by Diana Palmer
“We both were.” He cupped her face in his hands and lifted it to his quiet eyes. “For what it’s worth, I never meant it to go further than a kiss. A very chaste kiss, at that.” His eyes drifted down involuntarily to the soft thrust of her breasts almost touching his shirt. He raised an eyebrow at the obvious points. “That’s why it wasn’t chaste.”
She didn’t understand. “What is?”
He looked absolutely exasperated. “How can you be that old and know nothing?” he asked. He glanced over her shoulder at Stevie, who was facing the other way and giving the punching bag hell. He took Sally’s own finger and drew it across her taut breast. He looked straight into her eyes as he said softly, “That’s why.”
She realized that it must have something to do with being aroused, but no one had ever told her blatantly that it was a visible sign of desire. She went scarlet.
“You greenhorn,” he murmured indulgently. “What a babe in arms.”
“I don’t read those sort of books,” she said haughtily.
“You should. In fact, I’ll buy you a set of them. Maybe a few videos, too,” he murmured absently, watching the expressions come and go on her face.
“You varmint...!”
He caught her top lip in both of his and ran his tongue lazily under it. She stiffened, but her hands were clinging to him, not pushing.
“You remember that, don’t you, Sally?” he murmured with a smile. “Do you remember what comes next?”
She jerked back from him, staggering. Her eyes found Stevie, still oblivious to the adults.
Eb’s eyes were blatant on the thrust of her breasts and he was smiling.
She crossed her arms over her chest and glared up at him. “You just stop that,” she gritted. “I’ll bet you weren’t born knowing everything!”
He chuckled. “No, I wasn’t. But I didn’t have a mother to keep my nose clean, either,” he said. “My old man was military down to his toenails, and he didn’t believe in gentle handling or delicacy. He used women until the day he died.” He laughed coldly. “He told me that there was no such thing as a good woman, that they were to be enjoyed and put aside.”
She was appalled. “Didn’t he love your mother?”
“He wanted her, and she wouldn’t be with him until they got married,” he said simply. “So they got married. She died having me. They were living in a small town outside the military base where he was stationed. He was overseas on assignment and she lived alone, isolated. She went into labor and there were complications. There was nothing that could have been done for her by the time she was found. If a neighbor hadn’t come to look in on us, I’d have died with her.”
“It must have been a shock for your father,” she said.
“If it was, it never showed. He left me with a cousin until I was old enough to obey orders, then I went to live with him. I learned a lot from him, but he wasn’t a loving man.” His eyes narrowed on her soft face. “I followed his example and joined the army. I was lucky enough to get into the Green Berets. Then when I was due for discharge, a man approached me about a top secret assignment and told me what it would pay.” He shrugged. “Money is a great temptation for a young man with a domineering father. I said yes and he never spoke to me again. He said that what I was doing was a perversion of the military, and that I wasn’t fit to be any officer’s son. He disowned me on the spot. I didn’t hear from him again. A few years later, I got a letter from his post commander, stating that he’d died in combat. He had a military funeral with full honors.”
The pain of those years was in his lean, hard face. Impulsively she put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry,” she told him quietly. “He must have been the sort of man who only sees one side of any argument.”
He was surprised by her compassion. “Don’t you think mercenaries are evil, Miss Purity?” he asked sarcastically.
CHAPTER THREE
SALLY LOOKED UP into pain-laced green eyes and without thinking, she lifted her hand from his arm and raised it toward his hard cheek. But when she realized what she was doing, she drew it back at once.
“No, I don’t think mercenaries are evil,” she said quickly, embarrassed by the impulsive gesture that, thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. “There are a lot of countries where atrocities are committed, whose governments don’t have the manpower or resources to protect their people. So, someone else gets hired to do it. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, when there’s a legitimate cause.”
He was surprised by her matter-of-fact manner. He’d wondered for years how she might react when she learned about what he did for a living. He’d expected everything from revulsion to shock, especially when he remembered how his former fiancée had reacted to the news. But Sally wasn’t squeamish or judgmental.
He’d seen her hand jerk back and it had wounded him. But now, on hearing her opinion of his work, his heart lifted. “I didn’t expect you to credit me with noble motives.”
“They are, though, aren’t they?” she asked confidently.
“As a matter of fact, in my case, they are,” he replied. “Even in my green days, I never did it just for the money. I had to believe in what I was risking my life for.”
She grinned. “I thought maybe it was like on television,” she confessed. “But Jess said it was nothing like fiction.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he mused. “Parts of it are.”
“Such as?”
“We had a guy like B.A. Barrabas in one unit I led,” he said. “We really did have to knock him out to get him on a plane. But he quit the group before we got inventive.”
She laughed. “Too bad. You’d have had plenty of stories to tell about him.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying her.
“Do I have a zit on my nose?” she asked pleasantly.
He reached out and caught the hand she’d started to lift toward him earlier and kissed its soft palm. “Let’s get to work,” he said, pulling her along to the mat. “I’ll change into my sweats and we’ll cover the basics. We won’t have a lot of time,” he added dryly. “I expect Jess to call very soon with an ultimatum about Dallas.”
* * *
JESS AND DALLAS had squared off, in fact, the minute they heard the truck crank and pull out of the yard.
Dallas glared at her from his superior height, leaning heavily on his cane. He wished she could see him, because his eyes were full of anger and bitterness.
“Did you think I wouldn’t see that Stevie is the living image of me? My son,” he growled at her. “You had my son! And you lied to me about it and wouldn’t ask Hank for a divorce!”
“I couldn’t!” she exclaimed. “For heaven’s sake, he adored me. He’d never have cheated on me. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I’d had an affair with his best friend!”
“I could have told him,” he returned furiously. “He was no angel, Jess, despite the wings you’re trying to paint on him. Or do you think he never strayed on those overseas jaunts?” he chided.
She stiffened. “That’s not true!”
“It is true!” he replied angrily. “He knew he couldn’t get anybody pregnant, and he was sure you’d never find out.”
She put a hand to her head. She’d never dreamed that Hank had cheated on her. She’d felt so guilty, when all the time, he was doing the same thing—and then judging her brutally for what she’d done. “I didn’t know,” she said miserably.
“Would it have made a difference?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it would have.” She smoothed the dress over her legs. “You thought Stevie was yours from the beginning, didn’t you?”
“No. I didn’t know Hank was sterile until later on. You told me the child was Hank’s and I believed you. Hell, by then, I couldn’t even be sure that it was his.”
“You didn’t think—” She stopped abruptly. “O
h, dear God, you thought you were one in a line?” she exploded, horrified. “You thought I ran around on Hank with any man who asked me?”
“I knew very little about you except that you knocked me sideways,” he said flatly. “I knew Hank ran around on you. I assumed you were allowed the same freedom.” He turned away and walked to the window, staring out at the flat horizon. “I asked you to divorce Hank just to see what you’d say. It was exactly what I expected. You had it made—a husband who tolerated your unfaithfulness, and no danger of falling in love.”
“I thought I had a good marriage until you came along,” she said bitterly.
He turned, his eyes blazing. “Don’t make it sound cheap, Jess,” he said harshly. “Neither of us could stop that night. Neither of us tried.”
She put her face in her hands and shivered. The memory of how it had been could still reduce her to tears. She’d been in love for the first time in her life, but not with her husband. This man had haunted her ever since. Stevie was the mirror image of him.
“I was so ashamed,” she choked. “I betrayed Hank. I betrayed everything I believed in about loyalty and duty and honor. I felt like a Saturday night special at the bordello afterward.”
He scowled. “I never treated you that way,” he said harshly.
“Of course you didn’t!” she said miserably, wiping at tears. “But I was raised to believe that people got married and never cheated on each other. I was a virgin when I married Hank, and nobody in my whole family was ever divorced until Sally’s father, my brother, was.” She shook her head, oblivious to the expression that washed over Dallas’s hard, lean face. “My parents were happily married for fifty years before they died.”
“Sometimes it doesn’t work,” he said flatly, but in a less hostile tone. “That’s nobody’s fault.”
She smoothed back her short hair and quickly wiped away the tears. “Maybe not.”
He moved back toward her and sat down in a chair across from hers, putting the cane down on the floor. He leaned forward with a hard sigh and looked at Jessica’s pale, wan face with bitterness while he tried to find the words.
She heard the cane as he placed it on the floor. “Eb said you were badly hurt overseas,” she said softly, wishing with all her heart that she could see him. “Are you all right?”
That husky softness in her tone, that exquisite concern, was almost too much for him. He grasped her slender hands in his and held them tightly. “I’m better off than you seem to be,” he said heavily. “What a hell of a price we paid for that night, Jess.”
She felt the hot sting of tears. “It was very high,” she had to admit. She reached out hesitantly to find his face. Her fingers traced it gently, finding the new scars, the new hardness of its elegant lines. “Stevie looks like you,” she said softly, her unseeing eyes so full of emotion that he couldn’t bear to look into them.
“Yes.”
She searched her darkness with anguish for a face she would never see again. “Don’t be bitter,” she pleaded. “Please don’t hate me.”
He pulled her hand away as if it scalded him. “I’ve done little else for the past five years,” he said flatly. “But maybe you’re right. All the rage in the world won’t change the past.” He let go of her hand. “We have to pick up the pieces and go on.”
She hesitated. “Can we at least be friends?”
He laughed coldly. “Is that what you want?”
She nodded. “Eb says you’ve given up overseas assignments and that you’re working for him. I want you to get to know Stevie,” she added quietly. “Just in case...”
“Oh, for God’s sake, stop it!” he exploded, rising awkwardly from the chair with the help of the cane. “Lopez won’t get you. We aren’t going to let anything happen to you.”
She leaned back in her chair without replying. They both knew that Lopez had contacts everywhere and that he never gave up. If he wanted her dead, he could get her. She didn’t want her child left alone in the world.
“I’m going to make some coffee,” Dallas said tautly, refusing to think about the possibility of a world without her in it. “What do you take in yours?”
“I don’t care,” she said indifferently.
He didn’t say another word. He went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee while Jessica sat stiffly in her own living room and contemplated the direction her life had taken.
* * *
“YOU HAVE GOT...to be kidding!” Sally choked as she dragged herself up from the mat for the twentieth time. “You mean I’m going to spend two hours falling down? I thought you were going to teach me self-defense!”
“I am,” Eb replied easily. He, too, was wearing sweats now, and he’d been teaching her side breakfalls, first left and then right. “First you learn how to fall properly, so you don’t hurt yourself landing. Then we move on to stances, hand positions and kicks. One step at a time.”
She swept her arm past her hip and threw herself down on her side, falling with a loud thud but landing neatly. Beside her, Stevie was going at it with a vengeance and laughing gleefully.
“Am I doing it right?” she puffed, already perspiring. She was very much out of condition, despite the work she did around the house.
He nodded. “Very nice. Be careful about falling too close to the edge of the mat, though. The floor’s hard.”
She moved further onto the mat and did it again.
“If you think these are fun,” he mused, “wait until we do forward breakfalls.”
She gaped at him. “You mean I’m going to have to fall deliberately on my face? I’ll break my nose!”
“No, you won’t,” he said, moving her aside. “Watch.”
He executed the movement to perfection, catching his weight neatly on his hands and forearms. He jumped up again. “See? Simple.”
“For you,” she agreed, her eyes on the muscular body that was as fit as that of a man half his age. “Do you train all the time?”
“I have to,” he said. “If I let myself get out of shape, I won’t be of any use to my students. Great job, Stevie,” he called to the boy, who beamed at him.
“Of course he’s doing a great job,” she muttered. “He’s so close to the ground already that he doesn’t have far to fall!”
“Poor old lady,” he chided gently.
She glared in his direction as she swept her arm forward and threw herself down again. “I’m not old. I’m just out of condition.”
He looked at her, sprawled there on the mat, and his lips pursed as he sketched every inch of her. “Funny, I’d have said you were in prime condition. And not just for karate.”
She cleared her throat and got to her feet again. “When did you start learning this stuff?”
“When I was in grammar school,” he said. “My father taught me.”
“No wonder it looks so easy when you do it.”
“I train hard. It’s saved my life a few times.”
She studied his scarred face with curiosity. She could see the years in it, and the hardships. She knew very little about military operations, except for what she’d seen in movies and on television. And as Jess had told her, it wasn’t like that in real life. She tried to imagine an armed adversary coming at her and she stiffened.
“Something wrong?” he asked gently.
“I was trying to imagine being attacked,” she said. “It makes me nervous.”
“It won’t, when you gain a little confidence. Stand up straight,” he said. “Never walk with your head down in a slumped posture. Always look as if you know where you’re going, even if you don’t. And always, always, run if you can. Never stand and fight unless you’re trapped and your life is in danger.”
“Run? You’re kidding, of course?”
“No,” he said. “I’ll give you an example. A man of any size and weight on drugs is more than a match fo
r any three other men. What I’m going to teach you might work on an untrained adversary who’s sober. But a man who’s been drinking, or especially a man who’s using drugs, can kill you outright, regardless of what I can teach you. Don’t you ever forget that. Overconfidence kills.”
“I’ll bet you don’t teach your men to run,” she said accusingly.
His eyes were quiet and full of bad memories. “Sally, a recruit in one of my groups emptied the magazine of his rifle into an enemy soldier on drugs at point-blank range. The enemy kept right on coming. He killed the recruit before he finally fell dead himself.”
Her lower jaw fell.
“That was my reaction, too,” he informed her. “Absolute disbelief. But it’s true. If anyone high on drugs comes at you, don’t try to reason with him...you can’t. And don’t try to fight him. Run like hell. If a full automatic clip won’t bring a man down, you certainly can’t. Neither can even a combat-hardened man, alone. In that sort of situation, it’s just basic common sense to get out of the way as quickly as possible if there’s any chance of escape, and pride be damned.”
“I’ll remember,” she said, all her confidence vanishing. She could see in Eb’s eyes that he’d watched that recruit die, and had to live with the memory forever in his mind. Probably it was one of many nightmarish episodes he’d like to forget.
“Sometimes retreat really is the better part of valor,” he said, smiling.
“You’re educational.”
He smiled slowly. “Am I, now?” he asked, and the way he looked at her didn’t have much to do with teaching her self-defense. “I can think of a few areas where you need...improvement.”