Simply The Best

by Denyse M. Bridger

  * * * *

  It was the middle of the night and Max paced the house, sipping coffee. He didn't bother with lights. He was standing in the kitchen, at the French doors, looking down at the pounding surf of the ocean, when the phone rang; he grabbed it off the counter and activated it.

  "Kaylee!"

  "Max?"

  He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

  "Baldwin, I have a situation here, can this wait?"

  Carter laughed lightly.

  "I think I might have what you're looking for, Max,” he told the younger man.

  Max listened, vaguely confused, as the Director's cell phone audibly changed hands.

  "Max?"

  He sank into a chair when she spoke.

  "Where are you?” he snapped, the words sharp and tense.

  "Washington,” she whispered, her voice still raspy with the after-effect of a torrent of tears shed on Baldwin's shoulder. “I'll be home tomorrow afternoon."

  "Are you all right?” It was ridiculous question, but he couldn't prevent it from escaping him.

  "Better now,” she murmured quietly. “How are you?"

  "Tired."

  "Go to bed,” she laughed gently. “I'll explain everything tomorrow."

  "Let me talk to Baldwin again."

  As he waited, Max heard the phone change hands again, and Kaylee's soft, “Good-night, Carter.” Then, a door closed quietly, and Baldwin came back on the line.

  "How is she, really?"

  "She's going to be fine, Max,” Baldwin assured him.

  "Then why is she in a hotel room in Washington, with you, in the middle of the damn night!"

  Baldwin's laughter wasn't the response Max was prepared for, nor was he in the mood to be the butt of the Security Director's amusement.

  "You and Kaylee have a helluva lot more in common than either of you realizes,” Carter noted dryly. “Jealousy, for one thing. She's a beautiful woman, Max, but she is not the slightest bit interested in any man other than you."

  "What did she want from you?” Max asked, mollified in spite of the preposterous spurt of irrational anger that had evoked his previous statement.

  "She wanted to talk about you,” Baldwin answered after a few moments of considered silence.

  "What?"

  "She's scared, Max,” Baldwin said quietly. “Under the circumstances that's not surprising, or difficult to understand."

  "Why didn't she talk to me?"

  "What would you have told her?"

  Not much, his mind supplied instantly.

  "That's what I thought,” Baldwin murmured into the momentary lull, distinct irony in his tone.

  "Well, what exactly did you tell her?” Max demanded, irritated all over again.

  "To talk to you about it,” he smiled. “And now I'm going home. I'll see that's she's safely on board the first flight out in the morning."

  "Let me know when she's due in,” Max asked. He was about to hang up when he stopped and smiled. “Thanks, Baldwin."

  Baldwin laughed quietly then broke the connection. He rose, and was at the door when the adjoining one opened. Kaylee stood motionless for a moment, then came back into the sitting room of the suite.

  "Stay for awhile, Carter,” she asked softly.

  Baldwin was thoughtful as he met and held her grey eyes with his. Fear was a near-tangible entity that enshrouded her and filled the space that separated them. He loosened his tie and took off his jacket as he went back into the room and sat on the couch.

  While he called his wife, Kaylee called her assistant in San Diego and told him to reschedule a morning conference call.

  * * * *

  "Where is she?"

  Max looked up from his desk, eyes narrowing for a moment when he met the challenge in Tommy's flashing hazel eyes.

  "Washington.” He decided to answer casually, choosing concern as Tommy's motivation for the demand, rather than look for something that could cause unnecessary problems in his life. “She went to see Baldwin.” The surprise on Donovan's face made Max smile in spite of his tension. “She wanted to talk."

  "And not to one of us."

  Max shrugged and leaned back in his chair, watching Tommy come into the office. He scooped the basketball out of an armchair and sat, spinning the ball between his hands.

  "She gonna be able to handle what happened here yesterday, sir?” He didn't look at Max when he spoke, but met the steady brown gaze squarely as he waited for a reply.

  Max had been wondering that himself, and he still didn't have an honest feel for what might be the reality of the aftermath. Kaylee was a designer, not a mercenary. She hated violence and guns. She could, conceivably, not want to see any of them again.

  "I hope so, Tommy,” he said quietly.

  "Have you heard from T.J.?"

  Max nodded. “Several times."

  "What's he think?” They both knew T.J. might be better able to gauge her emotional state than any of them presently could.

  "That she's looking for answers, trying to make sense of what we do."

  Tommy laughed shortly.

  "If she finds an answer for that one, Commander, tell her to let me in on it."

  "I'll do that, Tommy,” Max smiled.

  "When's she due in?"

  "I'm waiting for a call from Baldwin."

  Chapter 11

  Max paced in restless agitation, glancing incessantly at his watch, then at the arrival gate. Passengers had been filing into the terminal for the past twenty minutes, but Kaylee hadn't been among them. Baldwin had said that he'd put her on the flight personally. Max ran his hands over his hair and started to go in search of the information desk. As he turned, he spotted her. His relief was muted by annoyance when he saw she was walking with a man who, from Max's vantage point, appeared to be a little too interested in impressing her. Kaylee looked tired and distracted.

  She smiled, albeit weakly, and caught her flight bag as it began to slide from her shoulder. Her companion, a tanned, sun-bleached, smiling surfer-stereotype, made a grab to assist her, and she physically pulled back a step. She was shaking her head and thanking the young man when Max met them.

  He reached over and lifted the bag from her shoulder, slinging it over his own as he nodded to the other man.

  "Max,” Kaylee took his hand and held it as she leaned up to kiss his lips very briefly. “I didn't expect you to be here."

  Max smiled, but he wasn't looking at her; he was measuring the unreasonable amount of hostility in the stranger's dark green eyes.

  "Ms. Masterson,” the young man turned his attention back to Kaylee and inclined his head curtly. “I hope we'll have a chance to talk again."

  "I'll look forward to it, Scott,” she assured him.

  Max heard the lie in her voice and waited until they were well away from the stranger before he spoke again.

  "Who was that?"

  "Scott Edwards. He was in the seat next to me,” she said, too tired to feel any aggravation at the demand in his tone. “I asked to move, but the flight was full. He was very pleasant, but too talkative."

  "Does he know where to find you?"

  He tossed her case into the back seat of his car and opened the door for her. When he was behind the wheel again and they were leaving the airport, he glanced at her.

  "Kaylee?"

  "He's a student,” she answered and leaned back, eyes closed. “He wants to intern at my office."

  Max wasn't cheered by her announcement. It wasn't jealousy; he told himself that repeatedly. It was a gut level reaction to the guy's interest in her, and his response to Max's unanticipated presence.

  "Max?"

  He stopped at a red light and looked at her.

  "How are you?"

  He almost laughed, but her eyes were fixed on the angry gash near his right temple, and the bruise that was fanning out around it. Wait ‘til she saw the rest of him, some macabre voice inside him mocked.

  "It's not as bad it looks, honey,” he said w
ith a smile.

  "I saw what they did to you, Max,” she chided gently, averting her eyes as they moved into afternoon traffic. “I should have done something...” She wasn't aware of having spoken aloud until he pulled off the highway and cut the engine.

  "Look at me, Kaylee."

  The tone brooked no argument, and she didn't have the strength to fight with him had she wanted to. She shifted in her seat, stared intently at him; at his impossibly handsome, beloved face. Filled with too many erratic emotions, Kaylee leaned over, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tried not to cry as she clung.

  "I was so afraid of losing you, Max,” she murmured shakily. “I know what you did, but it didn't seem real. Until yesterday.” She gulped in air and tried to still the trembling that shook her. Max's hands held her face, fingers tangled in the windswept mane of her hair as he pulled her into a fierce kiss. Kaylee clutched at him, desperate to hold him as close as she possibly could, for as long as could. Weariness and fear warred with passion and need. Eventually Max eased back and kissed her forehead, his breathing faintly strained.

  "You should have stayed with me,” he said roughly.

  She kissed him again, light, breathy whispers of contact that covered his features, and ended at his mouth as her tongue traced his lips then slid between them in an intimate, provocative caress. Long minutes later, she reluctantly left the shelter of his embrace and settled again, a heavy sigh escaping her as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  * * * *

  Kaylee was restless and agitated, her mood dark and brooding. She gave up and tossed back the bed linen. It took less than five minutes to find where Max had dropped her flight bag and change her clothes.

  The beach beckoned, and she strolled in that direction, walking aimlessly while her chaotic thoughts slowed and gradually began to flow into some semblance of reason again. Each time she ran the events of the previous day through her mind, her heart brought her back to the same inevitable conclusion—if she had waited, Max would have died. And waiting would only have laid the responsibility for Muammer's death on someone else's shoulders. The Libyan soldier would still be dead; she suspected Tommy would have shot first, and asked questions later. None of it really mattered in the aftermath. She had taken a life to save one she cherished. There had been no choice. Carter had patiently spent a number of hours drilling that into her head.

  She sighed, lifted her hair off her shoulders and let the ocean breeze pour over her in soothing waves. The aches of exhaustion were stealing her stamina rapidly, and she forced her lethargic limbs to move on. She almost passed a small coffee bar, reconsidered and went inside.

  * * * *

  The bar hadn't changed a bit, but somehow every inch of it felt different when Kaylee walked in. The early evening crowd was just starting to fill the place, but it might as well have been empty as she continued into the main room. In her mind, she saw Max tied to a chair, defenseless as a gun was pointed at him. The remembered explosion of sound deafened her, and the shock of seeing the soldier fall made her sway for an instant.

  "Kaylee?"

  She shook off the ice and anxiety, focused on the shyly smiling bartender who had come to a halt at her side.

  "Are you okay?” Janelle asked, concern flickering over her lovely face.

  "Yeah, I'm fine,” Kaylee replied with a crooked smile. “Is Max in?"

  Janelle nodded, and watched her for a moment as she headed for Max's closed office door.

  "It's open."

  Kaylee smiled and went into the office, closing the door behind her.

  "I thought you'd sleep through the night,” Max remarked when he looked up to see Kaylee placing a cup of coffee on his desk. She took the lid off the second cup she held and sipped at it as she walked to the two-way glass that overlooked the bar.

  "I should be asleep,” she said after a long hesitation. “But, I can't seem to make my mind shut down."

  Max picked up his coffee, opened it, and went to stand beside her. They drank in silence for several minutes, with him covertly observing the shifts of emotion that she couldn't hope to hide from him.

  'They drank in silence for several minutes while they looked out over the activity in the bar, Kaylee's face reflecting her thoughts while Max covertly observed the shifts of emotion that played across her features. A small frown knitted her arched brows.

  "It doesn't look any different,” she noted quietly. “So why does it feel different now?” Her eyes scanned the rooms as if looking for scars left by the bloodshed she remembered.

  "Violence leaves an imprint that doesn't go away for the people who've lived through it,” he answered thoughtfully.

  "I doubt your view of the bar has changed the way mine has.” She stated with a self-deprecating smile.

  "I've lived through a lot more violence than you have,” Max said, his eyes scanning the crowd. Even as he spoke, his spine tingled with recalled fear and made a lie of his casual dismissal of the previous day's events.

  Kaylee went on surveying the crowd and drinking her coffee. Max scrutinized her, his sharp gaze missing none of the changes in her. Her profile was rigid with tension; there were lines of fatigue etched into her face; her eyes were alternately dulled and tear-bright with the shift of her thoughts, and she was visibly shaking as she tried to fight mental and physical exhaustion.

  "Have you eaten anything since yesterday?"

  "Carter had dinner with me last night,” she murmured vaguely.

  Which did and didn't answer his question, he thought wryly.

  Max took her cup and deposited both on a nearby table, then he put his arm around her shoulders and led her from the office.

  Five minutes later they were in his old apartment.

  "Go take a shower while I make dinner,” he advised and nudged her in the direction of the bathroom. “Go on,” he added with a grin when she stared at him.

  A tiny smile flitted across her features, then she obediently headed for the bathroom.

  Less than a half hour later, Max turned to find her standing in the doorway of his compact kitchen. He smiled, an expression that swiftly became a grin as his look swept over her; she was wrapped in his robe, a garment that was too big for her and gave her the appearance of a little girl. Her make-up was scrubbed away and her hair still showed ample signs of wetness despite the blow dryer he'd heard running minutes earlier. She took his breath away.

  "Can I help?"

  Her voice was rougher than usual; whether it was tiredness or awareness of the sexual tension they created in a room, Max wasn't certain. He indicated the table; it was set already.

  "Light the candles, and pour the wine."

  "I think there's a romantic lurking somewhere inside the mercenary,” she laughed quietly.

  "Maybe,” Max agreed and kissed her temple when he came to a halt at her back and leaned over to put a plate at her setting. He continued to his side of the small table and waited for her to sit.

  "This looks wonderful, Max,” she said softly, her smile more genuine than it had been since arriving back on the west coast.

  "You sound surprised,” he teased.

  "Maybe,” she tossed back with a grin.

  They ate in comfortable quiet for awhile, and Max wondered if it was wise to make her talk about the incident that had sent her running to Washington, putting an entire country between them in her fear and confusion.

  "You haven't said much about yesterday,” Max broached the subject carefully, keeping a close watch on her reaction to the topic.

  Kaylee swallowed the last tasty bite of her omelet, washed it down with a mouthful of the sparkling wine, then met his expectant eyes.

  "I don't really know what to say, Max,” she confessed with a slight shrug of one shoulder. “Carter and T.J. have listened..."

  "I haven't,” he said firmly, interrupting the dismissal he felt coming in her words. “Kaylee,” he coaxed, “I owe you my life because of yesterday, but I do know that it cost you some part of
yourself, baby."

  "Nothing that I wouldn't give again if circumstances forced me to choose,” she replied, her voice low but shaded with unmistakable conviction. “Do we have to talk about this right now?” she asked after several awkward and tense moments.

  Max hesitated, weighed his options; and what might result if he pushed too hard. He finally shook his head.

  "No,” he acquiesced with a smile. He leaned back in his chair and watched her pour the last of the wine into his glass. She rose and cleared the table while he savored her presence and the simple enjoyment of having her in his life. When she was done, she joined him on the sofa and she curled into his side. She yawned and kissed the side of his neck. “Aren't you supposed to be running a bar?"

  He nodded.

  "So why are you here?"

  "Are you throwing me out?"

  "No,” she laughed. “But you do own a business.” She giggled in spite of her attempts not to. Another huge yawn caught her and she gave him an apologetic, if somewhat dopey smile once she'd shaken off the wave of sleepiness.

  "Time to put you to bed,” Max decided, and pulled her to her feet when he stood.

  "Are you going back to work?” She slid between the sheets and settled on the far side of the bed, still wrapped in his robe.

  The room was shadowy; he hadn't bothered to turn on a light, but Max heard the tiniest quiver of uneasiness in her voice and shook his head. He offered her a soft, ‘no', in response to her question. When he'd undressed and climbed into bed next to her, Kaylee moved into his arms and was asleep in minutes. Quietly, he picked up the phone, asked Marg to close the bar, then reached for the television remote control.

  It was nearly 1 A.M. when Kaylee stirred again. Max felt her pull away from him, glanced over and saw his robe being shed. With only the light from the television in the room, Kaylee's naked skin looked silvery for a moment before she slipped back into bed and curled into his side again.

  "Will Carter want you to go there?” she asked, looking directly at him, not the news broadcast he was watching.