Ignore it, Flynn told himself as he turned into the street that led to Abbie's apartment building. He had to stay alert. Traveling on a bike like this, they were completely exposed to anyone who might be watching….
Understanding finally dawned. Of course. This was the reason the major had insisted that Flynn use the bike. It wasn't only a lesson in keeping his mind on business, it was for the sake of any potential observers. If someone from the LLA was watching for Abbie's return, they would see she didn't have the money with her. They'd also see her wrapped around Flynn's back and assume he had to be her boyfriend, which could explain why he'd been in her apartment and why he'd defended her.
Good. The loose ends were getting tied up in a nice, neat package. He could consider this awareness of Abbie's body all in the line of duty.
The only people they encountered once they entered the building were other tenants, so they reached her apartment without incident. Flynn locked the door behind them and instructed her to wait there while he turned on the lights and did a thorough check of the rooms. Once he was satisfied that everything was as he'd left it, he returned to where she was standing and held out a set of keys. "Here. The new dead bolt I installed won't pop open as easily."
She hesitated, then reached out and plucked the keys from his fingers. "Thank you."
"We appreciate your cooperation, Miss Locke."
"Would you let me know how everything turns out?"
"I'm sorry. That information would be classified."
"Can't you at least let me know whether or not the child is all right? There wouldn't be any harm in that, would there?"
"Fine," he said. "I'll be in touch."
"Thanks. I'll give you my number."
"That's okay. I've got it."
"Oh. Of course. I should have thought of that." She slipped the strap of her purse off her shoulder and put the keys inside, then stored the purse on a shelf in the closet beside the door. "Captain Fox said she did a background check on me before I signed those papers. You'd have to know something as simple as my phone number."
"Yes."
"This has all happened so fast, I'm still having trouble taking it in." She reached for the buttons of the sweater she was wearing. "Could you give this back to Sarah for me?"
Flynn told himself not to look as she shrugged off the sweater, yet at her whispered exclamation he glanced down. Her blouse was dry, but her hair was caught around one of the buttons. She fumbled to untangle it.
"Here." He gently moved her hands aside. "Let me help."
"No, please. I can manage."
"It's no problem." He eased her hair from the shank of the button and brushed the lock behind her ear. The curl sprang back, wrapping itself around his thumb in a sensual caress. He rubbed it against his forefinger, enjoying the texture for an instant before he realized what he was doing and dropped his hand.
What was it about this woman, anyway? Why did she affect him like this? The more he learned about her, the more he realized how poorly suited they were. He usually gave women like Abigail Locke a wide berth, yet even if he didn't know the facts of her profession and her family background, the details he'd noticed while he'd cleaned up this apartment should have doused any interest before it got started.
In addition to those overgrown, man-eating plants, she had populated the place with snapshots of her family and framed photos of her classes. There were wooden geese with blue bows around their necks in her kitchen and a cross-stitched house with a white picket fence on her bedroom wall. Obviously, she was a serious nester, which confirmed his initial assessment of her. She would want more from a man than a few nights of mutual pleasure.
That was too bad. Considering what he'd seen and felt of her body, a few nights with Abbie definitely would have been pleasurable.
Sweet words and sex. That's what women usually wanted from him, and he was only too happy to oblige. He genuinely liked women. He liked the way their softness fit against a man's strength, he enjoyed the desire that sparked when two people were physically compatible. He respected women's differences, their fondness for romance, their female way of regarding the world through the eyes of primal gatherers rather than hunters.
And Flynn was definitely a hunter. He thrived on the chase, on moving from one mission to the next. He took pride in being able to fit everything he owned into a duffel bag and be good to go before the dust settled.
Flynn took the sweater and moved past her to the door. "As I said, we appreciate your cooperation, Miss Locke."
"And you'll tell me what happens, right?"
"Absolutely." Just as he reached for the doorknob, the phone in the living room began to ring. He looked back at Abbie. "Better let your machine pick up until you know who it is."
The color drained from her face. "Would those men have my number?"
"This is merely a precaution," he said.
There was a beep, then a woman's voice came through the answering machine. "Abbie? If you're there, please pick up. We're getting worried."
She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, Lord," she mumbled. "My birthday. I can't believe I completely forgot about it."
Flynn left the door and returned to her side. "Is that your mother?"
"Yes. I was supposed to be there hours ago. I don't know what to tell them."
"You have to make an excuse. You can't tell them the truth."
"I know, I took an oath. I just don't know what to say."
"Say you had car trouble."
"They'll offer to pick me up."
"Say you're sick."
"Someone will want to come and check on me."
"Say you're contagious."
She frowned. "It's easy for you, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Lying."
"I do whatever's necessary for the good of the mission." He caught her shoulders. "You need to tell them something or this could get more complicated."
"More complicated?" She made a noise that was a cross between a laugh and a sob. "As if that were possible."
"Abbie, please. It's almost over. This is the last loose end."
She stepped back, jerking away from his touch. She held his gaze for a long moment, then spun around and walked to the phone. "Mom, hi. I'm sorry I—"
There was a frantic burst of conversation from the receiver that was audible across the room. Flynn moved closer and watched Abbie carefully. She seemed reliable, but he was prepared to sever the telephone connection if she showed signs of revealing too much.
"Yes. I mean, not really," she said. "It's a long story. I'm sorry for worrying you." There was a pause. "I was on my way to your place when I started to feel sick and thought I'd better come home."
Flynn caught her gaze and nodded encouragement.
She inhaled deeply through her nose before she continued. "I couldn't call earlier, Mom. I was, uh, indisposed. I must have picked up something nasty on that class trip today…. No, I'll be fine. I don't want to spread this to the rest of the family. Joshua's still recovering from that ear infection, and if Ellie caught this on top of her morning sickness—" There was a longer pause. Abbie's knuckles tightened on the phone. "It's all right, Mom. You knew that I knew about the party, and I'm really sorry for missing it. I'm sure Martha's brood will be happy to eat the cake. Give some hugs to the kids for me and pass on my apologies to everyone, okay?…Love you, too. 'Bye."
She hung up the phone and stared at it blankly. She looked lost.
"You did well," Flynn said.
"This is the first time in thirty years that I've missed my party."
"I'm sorry."
"You would have missed yours by now, too…." Her words trailed off. She shook her head. "Today isn't your birthday, is it?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I told you that so you'd let me in."
"How did you know what to say?"
"Captain Fox had already started running your background check. She conveyed the information to me through my ear piece."
"And
so you would know exactly the right buttons to push. I should have known it was too much of a coincidence. You're not a history buff, are you?"
"Puts me to sleep."
"And I bet you don't like children, either."
"Never had much to do with them."
"I should have known."
Flynn felt a stirring of guilt. He shouldn't. "I said those things for the good of the mission. It wasn't personal, Abbie."
"No, of course not. None of it was. And with a child's life in danger, it was completely justified." She sighed. "And it's not as if I wanted to celebrate turning thirty. It's just that…"
"Let me guess." He put his finger under her chin. "Getting manhandled by a complete stranger and shanghaied by an operational detachment from Eagle Squadron wasn't how you planned to mark the occasion, right?"
She gave another one of those part laughs, part sobs. "No, that wouldn't have been my first choice."
"Then what would have been?"
She blinked a few times, then lifted her gaze to his. "What do you mean?"
"If you had a wish, what would you have wanted for your birthday?"
She regarded him in silence for a minute before her lips curved into one of those intriguing, private smiles. "I have my wish on a list somewhere, but I already decided I'd have to make a few adjustments."
Why did she have to smile? He'd been doing fine. He'd been almost out the door. Now that she'd explained her absence to her mother, the last loose end had been tied up and he was free to get on with the mission.
But there was no way he could walk away from that alluring tilt of her mouth.
Oh, what the hell. They'd never see each other again, anyway, so what harm would there be if he indulged himself before he left? Besides, after what she'd gone through tonight, she looked like she could use a kiss. He crooked his finger to tip her chin upward and lowered his head.
The contact jolted him. Heat flowed through his veins and stiffened his body. He'd meant to keep this friendly, a casual kiss for an attractive woman, but there was nothing casual about the way he wanted to feel her thighs rub over his hips and her hands reach for his belt buckle and be nowhere near a bike this time.
Her breath mingled with his—she tasted as good as she smelled. She kissed the same way she smiled, as if there were secrets here only waiting to be discovered. Flynn dipped his tongue past her lips in a bold exploration. She responded with a low sound in her throat that was somewhere between a moan…and a protest.
Flynn lifted his head. He searched for something clever to say, something that would smooth over the situation, but for the first time he could remember, his usual knack with words had deserted him.
Abbie pressed her fingertips to her mouth. She seemed as much at a loss as he was.
He stroked her cheek and tried to smile, but his easy charm had deserted him, too. He didn't want to smile and he didn't want to say anything. He wanted to thrust his fingers into her hair, haul her against him and kiss her again. He wanted to stay.
Flynn turned around and walked to the door. He gripped the knob so tightly the tendons ridged across the back of his hand. "Happy birthday, Abbie," he said.
Then he did what he'd done all his life. He left.
Chapter 5
Abbie didn't know how she got through the next day. For a while she'd been tempted to play out her excuse of the stomach flu to her principal and spend the day in bed with the covers drawn over her head.
But hiding wouldn't do any good. Neither would denial. As much as she'd like to, she couldn't pretend that the events of yesterday hadn't occurred. She was as jumpy as a cat in a strange house, startling at every noise or unexpected movement.
It was a good thing that her students were still tired out from the field trip and didn't demand her full attention, because she went through her classes in low gear. Several of her friends on the school staff noticed that something was wrong, but she deflected their curiosity by alluding to her birthday, hoping they would assume she had celebrated too heartily.
The message light on her answering machine was blinking furiously when she arrived home. She dashed across the room, hoping it was good news about the kidnapped child, but none of the messages were from Flynn. Her mother had called twice, offering to bring over ginger ale and rice water, her two surefire remedies for the stomach upsets of Abbie's childhood. Both Martha and Ellie had called, too, wishing her a belated happy birthday and a speedy recovery. None of them had seemed worried that she hadn't answered—they'd assumed she had been resting and hadn't wanted to get up.
Abbie slumped down in the chair and covered her eyes. This lying business was far too easy to continue once it got started. If she didn't watch out, she would get as good at it as Flynn.
If you had a wish, what would you have wanted for your birthday?
Flynn's question teased through her mind. She'd known exactly what she wanted. Children, a home, a nice, stable husband. She certainly hadn't wanted that…kiss.
She rubbed her face. Now she was even lying to herself.
Of course she'd wanted that kiss. He was an attractive man, and her emotions had been stirred up because of the excitement of the evening. It was the natural reaction of a healthy thirty-year-old woman. It was the same as wanting a double-chocolate-fudge sundae. Neither one was good for her, and she would regret both in the long run, but they tasted so good….
And he had. Oh, Lord, he'd tasted even better than she could have imagined. His lips had been warm and firm and had molded to hers as easily as if they'd been lovers for years. He hadn't touched her with anything more than his fingertip and his mouth, but he'd made her feel as if his entire being was focused on that kiss, as if he saw only her needs, wanted only her pleasure, and then…
And then he'd left.
Right. She knew all about the way men like that left. She'd been through this before, eight years ago. Stuart had been there for the good times—their lovemaking had burned up the sheets. She'd believed it was love, she'd thought it was the real thing, but it had all been a lie. She'd been so dazzled by his looks and his passion, she'd given him her heart along with her body. She'd listened to her instincts instead of her brain and hadn't seen beyond her own desire.
But she'd learned from the past. Sexual attraction was no basis for a lasting relationship, and she wouldn't make the same mistake again. No matter how sweetly Flynn kissed.
Everything that had redeemed Flynn in her eyes—his fondness for children, his closeness with his family, his interest in history—all of it had been as phony as that story about the power failure. He'd had an Army intelligence specialist feeding him lines, so he'd been able to say exactly what she'd wanted to hear. The only fact that remained true was his dedication to his job.
And what a job. A Delta Force commando was about as far from the ideal of her nice, stable ordinary man as one could get. He would do anything in the line of duty, even if it meant kissing a woman into silence.
Well, it had worked. She'd been too shaken to say a word when he'd walked out the door. And she'd been too wrapped up in reliving that kiss for the rest of the night to have time to have nightmares about foreign kidnappers and mysterious ransoms and a child held captive.
But it was over, she assured herself, pushing out of the chair. She was wearing her watch and was back in her everyday life once more. She needed her schedules and the order of her days. She hated surprises, and yesterday served as a good reminder of why.
The phone rang. Abbie paused, debating whether or not to let the machine pick it up as Flynn had advised her. No, she was going to get her life back to normal, she decided. Major Redinger had thought it was safe enough for her to come home, so she was going to put this…episode behind her. She returned to the phone and snatched up the receiver.
"Miss Locke? It's Peter Hedgeworth. Bradley's father."
She paused. "Oh, hello, Mr. Hedgeworth."
"I'm sorry to disturb you at home, Miss Locke. I tried to catch you after school but
you'd already left. I hope I'm not intruding."
She grimaced to herself. Normally she remained in her classroom to prepare for the next day, but she'd cut out earlier than usual today. She'd just wanted to come home. Run home, to be more accurate. "No, not at all, Mr. Hedgeworth. What can I do for you? Bradley's all right, isn't he?"
"Yes, he's fine. Actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about. He had a great time on the trip to the museum yesterday. He hasn't stopped chattering about it."
"I'm glad. I'd hoped to get the children interested in our history."
"And you succeeded. You've done wonders for Bradley. We're planning to join a walking tour of historic sites this weekend. I wanted to express my thanks."
"No thanks are necessary, Mr. Hedgeworth. I enjoy my job."
"You're an exceptional teacher."
"Thank you."
"Would you be free for dinner tomorrow?"
That threw her. She must have misunderstood. "Excuse me?"
There was an awkward silence. "Sorry, that was kind of sudden," he said. "It's been a long time since I dated, so I guess I'm out of practice."
Abbie knew that Bradley's parents were recently divorced. They shared joint custody of their child, so she had met both Peter and Beth Hedgeworth when it had been their turn to pick up Bradley from school. They were both likable people. But Abbie had never regarded Peter as a potential date.
Actually, she'd never thought much about him. Unlike his lively son, he was on the quiet side. He dressed in tasteful suits and wore shoes that always appeared freshly polished. She couldn't picture the color of his hair or his eyes, but his features were…nice. Not handsome or memorable, just nice. Like vanilla custard made with skim milk.
She realized she'd been silent too long. The problem was, she didn't know what to say. "Mr. Hedgeworth…"
"Please, call me Peter."
"All right. Peter."
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