Midnight Caller

by Rebecca York

  Finally, he began to speak in a gritty voice. “We can start with the standard war criminal’s defense—‘I was just following orders.’”

  “Were you?”

  “In the beginning. Down the line, when I stole a deadly biological-weapons agent from a top-secret government laboratory, things got a little more complicated,” he said.

  She tried not to react, tried to let him say what he had to say, yet she couldn’t prevent her body from stiffening.

  “That’s what I’ve got down in the level-four biohazards lab. I call it K-007. My little sick joke. The James Bond virus. Licensed to kill. A drop of the stuff would wipe out everybody at Castle Phoenix.”

  She gave a little nod, knowing he was going for shock value. “You want me to ask why you stole it?”

  “That’s the easy part,” he replied. “See, the army found out that a certain African dictator was making the stuff, and they wanted to shut down the operation. So they sent in a special forces team to neutralize the laboratory. I was the physician assigned to review the data and make a judgment about whether to authorize the mission. One thing I had to evaluate was the level of safety for our men.”

  “And you cleared them for the mission—based on the facts you had,” she guessed.

  “I thought they could get in and out of there with no risk to their health. What I didn’t know was that the army had an agenda besides shutting down the lab. Their top priority was to take home a sample of the stuff—so they could test its weapons potential.”

  Meg sucked in a sharp breath.

  “I keep wondering what I would have done if I’d known in advance about the plan to help ourselves to the virus. Would I have gone along with the generals, or would I have tried to stop it?” He grimaced and went on. “Six months later, the members of the team who brought it back all started exhibiting a variety of strange neurological symptoms.”

  The self-reproach in his voice made her reach up and capture his hand. Folding his fingers around hers, she pressed his knuckles against her cheek. “The same illness?” she asked.

  He moved his hand to her lips, stroking their softness for a moment before continuing. “I think it’s the same illness, but the toxin attacks various parts of the body. The men were all given medical discharges, and they’re all eligible for care at Veterans hospitals. But the doctors there can’t really treat the illness because there’s no antidote, and since the U.S. Army doesn’t officially acknowledge stealing the K-007, they aren’t working on a cure.”

  “But you are,” Meg finished for him. “That’s why you stole the virus from the army, so you could experiment with it.”

  “Yeah. I had to, because I couldn’t grow any usable samples from the men. It’s like the AIDS virus—only more tricky because it’s genetically engineered. It hides in the DNA of the cells where you can’t get at it. I resigned my commission so I could devote full time to research here. All the moneymaking medical projects we have go to pay for my K-007 experiments. Hal kicked in a lot of the initial investment. I’d like to pay him back, but we both know he won’t live to see any profits.”

  “And the blackout today set back your progress with the K-007.”

  “I was testing an antidote on tissue samples. They died because the temperature in the growing area dropped dramatically.”

  “Don’t beat up on yourself like this,” she whispered.

  He turned toward her, his eyes fierce. “If I hadn’t sent those men in the first place, they wouldn’t be sick.”

  “You didn’t send them.”

  “I gave the approval.”

  “And you’d change places with any one of them if you could.”

  “Yes,” he growled.

  “Oh, Glenn, they need you. Working yourself to death isn’t going to help them. Denying yourself any pleasure in life isn’t going to help them. Locking yourself away like the beast in the enchanted castle isn’t going to help them.”

  “How can I enjoy anything when I know how much they’re suffering?”

  “You can make some sort of balance in your life so you don’t burn yourself out.”

  “It doesn’t matter if I burn out. Dylan Ryder can finish for me. He knows as much about the project as I do.”

  “No.”

  “No, what?”

  “The project needs you,” she said with conviction. “Without you, it wouldn’t exist. You looked at the data from every angle. You asked questions. You made careful judgments. And when you found out what happened to the men, you pushed to start a treatment program within the army.”

  His eyes widened, and he literally reared back. “How the hell do you know all that?”

  Quickly she reached out a hand and gripped his arm. “I didn’t know for sure. I was making educated guesses based on what I’ve learned about your character.”

  He relaxed a fraction, but the tension etched into the lines of his face was more than she could bear. “Did you think that if you told me your secrets, it would drive me away?” she asked softly.

  He could only answer with a tight nod.

  “You were absolutely wrong.” Reaching up, she brought his mouth down to hers.

  He fought against what he wanted for a few more heartbeats, then made a sound of surrender deep in his throat as her lips began to move against his, telling him without words how she felt about him now that he had made his terrible confession.

  If she had wanted him before, it was nothing compared to now—knowing how much he needed her.

  “I have no right to ask for anything from you,” he gasped out when he’d finally wrenched his mouth away from hers.

  She shook her head, her eyes soft and warm. “You’re not asking for anything I don’t want to give freely.”

  “But you’re not in a position to make decisions.”

  She laughed softly. “I think I’m in a pretty good position. Or I will be, if I just lie back on this couch and bring you with me.” Her arms came up to his shoulders, tugging.

  He resisted the pull. “Be serious.”

  She looked steadily into his eyes. “I am serious. I could tell you I’ve never been more serious in my life, but I wouldn’t know it was true. What I do know is that I’ve been drawn to you since I opened my eyes and found you standing over me with a look on your face that told me how much you cared. And the better I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve wanted to be closer to you. That’s simply an impartial opinion from a woman who’d never heard of your background—a woman who drew her conclusions from direct observation.”

  “Lord, Meg, you make me sound like a saint.”

  “You’re no saint. You’re a man—who needs the same things other people need. And I’m a woman who wants you to make love with me.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “If you keep turning me down, I’m going to think there’s something wrong with me.”

  “Never.” He reached for her, brought his lips back to hers, slanting his mouth to get a deeper taste of her.

  When he lifted his head, they were both breathing in hard, uneven gasps.

  “Promise me we’re not going to stop this time,” she whispered.

  He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”

  “Well, then, there’s more.”

  When he looked at her inquiringly, she smiled. “I want to do this right. There’s a nice big bed in your bedroom, where 1 think we’d be a lot more comfortable than on this couch.”

  He gave her a long look. Then, standing, he pulled her to her feet. As if he were afraid she’d change her mind, he led her quickly down the hall and into the bedroom, leaving the door open so that the light she’d left on earlier gave them enough illumination to see each other.

  She followed him with confidence. This was what she’d said she wanted. It was what she wanted. But when they reached the side of the bed, she couldn’t keep her nerves from buzzing. And when he pulled her into his arms and kissed her with what she recognized as unleashed hunger, she felt her body stiffen. As h
e became aware of her reaction, he eased away, his eyes questioning.

  His voice was thick when he spoke. “We don’t have to—”

  “I want to,” she answered before he could finish. Tipping her head up, she caught his gaze with hers. “But…one of the things I can’t remember is what it’s like to be intimate with a man.” She made an exasperated face—half self-mocking, half serious. “I don’t even know if I’m supposed to take my clothes off or if you’re supposed to do it.”

  His eyes had turned an intense liquid blue as he gazed down at her, then he lifted his hand and stroked his finger across her cheek. “You don’t remember this, but you’re sure you want to do it with me?”

  “Yes,” she said, hearing the thin, reedy timbre of her voice. Because it didn’t sound very convincing, she slid her arms around him, pulling his body tightly against hers so that she could feel the thumping of his heart and the unmistakable pressure of his erection. This was so elemental, such a basic part of loving and being loved. Yet no memories came to her. And that was good, wasn’t it? Because she ached to belong only to this man.

  He crooked his finger under her chin, tipping her face up so that she couldn’t hide from him—or from herself.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he whispered.

  “I think you know. At least I hope you do. Because if neither one of us remembers how to do this—then we’re in serious trouble,” she replied, making it sound like a challenge.

  To her relief, he took it that way.

  “I think you’re in good hands,” he growled, his fingers moving in a sensual pattern across her back as his mouth covered hers, demonstrating his expertise with a kiss that had her blood singing. As she clung to him for support, his lips traveled lower, teasing her neck, her collarbone, the V of flesh at the neckline of her knit top.

  But before going any further, he turned toward the closet where he searched for something in a suitcase. When he came back, he set a small box on the bedside table. Contraceptives.

  If she wanted him to stop, this was the time to tell him. Instead, she gave him a cocky grin.

  “I guess it doesn’t matter who takes my clothes off, does it? Just so we both end up naked.” Pulling her top over her head, she tossed it away. Before she lost her nerve, she unhooked her bra and shucked it.

  Fighting the feeling of vulnerability that swept over her, she stood tall, watching him take the measure of her size and shape.

  “You’re magnificent,” he said thickly, his gaze on her as he discarded his own shirt

  “So are you,” she replied, taking in the muscular contours of his chest, accented with a broad pattern of dark hair.

  “Come here.”

  Was he still waiting for her to prove something—to both of them? Her eyes locked with his, and she took a step forward. With a growl of satisfaction, he pulled her to him. The feel of his hair-roughened skin against her breasts had her whimpering with pleasure. His hand moved between them, finding the snap of her slacks, opening it so he could skim them and her panties down her legs. Then the rest of his clothes were out of the way as well, and she could move her naked legs against his.

  When she swayed on her feet, he eased them toward the bed, pulling aside the covers so they could slip between the sheets.

  He looked slightly dazed, as if he couldn’t believe she was really here—hot and willing in his bed.

  But she was. Very hot and very willing. Caught by the same giddy sense of wonder, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “You’re shaking,” he growled.

  “You, too.”

  “I want—”

  She managed a tiny laugh. “I think you want to stamp your brand on me.”

  “Oh yeah.”

  Whatever else she might have said turned into a long sigh of pleasure as his hands found her breasts, shaping them to his touch before capturing the hardened centers between his thumbs and fingers, drawing another exclamation from her.

  He followed the caress with his lips, and she stared down in a daze at the top of his dark head, unable to quite believe that anything could feel so good. When he added his tongue and teeth to the caress, she discovered there was moremuch more. And she knew that whatever she might have experienced with another lover, this man reduced any past encounters to insignificance.

  He rolled her onto her back, and she reached to stroke his dark hair away from his forehead.

  “I think you already have,” she whispered, gazing into his smoky eyes.

  “What?”

  “Burned your brand into my flesh.”

  “We’ll see about that,” he promised, his hands moving over her, discovering places that brought pleasure—and need.

  When he found the moist, throbbing center of her, all she could do was close her eyes and cling to him.

  He showed her more, and then more, so that every cell of her being seemed to glow with a heat that turned from red to white-hot.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please. Don’t make me wait any longer.”

  “No.” He fumbled for the box on the bedside table, readied himself, then moved over her, his legs opening hers, the hard shaft of his erection stroking against her, driving her to a new level of desire. Then his hands cupped her hips, lifting her as he changed the angle of contact and drove forward—his body staking its claim on hers.

  In one blinding instant, pleasure turned to pain. A scream ripped from her throat even as she tried to twist away.

  “God, Meg. Oh, God,” he gasped, going absolutely still above her.

  Her eyes blinked open, and she stared up at him, seeing the tension and regret etched into his features. She knew he was struggling not to move, struggling not to hurt her again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  When he tried to pull away, her arms tightened around him, holding him where he was. “Oh, Glenn. Of course, you didn’t know. I didn’t know,” she soothed, trying to comfort him, even as she struggled to cope with her own shock—and elation. She’d been a virgin. He was the first man she’d wanted to do this with. No wonder she’d had no memory of making love.

  “But…”

  She moved her lips against his face, kept her arms where they were binding him to her. “Glenn Bridgman, if you stop now, I’ll never forgive you.”

  The look in his eyes took her breath away. “Meg,” he whispered again. She felt some of the awful tension seep out of him as he began to kiss her, softly, tenderly. Shifting slightly, he found her breast with his fingers, caressing her, rekindling the banked fires.

  When he moved his hips it was slowly, carefully, watching her face to make sure he wasn’t hurting her again.

  “How are you?”

  “Good.” Then, “A lot more than good.”

  Quickly he brought her back to the aching pinnacle of need where she’d been before. Then he carried her higher, further, until her hips were moving frantically against his and she was begging him to release her from the unbearable tension. His hand slipped between them again, stroking, pressing, bringing her to flashpoint.

  A deep, throaty moan welled from the depths of her soul as an explosion of pleasure tore through her.

  He gasped her name as his body convulsed above hers, and she held tightly to his shoulders, claiming him as her own for this night and forever.

  When he moved to her side, she snuggled against him, drifting as her hands stroked tenderly over his slick skin.

  “I—” he started to say.

  She finished for him. “You wouldn’t have done that if you’d known. Thank God you didn’t know!”

  He swore under his breath.

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “Get serious!”

  She laughed softly. “The man has such a poetic way with words.” Then she did get serious. “Don’t spoil my euphoria by acting like it was a mistake.”

  “It was the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

  Rolling onto her stomach, she propped herself up and looked d
own at him, trying to keep her expression serious but ending up by grinning. “At least we settled one important issue. We know I’m not married—or seriously dating anyone else.”

  “Yes,” he breathed.

  “Does that make you feel any better?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” She snuggled down again and closed her eyes, exhausted, triumphant and deeply contented.

  Chapter Eleven

  Meg woke in the dark, in the grip of sheer panic, a sheen of perspiration covering her skin. Her hands pressed against the mattress and she struggled for calm, trying to banish the nightmare that had awakened her. Although it was impossible to block the images, her breathing gradually returned to normal, and her heart stopped threatening to pound its way through her chest.

  Quietly she swiveled her head and looked at Glenn—thankful that her panic hadn’t transmitted itself to him.

  Inching to the side of the bed, she slipped from under the warmth of the covers, crossed to the closet and grabbed the first thing she found to cover her nakedness. It was one of Glenn’s shirts and miles too big. But with the sleeves rolled up, it served the purpose.

  In the bathroom, she gulped a glass of water and ran a towel across her damp face, then moved to the window and stood looking at the spotlights illuminating the gray walls of the castle.

  She wasn’t sure how long she’d been standing there when a noise behind made her body go rigid. Whirling, she found Glenn crossing the carpet toward her—naked and formidable. And she couldn’t repress a little shiver as he approached. To hide the reaction, she rubbed her hands along her arms as if trying to warm herself.

  Though his face was in shadow, she knew that he was watching her carefully. “What’s wrong?”

  She shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “You remembered why you came here.” He answered his own question in a gritty voice, and she knew he had picked up on her disquiet—but had drawn the wrong conclusions.