Man of the Hour

by Diana Palmer

  “Ah, well,” Lang murmured. “Just my luck to be so handsome and debonair that I intimidate women.”

  “That’s true,” Meg told him. “You’re just devastating, Lang. But someday, some nice girl will carry you off to her castle and feed you rum cakes and ice cream.”

  “Sadist,” he grumbled. “Go ahead, torment me!”

  “We have to go,” Steve said. “Thank you all for coming. We both appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” David chuckled, bending to kiss his sister. “Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

  “Nowhere,” Meg said. “We’re going to wall ourselves up in Steven’s house and stay there until the food all goes moldy in the refrigerator. And after that,” she said smugly, “I’ve got a business to get underway!”

  “Now see what you’ve done,” David groaned. “My own sister, a career woman!”

  “I always say,” Steve mused, smiling down at his wife, “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em.”

  “That’s just what I say,” Meg replied. She took his hand in hers, feeling very newly married and adoringly glancing at the wedding ring on her left hand.

  When they got home, Steve lifted her gently in his arms and started up the staircase to the master bedroom. She was a little nervous, and so was he. But when he kissed her, the faint embarrassment was gone forever.

  His open mouth probed hers, the intimacy of the kiss making her weak with desire. He was moving, walking, and all the time, his mouth was on hers, gentling her, seducing her.

  She didn’t come out of the fog of pleasure until he laid her gently on the bed and undressed her. Then he started taking off his own clothes. The sight of that big, hair-roughened body coming slowly into view froze her in a half-reclining position on the bed. He was the most incredibly sexy man she’d ever seen. Their first time, she hadn’t been able to look at him because there had been such urgency. But now there was all the time in the world, and her eyes fed on him.

  He smiled gently as he sat down beside her, his eyes turbulent and full of desire as he leaned over her. “I know,” he said softly. “It wasn’t like this before. But we have plenty of time to learn about each other now, Meg. A lifetime.”

  He bent slowly and put his mouth gently to hers. In the long, lazy moments that followed, he taught her how, watching the expressions chase across her shocked face as he made her touch him. He smiled with taut indulgence until she’d completed the task he set for her, and then he held her hands to him and talked to her, coaxed her into relaxing, into accepting the reality of him.

  “It isn’t so frightening now that you know what to expect, is it?” he asked, his voice deep and tender as he began to gently ease her out of the last flimsy garments that separated skin from skin.

  When he had, he rose and looked at her, his body visibly trembling as he studied the rounded, exquisite flush of her perfect body, her silky skin.

  His hand went out and tenderly traced her firm breasts, enjoying their immediate response to his touch, her trembling, her audible pleasure.

  “You’re beautiful, Meg,” he whispered when his exploring hand trespassed in a new way. Despite their former intimacy, the touch shocked her. She caught his wrist and gasped. “No, little one,” he coaxed, bending to kiss her wide eyes shut. “Don’t be embarrassed or afraid of this. It’s part of the way we’re going to make love to each other. Relax, Meg. Try to put away all those inhibitions, will you? You’re my wife. We’re married. And believe me, this is perfectly permissible now.”

  “I know,” she whispered back. “I’ll try.”

  His mouth brushed over her eyes, her cheeks, down her face to her throat, her collarbone, onto the silken softness of her breasts while he discovered her.

  His mouth on her breasts made her shiver. The faint suction he made was as exciting as the way he began to touch her, making little waves of pleasure ripple up her spine. She forgot to be nervous and her body responded to him, lifting to meet his touch. Her eyes opened, because she wanted to see if it was affecting him, too.

  It was. His face was taut. His eyes were narrow and glittery as he looked down at her, and she could feel the tension in his powerful body as it curved against hers on the cool sheets.

  He nodded. His eyes searched hers and his touch became softer, slower, more thorough. She made a quick, shocked sound, and his hand snaked under her neck to grasp a handful of hair at her nape and arch her face up so that he could see every soft, flushed inch of it.

  “You…mustn’t…watch!” she gasped as a hot, red mist wavered her surprised eyes.

  “I’m going to,” he replied. “Oh, yes, Meg, I’m going to watch you. I’m going to take you right up to the moon. This is going to be our first real night of love. Here and now, Meg. Now, now, now…”

  The deep, slow chant was like waves breaking, the same waves that were slamming with pleasure into her body. She held on for dear life and her voice sobbed, caught, as the pleasure grew with each touch, each hot whisper.

  He was moving. He was over her, against her. The pleasure was like an avalanche, gaining, gaining, rolling down, pressing down on her, pressing against her, pressing…into…her!

  She felt the fierce throb of it, felt the slow invasion, felt the tension suddenly snap into a stinging, white-hot pleasure so unbearably sweet that it made her cry out.

  His hands were on her wrists, pinning her, his body above her, demanding, pushing, invading. She heard his harsh breath, his sudden exclamation, the hoarse cry of pleasure that knotted him above her. As he shouted his fulfillment, she fell helplessly from the height to which he’d taken her, fell into a thousand diamond-splintered fragments, each more incredibly hot and sweet than the one before…

  He cried out with the pleasure of it, his eyes wide open, his face taut with the strain. “Oh, God…!”

  He sank over her, helpless in that last shudder, and she cradled him, one with him, part of him, in a unity that was even greater than the first one they’d ever shared.

  She touched his face hesitantly. “Oh, Steven,” she whispered, the joy of belonging to him in her eyes, her voice, her face.

  He smiled through the most delicious exhaustion he’d ever felt, trying to catch is breath. “Oh, Meg,” he replied, laughing softly.

  She flushed, burying her face in his throat. “It wasn’t…quite like that before.”

  “You were a virgin before,” he whispered, smiling. He rolled over onto his back, bringing her along with him so that she could pillow her cheek on his broad, damp chest. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m happy,” she replied. “And a little tired.”

  “I wonder why.”

  She laughed at the droll tone and burrowed closer. “I love you so much, Steven,” she said huskily. “More than my life.”

  “Do you?” His arms tightened. “I love you, too, my darling.” He stroked her hair gently, feeling for the moment as if he had the world in his arms. “I should never have let you go. But I felt something for you so strong that it unnerved me.” His arms grew suddenly bruising. “Meg, I couldn’t bear to lose you,” he said roughly, letting all the secret fears loose. “I couldn’t go on living. It was hell without you, those four years. I did wild things trying to fill up the emptiness you left in me, but nothing worked.” He drew in a long breath, while she listened with rapt fascination.

  “I…couldn’t let you go again, no matter what I had to do to keep you.”

  “Oh, Steve, you won’t have to!” She kissed him softly, brushed his closed eyes with her lips, clinging fiercely to him as she felt the depth of his love for her and was humbled by it. “I’ll never want to go, don’t you see? I didn’t think you loved me four years ago. I ran because I didn’t think I could hold you. I was so young, and I had an irrational fear of intimacy because my sister died having a baby. But I’m not that frightened girl anymore. I’ll stay with you, and I’ll fight any other woman to the edge of death to keep you!” she whispered fiercely, clinging to him.


  He laughed softly. They were so much alike. “Yes, I feel the same way.” He touched her forehead with his lips, relaxing a little as he realized that she felt exactly as he did. “Ironic, isn’t it? We were desperately in love and afraid to believe that something so overwhelming could last. But it did. It has.”

  “Yes. I never thought I’d be enough for you,” she whispered.

  “Idiot. No one else would ever be enough.”

  She lifted her eyes to his and smiled. “Are we safe, now?”

  “Yes. Oh, yes.”

  She flattened her hand over his chest. “And you won’t grind your teeth in the night thinking that I’m plotting ways to run?”

  He shook his head. “You’re going to be a responsible businesswoman. How can you run from utility bills and state taxes?”

  She smiled at the jibe. “Good point.”

  He closed his eyes, drinking in her nearness, her warm softness. “I never dreamed of so much happiness.”

  “Neither did I. I can hardly believe we’re really married.” Her breath released in a soft sigh. “I really did love dancing, Steven. But dancing was only a poor second in my life. You came first even then. You always will.”

  He felt a surge of love for her that bordered on madness. He rolled her over onto her back and bent to kiss her with aching tenderness.

  “I’d die for you,” he said unsteadily. His eyes blazed with what he felt, all of it in his eyes, his face. “I hated the world because you wanted to be a ballerina more than you wanted me!”

  “I lied,” she whispered. “I never wanted anything more than I wanted you.”

  His eyes closed on a wave of emotion and she reached up, kissing him softly, comfortingly. Tears filled her eyes, because she understood then for the first time his fear of losing her. It humbled her, made her shake all over. She was frightened at the responsibility of being loved like that.

  “I won’t ever let you down again,” she whispered. “Not ever! I won’t leave you, not even if you throw me out. This is forever, Steven.”

  He believed her. He had to. If this wasn’t love, it didn’t exist. He gave in at last and put aside his fears. “As if I could throw you out, when I finally know what you really feel.” He kissed her again, hungrily, and as the fires kindled in her eyes he began to smile wickedly. “Perhaps I’m dreaming again…”

  She smiled under his hard mouth. “Do you think so? Let’s see.”

  She pulled him down to her. Long, sweet minutes later, he was convinced. Although, as he told her afterward, from his point of view, life was going to be the sweetest kind of dream for the rest of their lives together; a sentiment that Meg wholeheartedly shared.

  Meg opened her ballet school, and it became well-known and respected, drawing many young prospective ballerinas. Her ankle healed; not enough to allow her to dance again, but well enough to allow her to teach. She was happy with Steven and fulfilled in her work. She had it all, she marveled.

  The performing ballet slippers of flawless pink satin and pink ribbons rested in an acrylic case on the grand piano in the living room. But in due time, they came out again, to be fastened with the slender, trembling hands of Steven and Meg’s firstborn, who danced one day with the American Ballet Company in New York—as a prima ballerina.

  SECRET AGENT MAN

  1

  Lang Patton felt absolutely undressed without his credentials and the small automatic weapon he’d grown used to carrying on assignment. It had been his own choice to leave the CIA and take a job with a private security company in San Antonio. He was hoping that he wasn’t going to regret it.

  He walked into the San Antonio airport—weary from the delayed Washington, D.C., flight—with a carryon bag and looked around for his brother Bob.

  He was tall and big, dark-eyed and dark-haired, with a broad, sexy face. His brother was an older version of him, but much slighter in build. Bob approached him with a grin, a young boy of six held firmly by the hand.

  “Hi,” Bob greeted him. “I hope you just got here. I had to bring Mikey with me.”

  The towheaded boy grinned up at him. He had a front tooth missing. “Hi, Uncle Lang, been shooting any bad guys?” he asked loudly, causing a security man who was talking to a woman at the information counter to turn his head with a suspicious scowl.

  “Not lately, Mikey,” Lang replied. He shook his brother’s hand and bent to lift Mikey up onto his shoulder. “How’s it going, pardner?” he asked the boy.

  “Just fine! The dentist says I’m going to get a new tooth, but the Tooth Fairy left me a whole dollar for my old one!”

  “Just between us, the Tooth Fairy’s going bust,” Bob said in a lowered voice.

  “Can I see your gun, Uncle Lang, huh?” Mikey persisted.

  The security guard lifted both eyebrows. Lang could have groaned out loud as the man approached. He’d been through the routine so often that he just put Mikey down and opened his jacket without being asked to.

  The security man cocked his head. “Nice shirt, or are you showing off your muscles?”

  “I’m showing you that I don’t have a gun,” Lang muttered.

  “Oh, that. No, I wasn’t looking for a gun. You’re Lang Patton?”

  Lang blinked. “Yes.”

  “Nobody else here fits the description,” the man added sheepishly. “Well, there’s a Mrs. Patton on the phone who asks that you stop by the auto parts place and pick her up a new carburetor for a ’65 Ford Mustang, please.”

  “No, he will not,” Bob muttered. “I told her she can’t do that overhaul, but she won’t listen. She’s going to prove me wrong or…cowardly woman, to sucker you into it,” he added indignantly to Lang, who was grinning from ear to ear.

  “His wife—my sister-in-law—is a whiz with engines,” Lang told the security man. “She can fix anything on wheels. But he—” he jerked his thumb at an outraged Bob “—doesn’t think it’s ladylike.”

  “What century is he living in?” the security man asked. “Gee, my wife keeps our washing machine fixed. Saves us a fortune in repair bills. Nothing like a wife who’s handy with equipment. You should count your blessings,” he added to Bob. “Do you know what a mechanic charges?”

  “Yes, I know what a mechanic charges, I’m married to one,” Bob said darkly. “She owns her own repair shop, and she doesn’t care that I don’t like her covered in grease and smelling of burned rubber. All I am these days is a glorified baby-sitter.”

  Lang knew why Bob was upset. He and his brother had spent their childhood playing second fiddle to their mother’s job. “You know Connie loves you,” he said, trying to pacify Bob. “Besides, you’re a career man yourself, and a terrific surveyor,” Lang argued when the security man was called away to a passenger in distress. “Mikey will take after you one day. Won’t you, Mikey?” he asked the child.

  “Not me. I want to be a grease monkey, just like my mommy!”

  Bob threw up his hands and walked away, leaving Lang and Mikey to catch up.

  The Pattons lived in Floresville, a pleasant little ride down from San Antonio, past rolling land occupied by grazing cattle and oil pumping stations. This part of Texas was still rural, and Lang remembered happy times as a boy when he and Bob visited their uncle’s ranch and got to ride horses with the cowboys. Things at home were less pleasant.

  “Time passes so quickly,” Lang remarked.

  “You have no idea,” Bob replied. He glanced at Lang. “I saw Kirry downtown the other day.”

  Lang’s heart jumped. He hadn’t expected to hear her name mentioned. In five years, he’d done his best to forget her. The memories were sudden and acute, Kirry with her long wavy blond hair blowing in the breeze, her green eyes wide and bright with laughter and love. There were other memories, not so pleasant, of Kirry crying her eyes out and begging a recalcitrant Lang to listen. But he wouldn’t. He’d caught her in a state of undress with his best friend and, in a jealous rage, he’d believed the worst. It had taken six months for him to find ou
t that his good friend had set Kirry up because he wanted her for himself.

  “I tried to apologize once,” Lang said without elaborating, because Bob knew the whole story.

  “She won’t talk about you to this day,” was the quiet reply. Bob turned into the side street that led to the Patton house. “She’s very polite when you’re mentioned, but she always changes the subject.”

  “She went away to college before I left,” Lang reminded him.

  “Yes, and graduated early, with honors. She’s vice president of a top public relations firm in San Antonio. She makes very good money, and she travels a lot.”

  “Does she still come home?” Lang asked.

  Bob shook his head. “She avoids Floresville like the plague. She can afford to since her mother sold the old homestead.” His eyes shifted to Lang. “You must have hurt her a lot.”

  Lang smiled with self-contempt. “You have no idea how much.”

  “It was right after that when you were accepted for the CIA.”

  “I’d applied six months before,” he reminded Bob. “It wasn’t a sudden decision.”

  “It was one you hadn’t shared with any of us.”

  “I knew you wouldn’t like it. But here I am, back home and safe, with some pretty exciting memories,” Lang reminisced.

  “As alone as when you left.” Bob indicated Mikey, who was lying down on the back seat of Bob’s Thunderbird, reading a Marvel comic book. “If you’d gotten married, you could have had one of those by now.”

  Lang looked at Mikey and his eyes darkened. “I don’t have your courage,” he said curtly.

  Bob glanced at him. “And you said I shouldn’t let the past ruin my life.”

  Lang shrugged. “It tends to intrude. Less since I’ve been away.”

  “But you still haven’t coped with it, Lang, you’re getting older. You’ll want a wife and a family one day.”

  Lang couldn’t argue with wanting a wife. It was the thought of a child that made him hesitate. “My last case reminded me of how short life can be, and how unpredictable,” he said absently. “The woman I was helping guard had a kid brother who’d been in a coma for years. He’s older than Mikey, but a real nice kid. I got attached to him.” He stretched and leaned his head back against the seat. “I did a lot of thinking about where my life was going, and I didn’t like what I saw. So when an old friend of mine mentioned this security chief job, I decided to give it a try.”