"Tell him that after we find out if this place has a coffeemaker," Pauley said as he headed across the room toward the cabinets. "This stove looks like it's vintage 1930." He was looking through the cabinets. "I don't see-for heaven's sake, a samovar." He took out the elaborate tea service. "Very fancy but it's not a coffeepot."
"Stop complaining." Dardon was going through the cabinets, too. He triumphantly pulled out an old-fashioned coffeepot. "And there should be supplies, including coffee, in here somewhere."
Garrett turned to Emily. "Pick a bedroom. There should be three. Which is pretty palatial for a farmer. And there's supposed to be a lean-to with a comfortable enough mattress and pallet outside the kitchen door. We'll have enough places to sleep."
"And I won't be here that long," Pauley said. "If I can down enough coffee, I'll work all night and see if I can get a breakthrough." He smiled at Emily. "Much as I like the company, this place in the country isn't my idea of resort living."
"I can understand that." Emily smiled back at him. "We appreci¬ate your coming."
"He's being paid very well for coming," Garrett said. "And Pauley getting his work done and getting on his way will be good for all of us."
"That's telling me." Pauley raised his brows. "Little edgy, Gar¬rett?" He didn't wait for an answer, but went to the sink and filled the pot. "That will cost you."
"The price is set."
"But that was before you hurt my feelings," Pauley said. "I charge extra for that."
"And so you should," Emily said as she headed for one of the doors leading off the kitchen. "I'm going to see if I can shower and change my clothes. Where's the bathroom?"
"One bathroom. We share." Dardon said. "It's the door on the other side of the kitchen."
"Not exactly convenient," Pauley said.
"Shut up, Pauley," Dardon said. "I did the best I could on short notice.
"And I get one of the bedrooms," Pauley said. "I'm working and I need privacy and a soft bed to rest my weary and exceptionally bril¬liant head."
Dardon frowned. "The hell you do."
"I'll sleep in the lean-to," Garrett said. "Just get your work done, Pauley."
Pauley smiled. "I may forgive you for being so curt with me." He turned on the stove and put the coffeepot on the flames. "And I may give you a cup of my coffee."
Emily shut the door of the bedroom behind her and leaned against it. She was glad to close them all out and grasp this moment of quiet. They had been going nonstop, sidestepping bullets and jetting across oceans for the last days, and it was catching up with her. There had been only a short period that she had felt safe and content during that time, and it had been linked to those moments on the plane with Garrett.
Intimacy.
But there had been no hint of intimacy in the Garrett who had been cold with Pauley. It had annoyed her again, and she had struck back. Jealousy was absurd in their relationship. Even though he'd ad¬mitted that it was childish, he seemed to be feeling it still.
Why? It wasn't as if she was some Angelina Jolie. She could see a woman like that attracting Garrett. Emily knew that she was a fairly attractive woman and that she had brains and drive. She would not underestimate herself, but she would not make the mistake of believ¬ing that Garrett could be involved with her on a more permanent basis. They were too different. It had to be the situation that was binding them together.
Yes, the situation. That was the answer.
She gazed around the room. Clean, a worn off-white quilt on the bed. Cheap painted nightstand and a bowl and pitcher on the chest by the door. Good enough.
The bed looked particularly good to her. She was in no mood to pass through the kitchen to go to the communal bathroom for a shower.
Later.
She curled up on the bed and pulled the ancient cream-colored quilt over her. Why did old things always seem more soft and com¬fortable…?
SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING.
She opened her eyes. The room was dark. "Emily."
Garrett. She swung her feet to the floor, crossed the room, and opened the door. "Is everything okay?"
"That's what I was going to ask you." He smiled. "You've been in here for almost four hours. But judging by the fact that you're a bit tousled, I'd guess you were taking a nap."
She nodded. "I only meant to-I suppose I was tired."
"I suppose." He stepped aside. "And you were a little tired of us. Me, particularly. But Dardon and Pauley have gone to their rooms, and you can have the house to yourself if you want to take that shower."
She did want a shower. She felt sticky, and her mouth was like cot¬ton. "Is there hot water?"
He nodded. "I lit the water heater."
She went back into the bedroom, opened her duffel, and took out her toothbrush and shampoo. Then she grabbed underclothes, shirt, and pants. "Good. I hate cold showers."
"Me too." He turned and headed back toward the kitchen. "Take your time. I'll make you coffee. You didn't get any from the first pot."
She could smell the coffee as she opened the bathroom door al¬most an hour later. Lord, she loved the smell of fresh coffee.
He smiled as she came toward the table. "Feel better?"
"Yes."
"Want something to eat?"
"No, I had that sandwich on the plane. I'm not hungry."
"That was a long time ago." He poured her coffee. "Maybe later." "Maybe."
He sat down across from her. "Pauley said he's close." "He said that on the plane, too."
"There are a lot of false starts and doubling back in his line of work."
"You sound as if you're familiar with it."
"Familiar, not perfect. That's why I moved on to other endeavors."
"Do you have to be perfect in everything you do?"
"Only in some things. But I have to be damn good, or it drives me crazy until I am."
"I was never that ambitious. I just wanted to accomplish what I set out to do and do it well."
"You grew up with a loving father and a secure home life. I had to be better than anyone else on the street or end up in the gutter. It trained me to be competitive."
"I can see that." She looked at him over the rim of the cup. Even now when he was sitting here, relaxed, she was aware of the vibrancy and wariness that was such an integral part of him. In those first days with Garrett, she had not dreamed she could become so accustomed to being with him. She was wary, too, and she was out of her element with him.
He had stopped smiling, and his gaze was suddenly intent. He was still out of her element.
She could feel her chest tighten, and the heat move through her. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Get a grip.
"I'm still competitive," he said. "You didn't like it when I wasn't all sweetness and light to Pauley. Sorry. It's my nature. I have to pro¬tect what's-" He broke off. "No, you wouldn't like that either. I seem to be saying all the wrong things tonight." He looked down at the coffee in his cup. "But I think it's the time to say them. I think you're ready. God, I hope you're ready."
"Ready for what? Sex?"
"Yes." He looked up at her. "Oh, yes."
She caught her breath. He wasn't even touching her, and she felt as if something inside her was melting.
"You knew it was coming," he said thickly. "You want it to come."
She did want it, and she'd be lying if she denied it. She wouldn't lie. "We have a certain chemistry." She moistened her lips. "But it's the sit¬uation. We've been thrown together, and we react. That doesn't mean we should-" She broke off and pushed her chair back. "I'm hot." Oh, shit, that had just tumbled out. "I need some air. I'm going outside."
He smiled. "I'm hot, too, Emily." But he remained in his chair as she left the house.
The night was chilly, but it didn't cool her. She leaned back against the house, gazing out at the barren fields. She was burning up, her body readying. For heaven's sake, she felt the way she had the first time she'd had sex. It was her first year in college, and she'd b
een mindless, uncontrolled, dizzy with lust. She hadn't run away from it then. She'd run toward it.
Because it was safe, just a new experience, a passage of life.
Sex with Garrett would not be safe, and the passage could take her down paths that would be new and strange.
And exciting. Yes, everything about Garrett was exciting and dif¬ferent. The way he thought, the experiences that had made him who he was, his body that drew her and made her want to-
The door opened, and Garret came outside.
She tensed, straightening against the wall.
He was also tense. She could see the tautness of his face and the contained violence in the bunched muscles of his shoulders.
"Don't worry. I'm not going to jump you," he said. "I'm not even going to try to seduce you. Though God knows I want to do it. I might be able to pull it off. That's one of the skills I studied until I got pretty good at it."
"I'm sure you did." Emily tried to keep her voice even. "It's one of the most necessary talents in a man's repertoire, isn't it?"
"You're damn right." His gaze narrowed on her face. "And it's frus¬trating the hell out of me that I can't use it now. My hands are tied. That son of a bitch, Staunton, tied them, and I can't do anything about it."
"I don't know what-"
"I'm telling you," he interrupted harshly. "You've been one of the walking wounded ever since we came together. How the hell am I go¬ing to get you into bed when I'm afraid you're going to shatter if I put a finger on you?" He reached out his hand and brushed her throat. "Your pulse jumped when I touched you." He rubbed his thumb in the hollow. "And it's going crazy now."
More than crazy. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would jump from her breast.
"And I can't do a damn thing about it," he said between his teeth. "You're the only one who can make the move." His hand dropped away from her throat. "Just know that I want you more than I've wanted any woman in my life. I'm wild for you. I'd never hurt you, and I'd make it good for you. That's all I wanted to say." He turned on his heel and walked across the farmyard toward the road.
She stared after him, her head whirling with the words he'd just spoken.
Walking wounded.
You'd shatter if I put a finger on you. Staunton tied my hands.
She slowly turned and went back into the house.
SHE SHOULD HAVE WORN HER shoes. Her bare feet were cold on the rough ground as she moved toward the lean-to.
Cold feet. That was almost funny. But she wouldn't be nervous or afraid. She had gone through all that in the hours since she'd left Gar¬rett. Now the time for nerves was over. Then why did she still feel them, dammit?
She opened the door of the lean-to. "Garrett."
"Come in." He was half-lying, half-sitting, propped up against the wall. "Quick." He lifted the quilt covering him. "Let me get you warm. I didn't expect you to be running around in a tee shirt."
She dove forward and under the covers. "I didn't really think about it. I just decided to come." She stiffened as she realized he was naked. "And you have less on than I do. You were expecting me?"
"I was hoping." His lips brushed her ear. "But I always sleep naked."
Dear God, she was trembling. His body was hard, hot, ready against her.
"You're shaking." He turned her over to look down at her. "It's so dark in here, I can't see you. Are you afraid?"
"For Pete's sake, I've never been afraid of you." She reached down and pulled her tee shirt over her head and threw it aside. "And I won't shatter. And, if I was among the walking wounded, it was never sexu¬ally." She pulled him down and then arched upward with a little cry as her breasts touched his chest. "And I won't allow Staunton to tie your hands. I want them moving over me. Get busy."
He chuckled. "Right. Whatever you say." His hand moved be¬tween her legs. "Like this?"
She inhaled sharply. "Yes."
"Maybe we should go to your room. I made sure this pallet was clean, but that's all it is." He was rubbing, manipulating. "You'd be more comfortable."
"No." She arched as he went deep. "This is fine."
"You're not cold?"
"Are you crazy?" No, the bastard was teasing, physically and ver¬bally. "I'm not wounded. I'm not cold. I'm in lust, and you're not do¬ing anything about it." She pushed him back and moved over him. "So I guess I'll have to do it myself."
"I CAN SEE WHY YOU DIDN'T want to go to your bedroom," Gar¬rett whispered. "Dardon would have run into your room gun drawn at the first scream."
"It wasn't a scream." But it had come close, Emily thought as she tried to get her breath. "It was a prolonged, loud, exclamation."
"I liked it. Call it anything you please." He was curved spoonlike against her back, and his hand was rubbing her belly. "I made you do it. You liked what I did to you."
Liked? She had been out of her mind every time they had come together. She was still out of her mind. Just his hand rubbing her flesh was causing it to start all over again. "You're not bad, Garrett."
"Not bad? I'm obviously going to have to up my efforts a notch. I want to impress you."
Oh, he had impressed her. She had tried to protect herself by mak¬ing light of it, but she had to be honest. He had given her more than she had expected, more than she had thought she needed. She was silent a moment, trying to find the words. "You made me feel… alive again, Garrett," she whispered. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," he murmured. "But I didn't do anything much in that direction. You're the most beautifully alive person I've ever known. It was what I saw when I first saw your picture in the newspa¬per. Full of life and character and a sort of luminous joy." He kissed the tip of her ear. "I think that's why I got so pissed that you'd been taken and I had to go after you."
"There are so many little things that make us what we are. The memories, the way we face sorrow and disasters, the people we reach out to. I thought I was back, but there was still a numbness there. I couldn't make contact. I guess I haven't felt really alive since-" She stopped. "I hadn't even realized what I'd lost. But tonight I felt alive. My body felt beautiful and clean, and you made me feel as if I was very special."
"And so you are."
He didn't understand. She wasn't sure she could make it clear what he'd given her. It was more than likely it had just been a great roll in the hay to him. She was probably embarrassing him. She'd had to put it into words but it would be better to back away. "Of course, I am," she said lightly. "I'm glad you recognize it."
"I couldn't help it." He moved his hand to her throat and began lightly rubbing the hollow of her throat. "For instance, your flesh is very sensitive. Particularly here." He smiled as he felt the pulse leap be¬neath his touch. "Extraordinarily sensitive. It's good to know that no matter where we are, what we're doing, all I have to do is slip my hand under your blouse and you'll be ready for me in a heartbeat."
"Don't count on it." But it didn't sound very sincere when she could hardly get her breath.
"I am counting on it." He turned her over on her back. "Because you're going to back away. You're going to be afraid you'll lose your focus. I'll just have to bring you back. I know all the ways now. You know how good we are together. Every chance I get, I'll remind you."
"What about your focus?"
"I can keep my focus. There's no need denying ourselves this. That would give Staunton a victory." He moved over her. "You said you didn't want him to tie my hands." His fingers were moving, brushing, pressing. "I promise he's not going to do that, Emily…"
"I'VE GOT IT!"
The door of the lean-to was thrown open, letting in bright day¬light and Pauley.
He stopped short, his gaze on Emily. "Oops."
"Oops, indeed." Garrett drew the blanket over Emily and raised himself on one elbow. "You could have knocked."
"I was excited. And I didn't know you weren't alone." Pauley made a face. "Sorry, Emily."
"It's okay." She was looking around for
the tee shirt she had dis¬carded all those hours ago. "Why are you excited?"
"Not for the same reason Garrett was excited," he said ruefully. "Lucky man. I wish I'd spent the night here instead of staring at that computer."
"What have you got?" Garrett reached over and retrieved Emily's tee shirt and handed it to her. "Why don't you go start the coffee and give us a couple minutes?"
"Right." Pauley moved out of the doorway and headed for the house. "And it's almost eight in the morning. It's time you got up any¬way."
"You can go straight to your bedroom and get some clothes on, Emily." Garrett was pulling the tee shirt over her head. "I'll talk to Pauley."
"No. Give me your shirt. You get another one out of your suit¬case." She slipped the shirt over her tee shirt and buttoned it. "That's good enough until I can hit the shower. It should only take a few min¬utes to hear what Pauley has to say." She got up and headed for the door. "Coming?"
"Could you wait until I get some clothes on?" He was already dressing. "I'll be just a minute." He smiled faintly. "You're already in strike mode. It's going to be a harder battle than I thought. It only took Pauley with his computer wizardry to jar you away."
"What are you talking about? Only? Why else are we here in Russia?"
"You're right, of course. Time to focus." He was passing her as he headed for the door. "What could I be thinking?" He gave her a glance as he passed her. "But remember when I said I'd have it all? That didn't only apply to Staunton and his employer. I will have it all, Emily." He didn't wait for an answer but strode toward the house.
She had to run to keep up with him. The rocks were cold and bit¬ing into her bare feet. It was the same as last night. No, not the same. Last night she wouldn't have cared if she were walking on hot coals.
He glanced back at her, then stopped to wait. "Much as I like every part of you bare, I suggest you wear shoes from now on." There was a faint edge to his tone. "You may not be able to keep up with me. I in¬tend to move very fast from now on. I'm beginning to want Staunton out of our lives very badly."
"I've never wanted anything else."
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