"No," Grant said. Adam knew about Grant’s frequent flights to Buffalo. "I’ll take care of it."
"Okay, buddy." His face went back to the chiseled mask.
Adam left him then. Grant knew his mechanic thought he wanted to spend his time closer to Brooke. He’d told him about her. Hell, he’d told everybody. He was so in love, thinking himself so lucky to find love twice only to have it ripped away like a severed arm. He hadn’t imagined he’d have to forget ever seeing her again.
Grant stared across the field. Planes taxied in the distance. Waves of heat radiated from the outlying tarmac. The wind felt warm against his arms. A fair wind, one that would be perfect for flying anywhere, except north by northwest.
"Hey, Grant," Adam called from the door. "I’ve filed your flight plan." He handed him the folded piece of paper. "The weather’s a jewel today. You should have no trouble."
"Thanks." Grant took the papers, his mind four-hundred miles away. "When can I expect them?"
Adam consulted his watch. "You’ve got enough time for coffee."
As if on cue, a bus arrived with twenty men and women in various degrees of business and casual dress. They were loaded down with camera cases, suit cases, and garment bags. Several of them carried tripods over their shoulders. A vision of Robyn with her camera and tripod invaded his memory.
Adam and several men came out to take the luggage and stow it in the cargo hold. Grant went inside his office to get his flight bag. It was always packed and ready for a quick takeoff.
He disappeared into the plane and began the pre-flight checks. Jerry Asgarth, copilot, took the seat next to him after he’d made the final cabin count and closed and locked the outer door. Grant radioed the tower, and in minutes, they were airborne.
Fifty minutes later, he was on the ground. His grateful passengers smiled as they alighted into the sun of a crisp autumn morning. He toyed with the idea of flying back to Washington and returning in time to pick up his passengers tomorrow. The plane had to be refueled and checked before it would be ready for takeoff. This would leave him with something he didn’t want or need—time to kill. Unoccupied space in which to think of a dark-haired woman with lithe steps and a graceful body that fit his like a fine wine making a meal perfect.
Grant set off walking. He had no particular destination in mind when he started but found himself in the main terminal building facing a row of telephones. One was occupied by a uniformed airmen who hung up and left before Grant completed his internal struggle. He had no memory of lifting the receiver or dialing the restaurant. His cell was in his pocket. She knew his number. If it displayed on the screen, she might not answer. On the first ring, Brooke’s voice was in his ear. His courage deserted him.
"Brooke, this is Grant," he spoke over the lump in his throat. There was silence at the other end. "Are you there?"
"I’m here," she said, strain evident in her voice. "I want to see you."
"Grant—"
"I know we have to be careful. I remember everything you said. And I promise this is the last time." He only wanted to say good-bye, he told himself. Brooke didn’t answer. He was afraid she’d refuse. "Brooke, will you meet me somewhere?"
"Where are you?" she asked at the end of a long silence.
"Niagara Falls, the air force base." She didn’t answer immediately. Grant could almost see her biting her lower lip and tapping her right foot. It was the outward display of her struggle with logic and emotion.
"Stay there, I’ll pick you up," she finally answered. He let go of the breath he was holding. "Do you know where it is?" he asked.
"I’ll find it," she said with an assurance that told him she’d walk through fire to get here. "How long?"
"An hour."
Robyn had just changed for rehearsal. Quickly, she slipped out of the leotard and back into her purple suede suit. She didn’t want her last time with Grant to be in exercise clothes. Donning the matching coat, she set out to find him. Her feet nearly flew to the car, and within minutes, she was turning onto the New York State Thruway en route to Niagara Falls.
Grant walked to the main entrance and paced like an expectant father. Unsure from which direction she’d arrive, his head swiveled left and right as if he were watching a tennis match.
Robyn parked next to the grassy curb when she saw him. Getting out of the car, she stopped as he faced her. Without realizing it, she was flying toward him, her heels clicking against the asphalt, as she rushed into his arms.
"God! I missed you," Robyn breathed onto his neck. Tears gathered in her eyes.
"I missed you, too." Grant’s arms were tight around her. He brought them up to her head and pushed it back far enough to fuse his mouth to hers. Robyn kissed him hard and long, giving herself up to the passion she felt. Ignoring the guards in the small station behind them and the wind pulling at their clothes, they continued in their enjoyment of each other until both needed breath.
"We’d better go," he whispered.
"Come on." Slipping his arm around her waist, he guided her to the illegally parked BMW. She slid into the warm interior, and he joined her. He slipped his arm around her neck for one more kiss before fastening his seat belt.
"Where are we going?" Grant asked when they turned away from the base road.
"Fort Niagara. It’s a tourist attraction. In the summer, there are hordes of visitors, but after Labor Day the crowds thin considerably."
Grant sat in silence for the remainder of the ride. A shy smile creased the dimple in his right cheek. She didn’t know. Jacob Winston hadn’t told her, and he trusted him to keep her ignorant of his knowledge. He was satisfied just looking at her, knowing she was his wife. He could see the mannerisms that separately told him nothing, but the combination made her the woman he remembered.
Robyn took the curves with an assurance she didn’t feel. Her insides were shaking as she passed the exit that led to the famous landmark and headed for the unpaved road through the woods. Grant had glanced at her but remained quiet. Even when she came to a halt in front of a log cabin and cut the engine, he made no comment. Opening his door, he came around the hood and opened hers.
"Thanks," he said as he took her hand, assisting her to her feet. "I only have until tomorrow. I didn’t want my last hours with you to be in a room full of strangers."
Robyn blamed the tears that gathered in her eyes on the wind from the distant bay. Grant leaned forward and kissed her eyes, first one, then the other. The tenderness in his touch made a lump lodge in her throat. She resisted the sob that fought for life. Standing against the open car door, he continued his tender assault on her cheeks and finally her mouth. She leaned into him, deepening the kiss until she was drugged with need of him.
"Let’s go in," she said, hoarseness lowering her voice by several notes.
Grant got his flight bag and followed her. The small cabin had two rooms downstairs, a general purpose living area and a kitchen. There was a loft and bath room upstairs. The fireplace was lighted, bathing the room in warmth. The smell of coffee filled the air.
"How did you do this?" Grant asked.
"Cell phone," she smiled and closed the door. "Would you like some coffee? Something to eat?" Robyn didn’t wait for an answer. She shed her coat and went to the efficiency kitchenette. When two cups were ready, she handed one to him. He took them both and placed them side by side on the counter.
His arms went around her waist, and he pulled her against him. Her hair smelled so good he buried his face in the silky mass. "I tried not to call." Agony edged his whispered pledge. "I know it’s not good for you or Kari. . ."
"Don’t," Robyn told him. Her hands rubbed his back. "Don’t worry. We’re going to be fine."
He squeezed her tighter to him. She was the strongest woman he’d ever known. She’d survived for five years with the knowledge that he was alive, while he’d been safely protected behind the ignorance of her death. He could mourn and recover. She had to rely on her w
ill to keep herself sane. Grant wasn’t sure he was strong enough to handle the same kind of separation.
Robyn pushed herself back. Her eyes were dark and deep with love. He looked into them. They had less than twenty-four hours. He wanted to ask her a thousand questions, he wanted to find out everything old and everything new about her. Yet, there wasn’t enough time. In a lifetime, there would be too little time for everything he wanted to know.
Slowly, he bent his head and kissed her. Her mouth was warm, her lips pliant. He tested them, teased, tugged at her lower lip, brushed his lips across hers. "I need you," he muttered against her mouth. "I’ll die without you."
His mouth took hers then, fully. Five years of longing and wanting poured through him as his tongue met and tangled with hers. He groaned at the whimpers she made, fitting her to him, carving her into his frame until not a sliver of air separated them. His tongue filled her mouth and she strained toward him, giving and receiving in kind.
His hands were like bands around her, caressing her back and straying downward from the silk of her blouse to the resistance of her suede skirt. Robyn felt his arousal hot against the apex of her legs. She moved against him in an erotic maneuver. Grant joined her in the mating dance as his mouth continued to battle with hers.
When they had to separate for air, his passion-filled eyes bore into hers. Her feet left the floor as he lifted her. His mouth melded with hers as strong arms cradled her. Her fingers ran into the softness of his neck. She’d missed putting her hands there, missed running her fingers over his skin, feeling its softness, and the smell of his shampoo.
Grant turned with her, carrying her to the narrow stairway that led to the loft. He stood her on her feet in the bright light flowing from the small window. His hands went to the buttons on her blouse. Robyn looked at them as they released the closure one crusading link at a time. When the last one slipped through his fingers, he eased the fabric off her shoulders. The garment fell to the floor. Grant bent, caressing her uncovered shoulders with his kiss. Her head went back, and her eyes closed as thrills rippled through her. His sienna-colored skin merged with the yellow-rose of hers, creating a glow as perfect as the sunrise.
Familiar fingers released the zipper on her skirt, and with the same silence, it joined the blouse at her feet. Robyn pushed his jacket back, his arms releasing her for the moment it took to let it fall. She pressed her lips to the buttons of his shirt before slipping them through the tiny holes. Little by little, she exposed his skin. The belt bisecting him was freed, and soon, they were naked to each other.
Grant didn’t immediately take her to bed, but let his eyes devour the shape of her breasts, the gentle sloping of her waist, and the crest of her hips as they extended into long legs. His hands traced her, pausing to revel in her reaction. It was a memory he would have to live with from this day forward. She was nearly the same. Her breasts were fuller. Kari accounted for that. Her waist and hips were the same curvaceous crescent moons he remembered.
Robyn felt no embarrassment in his open appraisal. It gave her time to feast on him, recall and refresh her memory of how he looked in the morning, how the sun played across his chest and tinged his hair-dusted legs with a reddish highlights. Robyn placed her palms over his flat nipples and stepped closer to him. Five years of sleepless nights spent longing for this moment were reflected in the eyes she lifted to him.
Grant took her waist, a span so slim he could circle it with his hands.
His mouth touched hers, then quickly gorged it, exhausting himself in the satisfaction of holding her close. Any thoughts of taking this slow fled when her naked form welded to him. Heat generated as the electrical impulses in their blood synthesized into a lethal combination. Explosion was imminent, and Grant knew it.
He walked her backward to the bed and joined her there. The mattress was feather soft when Robyn’s back made contact with it. It folded around the two lovers, pushing them close to each other, acting like the bread of a sandwich as it wrapped around them. Grant slid over her, kissing her neck and working his way up the column to her ear. He paused for a heartbeat then his tongue traced the curved arc. Under him, she whimpered as spasms of sensation rocked her. With slow deliberation, he sponged the area purposely avoiding the inner cavity until her arms about him raked down his back. His own body was pained, but he forced himself to work slowly. She was driving him, forcing him to end the torture to them both, but somewhere in the recesses of his mind, he knew they needed this torment.
Robyn didn’t know how much more she could take. Grant was hot and hard against her, and she longed for him to end this agony, but he appeared to want it prolonged. He was giving, and she wanted to take, take it now, end the pain in a quick burst, but she remembered this was to be the last time. Pulling herself up, she pushed him back and took position over him. Her hair fell in panels over his face. He smoothed it back, tugging slowly on her head as he brought her mouth down to his. Robyn’s mind swam. Grant’s hands caressed the curve of her back, and he used his palms to make carnal circles on her buttocks. Her body gripped, and she was tempted to plunge herself over his erection. She kissed his chest, stopping briefly to circle each of his flat nipples until they extended in hard pebbly peaks. Low guttural sounds came from his throat. They pushed her on until she came to his navel. His hands were buried in her hair. They squeezed unmercifully when her tongue dipped into the small spring. A well within him seemed to break, and he pulled her back to eye level.
Reversing positions, he spread her legs and entered her. The pleasure that rocketed through Robyn broke on a ragged gasp. She found his rhythm quickly and frantically complemented it as their hands, arms, and legs worked in tempestuous unison. Robyn held nothing back. Her love, her need of him, her belief in their past and future streamed from her like the dust of a shooting star. She loved this dark man, this man who had crossed time to find and love her. The exquisite pleasure of his touch drove her onward until she had to let the sound in her throat free. His name broke out on a bellowing ring.
Grant heard the wail and knew she was his. She was his like she would never be to another man. And he was hers. He wanted her forever but refused to think ahead of this moment. Brooke’s body, clamped around his, drove all other thoughts from his mind except for the mounting hedonism that she evoked in him.
The end came in a blaze, like a star exploding in a fervor of expanding colors. Brooke writhed beneath him, her body alive with sensation as explosion after explosion rocked from one to the other. She squeezed him closer, trying to hold onto the moment a second longer. Grant swayed with her, giving, consuming, driven by instinct to go as far, as high as she wanted to go and beyond. With a wild cry, they collapsed in climactic resolution.
Breath came ragged and hard. Grant’s chest rose and fell as he inhaled great gulps of air. He gathered Brooke’s head in his hands. Her skin was moist, and her eyes were lazy with love. Tenderly, he kissed her, brushing his lips against hers. Then, he slipped off her, and together they slept.
This time when he awoke, she was there. He wasn’t dreaming. Her hair was spread over the pillow contrasting darkly against the white sheets. Grant had never been one to believe in the metaphysical, but something had brought them together again, and he felt there was a solution to their problems. He had to find it. Leaving her and Kari was something he couldn’t do. He knew that now, and he was willing to leave everything behind for her like a king abdicating his throne for the woman he loves. Grant’s life would be worthless without her.
***
The last note ended, and the spotlight on Robyn went out. For a moment, there was silence, then the house lights came up, bathing the stage in a glare of white light. Rehearsal was over. She grabbed her towel and left the stage.
"Aren’t you supposed to be away this weekend?" Robyn asked Marianne when she followed her into the dressing room.
"I won’t be going this weekend." The short redhead seemed down. Robyn, in her own misery, noticed
identical traits in Marianne.
"Did something happen?" Robyn glanced over her shoulder at her friend. She knew Marianne looked forward to these frequent jaunts. She had no idea where her partner went, but she was always high on the adventure before she left. When she returned, depression overtook her. Only chocolate sundaes helped her get over the experience.
"No," Marianne said. "I’ll go again soon, but not this weekend."
"Anything you want to talk about?" Robyn asked. Marianne’s head swiveled around to stare at her. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry."
"It’s not that. You’ve never even mentioned my weekends before." Except for the one with the fire, robyn hadn’t.
"I have noticed how affected you are by them," Robyn recalled.
"But you’ve never pried into my personal life either."
"Of course, I have. Wasn’t I the one who told you to stop grieving and get on with your life?" A sad smile curved her lips. Marianne remembered what Jacob had told her about sending Grant away. Since then, Robyn had begun to retreat into her former shell.
Robyn smiled. "You did it in the nicest way." Marianne returned the smile. "And you avoided the questions in an equal fashion."
"Well, I suppose we’re a couple of strange ones," Robyn said.
"Not exactly," Marianne returned. "I should have known it would take a man to finally crack that hard exterior of yours."
Robyn returned her stare. "Not today, Marianne, I’m not in the mood." She didn’t want to talk about Grant. Her fragile hold on her emotions would have her in tears if she thought about him. Since leaving the log cabin and kissing him at the entrance to the air force base, she’d responded like a robot to everything. She went through the motions of living without letting it touch her. Any contact would shatter the fragile wall she’d erected to protect herself from the pain of his leaving.
"You’re only in one mood lately," Marianne’s voice called her back "And that’s cranky."
Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 24