My Spy

by Christina Skye

  “When your orders come and you have to go—”

  Sam touched her lips. “Not tonight.” He tilted her face up to his. “Did you know your eyes are the color of the windward clouds when a man sails into Kauai after a storm.”

  She took a shaky breath. “No, I didn't.”

  “Stay with me tonight,” he said urgently. “Trust me, Annie. Trust me while we make a future together.”

  Drops of water shimmered in her hair. “Don't make any promises, Sam. It hurts too much later.”

  “I'll make all the damned promises I want,” he said fiercely. “I'm thinking long-term.”

  She closed her eyes. “Tonight I don't want to think at all.”

  “That can be arranged,” he said darkly. “We'll talk about the rest later.”

  “You don't have to do this Sam. I'd already decided to say yes to whatever you wanted from me tonight.”

  His voice was rough. “What I want is the next fifty years, not one night.”

  Annie slid a hand along his chest. “That's …a long time.” She took a slow breath. “Can't I interest you in a one-night stand?”

  Desire sledgehammered through his chest. “Only if it's the first of about a million.”

  “We'll talk about that later.” Her hand glided along his thigh, slipping beneath white cotton to find him fully aroused.

  He was going to beg any bloody moment, Sam thought, fighting a haze of lust. He swallowed hard as her hands moved down his full length. But he wanted a future, damn it. Not just a night.

  The wet spandex fell. Sam realized he was staring at her lovely, aroused breasts through the churning water.

  Hell, two could play this game. His hand slid under her bodysuit and he watched her eyes go dark.

  His fingers moved against warm, yielding skin, making her eyes go even darker. “I want all your nights, Annie. Not just one.”

  “Why?” She was staring at his mouth, cheeks flushed, looking distracted. Sam moved his hand so that she looked even more distracted. She was making little panting sounds, that slim, strong body moving against his, wanting him. “I still don't understand you. I try to, but I don't.”

  “You don't have to understand.” The leopardskin suit slid open and floated away on the water. “Just enjoy it.”

  “How do you do this to me?” she whispered.

  “Because I love touching you. I love hearing you, talking with you. Because I'm dead certain I love you,” he said roughly.

  Annie gave a shocked sigh as her body tightened against his hands and pleasure streaked through her.

  When her breathing finally steadied, she leaned against him, trembling. “Don't call it love. Love is too big, too dangerous. I'll settle for a night of great sex.”

  He bit her lower lip very gently. “Stop calling it sex, Annie.”

  She stared at him for a long time. “I've always been a pushover for a man in a uniform.”

  “You never saw me in uniform.”

  Her hand moved over his taut stomach. “On TV, ace.” Her voice tightened. “Along with about twenty million other women, I fell in love with a man in a white uniform.”

  As she spoke, Sam felt a memory rattle loose and skitter around in his head.

  Noise and crowds. Screams and red lights. He'd been climbing something that was swinging hard, skidding under him.

  A bus.

  It was coming back to him now. With a vengeance.

  He was shaking, couldn't stop shaking.

  “Sam?”

  “It's here, Annie. I remember a bus. There were children inside, all of them screaming.”

  She gripped his arm. “Go on.”

  “I couldn't get through the window. The driver was out cold, so I used something wooden.” He frowned, searching for the exact image. “A hockey stick.”

  “That's it!”

  Sam felt his body tighten as the memories came faster. “I shoved the stick down against the brake pedal and the bus kicked hard. We fishtailed some, the tires screaming. I smelled the rubber burn and—”

  And then he remembered the rest, being tossed high, the wind shrill and the ground blurring, feeling terrified and lightheaded, fighting to control the fall. Knowing at the last that he couldn't.

  “I remember,” he said tightly. “All of it.”

  Annie gripped his shoulder, her face wet with tears. “I knew you could do it.”

  “You saw that on television?”

  “You were on every channel.”

  He thought about that for a long time. “I wasn't supposed to be there. I had something else to do that was important.” He frowned, running his hand through his hair. “Then I saw the bus, the way it shook and swerved. I saw it was in trouble and I just jumped on without thinking.”

  “You're good at jumping without thinking.” She touched his cheek gently, as if afraid to distract him. “Anything else?”

  He was so damned close, Sam thought. Something heavy drifted just out of reach.

  Something that hurt in a way that felt personal. Was that why he couldn't remember?

  “Sam?”

  He frowned, sitting up straight in the hot water.

  So close. Why didn't he see it?

  “Hey, you can try again later.” When he didn't answer, Annie turned his face around to hers. “Anyone listening in there?”

  “I'm trying.” Sam forced himself to stop pushing, to let the drifting strands go. He'd remembered enough for one night. “So that's how I ended up on your doorstep at midnight, strapped onto a gurney. Hell of a thing. I don't feel like a hero.”

  “Maybe that's why you are.” There was something soft and proud in her voice. “You were so brave even with all the pain.”

  He kissed her hand. “And you were so cool, so absolutely professional. Then you reached down to me and did that thing with your hands and it felt like you were slipping right inside my skin.” His grip tightened. “You put me back together again, Annie.”

  “You did the work. I just watched and offered advice here and there.”

  “Good lie, but I don't buy it. You're the best. And I wanted you bad, Doc.” He ran his fingers slowly over her waist, then lower still, so that her legs parted and her body cradled his. “I still do.”

  “You might want to do something about that,” Annie murmured. “Right now.”

  His hands were making her brain short-circuit and the steam was leaving her giddy. She didn't want to think tonight, didn't want to be practical. Being practical made her head hurt.

  She just wanted to float, to close her eyes and let the steam enfold her while Sam ran his fingers into her hair and rocked her to that place where the world winked, then fell away in a sigh.

  He was slow, careful, so gentle that she felt the press of tears.

  “Okay?” he whispered raggedly. “I'm not hurting you, am I?”

  She looked at his face, rugged, veiled by steam in the moonlight. As she felt the deep weight of his concern, her knees opened and he slid slowly inside her as if they'd always been this way, born in one piece but had only rediscovered the truth of it.

  She smiled. “Not a bit.”

  “Is it working yet?”

  “What?”

  “Everything. Moonlight, heat, and me. I want everything to work for us tonight, Annie.” He found her with his fingers as he spoke, slow and clever and irresistible so that she closed her eyes and came in a soft whoosh of surprise.

  When her eyes opened, he was smiling, too. She rose in the swirling water, kissing his chin, his jaw, feeling as linked as she'd ever been with another person.

  Feeling gloriously alive.

  “It's definitely working,” she said, pressing into him until his eyes darkened, and he brought them together so that the water rocked hard and the heat turned them inside out while they fell and fell and fell into each other's eyes.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  ANNIE WAS ASLEEP WHEN SAM SLID OUT OF BED.

  The power of having her had left him stunned and ex
hilarated. He didn't have words for the way they'd felt together. He wasn't sure that the words existed. He ran a hand through his hair and found himself smiling like a fool.

  And he didn't care a bit. But the setting moon reminded him of time and duties that wouldn't wait. So instead of kissing Annie slowly awake, he moved silently to the kitchen, cell phone in hand.

  Admiral Howe answered on the third ring. Sam wondered if the man ever slept.

  “Sorry to bother you so late, sir.”

  “No problem. Just let me finish with another call.” Sounding distracted, the admiral returned in a moment. “My son was checking to be sure I'm not drinking my way into an early grave with my cache of Glenlivet. Good thing he didn't ask about the cigar.” Sam heard a hissing sound and imagined the crusty old fighter with a cigar between his lips. “What's been happening out there, McKade?”

  Sam was pretty sure the admiral didn't want to hear about the stupendous, brain-softening sex he'd just had. “No one knows I'm here, if that's what you mean,” he said cautiously.

  “First good news I've had all day. I've got three damned senators and a presidential aide holding my feet to the fire demanding answers, and these people have friends all over the Hill.” There was a puffing noise, then he continued. “So what's this call about?”

  Sam felt bitter for some reason, and angry at himself for being angry. “I was undercover, wasn't I, sir?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I was,” Sam said tightly. “I went undercover wherever things were messy. Colombia. Trincomalee.” Blood-bright images flashed even as he spoke. “It's what I was doing just before the accident, but I can't remember where.”

  “Tell me exactly what you remember.”

  “Only that I was someplace important, sir.”

  There was more puffing. “You were tracking a traitor,” the admiral admitted. “I'd tell you all about it, but it's a long story. The fact is, we already have one of the people involved.”

  “Who?”

  “George Regent.”

  Sam's fingers tightened. “The Assistant Secretary of Defense? What does he have to say about it?”

  “Nothing. Regent is dead. He spun out of control on the Potomac Parkway last night and his car exploded.”

  Sam imagined the inferno, his mind racing. “Was it an accident?”

  “I doubt it. I think someone is getting nervous. I'd lay odds there are going to be more accidents.” The admiral sounded tired and angry. “I need your memory back, Commander. Get ready to move. You'll be met at oh-five-hundred hours.”

  Sam managed to stifle an automatic protest.

  “I don't need to remind you that your orders are to be carried out in absolute secrecy. You pack and you leave, understood?”

  Sam's mouth hardened. “Understood, sir.”

  IT WAS NEARLY DAWN. OUT TO SEA THE FIRST PALE STREAMERS OF light brushed against gray waves.

  So little time, Sam thought.

  Beside him, Annie slept on, murmuring as he ran one hand gently over her hair. When he looked up, the luminous dial of the clock glowed with malignant energy from the bureau.

  Time to go.

  He smelled her scent, lemon and lavender. He felt the brush of her skin against him and accepted that a delay wouldn't dim the pain.

  His face like stone, he slipped from the bed and slid his few clothes into a regulation duffel bag. In the filtered gray light Sam thought of all the other times he'd stood this way in a chill dawn, coldly tying off loose ends before heading to an unknown mission and possible death. As he stood unmoving, images came in a flood.

  Men he'd killed. Men who'd tried to kill him.

  Two who'd almost succeeded.

  Time to go.

  He closed his eyes, knowing that he'd never wanted to stay as much as he did now. Before there'd never been a woman like Annie to hold him. Before he'd never believed in love.

  But orders were orders.

  As if sensing the intensity of his thoughts, Annie turned, snuggled into his pillow, one arm flung out in search of his warmth. Every muscle screamed for him to go to her, to pull her close.

  He did neither.

  Because orders were orders.

  Izzy tapped softly at the door. Time to go.

  He took one last look at Annie, her lashes shadowed in the dim light, her face pale and calm and deceptively fragile.

  He hoarded the precious images, one by one, as his hand rose. But how could he change what he had to do? And what did he have to give her when he came back? A job that could pull him away at any second? A heart full of dreams?

  Dreams didn't count for much.

  Silent and grim, he turned to the door. A man in a black flight suit took his bag, waiting impatiently. Dawn was a bloodred streak above the sea when they crossed the courtyard toward a waiting car.

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  ANNIE FELT IT THE SECOND SHE OPENED HER EYES.

  There was a stillness to the house that hadn't been there before.

  Suddenly cold, she ran one hand over the far side of the bed, tracing its chill. Gone, she thought.

  Sam was gone.

  She closed her eyes. A moment later she was crouched on the bed gasping hard, fighting for breath.

  He'd gone without a word, just like the last time, and the pain was past bearing.

  She looked at the beach and beyond, where the sea was fading from flat pewter to cool, dimpled green. As she watched, dolphins crested the cove, their grace and energy leaving a sense of awe. She could almost hear their unearthly, highpitched chatter. Did they share their worries the way humans did? Did they agonize over offspring and weather?

  As the last tears leaked out, Annie rubbed her face slowly. Silent, she sat up, hugging her knees and staring out at the cove. A small boat drifted exactly where Sam had moored long weeks before.

  The same place she'd lost her heart to a man with a rugged face, a calm laugh, and too many dark memories in his eyes.

  Annie hadn't asked about his past although it had drifted around him like smoke, a clear warning that they had nothing, absolutely nothing in common.

  One week later she'd given herself to him without fear, without limits. He'd answered her with gentle hands and a fierce hunger, and later with something like regret.

  Both of them had been very careful not to speak of love. Neither had made any promises.

  And now?

  Now he had orders, she told herself. She was in love with a hero, and for a hero, duty always came first.

  She rose slowly and began to dress. Sam had asked her to trust him and she was going to try.

  SHE FOUND IZZY IN THE GUESTHOUSE HUNCHED OVER A LAPTOP computer with two exterior disk drives. At least that's what they looked like to her. “When did he leave?”

  Izzy looked up, his eyes narrowed. “It wasn't his choice, Annie.”

  She nodded, hearing the words as if from a distance. “He told me he'd have to go. I knew it was coming.” She looked away and took a sharp breath. “We both knew, but we hoped it would be later.”

  “If Sam had his choice, it would have been.”

  “I believe that.” Annie filled a cup with coffee and held it out to Izzy. “I suppose this fiasco with Marsh hasn't helped the situation.”

  “It was just a question of time. Sam's a valuable asset now that he's recuperated.”

  “Recuperated?” Annie glared at Izzy. “Sam's knee is still shaky and his shoulder is barely usable. He's going to need that brace off and on for at least another week. If he gets shipped out on a mission now—” She ran one hand across her eyes. “Tell me to shut up anytime you want.”

  “He won't push himself unless he has to, Annie.”

  “Unless he's in danger, you mean.”

  Izzy nodded. “He told me he was serious. Leaving was the last thing he wanted. Maybe that helps.”

  It did, just a little.

  Trust him, Annie told herself.

  Izzy closed his laptop and rose slowly. “How abo
ut we go out for some ice cream?”

  Annie had never felt less like eating. “A little early, isn't it?”

  “Never too early for the good stuff.”

  She managed a smile. “Only if it's truly sinful. Chocolate chocolate mocha chip.”

  Izzy studied her thoughtfully. “Sinful can probably be arranged.”

  WHEN THEY PULLED OFF THE COAST HIGHWAY TWENTY MINUTES later, Annie was disoriented. “This isn't the way to town.”

  Izzy drove on, his eyes unreadable.

  She frowned as the minutes passed and they drove inland along a pitted fire road, mountains rising before them. “I might also point out that this is a long way to go for ice cream.”

  “But they get the really good stuff here.” Izzy turned onto a twisting dirt lane. “You'll see.”

  “See what?” Annie stared as they stopped before a house with weathered stone walls and a sloping blue roof. “I don't understand.”

  “I'll get your bags out of the back.”

  “What bags?”

  Izzy pointed up the hill. “Go get your chocolate chocolate mocha chip.”

  The door on the big stone porch opened and a white dog rocketed down the hill. Behind him a man appeared, wearing worn blue jeans and the faintest of smiles.

  Annie drew a sharp breath. “He's here?”

  “In the flesh. You should know that somebody bent a lot of rules for this.”

  “Bless that somebody.” Annie kissed Izzy swiftly, then swung open the door and flew over the lawn.

  Right into Sam's arms.

  Neither heard the sound of gravel when Izzy pulled away.

  THE WIND WAS GENTLE ON ANNIE'S FACE. “HOW LONG DO WE have?”

  “I don't know, Annie.”

  No lies, no evasion. This way was best, she told herself.

  Sam's fingers tightened in her hair. “Can you accept that?”

  “I'll have to.” She frowned. “I need to phone Taylor. It may be a while before I get back.”

  Sam ran his hands over her cheeks, as if memorizing every bone. “Izzy will set up a secure line. Just keep the details vague.”

  Annie felt a sudden kick of fear. “Sam, has something happened?” She gripped his arm. “Are you in danger?”