Page 19 of Conner's Choice
“Elizabeth Warner is here, Mr. O’Donnell,” she announced.
“Thank you, Sherri.” Conner rose from behind his desk, and his eyes filled with pleasure at seeing her.
“Shall I order dinner for you before I leave for the evening?” Sherri asked.
Conner’s eyes never left Elizabeth’s as he replied, “No, not tonight.”
“Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When they were alone, Conner had to resist pulling Elizabeth into his arms. Controlling himself, he handed her a small box. “Here’s the burner you wanted. My number is already programmed into it.”
Elizabeth examined the cell phone and dropped it into her purse. “Thank you. Has there been any news?”
“No. But I have something else to give you. Surfer sent the trackers. They arrived today.”
He handed her another small box, and she flicked it open. As she stared at a pair of small gold hoop earrings, she was suddenly assailed by a memory burned deep in her subconscious because, at the time, it didn’t bear any significance—Lexi scrambling around the shop searching for her lost earring. A small gold hoop earring. Like the one she found in Kevin’s pants pocket. Elizabeth’s head swam, and her vision grew blurry. She was on the verge of passing out as all the color drained from her face. She swayed unsteadily on her feet.
Concerned by her reaction, Conner grabbed her arm and took the box from her trembling hands before she dropped it. “Elizabeth, what is it? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
To her utter shame, Elizabeth burst into a flood of hot, bitter tears—tears of humiliation and degradation. Lexi slept with Kevin! Someone she considered a close friend. Oh, God! God! She couldn’t bear this. Burying her head against Conner’s broad chest, she sobbed heartbrokenly.
His arms went around her shaking body, drawing her closer to him, and his breath caught in his throat as her heat seeped into him. One hand traveled up and down her back in a comforting gesture while the other slipped beneath her hair to caress her neck. Conner lowered his head until his mouth touched her delicate ear and he whispered, “Elizabeth, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
The sound of his voice, the warmth of his hard body pressed against hers, and the touch of his hands penetrated her senses, and she lifted her head. Their eyes met, locked, and held. Elizabeth gripped the lapels of his suit. Her eyes, dark and stormy, implored him to take her mouth with his. His gaze focused on her bottom lip, and he couldn’t resist tasting her. Conner’s hands cupped her face, and he wiped away her tears with his thumbs before he covered her mouth in a sweet, hot kiss.
The moment their lips met and molded to each other, the moment Conner drew Elizabeth’s tongue into his mouth, they felt the rush—the rolling ball of thunder Frankie Valli sang about in his classic song “Oh, What a Night, December 1963.” Liquid fire warmed Elizabeth’s blood while Conner grew painfully hard, evidence of his arousal pressing against her thighs’ apex. He walked her backward, lowered her onto the sofa, and shrugged off his jacket. One hand traveled along her rib cage, brushed against the swell of her breast, and rested on the curve of her hip. His mouth left hers to trail gentle kisses down her neck. Again, she felt Conner’s erection pressing urgently against her and let out a strangled cry.
“Conner!” she sobbed. “Oh, God, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve turned a man on? Please, please let me touch you. I need to touch you.”
For an answer, and knowing madness possessed him, Conner unfastened his pants and guided her hand inside his boxers, groaning low in his throat the moment she touched him. As he glided her hand along his pulsating length, Conner kissed her hard, his tongue plunging into her mouth again and again, his heart racing a marathon in his chest. When he could no longer stand the sweet torture, when he felt himself ready to explode in her hand, Conner broke the kiss and pulled away from her, growling, “Enough, Elizabeth! I’m about to embarrass myself.”
He rose to his feet and adjusted his clothing, trying to quell his passion.
Elizabeth gazed at Conner with lazy sensuality and murmured, “You’re fantastic. Absolutely incredible.”
Conner chuckled. “Thanks for, um, stroking my ego.” He helped Elizabeth to her feet and swept her into his arms, kissing her relentlessly. She was too damn beautiful to resist.
When the kiss ended a few minutes later, he brushed his thumb along her bottom lip and asked softly, “Why did you start to cry, Elizabeth?”
Tears burned anew in her eyes. “Lexi. She slept with Kevin. It was her earring I found in his pants. I had forgotten I caught her looking for it in the shop and didn’t make the connection until I saw the ones Surfer sent. I can’t believe it, Conner. Lexi is my friend. I trusted her. And she slept with my husband. I’m so sick of being humiliated.” She angrily brushed her tears away. “I’m ready, Conner. Damn the proof of adultery. I want to file for a divorce. Let’s do this. I’ll claim irreconcilable differences.”
“I understand how you feel, Elizabeth, but this situation calls for prudence.”
“Do you, Conner? Understand how I feel?” she tossed. “Have you ever been degraded like this?”
He shook his head. “No. I was engaged until about a year ago. Melissa and I grew apart. Maybe I waited too long to ask her to marry me, or maybe she wasn’t the one. Who knows? But I still think we should stick to our original plan.” Conner reached for the earrings. “Here. Put these on. Surfer needs to know where you are at all times.”
After she dropped her pearl studs into her purse and slipped the gold hoop earrings onto her ears, Conner showed Elizabeth the tie clip Surfer chose for him.
“It’s classy,” she commented, clipping it to his tie. “So, tell me, has Hughes gotten a report back on the diamonds yet?”
“No, but it shouldn’t be too much longer.” Conner paused as he studied her face, her lips bruised and passionately swollen. “Are you hungry? We could go to our diner.”
“Okay.”
Tucked away ina cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, two red blinking dots appeared on Surfer’s computer screen. “So, there you are,” he murmured. “Hello, Elizabeth and Con-Man.”
Frustration and tension commingled in Surfer’s gut in equal measure. For hours, he’d been scouring sources trying to discover the identity of Kevin Warner’s biological mother without any success. Pulling his birth certificate proved useless because the name of the woman listed on it had died in the 1920s. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to replace Warner’s birth certificate with a forgery, presumably his father. With Warner, Sr.’s connections in the military, it was certainly doable. Unable to find a relationship between Kevin Warner and Ray Farmer prior to their current lawyer-client one, Surfer acted on his intuition and searched for Farmer’s birth certificate. To his consternation, he discovered the name of another long-dead woman identified as Farmer’s biological mother. Then, the truth hit him like a sledgehammer.
