In Search of the Dove

by Rebecca York

  “Keeping you from killing yourself in here.”

  “I should never have let you come home with me.”

  “You couldn’t prevent it.” Michael had readjusted the water so that it was hotter. Where it hit her body, it almost burned. “Listen, if you’re worried about your reputation as a macho loner, it’s safe with me. I’m not going to tell anyone about this.”

  He gave her a scathing look. “If I had the strength, I’d kick you out of here.” Then he pointedly looked away from her. It was obvious that the next best thing to getting rid of her was pretending she wasn’t there.

  If the performance was designed to make her angry, it didn’t work. She knew he was in pain, if not physically, then mentally. She wanted to fold him into her arms again. Knowing that he still wouldn’t allow that, she picked up the bar of soap and worked up a lather in her hands. Then she began to smooth her fingers across his chest. After a few strokes he closed his eyes and some of the tension went out of his shoulders. Encouraged, she washed his neck and chest. The feel of his firm skin sliding under her soapy hands was erotic, but she tried not to think about it. She worked up more lather and coasted her soapy palms across his flat belly but didn’t dare go any lower. “Turn around and let me do your back,” she directed instead, her voice husky.

  He shifted his position, bracing his hands against the wall. Now that he was facing away from her, she allowed herself the luxury of drinking in the uncompromising masculinity of his form. Muscles corded in his arms and shoulders, and his body tapered down to a narrow waist and tightly rounded buttocks. Her soapy fingers trembled slightly as they slid across his waterslick skin. The bruises she skimmed over with the barest touch.

  “Bend your head back so I can do your hair,” she instructed.

  For a moment he hesitated, then complied. She poured out a dollop of his green shampoo into her palm and inhaled the fresh pine scent. Her fingers combed through his hair, appreciating its slightly rough texture. When she worked the lather into his scalp, he muttered something unintelligible.

  He straightened and thrust his head directly under the stream from the shower. The water seemed to have had a reviving effect. She could see new tension in the set of his shoulders.

  “I can finish this by myself.”

  “I don’t think that’s very smart.”

  “Believe me, it’s very smart.” There was a gritty edge to his voice. “You might have come in here with good intentions, but I’m afraid having an almost naked woman in the shower running her hands over my body is more than I can handle right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” she tried to apologize

  “If you won’t get out, I will.” He pulled the curtain aside and stepped from the cubicle, leaving her under the cascading water. She took a steadying breath. Touching him had aroused her too.

  Reaching out, she turned off the taps. She was now standing in the shower in her dripping underwear. “At least give me something to dry off with.”

  A large hand thrust inside the curtain and offered a white towel. Jessica hung it over the faucets while she removed her soaking panties and bra. Then she wrapped the bath sheet around her body. When she stepped out of the shower, Michael had a towel draped around his waist and was drying his hair with another. The hesitation was gone from his movements. Physically he seemed to have recovered. But the pain of the ordeal was still etched into his features.

  She looked at him, her heart aching. Then, without giving herself time to reconsider, she walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. His whole body stiffened.

  “Don’t.”

  She pressed her cheek against his shoulder and began to speak very quickly. “Michael, when you disappeared this evening, I knew something terrible had happened to you. I made Devine take me to your room. When I saw the cockscomb, I was afraid to touch it, but I forced myself. Michael, it was horrible because I knew exactly what you were feeling.” She paused, drawing in a steadying breath. “I couldn’t be sure if we were going to get there in time. Please don’t shut me out now.”

  For several heartbeats he didn’t move. Then, as if against his will, his arms came up to pull her closer, and he buried his face in her neck. When he’d been afraid he was dying, his thoughts had been on her. She’d heard him calling her, even when he couldn’t utter a sound. She’d given him back his life, and now she was stirring his body to the ultimate affirmation of life. He focused on her, her skin flushed from the heat of the shower, her hair a mass of damp auburn curls, her eyes pleading with him to accept her comfort.

  “Baby. Oh, baby.”

  “Make love to me, Michael.”

  She had asked that of him once before, and he hadn’t been able to refuse. It was beyond his power to walk away from her now.

  He moved back slightly and tipped her face up so that he could look into the hazel depths of her eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Very sure.”

  Her fingers moved up to clasp the back of his head, pulling his face down to hers. When their lips met, it was as if she was bringing the warmth back to his body that even the hot water hadn’t been able to restore.

  Her mouth opened under his, and he accepted the invitation, tasting her with the fervor of a man who had thought he would be denied all sweetness forever.

  He took her lower lip between his teeth, nibbling it with careful, erotic little bites.

  His hands moved down her back, sliding up under the towel to cup her hips and cradle them against his. She reeled from the pleasure of the contact, alive with the heady sensation of being in his arms again.

  When he had held her like this before, it had been in a drug-induced dream. Her senses had been mixed up, her mind confused. But this was real. Now she was responding because she wanted to, not because she couldn’t help herself. She moved against him, a little moan escaping from her.

  He had told himself over and over that her reactions before had come from Dove, that they had nothing to do with him. Now that she was in his arms again, there was no denying the eagerness with which she met his passion. That meant a great deal to him. Everything.

  All at once he wanted to wrap her warmth around himself, devour her, make love to her every way that a man could make love to a woman.

  “Yes, Michael, everything.” Her hands tangled in his hair, stroked across his back and shoulders. She couldn’t get enough of him. She would never be able to get enough of him.

  He stripped the towel off her body and tugged the other one from around his waist. With a deep groan, he pulled her into his arms again. The feel of her naked flesh against his was exquisite, almost more than he could stand. He hadn’t asked to want her like this. He had fought that desire with all his resources. Now, suddenly, his need for her went beyond urgency. He wanted her this moment. Right here. Standing in the steamy bathroom. Yet he remembered the way he had taken her before. He had been rough and quick. It wasn’t going to be that way this time.

  He forced himself to catch his breath.

  “Jess.”

  “Mmm.”

  “Come to bed with me.”

  She twined her fingers with his. “That’s an offer I can’t refuse.”

  He laughed softly, led her down the hall, watched mesmerized as she folded back the covers and slipped between the sheets. When she held out her arms to him, he came into them with a sigh of pleasure.

  His lips explored the satin skin of her shoulder, the tender curl of her ear. “You’re so sweet.”

  Her eager fingers stroked the hard muscles of his arms, counted his ribs. “And you’re a very sexy man. But I’ve already told you that.”

  “I remember.”

  “It was different that night. I was on fire, but it was...artificial.” She strove to keep her voice steady. “Michael, I’m on fire now. I think I want you as much as a woman could possibly want a man.”

  His fingers stroked through her hair, then tilted her face up and glided his lips across her cheek, finding her mouth aga
in. He cherished her tenderly, holding his passion back, wanting more than anything to meet her needs as well as his own.

  When his hands began to stroke her again, he was sensitive to her reactions. He hadn’t known it, but there was a basic honesty about her that the drug had only heightened. And the way her hands moved over his body told him as much as the desire he read in her eyes. Last time she had been like someone caught on a roller coaster, helpless to get off until the ride was over. This time he sensed that she wanted to enjoy every hill and dip for its own thrill.

  “Michael, I love the way you touch me,” she whispered.

  The knowledge that she was responding so strongly to him increased his own excitement. He cupped his hands around her breasts, intrigued by the contrast of his dark skin against the cream of hers and fascinated by the rapture on her face when he caressed her.

  When he sucked one taut nipple into his mouth, her nails dug urgently into the flesh of his back.

  His hands stroked between her legs, feeling her readiness. She made little pleading sounds as she moved against him.

  Her fingers slid down his body and closed around him. With that invitation, he knew he couldn’t hold back any longer. Groaning, he slid deep into her warm velvety softness. He could feel her contract around him.

  “Oh, that’s so good.” She sighed as he began to move within her.

  “More than good. Incredible.”

  Her hands clasped his shoulders as she matched her rhythm to his. She was tuned to him in a way that she would never have believed possible. It was as if he were another part of her that had always been missing. They moved in concert, each stoking the other’s fire until, in the white-hot heat of their climax, they crossed the last barrier that separated them.

  For a moment in time they were truly one.

  The waves of ecstasy subsided slowly, but still he clasped her to him. Rolling to his side, he brought her up against the length of his body.

  When he finally spoke, his voice was husky. “Jess, you saved my life tonight. I was too angry and upset to acknowledge that.”

  “It’s all right. I know what you went through.” She reached up to stroke his cheek. “You were there when I needed you. It hurt that you didn’t want to let me be here for you. But I understood.”

  “I was a real bastard tonight.”

  “I’m too sleepy to argue about that now.”

  He was relieved that she didn’t want to discuss it any further. The experience in the tomb had opened up emotional wounds that he still couldn’t cope with. “Yeah, it’s late. We’d better get to sleep.”

  Settling himself more comfortably, he tucked the covers around their shoulders before cradling her head in the crook of his arm. It had been a long time since he had wanted to share the whole night with a woman. But there was a rightness to having Jessica lie beside him.

  She must have sensed it too. He could feel her body relaxing as her eyelids feathered closed.

  He waited until he was sure she was asleep. Then his lips pressed softly against her face. “I don’t deserve you, Jess.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They had gotten to sleep so late that it was just after noon when Michael woke up. He found Jessica curled beside him, her silky skin warm against his own. He didn’t want to wake her, but he couldn’t resist stroking his fingers across her shoulder and down her arm. She smiled in her sleep and her eyes opened slowly. After a moment of disorientation, she snuggled closer, an affectionate kitten purring contentment.

  “Good morning,” she finally murmured.

  “Good afternoon, you mean.”

  “Mmm.” Her arms slid around his waist and tightened. “Do we have to get up?”

  He certainly didn’t want to. Maybe they could have breakfast sent up and later dinner. The thought of spending the day in bed with her was infinitely appealing. His body was already beginning to respond very positively to the idea.

  “Perhaps not for a while.”

  She nuzzled her face against his chest. “Good.”

  Still, he did have responsibilities. “I have to talk to Devine sometime and report in to my supervisor.”

  “To the Falcon?” The question slipped out before she realized he hadn’t told her the name.

  Michael tensed.

  She raised her head, hazel eyes large and serious. “I don’t know his real name. But I can tell he’s important to you. I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  “I understand that.” His voice indicated that he didn’t like it.

  “You’re a man with secrets.”

  “And responsibilities. It’s not up to me to decide whether to share them.”

  She nodded sadly.

  “I’ve had to live this way for a long time.”

  But you were close to someone named Laura. You’re not going to tell me about her, are you? And I’m not going to ask.

  He took her hand. “Jess, you’re an extraordinary woman.”

  “And a threat to the barren life you’ve chosen.”

  His face hardened. “It’s not what the average person would want, but it’s not exactly barren either. The Falcon convinced me I was needed. Every assignment I’ve accepted from him has reinforced that conviction and brought its own satisfaction.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  He didn’t answer the question. “Jess, I tried to hold you at arm’s length. I couldn’t do it. But that can’t be a factor in the decisions I have to make.”

  Would it make a difference if I told you I’ve fallen in love with you, Michael?

  “Well, I guess that’s my cue to fade out of your life.” She started to swing her legs off the bed, but he pulled her back.

  “Don’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”

  “What do you want from me, Michael? You’ve already told me you don’t have room for excess baggage.”

  He wrapped his arms around her and held her. “Don’t call yourself that. That’s not really the point, anyway. Jess, there’s another agent working on this case. He’s in trouble. Maybe dead. You know damn well it could just as easily have been me.”

  “Jed.”

  He swore. “What do you know about Jed?”

  “Hardly anything.”

  “What?” His voice was harsh.

  “Michael, when I open my mind up, it’s like a radio receiver. I can’t control what comes in. Last night when I was looking for you, I could see you lying in that tomb. But it was mixed with another scene. Jed was trapped too.” She paused, recalling the picture. “In a hospital room. I think someone gave him the same drug they gave you. That’s why his image was like an overlay on yours.”

  “The Falcon’s going to need to know that right away.”

  “And you have to have some privacy.”

  “Yes. Jess, I’m sorry.”

  “I know. I understand.”

  She wanted to cling to him, argue with him. There was so much they hadn’t said to each other. Instinctively she knew that words wouldn’t do any good. Instead she pressed her face against his hard shoulder. For the briefest moment, she opened her lips, wanting to taste the warmth of his skin one last time. Suddenly she realized that if she didn’t leave at once, she was going to break down in front of him.

  Without looking back at the bed, she got up stiffly and walked down the hall to the bathroom. After finding her underwear was still wet, she rolled it in a towel and pulled on her jeans and shirt. The clothing was damp and rumpled and she felt like a mess. But it wouldn’t be a very long cab ride home.

  When she came back to the bedroom, Michael had pulled on a pair of fresh jeans.

  “Jess,” he began.

  “Anything you say is just going to make it worse. Goodbye.” She didn’t trust herself to speak above a whisper or even to raise her eyes to his.

  He clenched his fists, holding himself stiff and tight. Instead of striding across the room and pulling her into his arms again, he watched her walk out the door and close it. He hadn’t fe
lt this devastated since they’d told him about Laura. But that just made him more sure than ever that he had to let Jessica go, even if it tore him apart. With someone else, maybe he could have had a relationship and kept it separate from his work. But with Jessica, every secret that he knew would put both of them in jeopardy.

  * * *

  IT WOULD BE IMPOSSIBLE to feel any worse, Jessica thought as she dragged herself up the steps toward Aubrey’s apartment. But she was mistaken. No sooner had she closed the door than the phone began to ring.

  “Ms. Duval?”

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Yes.”

  “This is Dr. Frederickson.”

  She knew what he was going to say.

  “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

  Maybe she was wrong. Please God, let me be wrong, just this once.

  “I’m sorry, but your brother expired this morning. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  She sank down into one of the kitchen chairs, struggling to catch her breath.

  “Ms. Duval, are you all right?”

  “Yes. What happened?”

  “I’d rather not go into it over the phone.”

  Blood. A lot of blood, red and pooled on the tile floor of a bathroom.

  “Did he kill himself?”

  “Uh—yes,” the doctor confirmed reluctantly. “Ms. Duval, he was very disturbed. We had him under very close observation, but—”

  “I know you did everything you could, Dr. Frederickson. I’ll be down there in about forty-five minutes.”

  * * *

  SHE COULDN’T FACE going to the cemetery, not after her recent experience. The very idea of opening up her family crypt was too close to the nightmare of a few days ago. So, after a lot of private soul searching, she had Aubrey’s body cremated.

  A few students and some of the university faculty came to the quiet memorial service conducted by a minister recommended by the mortuary. It surprised her that Simone didn’t come. Maybe the grapevine had failed her old friend this time, or perhaps she was still afraid of getting involved. At the very least Jessica had expected a note of condolence. But it didn’t really make any difference. No matter who showed up to tell her they were sorry about the tragedy, taking care of Aubrey’s last needs was a very lonely job.