Her knees almost collapsed beneath her.
He only touched her chin, yet she felt trapped, helpless, made weak by her own wanting and the once-sure knowledge, untested until now, that Mitch, her Mitch, would never hurt her in a physical way. “So let’s get this straight,” he said softly, his heated breath caressing her face. “No woman would make my boys a better mother than you. I’m not ashamed to admit that—but I want you as my lover, no matter who else benefits from it or how much I need you for the kids. I want you. I want you in my bed as well as in my life. I want you for me. You’re like a foreign fever inside me there’s no shot for. I always did and I always will want you. Totally. Constantly. Always.”
Shooting straight from the hip. No sweet words. No half promises. No winning smile. Just Mitch.
I can’t speak pretty words. I only speak what I know.
She groped for a chair and sat before she fell down. As soon as she could stop shaking, she whispered, “If…if that’s true, why haven’t you ever told me?”
He crouched before her; she could see him trying to gauge her reaction. “When you were fourteen, your parents would have stopped our friendship, or Old Man Taggart would have sent me back to the orphanage. Then, when you were sixteen, I was going to tell you, but you started dating Tim first. Then you were engaged—then married.”
She felt tears well up. Tears for all the years lost, all the innocence forsaken. The belief in herself she’d never gotten back since she married Tim Carroll, the childhood friend she never should have married at all. “It’s too late, Mitch.” She choked on the words so badly they came out as a whisper.
“Why?” he asked, just as quiet.
How could she explain? There were only bald words—words she couldn’t utter. She swiped at her tears, wishing he’d turn away so she wouldn’t humiliate herself by having him watch her crying.
He brushed at her face, more of a caress than a wipe of her tears. “What did he do to you, Lissa-My-Lissa?”
With the nickname he used to give her in private—coined from one of her beloved Anne of Green Gables books—he melted her. “Please, let’s not talk about it now,” she murmured, soft and husky. “It’s not worth it.” I just want to forget.
“It’s worth talking about if it’s stopping you from taking another chance on life,” Mitch argued quietly. “It affects my life, too. And the boys’ lives, as well.”
He had a point; but she’d kept silent so long about her marriage, she didn’t know how to speak. “Not yet.” She twisted her hands in her lap. “Please. I’m thinking about it. You shocked me, saying it like that so fast, but—I’m not saying a final no. I realize how much is at stake for the boys. And…and for you.”
He pulled her hands into his, kissing each abused finger, slowly and tenderly. She trembled, watching the intimate, sensual act, as if they were already lovers. “I’ve waited this long. I can wait a little longer. Take your time. I know it’s hard for you to trust me. I’ve been away too long. I’ll go play with the kids.” He smiled at her in strong, masculine sensuality. “But you will be mine,” he said softly, getting to his feet. “And when you are, there’ll be no divorce. It’s forever this time.”
Her gaze lifted in teary challenge. “And will you be mine, or is this marriage-and-forever proposal only a one-way contract? You know, like—you owner, me slave?”
Almost at the door he wheeled back, frowning, searching into her gaze with disturbing depth. But whatever he sought, he obviously didn’t find it. “If you honestly don’t know the answer to that question, you never knew me at all.”
She gave a shuddering sigh. “Maybe I didn’t,” she conceded, hating the sharp dagger thrust of pain the admission cost her. “And that’s no basis for marriage, is it?”
In three strides he was before her, lifting her to her feet, looking into her eyes again. This time she felt as if he read past her words and straight into her soul. “Where’s my brave Lissa gone, who took on all comers that hurt me? Liss, maybe it’s yourself you don’t know. It’s what’s inside you—all the fears, all your anger—you’re afraid to let out. You’re so scared of life, even healing from whatever Tim did to you terrifies you.” He touched his lips gently to her cheek, and she felt her whole face flame—from both the kiss, and his perception. How did he know so much about her most secret self, when he’d been everywhere around the world but near her in twelve long years?
Mitch sighed at the implicit rejection, but in sadness, not impatience. “Oh, baby, whatever it was he did to destroy your self-confidence, I can fix it if you’ll only let me.”
Again she wanted to cry. After six years she thought she’d become an expert at shutting off all feeling except with the kids. Yet she’d been with Mitch less than two hours and she’d fallen apart, not once, but twice. He’d done it again, he’d woven the Merlin wand over her soul, making her think, feel, want….
She couldn’t afford to want—not Mitch. He’d only walk out again. Sooner or later everyone walked out on her.
She lowered her gaze before he could see the hunger growing, screaming inside her like a living thing, I want, I want I want. “It wasn’t Tim’s fault.” She balled her hands into fists to stop the nervous twisting. “He didn’t want to hurt me.”
“Yeah, right. That’s what they all say. I thought you were too intelligent to fall for such a pitiful line.” His tender understanding vanished like a shimmering water hole in the desert. “‘Sorry, I couldn’t help myself—I fell in love,’” he mimicked, a painful if unconsciously perfect parody of Tim’s words to her the night he walked out. He gripped her arms, his gaze burning into hers with frightening intensity. “Grow up, Lissa. Wake up! Men have been saying that crap since the dawn of time, making the same lame excuses for their behavior, and women swallow it, forgive them and let them home when they’re tired of that little piece of variety. All his life Tim’s done whatever the hell he liked, and let others pay the price for his selfishness. And if I knew where he lived I’d go and shove his damn line down his lying throat!” She was stunned, unable to speak, as he stared hard at her. “I thought you were smart.” His voice lashed at her like a low predatory snarl of a panther on the hunt. “The guy left you. He’s been gone six years. He slimed on you and screwed around on you and left when you were pregnant with his own kid. Why the hell are you still loyal to him?”
Trembling inside as they stood face-to-face, their bodies almost touching, she still managed to face him down. “He might have left me—but you see, he comes back. He calls to see if I’m all right, that I’m still alive, if I need anything. He might be in love with someone else, but he still looks after us, fixing stuff, painting, maintaining the house for me. He helps me with the kids, he’s been like a father to the boys, as well as Jenny. He loves them all.” And she held his heated, angry gaze with her own fury, burning inside her with an intensity hotter and stronger than ever after twelve years. “He still comes back to me—and that alone would earn my loyalty, if nothing else.”
“He comes back to see Jenny. He calls to ease his guilt over leaving you—he knows you won’t take anything from him, with that damn-fool stubborn pride of yours. So he comes back once a fortnight like a conquering hero, plays with the kids, pats you on the head with a few household jobs and gets free sex in gratitude for his sterling efforts.” He was openly furious now. “Which part of that particular form of care turns you on, Lissa? Is that what you call a relationship? Or don’t you care, so long as you’re not alone for those few hours before he goes back to his other lover? You certainly have changed, if you’ve sunk low enough to swallow such a pitiful amount from him.”
She shivered, sick to her stomach with his calculating assessment, as if he’d dissected her soul to find the disease within. But she couldn’t answer him. Even letting him think she was a fool of this caliber was better than his knowing the truth.
He shoved his fists in his pockets, his dark gaze tight and brooding. “I wish I knew why the hell you still love hi
m,” he said quietly. “Why, Lissa? Do you even know?”
Unable to stand any more, she turned away.
Moments later he stalked out the door to the kids.
The sight of him playing with the children, his strong dark face alight with love and laughter, was more than she could take. She alked out to the market garden, cursing herself for her stupidity. She might have won this round in keeping her secret—but was maintaining her pride intact worth the ultimate cost? Deep inside she knew that, through her damn-fool pride and stubbornness, she’d won one fight, but she might well have lost something far more precious than a battle with the truth: the implicit trust and faith she’d always had with Mitch.
“That’s enough, Burstall. You hear me?”
The young man in uniform stiffened; his strong, square jaw tightened. “It’s the truth, sir. He smuggled the kid in, and it’s not the first time, is it? What happens to the kids after? Are the adoptions legal or bought? What level clearance does McCluskey have, to keep breaking transnational laws and getting away with it? What brass is in on this? This case involves people smuggling at its worst, sir. And you know that yourself, sir!”
A short silence, his commanding officer clearly shifting, on edge. “It’s commendable that you have such eagerness to fulfil your work, Burstall, but this time I’m giving you a direct order—to leave it. Leave Squadron Leader McCluskey alone.”
“But he’s not a Squadron Leader now, is he, sir. He left the Air Force two years ago.”
“How do you—damn it, that’s highly classified information!” his commander barked, half starting up from his chair, his face purpling. “If you’ve been using our computers to break access codes for more dope on McCluskey, I’ll personally see you get a dishonorable discharge from all duties—anywhere! No more investigation into this. You’re not to gain access to check on those adoptions. Are we clear on this, Burstall?”
“High connections giving you pressure, sir?” Damon taunted softly. “Has McCluskey got a politician in his payroll? Seems so—and he’d need one pretty high up to keep this under a tight lid. The immigration minister? The prime minister?” He let his gaze, flat with accusation, speak for him. “It’s harder to fight this filthy trade when those at the top are involved. It makes it hard to keep your own job, doesn’t it, sir?”
The commander’s heavy-jowled face reddened. “That’s enough, Burstall. There’s more going on here than you know or need to know. Leave Squadron Leader McCluskey alone. That’s an order!”
With open reluctance, Damon took the hint, saluted his commanding officer, turned on his heel and left the office.
So he couldn’t use his computer anymore. It was probably safer not to. Anyway, it’d be a snap to find another ex-military hacker with a mercenary soul. It was amazing how easy it was to find people with a grudge against the forces these days.
Chapter 4
D amn it all.
His facial muscles ached with the forced grin for the kids’ sake. He wanted to yell, throw something, punch his fist through the wall at the back of the house—the fresh-painted wall that bore testimony tim’s ongoing care of his family.
“Hey, Dad, catch!”
Automatically Mitch dived for Luke’s tossed ball and threw it back, lifted Jenny in the air for her catch and throw, all the while his thoughts stuck on Lissa like lava to rock.
Oh, yeah, he wanted to hit something all right—but most of all he wanted to put a fist through his thick skull for letting himself get caught up in dreams again.
The price he paid for dreaming was way too high.
He knew all right. He’d been paying the price ever since Tim beat him to asking Lissa to the school formal. And then he’d asked her to every social function in Breckerville after that, until everyone in town assumed Tim and Lissa would marry. And he’d taken off to the Air Force as if the hounds of hell chased him, going after the only dream he had left.
“Piggy in the middle!”
Mitch took the part of piggy, wondering if his smile had gone into atrophy yet, it had been plastered there so long.
Damn Tim, too. Man, he’d love to ram his fist down Tim’s throat! If he’d stayed around, Mitch wouldn’t be going through this turmoil of anguish and fear and hope and sexual hunger.
Liar.
His hunger for Lissa was unending: a gnawing in his gut that hadn’t even dwindled in seventeen years, let alone died. Whether she was married or single only made a difference in his hopes for the future; the need remained unchanged.
Which was why he’d stayed away from the only real home he’d known for so long. He’d gone through hell on earth for years, watching Tim and Lissa holding hands or sharing the occasional gentle kiss. But the thought of Tim touching her body, moving inside her, gave him the most primitive of urges—to wrap his hands round his best friend’s throat, throw him bodily away from her and take up where Tim left off.
No! He still couldn’t handle that Tim ever touched her at all. Oh, how he’d ached to be Lissa’s first love and lover…her last love and lover. As she would be his. First, last and only.
He’d requested a base in another state when he heard of their engagement. He couldn’t tolerate constantly being near the woman for whom he felt such addictive love and powerful, forbidden lust—never touching her, never knowing her kiss. The craving he couldn’t conquer or kill off.
Lissa. Always Lissa. Forever Lissa.
He’d only come back to Breckerville for the wedding because Lissa had begged him to. He hadn’t been able to make himself let her down. Then he’d made the mistake of his life, having one or six beers too many and he’d let the whole town know, in his damn-fool speech, that he was hopelessly in love with the bride.
But Tim knew. Tim had always known how he felt about Lissa. So why had Tim thrown him out of their lives? It wasn’t as though Mitch had had the gall—or the guts—to make a move on her.
But today he couldn’t rein in his hunger for her anymore. How could he control the bounding of his heart when Lissa said she was free? How could he tell his cra not to hope…or keep his stupid mouth from blurting the proposal? How could he hold back from taking her in his arms, kissing her and touching her sweet honey-toned skin when she’d made it so clear, even unconsciously, that she wanted him?
She wants me.
The words thrummed through his body like a fevered pulse in the night. She wants me. That was such a bloody miracle to his starved body, and the need and hopes he’d kept under control too many years, that he’d all but jumped on her. He’d forgotten all his good intentions and eaten her alive like a starving man at a banquet, tearing at her clothes to touch her when he should have been giving her the tenderness and the gentle wooing she deserved.
But Lissa didn’t want restraint. She wanted heat and fire and passion. He’d only been here two hours, and with one kiss—one mad, glorious kiss—her eyes and body told him she was ready, no, burning to make love.
She could deny it forever, and he’d know it for the panic-stricken lie she told. When he’d shown her the physical evidence of how much he supposedly didn’t want her, her body spoke to him with an exquisite, fiery eloquence that negated any terrified utterance coming from her mouth, before or after.
She wants me.
Something walloped into his head. “Oooof!” He fell backward into the water, glad of the full dousing, cooling his brain and libido. He had to put this on hold or he’d tear back inside to Lissa—and the kids might end up seeing him act in a way the kids should never have to see.
The boys had had too much of seeing how badly adults can behave from their mother, and Jenny was just starting to warm to him, seeing him as a friend of the family. If he blew it now, family harmony could be ruined for the next decade—that was, if Lissa ever let her barriers down enough to show him what the hell was going on to make her back off from his proposal as if he was the devil incarnate.
“I booked the table at Bob’s for you.”
The cool, gentle v
oice turned the refreshing water around him to a seething cauldron, scalding him from the inside out. He turned to her, hoping the instant fire in his body from just hearing her voice didn’t show in his eyes. He had enough to do, fighting her current demons without adding more to it.
But she’d brushed her hair, falling over her shoulders in a cascade of sun-kissed honey; and the simple sundress she wore, with spaghetti-thin straps and gently molded bodice, fanned flame to bushfire as wild and unstoppable as the statewide burn he’d helped fight in ’94. Dumping fifty choppers full of water had barely touched ’em—and the coldest of showers wouldn’t douse the heat blazing through him now.
Keep it cool and friendly. You can do it. You always did before. “Thanks.” He barely managed not to croak. “What time?”
He watched Lissa’s tension fade with his prosaic remark. “Six. Jenny’s usually in bed by seven-thirty.”
“Sounds good.” He hauled himself out of the pool and reached for a towel. “C’mon, kids. Better start getting ready. I need to iron my clothes, if that’s okay
“Uh, yeah. Um, fine. I…”
Her voice had a strangled tone to it—the suffocated sound of a woman in sexual thrall. He looked up from toweling himself to find Lissa’s gaze fixed on his bare chest. Then it traveled over every part of his bare skin, slow and dazed, her lips parted, her eyes a dark, stormy gray. She seemed mesmerized by him, head to foot. The delicate flush from the line of her bodice to her cheek told him exactly where her thoughts were.
Same place his were, every time he looked at her, or even thought about her.
The pool. The bed. Hell, the floor or the paddock where they’d talked so often as kids. Cool, slippery loving, heated sex in tangled sheets…the untamed mating of mustangs in the wild. Any or all of the above, so long as it was just them: Mitch and Lissa and nothing between.
“Yeah.” He moved the towel, opening it a little wider to reveal more of his body, reveling in her fascinated stare, the rushes of air he could hear moving in and out of her sweet lips. As her eyes caressed his swim trunks—and the obvious arousal beneath—her tongue delicately moistened her mouth, slow and sensual, and he struggled to hold in the groan of painful glory. She was so aroused, so lost in wonder just looking at him, she was all but unconscious of it—and reminding her now would only send her running again. “Where should I do it?” he asked softly.
Who Do You Trust? Page 6