Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating

by Suzanne Brockmann

Her words broke through the many layers of his desire—a pinprick of reality breaking through to this dreamworld. She trusted him. She loved him. His stomach tightened with remorse and despair, into a solid, cold block of deceit.

  But her fingers were unfastening his shorts and her mouth covered his in a breathtaking kiss, warming him, melting him—at least a little bit, at least for a little while.

  He awkwardly moved back, pulling her shorts and panties down her smooth, silky legs. She lay back against the pillows, her long dark hair fanning out across the white sheets, her eyes on fire as she gazed unsmilingly up at him. She was naked and so vulnerable in that position, yet she didn’t try to cover herself. She didn’t even move. She just waited. And watched as he pushed down his own shorts, as he released himself from his briefs.

  She smiled then, gazing first at his arousal and then up into his eyes.

  She watched, unmoving, as he covered himself, the heat in her eyes growing stronger, even more molten. She shifted her hips, opening herself even further to him, her invitation obvious.

  Frisco inched himself forward, brushing the inside of her ankle with his mouth, trailing kisses up the smoothness of one calf while he caressed the soft inside of her other leg with his hand. He lifted his head when he reached her knees. She was up on her elbows again, her breasts rising and falling with each rapid breath. Her lips were parted and her hair tumbled down around her shoulders. As he met her eyes, she smiled a hot, sweet smile.

  “Don’t stop there,” she told him.

  Her smile was contagious and Frisco found himself grinning back at her before he lowered his head and continued his journey.

  He heard her gasp, heard her soft cry of pleasure as he reached his destination. Her hands were in his hair, the softness of her thighs against his face as he tasted her sweet pleasure.

  Maybe this would be enough.

  The thought flashed through his mind as he took her higher, as he brought her closer to the brink of release.

  Maybe he could find contentment or even happiness spending the rest of his life as Mia’s lover. He could live forever in her bedroom, waiting for her to return from work, ready and willing to give her pleasure whenever she so desired.

  It was, of course, a ridiculous idea.

  How could she love a man who did nothing but hide?

  Yet, hide was exactly what he’d been doing for the past few years. The truth had been there to see if he hadn’t been so damn busy hiding from it.

  Yeah, he was a real expert at evading the truth.

  “Alan, please…” Mia tugged at his shoulders, pulling him up.

  He knew what she wanted, and he gave it to her, filling her completely with one smooth thrust.

  She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out, rising up to meet him.

  His own pleasure was so intense, he had to stop, resting his forehead against hers while he struggled to maintain control.

  “We fit together so well,” she whispered into his ear, and when he lifted his head, he could see all of her love for him shining in her eyes.

  And he knew at the moment that there was no way he could continue to deceive her. He had to tell her the truth. Not now. He couldn’t tell her now. But soon. Very soon.

  She began to move slowly underneath him and he matched her pace, watching her eyes, memorizing the pleasure on her face. He knew that once she knew the truth, she was as good as gone. How could he expect her to stay? He’d walk away from himself, if only he could.

  “You’re so serious tonight,” she murmured, reaching up to touch the side of his face.

  He tried to smile, but he couldn’t, so he kissed her instead.

  Her kiss was like magic, carrying him away to a place where there was only pleasure and light, where darkness and despair were set aside, if only temporarily.

  They moved together faster now and even faster, bodies slick with heat and desire. There was no room between them for anything but the giving and taking of pleasure. Or love.

  Frisco felt Mia’s body tighten around him, felt her muffle her cries of passion with a deep, searing kiss. His body responded instantly to the sounds and sensations of her release, and he exploded with a fireball of pleasure that flared with a white-hot light behind his closed eyes.

  The brilliant light brought clarity, and clarity brought another unwanted truth. He loved her.

  He loved her.

  Oh, Lord, he didn’t love her. He couldn’t love her.

  His emotions were confused, and that, combined with the chemicals his body released at his climax, had given him this odd sensation that he had mistaken for love. It was nothing, and it would no doubt fade the same way his intense feelings of satisfaction and pleasure would eventually diminish.

  Frisco slowly became aware of the soft hissing sounds of the candles’ flames, of the ticking of Mia’s watch from where it lay across the room on the dresser, of Mia’s slow and steady breathing.

  Damn, he was twice as big as she—he was crushing her. He rolled off of her, gathering her into his arms and cradling her close.

  She sighed, opening drowsy eyes to smile up at him before she snuggled against his shoulder.

  “Mia,” he said, wondering how to tell her, how to begin. But she was already asleep.

  It was not a big surprise that she was asleep—she’d been up all of the previous night, helping him take Tasha to the hospital. Like him, she’d probably only had around a two-hour nap in the morning. And then she’d had to endure the upset of Dwayne Bell’s destructive visit to his apartment….

  He gazed down at her, curled up against him, her hand pressed against his chest, covering his heart.

  And that odd feeling that was surely just a strange chemical reaction made his heart feel tight and sore.

  But that didn’t mean that he loved her.

  It didn’t mean anything at all.

  “WHERE’S TASH?”

  Frisco came out of the bathroom with his hair still wet from his shower, dressed only in a pair of shorts slung low on his lean hips, a towel around his neck. His question was phrased casually, but Mia couldn’t miss the undercurrent of tension that seemed to flow from the man.

  He looked tired, as if he hadn’t slept well last night. He hadn’t been in bed with her when she’d awoken this morning. She had no idea how early he’d gotten up. Or why he’d gotten up at all.

  She’d fallen asleep in his arms last night. She would have loved to have awakened that same way.

  Mia set her book down on the end table, first marking her page with a leaf Natasha had brought inside to show her.

  “Tasha’s outside,” she told him. “She asked, and I told her she could play right out front. I hope that’s all right.”

  He nodded, sitting down across from her on the couch. He looked more than tired, Mia realized. He looked worn-out. Or burned-out and beaten down. He looked more like the grim angry man she’d first met. The glimpses of laughter and good humor and joy he’d let her see over the past several days were once again carefully hidden.

  “I wanted a chance to talk to you while Tash was outside,” he said, his voice uncommonly raspy. But then he didn’t say anything else. He just cleared his throat and gazed silently into the cold fireplace.

  “Well, Tasha’s outside,” Mia finally murmured. “And I’m listening.”

  He glanced up at her, briefly meeting her eyes and flashing one of his crooked smiles. “Yeah,” he said. “I know. I’m just…you know, trying to find the right words.” He shook his head and the flash of pain in his eyes nearly took her breath away. “Except there are no right words.”

  Mia couldn’t believe what she was hearing. What had happened between last night and this morning? Last night they’d made love so perfectly, hadn’t they? Or maybe it had only been perfect for her. He’d been quiet, almost subdued—she’d even commented on it. She leaned forward, wanting to reach for him, but suddenly, horribly afraid of his rejection.

  He’d been honest with her, and told her h
e didn’t love her. She in turn had told herself she didn’t care, but that had been a lie. She did care. She wanted him to love her, and she’d foolishly hoped that the sex they shared would at least hold his attention until she could somehow, some way, make him love her, too.

  She couldn’t bear to know the answer, but still, she had to ask. “Are you trying to dump me?”

  His blue eyes flashed as he looked up at her. “Hell, no! I’m… I’m trying to figure out how to tell you the truth.” He held her gaze this time, and Mia was nearly overpowered by the sadness she saw there, mixed in among his quietly burning anger.

  She wanted to reach for him, but his anger held her back. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

  “My knee’s not going to improve,” he said quietly, and she realized there were tears in his eyes. He gestured to his crutches. “This is as good as it’s going to get. Hobbling around on crutches or with a cane.”

  Alan was finally facing the truth. Mia felt her own eyes flood with tears. Her heart was in her throat, filling her with relief. This wasn’t about her, wasn’t about them. It was about him.

  She was so glad. He was facing the truth, and once he looked it in the eye, he could finally move forward.

  At the same time, she grieved for him, knowing how hard it must’ve been for him to reach his conclusion.

  He looked away from her, and his voice dropped even lower. “I’m not going to be a SEAL again. That’s over. I have to accept the fact that I’m…permanently disabled.”

  Mia wasn’t sure what to say. She could see the anger and bitterness beneath the pain in his eyes, and she realized that by telling her this, he was probably uttering these words aloud for the very first time. She decided to keep her mouth shut and simply let him talk.

  “I know I told you that I was going to work past this,” he said. “I know I made that list that’s on my refrigerator, and if wanting something badly enough was all I needed to make it happen, damn, I’d be doing wind sprints right now. But my knee was destroyed and all the wishing and wanting in the world isn’t going to make it better. This is it for me.”

  He looked up at her as if he wanted her to comment. Mia said the only thing she possibly could in the circumstances.

  “I’m sorry.”

  But he shook his head. “No,” he said tightly. “I’m sorry. I made you think that there would be something more. I let you believe that I had some kind of future—”

  She couldn’t let that one pass. “You do have a future. It’s just not the one you thought you’d have back when you were eleven years old. You’re strong, you’re tough, you’re creative—you can adapt. Lucky told me there’s an instructor job waiting for you. If you wanted, you could choose to teach.”

  Frisco felt a burning wave of anger and frustration surge through him, devouring him. Teach. Man, how many times had he heard that? He could teach, and then watch his students graduate out of his classroom and do the things he would never do again. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that barrel of laughs, thanks.”

  But Mia didn’t let up. “Why? You’d be a great teacher. I’ve seen how patient you are with Natasha. And Thomas. You have an incredible rapport with him. And—”

  His temper flared hotter, but the anger didn’t succeed in covering up his hurt. There was nothing about this that didn’t hurt. He felt as if he were dying. Whatever part of him that hadn’t died back when his leg was nearly blown off, was dying now.

  “Why the hell do you care what I do?” It wasn’t exactly the question he was burning to ask her, but it would do for now.

  She was shocked into silence, and gazed at him with her luminous eyes. “Because I love you—”

  He swore, just one word, sharp and loud. “You don’t even know me. How could you love me?”

  “Alan, I do know—”

  “I don’t even know who I am anymore. How the hell could you?”

  She nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, and Frisco felt his rage expanding. Dear God, he wanted her. He wanted her to stay. He wanted her to love him, because, dear Lord, he was in love with her, too.

  The tight, uncomfortable feeling in his chest had never faded. He’d awakened repeatedly throughout the night to find it burning steadily, consuming him. It wasn’t going to go away.

  But she was. She was going to go away. Because, really, how could she love him? She was in love with a phantom, a shadow, an echo of the man he used to be. And sooner or later, even if he didn’t tell her, she’d figure it out. Sooner or later she’d realize he was scamming her—that he’d been scamming her all along. And sooner or later, she would realize that she’d made a mistake, that he wasn’t worth her time and laughter, and she would leave.

  And then he’d be more alone than ever.

  “Why should I bother to teach when I can sit home and watch TV and collect disability pay?” he asked roughly.

  “Because I know that would never be enough for you.” Her eyes were hot, her voice impassioned. How could she possibly have such faith in him?

  Frisco wanted to cry. Instead he laughed, his voice harsh. “Yeah, and teaching’s right up my alley, right? I certainly fit the old adage—‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.’”

  She flinched as if he had struck her. “Is that really what you think about teachers? About me?”

  “It wouldn’t be an adage if there weren’t some truth to it.”

  “Here’s another adage for you—‘Those who are taught, do. Those who teach, shape the future.’” Her eyes blazed. “I teach because I care about the future. And children are the future of this world.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t care about the future,” he shot back. “Maybe I don’t give a damn about anything anymore.”

  She raised her chin. “I know that’s not true. You care about Tasha. And I know, even though you won’t admit it, that you care about me.”

  “You’re as hopeless as I was when it comes to wishful thinking,” he lied, wanting to push her over the edge, needing her to get mad enough to walk away, wanting her to stay forever, and knowing that she never would. How could she? He was nothing now, nobody, no one. “It’s typical. You only see what you want to see. You moved to San Felipe from Malibu, thinking you’re going to save the world by teaching underprivileged kids all about American history, when what those kids really need to learn is how to get through another day without some kid from the rival gang gunning them down when they walk to the store.

  “You took one look at me and figured maybe I was worth saving, too. But just like the kids in your school, I don’t need what you’re teaching.”

  Her voice shook. “You’re so wrong. You need it more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  He shrugged. “So stick around, then. I guess the great sex is worth putting up with your preaching.”

  Mia looked dazed, and he knew he’d dealt their relationship the death blow. When she stood up, blinking back a fresh flood of tears, her face was a stony mask.

  “You’re right,” she said, her voice trembling only slightly. “I don’t know who you are. I thought I did, but…” She shook her head. “I thought you were a SEAL. I thought you didn’t quit. But you have, haven’t you? Life isn’t working out exactly the way you planned it, so you’re ready to give up and be bitter and angry and collect disability pay while you drink away the rest of your life, sitting on your couch in your lousy condominium, feeling sorry for yourself.”

  Frisco nodded, twisting his lips into a sad imitation of a smile. “That’s right. That just about sums up my big plans for my exciting future.”

  She didn’t even say goodbye. She just walked out the door.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “YO, NAVY, WAS that Mia I saw heading west, driving like she was behind the wheel of the Batmobile?”

  Frisco looked up grimly from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was making for Natasha as Thomas King pushed open the screen door.

  “Hey, Martian girl,” the lanky teenager g
reeted Tash with one of his rare smiles.

  “Thomas!” Tasha launched herself at the kid and immediately burst into tears. “Frisco yelled and yelled at Mia, and she went away!”

  Thomas staggered back under the sudden unexpected weight of the little girl, but he managed to shift her into a position easier to hold on to. His dark eyes sought confirmation from Frisco over the top of Tasha’s head. “Is that right?”

  Frisco had to look away. “In a nutshell.”

  “I didn’t want Mia to go,” Tasha wailed. “And now she’ll never come back!”

  Thomas shook his head in disgust. “Oh, perfect. I come up here thinking I’m the one bearing bad news, and it turns out you guys have already done yourselves in without any outside help.” He turned to the little girl still wailing in his arms. “You. Martian. Turn off the siren. Stop thinking only about yourself, and start thinking about Uncle Navy over here. If Ms. S. doesn’t come back, he’ll be the big loser, not you.”

  To Frisco’s surprise, Tasha actually stopped crying.

  “And you, Navy. Check yourself into a hospital, man. It’s time to get your head examined.” Thomas lowered Tasha to the floor and picked up the plate that held her lunch. “This yours?” he asked her.

  She nodded.

  “Good,” Thomas said, handing it to her. “Go sit on that funny-looking swing on the porch while you eat this. I need to talk to Uncle Crazy here, all right?”

  Tasha’s lips were set at heavy pout, but she followed the teenager’s order. As the screen door closed behind her, Thomas turned back to Frisco.

  But instead of berating him about Mia’s AWOL status, Thomas said, “Your friend Lucky gave me a call. Apparently something came up. Said to tell you he’s out of the picture until 2200 hours tomorrow night—whenever the hell that is. I mean, ten o’clock is ten o’clock—there’s no need to get cute.”

  Frisco nodded. “It’s just as well—I’m going to need to find someone to take care of Tash, now that…” Mia’s gone. He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.

  “I don’t know what went down between you two,” Thomas said, reaching into the bag of bread and pulling out two slices and laying them directly onto the counter. He pulled the peanut butter jar closer and began spreading the chunky spread onto the bread, “But you oughta know that Ms. S. doesn’t hang out with just anyone. I’ve known her for four years, and as far as I know, there’s only been one other guy besides you that she’s said good-night to after breakfast, if you know what I mean. She’s been selective, Uncle Fool, and she’s selected you.”