claiming she was Mamie Eisenhower, first lady of the land. Now, huddled in the car with her mother who was going on and on about some imaginary dinner party, she watched Lucas’s profile as he headed away from the precinct station.
“Straighten your shoulders, Jessica,” Mamie scolded. “How many times have I told you? And what sort of costume is that? Jeans? After all your father and I’ve said about such plebeian attire? Gracious sakes, the president’s daughter should remember her image.” She sighed theatrically. “Mr. Brand, do explain to Jessica about first impressions. A man of your stature in the community. Perhaps she would listen to you.”
Jess chewed the inside of her cheek and stared out the windshield. Heaven only knew what Lucas was thinking. She shuddered,