His eyes held warmth when he laughed. The lines fanning out from the corners, which normally underscored his “been there done it all” adventurer look, now made him appear like a man who embraced life. She almost believed he laughed easily and often.
It hit her then just how little she truly knew about the man. Maybe he laughed all the time. Maybe he was the type who partied his way through assignments, never taking his life—or anyone else’s—too seriously.
No. She hadn’t gotten to know him very well by the time Nathan died, but the brief time they had shared had been intense. He’d been overly serious and overtly dedicated—as well as impatient, demanding, and intimidating. Especially when things—namely people—got in the way of his getting the job done.
She’d been one of those people.
As their laughter faded she watched the life and warmth slowly ebb out of his eyes.
“Why do you do that?” The question was out before she had a chance to think about the wisdom of asking it.
“What? Laugh?”
She knew he’d purposely misunderstood her. What was he hiding? What other emotions lurked under that cool, gray surface?
He shrugged, but for the first time Cali wondered at his apparent nonchalance. What gets to you, John McShane?
She leaned on one elbow, studying his face openly now. “You don’t usually laugh, do you?”
If it was possible, his expression became even more remote. “I think we have better things to talk about than my sense of humor.”
“I wasn’t questioning that.” She didn’t know why she persisted, except that she’d discovered a nick in his armor. It beguiled her and distracted her. The combination was downright irresistible.
“There’s a difference between comprehending that something is funny and allowing yourself to let go and laugh out loud. But my original question wasn’t about you laughing. I just wondered why you shut down as soon as you realize you might actually be experiencing a positive, non-job-related emotion?” She realized immediately she’d gone too far. “Of course you seem to have no problem cutting loose with the more negative ones,” she added dryly, hoping to ease the sudden tension.
He propped his elbow on the chair, mimicking her pose.
“Gee, I don’t know, Doc,” he said with mock sincerity. “But whatever I do, or don’t do, works just fine for me. And if you want me to work for you, then let’s can this psychoanalysis and concentrate on getting your butt out of a very tight sling, okay?”
She’d hit way too close to home. That only goaded her on. “Will you answer one question for me?” His scowl didn’t intimidate her in the least. All of a sudden John McShane was very human to her. She was very attracted to that, despite common sense telling her she was crazy. “Then I promise we’ll get back to unslinging my butt.”
He actually groaned and slumped over, forehead pressed to his arm. It was so theatrical and uncharacteristic, it made her laugh.
He was silent for several moments, then she heard a gruff muffled, “What?”
“Why did you really come down here?”
There was a long pause, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he lifted his head and looked right at her. “You needed me.”
This time she couldn’t detect the hint of a false note to his sincerity. Her insides twisted just a little. She also wondered what it would be like to be needed by him. The twinge tightened another little knot. It was disconcerting, but not in the least unpleasurable.
“Do you always go where you’re needed?”
“It’s my job.”
“So, I’m just another assignment?” The idea shouldn’t have hurt. But it did. “What will this cost me?”
“The cost is no more questions.” He sat up abruptly and shoved back from the table, snagging the binder as he stood. He walked from the room without another word.
Perplexed with his sudden departure, she stood and started after him. Halfway to the door she turned back. Scooping up the diskettes, she slid them in the envelope, then grabbed her backpack from the hook by the back door and slid the whole thing inside. John was waiting at the front door.
“Are we off to see the photo wizard?” Her attempt to ease the tension fell flat. He said nothing. He just stood there holding the door open. She sighed in defeat and walked out into the steamy afternoon heat. “You are a very hard man to get to know, John McShane,” she said. “I don’t know why I even tried.”
He stepped onto the porch behind her.
When she didn’t hear the shells crunch under his feet, she looked back over her shoulder. He was standing beneath a swath of blossom-heavy bougainvillea.
“Well?” She gestured to the path stretching between them. “It’s not made of yellow bricks, but if we follow it, we will be in Aleria in less than ten minutes.”
“I have no idea why I’m here.” His quiet words seemed to flow through the muggy air.
She faced him fully. “You don’t have to stay.”
“Oh yes, I do. You may drive me crazy but you can’t drive me away.” He stepped off the porch and walked to her. “But you’re not just another assignment, Cali Ellis.”
John had no idea what in the hell had possessed him to make such a declaration. Cali would have let it drop. For all her directness and tenacity, she was also good at masking tension with humor, babbling on about anything.
He’d been surprised that she’d pushed things back there in the kitchen. It had occurred to him at that moment that he didn’t really know her.
He didn’t like that realization.
The only time he’d spent with her, she’d been at her worst, her most vulnerable. Otherwise he’d always seen her with Nathan, as half of a happy couple. He’d known her as wife and widow. He’d admired and respected both.
But who was Cali Ellis, woman? Independent Cali Ellis? Free Cali Ellis? Ten-years-older-and-wiser Cali Ellis?
Right now she was hunted Cali Ellis, he reminded himself harshly. Dragging his mind away from tantalizing thoughts he had no business tormenting himself with, he brushed past her.
Cali reached out and grabbed his arm, catching him by surprise and turning him easily back to her. She didn’t let him go. “If I’m not just another assignment, then what am I?”
He felt each individual finger pressing into his arm. He was close enough to smell the heat on her skin. To see the fine blond hair, damp and darker than the rest, clinging to her cheek and forehead. He was close enough to see in her eyes whatever she chose to show him.
“What, McShane? Obligation? Old debt?”
He didn’t look, didn’t dare. Her words drew his attention to her mouth instead. He found no sanctuary there. Never in his life had he wanted to know what a woman’s mouth tasted like as badly as he did Cali Ellis’s.
At that exact moment he had no idea how he’d last another second without finding out.
“Pity case? Paid vacation?” She bludgeoned him, making him watch her too soft lips form harsh indictments. He heard anger and pain, which doubled the wound he felt when in reality he would give anything to take her mouth under his and kiss her until they both heard only the sounds of pleasure and need. He wanted to make the pain and anger go away. Both Cali’s and his.
She stopped, her mouth parted slightly as she drew in a deep breath. Maybe he’d chosen the harder path after all.
He lifted his gaze and met hers head-on. Apparently hell came in many shapes and colors. Right now hell was slightly rounded and blazing green.
“Just say it, John. Whatever it is that caused you to answer a plea from a minor, decade-old, out-of-touch acquaintance.”
“Does it matter so much, Cali?” He was drowning in an indignant green sea, and the only life preserver in sight was the very thing pulling him under. “You needed help. You asked me. Isn’t it enough to know you’ll get it?”
She didn’t shift so much as a hair. Her spine was still rigid, her expression still focused intensely and exclusively on him. “It should be.” Her
fingers relaxed slightly, then she abruptly dropped his arm and looked away. “It should be,” she said, her voice so low and soft, it barely reached him.
It reached someplace deep and dark inside him, where the light never penetrated, where his soul had resided in cool, undisturbed peace.
Until now. Until Cali.
Without questioning the intelligence of the action, already knowing the answer and completely unwilling to heed it, he reached out and touched her chin.
Her skin was warm and damp from the humidity. His fingertip glided over her skin as he traced upward to her mouth. He saw her lower lip quiver slightly and he tensed his fingers to pull away. But, as if sensing his intent, she looked up.
He slid his fingers along her jawbone, beginning a journey that held far greater risk than merely touching her.
The palms of his hands grazed her ears as he plunged his fingers into her hair, pulling her closer.
“Yes, it should be.” His voice was rough. “But it isn’t, is it, Cali?” He stepped closer to her, felt her knees brush his. His body was already rock-hard. He tilted her head back, staring deeply into her eyes. “Is it?” he demanded.
He wasn’t sure what he’d hoped to find there. A reason to stop. An excuse to continue. He found neither. She simply returned his gaze, probing his eyes as he did hers. For the first time he wondered what she found. He knew in that moment that whatever it was, it wasn’t nearly enough, would never be enough.
He dropped his hands and stepped away. Unprepared for his sudden release, Cali stumbled back a step. John automatically reached out to still her, but she shrugged him off.
“I’m sorry, Cali.”
“Don’t you dare.” She advanced on him.
He stood his ground, which was feeling shakier by the second. “Things are difficult enough. You don’t need me to—”
“What do you know about my needs, John McShane?”
“I was out of line—”
“Was I the one pushing you away?” She was almost nose to nose with him. “And since when has crossing the line bothered you? It sure as hell didn’t stop you from bullying me ten years ago.”
“I know. That’s why I left.”
His quiet words instantly deflated her. “What?”
“Pushing past the line is what I do, Cali. But, with you, my actions weren’t always motivated by your best interest. I told myself I was just doing what was necessary to get you on your feet the only way I knew how.”
“And you did. I hated you for it at the time, but you did.” She lifted her hand.
He braced himself for her touch, not at all sure he could handle direct contact at that moment and still control his reaction.
He didn’t think he’d moved so much as a hair, but she must have sensed his withdrawal. She let her hand drop back to her side. He thought he detected the slightest hint of hurt in her eyes. Remembering how he’d felt when she’d pulled away, he identified strongly with her feeling.
“I wasn’t just doing it for your own good,” he said. “I was saving myself as well.”
“You were hurting too. I understand.”
She understood nothing. He knew he should let it go, let her misunderstand, wade on out of this emotional pool and get back to the real business at hand.
But this is the real business, isn’t it? his inner voice said. Getting Cali in your life again, once and for all exploring the possibilities.
He thought about the assignment he’d left to come there, the people who were counting on him. He mentally recited the bottom-line rule for any Dirty Dozen member and the only one he never broke. No attachments of any kind. Ignoring that rule had robbed the team of several members, including their former leader.
Commitment to anyone created a vulnerability that could be exploited. It wouldn’t happen to him. He’d dedicated himself to the Dirty Dozen ten years before. With Del gone and most of the team disbanded, they needed him now more than ever.
So did Cali, his little voice offered. Ultimately, he was expendable to the team—but not to her.
Which was precisely why he was there. The very idea of her needing him more than anyone else in the world was enough to keep him from walking away.
Saving her now, as he had a decade earlier, was all he could do for her. A rescuer was the only role he could play. Yes, they were both adults. He wasn’t blind, he knew Cali was interested. He could push that line, have at least part of what he wanted so badly. He could tell himself that anything they shared was better than nothing.
He looked at her. His body remained hard, but his heart was getting softer by the second. He knew then that there would be no pushing any boundaries, no breaking of rules, because only one of them would be able to walk away unscathed.
And it wouldn’t be him.
FIVE
Cali’s emotions were a jumble of contradictions. She was feeling things for John she’d never expected to feel, and it was not the time to explore them. He was apparently grappling with some disconcerting feelings himself.
“We’d, uh, better get into town. It’s getting late and most of the shops close up tight by five.”
He was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”
She was beginning to read him better. He was relieved she was letting what happened—or almost happened—drop. You’d never know by looking at him, far from it. But he’d given in.
It made her feel good to be able to understand him, as if she were a member of an exclusive club. Was there anyone in his life who had full access to the inner workings of his mind? To his thoughts and emotions? Had he ever given someone access to his heart? To his soul?
She walked faster down the gravel path, freely admitting to herself that she was running away both literally and figuratively.
If any woman had penetrated the walls he’d built to shield his personal life, she’d more than likely had to use a battering ram. That was assuming he even had a personal life.
Less than ten minutes later the path wandered out of the bordering banana plantations and into Aleria. The buildings were made mostly of whitewashed stone. Cali imagined that the overall look of the place hadn’t changed much over the decades. Less than a dozen little businesses lined the one and only paved road. Of them, all but two were currently operational, offering a variety of services, including a small grocer, a Laundromat, a curio shop, a patisserie, and a small drugstore.
“There.” She pointed to the small, mostly white building at the opposite end of the street.
“A pharmacie.” Those had been the first words he’d uttered since they’d left the bungalow. “What is the owner’s name again?”
“Monsieur Quéval. He runs the whole store, but photography is an interest of his. Eudora says he only opened his photo lab to the public as a way of financing his hobby.”
“Eudora actually shared that tidbit with you? Downright chatty of her.”
“Shrewd woman. She had to give something if she expected me to tell her anything.”
“I’m glad she chose this.”
Cali’s smile was smug. “Yes. I’m sure she thought it was harmless information.”
John pushed open the door to the dimly lit store. He let her pass, then ducked under the low, uneven door frame. Small bells tied to the back of the door announced their entrance. Inside, it smelled damp but felt refreshingly cool. The window air-conditioning unit was loud and wheezy, but it did the job. Cali blotted her forehead and cheeks on her T-shirt sleeve as she slid off her backpack. She cradled it in her arms, suddenly feeling protective and more than a bit wary of discussing its contents.
Of all the things she resented about her situation, the worst was having to think of everyone as a potential bad guy. She’d spent a good deal of her early adult life around top-clearance-oriented work and had always thought the stress of being responsible for the safety of top-secret information would be the tough part.
She now knew it didn’t hold a candle to the mental and physical
exhaustion of having to examine everything and everyone down to the tiniest little detail, searching for any clue that might indicate that they could harm her. Kill her.
She tightened her grip on the backpack. The shop was small and the shelves were low, so it was easy to determine that they were the only patrons there at the moment. Cali was certain Mr. Quéval had peeked to see who his customers were, just as she was certain that upon discovering they weren’t islanders, he would likely not make an immediate appearance. The last thing he’d want to do was appear in any way eager to please. Heaven forbid.
John walked to the one and only checkout counter and lifted his hand to tap the bell there. Cali grabbed his wrist just in time. His skin was warm and her fingertips had landed directly on his pulse. It was strong and rapid. She let go immediately.
He shot her a questioning look.
“He knows we’re here. You’ll only slow him down if you ring that.”
“Right,” he said with mock solemnity. “How silly of me.”
“You? Silly? Not in this lifetime.” He frowned, and she wished she hadn’t teased him. He might rile up more than her temper, but it wouldn’t kill the guy to have a friend. It wouldn’t hurt her right now, either.
She began strolling the first aisle, picking out a bottle of sunscreen and a box of Band-Aids. She was back by the aspirin shelf when John caught up to her.
“We don’t have time to go shopping, Cali.”
“If you want to use the darkroom you do.”
“Ah.” He leaned forward and selected a box of cotton swabs and a bottle of alcohol, adding it to her handbasket. “Mercenary mercantile.”
She ducked her head and grinned. He made what was happening seem almost normal, putting a weird all-in-a-day’s-work spin on it. Which, for him, was probably the case. “Something like that,” she murmured, adding a few small tins of tart fruit candy to the lot. Passion fruit, she noticed as she glanced down. She stifled a sigh.
“Is there a certain required combination here, or can we just empty a shelf and get on with it?”
Silent Warrior: A Loveswept Classic Romance Page 6