by Diana Palmer
He was watching her. “Not me,” he said, his voice deep and slow.
She looked up, flushing. “Not you,” she confessed in almost a whisper. “I...I’d never felt anything like that.”
His heart dropped into his boots. He turned away. “It was too soon,” he said, combining ingredients to make the quiche.
“Yes. I thought I could...”
“Not you. Me. It was too soon, after Ysera.” He whipped milk and eggs into the herbs she’d chopped. “You get your ego ground into the dirt for two years, it takes time for the scars to heal.”
“Someone should have hung her from a light post,” she muttered.
He drew in a long breath. “We tried,” he said. “The local militia combed the hills looking for her. But she sold everything she owned and bought her way out of the country.”
“You never saw her again?”
“No. But one of the units attached to ours did, just recently, in Buenos Aires,” he replied. “Word is that she has a millionaire lover who’s going to fund her return to Africa.”
“She’s going back? Why?”
“She was involved in illegal drug trafficking,” he said. “She’s a high-level dealer, with contacts all over the world. That’s why we were after her. We worked with Interpol, until I got stupid enough to trust her as an informant.” He glanced at Sara wryly. “Rule number one in espionage—never get involved with a source.”
“Espionage?”
He nodded. “I worked with a number of federal agencies in this country, and at one time I did jobs for Interpol.” He put down the whisk and turned to her. “But my last job was as an independent contractor. I worked with your brother, in fact, in an incursion in Africa. That’s how he knows me. It’s why he tried to keep us separated, because he knew what Ysera did to me.”
“I see.”
“It gets worse, Sara,” he said quietly. “Drug trafficking isn’t the only business she’s involved in now. She’s also bent on revenge. I helped put her out of business, and she lost a lot of money. While she was in hiding, it didn’t matter. Now it does. She’s got a grubstake, and she wants my head in a sack. She put out a contract on me.”
Her heart seemed to stop beating. She looked up at him with fear in her eyes, her pale face, her stillness.
“So you might not need to worry about whether or not I’ll be paid back for what I did to you last night,” he said calmly. “Ysera will do it for you.”
“You’re safe here, though, yes?” she asked, worried and unable to hide it. “You have friends like Eb Scott and Cy Parks. And my brother.”
He studied her soft mouth. “Your brother will likely save Ysera the trouble when he knows what I did.”
“He won’t hear it from me,” she said stubbornly. “Or from you,” she added, just as stubbornly. “It’s our business. Not his.”
He cocked his head. “Shouldn’t you hate me?”
She smoothed the countertop. “Probably.”
“But you don’t.”
She shook her head.
“Why?”
She didn’t answer him.
He put his big hand over her small one. “Why?”
She turned and looked up at him with liquid black eyes, full of pain and sadness. “I wanted what happened,” she said, wincing. “I thought...”
He moved a step closer. “You thought what, honey?” he asked tenderly.
“I thought, maybe, with you...”
He caught a strand of her black hair and toyed with it. “You were never in any real danger of that,” he said. “We both knew it couldn’t go that far.”
She flushed.
“But it went far enough,” he continued grimly. He searched her eyes. “How much do you know about basic anatomy?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know that sperm are mobile, and that they can crawl?”
Her face went white. She recalled vividly what had happened between them.
“I didn’t penetrate you. But I didn’t have to. I was right against you when I came,” he whispered.
“That couldn’t happen,” she began.
“It did happen, in fact, to a friend of mine in basic training. He and his girl were religious. No sex before marriage. But they played around, the way we did last night. She became pregnant while she was still, technically, a virgin. Fortunately for her, he did know some basic anatomy. They got married. They have four kids now.”
Her mind was spinning. She could get pregnant. Her hand went to her stomach. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He’d hate her even more if that happened. She winced.
“We’ll handle it,” he said firmly. “Whatever happens. But you listen to me.” He tilted her face up to his piercing blue eyes. “It takes two people to make a baby. So just one shouldn’t make a decision that affects both parents. Do you understand?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“You tell me, one way or the other,” he said. “I won’t forget, and I won’t forgive.”
She drew in a shaky breath. “Okay.”
He touched her flushed cheek. “When was your last period?”
She bit her lip.
“When, Sara?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“Damn!”
He turned back to the quiche and didn’t say another word. He was in agony. He’d done something incredibly stupid out of uncontrollable passion and abstinence and she’d have to pay for it. Whatever they decided to do about it, if she got pregnant, it should never have happened. But he hadn’t been playing around. He’d wanted her to the point of madness. Even without the ultimate act of love, it had been more satisfying than any physical pleasure he’d ever had in his life. He’d had an orgasm with her, from what was basically heavy petting. And she’d had nothing, except insults and humiliation.
“I really should let your brother shoot me,” he muttered.
She didn’t know what to say. He looked shattered. She didn’t know what to do, either. She would have wanted his child, if he’d shown the least interest in having it. But he only wanted to know if she got pregnant. She was certain that he didn’t want to be tied to her for the next eighteen years. He’d want a termination.
It was just one more horrible complication from a situation that she could have prevented by just saying she didn’t want to go home with him.
“I didn’t even try to say no,” she said aloud, in a haunted tone.
“We’re both human,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to the point of madness. I think you wanted me just as much.”
“At first,” she agreed.
He whisked the eggs and set them aside while he made a crust. “You were a virgin,” he said heavily. “I did things to you...” He ground his teeth together. “It should have been with some kind young man, someone with a loving family. A man who’d cherish you, give you children, grow old with you.” His eyes glittered. “I’m thirty-seven years old. You’re barely twenty-four,” he bit off. “Almost another generation from me.”
She looked up at him, not seeing his age, only how handsome, how virile, he was. “I could never let any other man touch me like that,” she confessed, and lowered her eyes before she saw the utter shock in his. “So what does age really matter?”
He turned toward her, his hands caked in flour. “No other man? Ever?”
She shook her head. “Only you. That way.”
His high cheekbones flushed. “That just makes it worse.”
She looked up into tormented Arctic-blue eyes. “It was my fault, too.”
He actually winced.
She had to look away. Her whole body felt tight when he looked at her that way. She folded her arms over her breasts.
He didn’t say another word.
* * *
THEY ATE QUICHE and the delicate crepes and ate a perfect crème brûlée for dessert.
“You should open a restaurant,” Barbara enthused when they were stacking dishes in the dishwasher. “I’ve never had bette
r food.”
He laughed softly. “I love to cook. One thing foster homes all have in common is that mostly the food is inedible. I got tired of it, so I found a woman who could cook and had her teach me.”
“Foster homes?” Barbara asked.
He nodded. But he didn’t volunteer any more information. Neither did Sara, who knew a lot more about his past than anyone else did.
* * *
AFTER SUPPER, BARBARA found a movie she wanted to watch. Wolf went outside with Sara to watch a meteor shower that had been advertised earlier on the news. She was wearing one of Wolf’s leather jackets. He’d insisted, because she hadn’t asked Barbara to bring her a coat. The weather was unseasonably cold.
“The radiant is in the northeast, there,” he indicated, pointing up.
“You know a lot about this.”
“I have a Schmidt-Cassegrain telescope,” he confessed. “With a ten-inch aperture. It’s up in the attic. I never take it out because it’s a lonely business, watching for celestial events by yourself.”
“I have a reflector telescope,” she confessed. “I don’t use it for the same reason.”
“You should come over here once in a while and we’ll watch meteor showers together.”
“That would be nice.”
“I’d do anything in the world to make it up to you, you know,” he said after a minute. “You’re the only confidant I’ve ever had. I don’t trust people. It’s hard to share things, especially unpleasant things, from the past.”
“I know.”
“Do you think you can forgive it?” he asked.
She felt the tautness of his body beside her. He was almost vibrating while he waited for her to reply.
“I can forgive it,” she said.
His posture seemed to relax. “In your place, I don’t know that I could.”
“You didn’t know,” she said. “I couldn’t tell you all of it.” She snuggled down into the jacket. It smelled of him. It was warm and pleasant. “I overreacted.”
“I came on like a runaway train,” he confessed. “I got drunk on you. It hurt that I went in headfirst, after what I’d been through, that I couldn’t control what I felt. I took it out on you.”
“But isn’t that what happens to men?” she faltered.
“Until Ysera came along, there had never been a woman who could make me lose control.”
She wondered about that. It seemed strange.
He shifted and turned toward her. There was just enough light from the windows to let him see her face. “One of my foster mothers tried to seduce me. I was twelve. She liked young boys.” He bit his lip. “I couldn’t control it. I was so ashamed. She tried to tell me that it was natural, but then her husband came in and...” He turned away.
“I hope you told Emma all that,” she said.
“I can’t tell Emma the things I can tell you,” he said heavily.
Her small hand slid into his big one. She felt the shock of it as he tensed. But his fingers curled around hers hungrily.
“So I spent the next twenty years trying not to lose control with women.”
“On top of that, it must have been devastating, what happened with her.”
“Devastating.” His fingers entwined with hers. “Want to hear something funny?”
“What?”
His hand contracted. “I had the first orgasm of my life last night.”
She was glad that it was dark.
He turned and looked down. “Are you flaming red?”
“Yes. Don’t look.”
He laughed very softly. “We have such intimate memories for two enemies, don’t we?” he mused. “I shouldn’t tease you.” His hand contracted. “But it’s the truth. I didn’t know it was possible, pleasure like that.”
She swallowed. “Neither did I,” she confessed in a whisper.
He bent down and laid his forehead against hers. “I made you come, too,” he whispered. “Over and over again. I watched you.”
“You mustn’t...!”
“Your face was the most beautiful sight I’d ever seen when you went over the edge. When I gave you pleasure, and watched it take you. I wanted nothing more than to tell you that. But I let the past ruin it for both of us.”
She stood very still. She didn’t speak.
“I wanted to go inside you,” he whispered at her forehead. “Deep and hard and slow. I wanted to...” He bit off the rest of it. He’d wanted to make her pregnant. He couldn’t admit that. He was thinking now that it might have happened, just the same. She could have his baby in her belly right now.
“Wolf...” she protested.
“Can you imagine how it would feel?” he asked huskily. “You and me, like that, so close that even air couldn’t get between us?”
“You shouldn’t...”
His mouth moved down to hover just over hers. “I can’t...do it...with other women,” he whispered roughly.
“Wh...what?” she gasped.
“You heard me,” he bit off. “I can’t get aroused with anyone except you.”
She was shocked speechless. “All those beautiful blonde women...”
“Beautiful. Experienced. Willing.” He sighed. “I took them home and left.”
“Why?” she asked, stunned.
“I don’t know why, honey,” he said. His fingers smoothed through her ponytail, pulling the ribbon away so that her hair fell like a smooth black curtain down her back, around her shoulders. “Your hair is so beautiful, Sara. Beautiful, like you.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Neither do I. But all I have to do is touch you,” he murmured wryly. He pulled her to him and gasped as his body became capable the instant his hips brushed against hers. “See?”
She stood very still.
“God, I’m sorry!” He started to pull away.
Her arms slid under his and around him. She was trembling, but she wouldn’t let go.
“Sara,” he ground out.
“It’s all right,” she said softly. “I’m not afraid of you.”
His big hands spread between her shoulder blades, resting lightly, then pulling. He swallowed her up whole against him, shivering with desire, and held her. But he didn’t touch her intimately, or even try to move her closer. He just stood there, in the darkness, holding her.
“Sara,” he whispered. “What if we made a baby?”
“I...don’t know.”
“They can do a blood test and find out. It doesn’t take long.”
“Yes.”
He tilted her face up. “You’ll tell me.”
“Yes.” She sighed and laid her cheek against his chest. “I’ll tell you.”
She closed her eyes. It was heaven, standing so close to him, feeling safe, protected, wanted. The only thing that would have made it more perfect would be if he loved her. But that would be wishing for the moon.
CHAPTER EIGHT
SARA HAD ASKED Barbara to bring her laptop computer down. Late that night, after Barbara had gone to sleep, she got up and pulled up her game, careful to keep the sound down so that it wouldn’t disturb anyone.
She logged into the game on her character and smiled as Rednacht whispered her.
How’s it going? he asked. You haven’t been on in a couple of days.
Had some problems, she replied.
Yes. Me, too, he said. I let somebody down.
So did I.
I feel like a heel, he typed. She trusted me and I hurt her.
I did the same thing to someone. I made him feel guilty for something he couldn’t help.
There was a lol on the screen. Real life can be a pain.
Tell me about it, she said.
Want to run a battleground?
I wish. It’s very late, and I have to get up early.
Right. The haircutting job, he replied.
She’d given that fiction as fact, and now she was stuck with it. I guess you have to strap on a gun and go chase lawbreakers, huh? she teased.
Something like that. I have an enemy. Very dangerous.
Her heart jumped. You be careful. I don’t have anybody else in the world to play with.
There was a hesitation. Neither do I. You take care of yourself.
She felt warm inside. He was such a caring person. She wondered what sort of law-enforcement work he did.
Well, I’ll see you on in a few days, she said. I’ll be putting in some overtime.
So will I, he replied. Keep well.
You, too.
Good night, my friend, he typed.
She almost wept. Good night, my friend, she typed back.
After a minute, she logged off and closed down the computer. There were tears in her eyes.
* * *
EMMA CAIN WAS back the next day. She and Sara were making good progress. It was the first time Sara had ever been able to talk to anyone about her childhood, about her mother’s betrayal, about the trial and its aftermath. It came much easier because she’d told Wolf.
She mentioned that to Emma. “He’s the oddest sort of confidant,” she confessed. “I can tell him anything. I can’t even talk to my own brother about these things.”
“Apparently, he can talk to you in the same way,” came the amused reply. “It’s a good thing, too. A man’s soft spot is his prowess in bed. It would be difficult for him to tell another man how he was treated and demeaned by that woman.”
“He’s such a kind person,” she muttered. “I’d like to shoot that woman.”
Emma laughed.
“What’s funny?”
“He was saying the same thing to me about your stepfather,” Emma confided. “He said it was too bad the man was dead, and he couldn’t take the past out of his hide for you.”
She smiled. Then the smile faded. “Do you know much about anatomy?”
“I’m a doctor,” Emma said. “We specialize.”
“You’re a psychologist...”
“I’m a forensic psychologist,” Emma said, chuckling at Sara’s fascinated expression. “I do counseling on the side. My specialty is the mechanics of violence.”