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

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “Andy and I’ll be at the library for a while,” he told her. “You could meet us over there.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “You don’t have to tell me now. Just think about it. See how you feel in the morning.” He watched as she took a tentative bite of her own sandwich. “How is it?”

  It tasted…delicious. “It’s good,” she admitted. “At least that bite was good.”

  “It must be so bizarre to be pregnant,” Jones mused. “I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to have another person inside me.”

  “It was really strange at first, back when I first felt the baby move,” Melody said between bites. “I wasn’t even really showing that much, but I could feel this fluttering inside me—kind of as if the grilled cheese sandwich I had for lunch had come alive and was doing a little dance.”

  Jones laughed. “I’ve felt that. It’s called indigestion.”

  “No, this is different. This doesn’t hurt. It just feels really strange—and kind of miraculous.” She couldn’t keep from smiling as she rested her hand on her belly—on the baby. “Definitely miraculous.”

  “The entire concept is pretty damn amazing,” Jones agreed. “And terrifying. I mean, you’ve still got a month and a half to go before that baby decides he wants to get shaken loose. But by then, he’s going to be three inches taller than you. I swear, I look at you, Melody, and I get scared to death. You’re so tiny and that baby’s so huge. How exactly is this going to work?”

  “It’s natural, Jones. Women have been having babies since the beginning of time.”

  He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “I promised we wouldn’t talk about this. It’s just…I don’t like it when things are out of my control.”

  Melody put her half-eaten sandwich back down on her plate. Her appetite was gone. “I know how hard this must be for you,” she told him. “I know it must seem as if—in just one split second—your entire life’s been derailed.”

  “But it happened,” Jones pointed out, “and now there’s no turning back. There’s only moving ahead.”

  “That’s right,” Melody agreed. “And what lies ahead for you and what lies ahead for me are two entirely different paths.”

  He laughed, breaking the somber mood they’d somehow fallen into. “Yeah, yeah, different paths, yada, yada, yada. We’ve talked about this before, honey. What I want to know is, who’s going to be your labor coach? You are planning to use Lamaze, aren’t you?”

  Melody blinked. “You know so much about this….”

  “I’ve been reading up. I’d like to be considered for position of coach. That is, if you’re still accepting applications.”

  “Brittany’s already agreed to do it,” she told him, adding a silent thank God. She could just imagine having Cowboy Jones present in the delivery room when she was giving birth. Talking about double torture.

  “Yeah, I figured. I was just hoping…” He looked down at her unfinished food. “I guess you hit the wall with your sandwich, huh?”

  Melody nodded as she stood up. “I better get to bed.”

  “You go on up. I’ll take care of the mess.” Jones smiled. “This was nice. Let’s do it again sometime—like every night for the rest of our lives.” He smacked himself on the top of his head. “Damn, there I go again. Of course, as you pointed out yourself—every now and then you’ve got to break the rules.”

  “Good night, Jones.” She let her voice drip with exaggerated exasperation.

  He chuckled. “Good night, honey.”

  As Melody went up the stairs, she didn’t look back. She knew if she looked, she’d see Jones smiling at her, watching as she walked away.

  But she knew that his smile would be a mask, covering his frustration and despair. This was hard enough for him, considering that marrying her was not truly what he wanted to do. It would’ve been hard enough to set the wheels in motion and simply follow through. But for him to sit there night after night, day after day, and try to convince her that marriage was for the best when he didn’t quite believe it himself…

  She felt sorry for him.

  Almost as sorry as she felt for herself.

  “HEY, GUYS. FIND OUT anything good?”

  Cowboy glanced up from the library computer to see Brittany Evans standing behind Andy’s chair. He turned, looking past her, making a quick sweep of the library, searching for her sister. But if Melody was there, she was out of sight, hiding among the stacks.

  “She’s outside,” Brittany answered his unspoken question. “She was feeling a little faint, so she’s taking a minute, sitting on one of the benches out front.”

  “You left her alone?”

  “Only for a minute. But I figured, instead of me sitting with her… Well, I thought you might want to switch babysitting jobs.”

  “Yeah,” Cowboy said as he stood up. “Thanks.”

  Andy glared. “Hey. I don’t need no babysitter.”

  “That’s right,” Brittany said tartly to him as she slid into the seat Cowboy had left empty. “You don’t. You need a warden. And a grammar instructor, apparently. So what are you researching here? The statistics of alcohol overdoses among minors, resulting in fatalities? Kids who’ve died from drinking too much. Fascinating subject, huh? How’s your stomach feeling this morning, by the way?”

  Cowboy didn’t wait to hear Andy’s retort as he crossed the library foyer, pushed open the heavy wooden door and stepped outside.

  Mel was sitting on a bench, just as Brittany had said. The sight of her still had the power to make him pause. She was beautiful. Her golden hair cascaded down around her shoulders, reflecting the bright autumn sun. And although the air was cool, she’d taken off her sweater and wore only a sleeveless dress. Her arms were lightly tanned and as slender as they’d ever been. In fact, he was certain he could encircle both of her wrists with the thumb and forefinger of one hand. That is, if she would let him get close enough to touch her.

  As he moved toward the bench, he was surprised that she didn’t leap up and back away—until he realized that behind her sunglasses, her eyes were closed.

  Her face was pale, too.

  “Honey, are you all right?” He sat down beside her.

  She didn’t open her eyes. “I get so dizzy,” she admitted. “Even just the walk from the car…” She opened her eyes and looked at him. “It’s totally not fair. My mother was one of those ridiculously healthy people who played tennis the day before I was born. Two kids, and she didn’t throw up once.”

  “But you have more than just your mother’s genes,” Cowboy pointed out. “You’re half your father, too.”

  She smiled wanly. “Yeah, well, he never had morning sickness, either.”

  The breeze ruffled her hair, blowing a strand across her cheek. He wanted to touch her hair, to brush it back and run his fingers through its silk.

  “You don’t talk about him much.” Cowboy reached down and picked up a perfect red maple leaf that the wind had brought right to their feet. “I remember when we were in Paris, you told me about your mother getting remarried and moving to Florida, but you never even mentioned your father.”

  “He died the summer I was sixteen.” Melody paused. “I never really knew him. I mean, I lived in the same house with him for sixteen years, but we weren’t very close. He worked seven days a week, eighteen hours a day. He was an investment broker. If you want to know the awful truth, I don’t know what my mother saw in him.”

  “Maybe he was dynamite in bed.”

  Melody nearly choked. “God, what a thought!”

  “Hey, you and Brittany came from somewhere, right? Parents are people, too.” He smiled. “Although I have to admit that the idea of my mom and the admiral together is one very scary concept.”

  Melody was chewing on her lower lip speculatively as she gazed at him. “How come we always end up talking about sex?”

  “Maybe because it’s been more than seven months now since I’ve had some,�
�� he admitted. “It’s kind of on my mind a lot.”

  “You can’t be serious.” She was shocked.

  Cowboy shrugged. He hadn’t meant for it to be such a big deal. “You want me to get you a soda or something to help settle your stomach?”

  Melody wouldn’t let herself be distracted. “You’re telling me honestly that since we were together in Paris, you haven’t…? Not even once?”

  “No.” He was starting to get embarrassed. He stood up. “Why don’t I run down the street and get us a couple ginger ales?”

  “Jones, why?” Her eyes were wide. “I can’t believe you didn’t have plenty of opportunities to… I mean…” She laughed nervously. “Well, I’ve seen the way women look at you.”

  Cowboy sighed as he sat down again. He should have known she wouldn’t simply let this go. “Yeah, you’re right. Over the past months, I’ve been in bars where I’ve known for a fact that I could’ve gone home with some girl.” He held her gaze. “But I didn’t want just some girl. I wanted you.” He twisted his mouth into a crooked smile, aware that he’d revealed far more than he’d intended. “Pretty powerful for a feeling based only on lust and relief, don’t you think?”

  He saw the confusion in her eyes as she tried to process all that he’d just told her. He willed her to reach for him, to surrender to the truth, to admit that he was right—that there was more between them than pure physical attraction. He wanted her to whisper that she, too, hadn’t taken another lover since they’d last been together. He couldn’t believe that she had, but he didn’t know for certain, and he wanted to hear her say it.

  But most of all, he wanted her to kiss him.

  She didn’t.

  So Cowboy did the next best thing. He leaned forward and kissed her.

  She didn’t pull away, so he kissed her again, coaxing her mouth open, pulling her closer, pressing the palm of his hand against the sensual fullness of her belly. She was so sweet, her lips so soft. He felt himself melt inside, felt his muscles turn liquid with desire, felt his soul became infused with new hope. He was going to have another chance to make love to her. Maybe soon. Maybe even—please, God—today.

  “I’ve dreamed about kissing you like this.” He lifted his head to whisper, hoping to see a mirror image of his own breathless passion in her eyes.

  She was breathless all right, but when he lowered his head to kiss her again, she stopped him. “God, you’re good, aren’t you?”

  “I’m what…?” But he understood what she meant the moment the words left his lips. Melody thought that everything he’d said, everything he’d done, was all just part of his elaborate plan to seduce her.

  In a way, she was right. But she was wrong, too. It was more than that. It was much more.

  But before he could open his mouth to argue, he felt it. Beneath his hand, Melody’s baby—his baby—moved.

  “Oh, my God,” he said, his mouth dropping open as he gazed into Mel’s eyes, all other thoughts leaving his head. “Mel, I felt him move.”

  She laughed at his expression of amazement, her accusations forgotten, too. She slid his hand around to the side of her belly. “Here, feel this,” she told him. “That’s one of his knees.”

  It was amazing. There was a hard little knob protruding slightly out from the otherwise round smoothness of her abdomen. It was his knee. It was their baby’s knee.

  “He’s got a knee,” Cowboy breathed. “Oh, my God.”

  He hadn’t thought about this baby in terms of knees and elbows and arms and legs. But this kid definitely had a knee.

  “Here.” Melody brought his other hand up to press against her other side. “This is his head, over here.”

  But just like that, the baby shifted, and Cowboy felt a flurry of motion beneath his hands. That was not Melody doing that. That was…someone else. Someone who hadn’t existed before he and Melody had made love on that plane to Paris. He felt out of breath and tremendously off balance as the enormity of the situation once again nearly knocked him over.

  “Scary, huh?” Melody whispered.

  He met her eyes and nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Finally,” she said, smiling slightly, sadly. “Real honesty.”

  “I’ve never even really seen a baby before, you know, except in pictures,” Cowboy admitted. He wet his suddenly dry lips. “And you’re right, the idea of there being one that belongs to me scares me to death.” But the baby moved again and he couldn’t keep from smiling. “But God, that is so cool.” He laughed with amazement. “He’s swimming around in there, isn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  He was still touching her, but she didn’t seem to mind. He wished they were alone in the privacy of her kitchen rather than here on a bench outside the very public library.

  She closed her eyes again, and he knew she liked the sensation of his hands on her body.

  “I know you think you’re winning, but you’re not,” she said suddenly, opening her eyes and looking at him. “I’m as stubborn as you are, Jones.”

  He smiled. “Yeah, well, as a rule, I don’t quit and I don’t lose. So that leaves really only one other option. And that’s winning.”

  “Maybe there’s a way we can both win.”

  He tightened his grip on her, leaning closer to nuzzle the softness of her neck. “I know there is. And it involves going back to your house and locking ourselves in your bedroom for another six days straight.”

  Melody pulled away from him. “I’m serious.”

  “I am, too.”

  She shook her head impatiently. “Jones, what if I acknowledge you as the father and grant you visitation rights?”

  “Visits?” he said in disbelief. “You’re going to give me permission to visit the kid two or three times a year, and I’m supposed to think that means I’ve won?”

  “It’s a compromise,” she told him, her eyes a very earnest shade of blue. “It wouldn’t be a whole lot of fun for me, either. So much for the clean end to our relationship I’d hoped for. And imagine how awful it’s going to be for the man I finally do marry—you showing up, flashing all your big muscles around two or three times each year.”

  Cowboy shook his head. “No deal. I’m the baby’s father. And a baby’s father should be married to that baby’s mother.”

  Melody’s eyes sparked. “Too bad you weren’t feeling quite so moral on that flight to Paris. If I remember correctly, there was no talk of marriage then. If I remember, just about all that you had to say concerned how and where I should touch you, and the most efficient way to rid ourselves of our clothing in that tiny bathroom.”

  He couldn’t hide a laugh. “Don’t forget our three-point-five-seconds discussion about our lack of condoms.”

  She frowned at him. “This isn’t funny.”

  “I’m sorry. And you’re right. I’ve picked a hell of a time to join the moral majority.” He picked up her hand and gently laced their fingers together. “But, honey, I can’t help the way I feel. And I feel—particularly after spending the morning with Andy—that it’s our responsibility, for the sake of that baby, at least to give marriage a try.”

  “Why?” She turned slightly to face him as she gently pulled her hand free from his grasp. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “I don’t want this kid to grow up like Andy,” Cowboy told her soberly. “Or me. Honey, I don’t want him growing up the way I did, thinking my old man simply didn’t give a damn.” He gave in to the urge to touch her hair, pulling a strand free from where it had caught on her eyelashes and wrapping it around one finger. “You know, I honestly think this morning is the first time Andy’s ever been inside a library. He didn’t know what a library card was—I’m not sure he can read half of what we pulled up on that computer screen. And I know for a fact that boy has never held a book in his hands outside of school. Tom Sawyer, Mel. The kid’s never read it, never even heard of it. ‘Mark Twain, who’s he?’ Andy said. Damn. And I’m not saying that if his father was around, it’d be any different, b
ut fact is, it’s hard to like yourself when one of the two most important people in your life deserts you. And it’s hard as hell to get ahead when you don’t like yourself very much.”

  Cowboy took a deep breath and continued. “I want that baby you’re carrying to like himself. I want him to know without a shadow of a doubt that his daddy likes him, too—enough to insist upon marrying his mom and giving him a legitimate name.”

  Melody met his gaze as she pulled herself to her feet, and he hoped his plea had made an impact.

  “Think about it,” he told her. “Please.”

  She nodded. And changed the subject as he followed her into the library. “We better go rescue Andy. Britt’s not one of his all-time favorite people.”

  But as Cowboy looked, he saw Andy and Mel’s sister sitting where he’d left them, in front of the computer, heads close together.

  The two of them barely glanced up as Cowboy and Melody approached. They were playing some kind of bloodthirsty-looking computer game they’d no doubt found while surfing the Net.

  “This would be so much better on my computer at home,” Britt was telling Andy as she skillfully used the computer keyboard to engage a pack of trolls in mortal combat. “The graphics would be much clearer. You should drop by some time—I’ll show it to you if you want.”

  “Can your computer do an Internet search like this one did?” Andy asked.

  Brittany snorted. “Yeah, in about one-sixteenth the time, too. Wait’ll you see the difference. I swear, this library computer is from the Stone Age.”

  Melody looked at Cowboy, her eyebrows slightly raised.

  He had to smile. If Brittany and Andy could form a tentative alliance, there was definite hope that he and Melody could do the same.

  As Melody moved off to glance at a shelf filled with new books, Cowboy watched her.

  She had no idea how beautiful she was.

  She had no idea how badly he wanted her.

  She also had no idea how patient he could be.

  He’d once gone on a sneak and peek—an information-gathering expedition—with Blue McCoy, Alpha Squad’s XO. They’d been assigned to scope out a vacation Haus in Germany’s Schwarzwald that was, according to FinCOM sources, to be inhabited at the end of the week by a terrorist wanted in connection with a number of fatal bombings in London.