She wrapped her legs around him, and he made a primal sound. She welcomed every sensation, every shiver, every ragged pulse. He kissed the side of her neck, breathed in the fragrance of her hair. She could feel his heart beating against hers, pounding as he withdrew and entered her again, heightening the magic. The pleasure of making love.
Desire swam in her head, like the flow of a long, luxurious current, the water warm and inviting. Touching him, she lingered over the play of muscles, over powerful arms and a stomach tightening with each sexual thrust.
Pressure battered upon need, and the water rose like a tide. Desperate, she took his mouth, kissed him until greed devoured. Him. Her. Both of them together.
They shuddered and strained, arched and bucked, then fell in each other's arms, lovers forbidden once again.
* * *
Chapter 11
«^»
Kathy slipped on her robe. She wanted to stay in bed with Dakota all day, but she knew that would only prolong the inevitable. "I have to leave soon."
He wore his briefs and nothing else – nothing but skin as smooth and solid as a bronze statue. "Why? Where are you going?"
"To look at a house."
Dakota frowned and reached for his jeans. "Why can't you stay here with me? This is your home. This is where you belong."
She sat on the edge of the bed while he stood and zipped his Wranglers. Watching him, she tightened the belt on her robe. "No, it isn't. Nothing has changed. You know about the baby, and we made love again. That doesn't solve the turmoil in our lives."
"So we'll make things right." He skimmed her cheek with callused fingers. "We just need some time, that's all."
She blinked, willing herself not to cry. He made it sound so simple. "I didn't leave because I lost the baby, Dakota. I left because you weren't there when I needed you."
"I know." His voice turned rough with tenderness. "But I'm here now, and we can start over. We can have other children. I love you, Kathy. So damn much."
An arrow lanced her heart, magnifying the ache already there. His claim wasn't enough. The dreamer in her wanted to believe that love healed all wounds, but deep down, she knew better. "You're going on another mission with Thunder."
He sat beside her. "But that could be months from now. Or it might not happen at all."
"What if we decided to stay together and I was pregnant months from now?" Couldn't Dakota see that the cycle would repeat itself?
"Then I wouldn't take the mission. Thunder could get someone else to help him. It doesn't have to be me."
Such easy words to say, she thought. But they wouldn't be easy for him to fulfill. She studied him, this dark-eyed, dark-haired man she had married. He looked every bit the warrior, his face leaner, bones more pronounced. His work suited him, the missions that kept him focused. It was all he had ever known. An honor-roll student at seventeen, he'd graduated from high school early, gone to his parents and told them that he wanted to join the air force. And, recognizing his determination, they'd granted their consent.
Kathy couldn't compete with that, and she would be foolish to try. She had learned her lesson well. "You would go crazy staying home," she told him. "I've seen how restless you get."
"But we're not talking about for the rest of my life—" He paused, then held her gaze, his eyes as dark and cloudy as a foggy night. "Are we?"
She took a breath, let it out slowly. Dakota's panic had already set in. It surfaced in his expression, the muscle working in his jaw, the lines beginning to crease an otherwise smooth forehead.
If only dreams could take the form of reality. She wanted to keep him forever, live in the fantasy of her choosing. But Dakota was what he was – a soldier who could never be a conventional husband.
"Kathy?" he persisted.
"I can't expect you to change, and it wouldn't be right to ask you to try." She lifted her chin and tried to keep her thoughts calm and logical, her hands folded quietly on her lap. She had fallen apart last night and couldn't bear to let it happen again. "We don't want the same things. We're too different from each other."
He stood, his shoulders broad, his chest bare. He looked big, powerful and combating a myriad of emotion. "Opposites attract. It's what brought us together."
"And what pulled us apart." Her hands fumbled now, looking for something to do. "You wouldn't be content to stay home. You agreed to help Thunder with his mission because that's who you are. A soldier out to save the world."
He rolled his shoulders, the muscles bunching. The movement reminded her of a caged animal lighting its confinement. The battlefield was Dakota's wilderness, she thought, his natural element. And civilization, no matter how much he conformed to it, would always be his cage.
"I was a soldier when you married me."
"I know, but you only had a year left of active duty." She smoothed her tangled hair, hating that she couldn't keep her hands still. "I was eager for you retire. Eager for us to settle down."
"You never told me that. You never said a word."
"I didn't think I had to. I assumed that's what retirement meant to you, too."
He sat beside her again, the bed shifting from his weight. "It scared me a little. Being retired, I mean. I was thirty-seven years old and idle for the first time in my life. I couldn't imagine lounging around in my socks. Or fishing half the day away. Reeling in some poor unsuspecting trout when I could be making a difference somewhere." He turned to look at her. "But I liked the idea of you being home, safe and secure, waiting for me. That part felt right."
And it was the part she couldn't handle. Kathy wanted to pretend this wasn't happening, that their marriage wasn't ending. Yet she wanted to lure him back to bed, back into her arms, into that current of sleek, silky possession. "Sex is the only thing we have in common. It's the only form of communication that works for us."
He glanced at the tumbled sheets. "Is that why you slept with me?"
"No." She brushed his hand, then drew back, the contact too familiar. "I needed to hold you again. To make love with you just one more time."
* * *
Breathing shouldn't hurt, but as Dakota inhaled the strawberry-scented air, an overwhelming pain rose in his chest. The room smelled like her, like lotion and shampoo. Why hadn't he noticed that before? He loved her fragrance, her sweet, feminine aroma.
He pulled a hand through his hair. The room smelled a little like sex, too. A hint of the lovemaking they had just shared.
Just one more time.
It couldn't mean anything else. Kathy was leaving him. And this time it would be for good, the final act he had feared all along.
"You're divorcing me, aren't you?"
She clutched the front of her robe, her hand as shaky as her voice. "It's the only thing left to do. The only thing that makes sense. We'll never be able to get on with our lives if we don't end it."
He laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "And here I thought if we spent enough time together, you would fall in love with me again." His eyes burned, but he knew he wouldn't cry, at least not outwardly. Tears would only humiliate him, and he already felt a sense of emasculation.
"Spending time together makes me hurt," she said. "And I don't need to fall in love with you again because I never stopped loving you."
Her admission should have pleased him, given him a measure of satisfaction, a glimmer of hope, but he couldn't see beyond the despair of divorce. "That makes a hell of a lot of sense."
"Have you ever looked up love in the dictionary? Read its various meanings?" Still clutching the robe, she tilted her head. "I have. I know them by heart."
Dakota wasn't in the mood for a collegiate rendition of love. "You know almost every word by heart. In a variety of languages. Why would this one be any different?"
"Because I used to think there were some definitions missing." Kathy steadied her gaze to his. "It doesn't say that love heals. And it doesn't say anything about happily-ever-after, either. But now I understand why those things aren
't mentioned."
Because love hadn't healed her broken heart, he realized. And because she had lost faith in happily-ever-after.
Studying her, he frowned. What had happened to his wife? To the woman who relished fairy tales, who dreamed of knights in shining armor and ladies in long, flowing dresses?
I happened to her, he thought. The man who spoiled her fairy tale, who left her alone when she needed him most.
"I still believe in love. Or I want to." He reached for her hand, held it lightly in his. "Can't we start over? Give it one more try? If you don't want me to go on any more missions, I won't. I'll stay here with you instead."
"That won't work." She curled her fingers, her nails grazing his palm. "Eventually you would resent me for clipping your wings. For holding you down when you're desperate to fly."
"You're wrong. I could never resent you." True, he had no idea what staying home would be like. He had never been completely comfortable in a quiet, domestic setting. Making a difference in the world was the only thing he knew, the only true calling he'd ever had. And he used to think that Kathy understood that, loved him for it. But she was right. They didn't communicate well.
Dakota glanced at his rumpled shirt. He had to admit that the idea of giving up his work made him nervous. What would he do with himself? How would he fill his time? And would he lose a part of himself? The man who needed to make a difference?
The questions, the insecurities were boundless. This wasn't something he could have predicted, and it made him disoriented. But if Kathy asked him to stay home, he would. At the moment that didn't appear to be an option. She seemed convinced it was too late.
He linked his fingers through hers, but she tugged her hand away. Not in anger, he thought, but in pain. She was wounded, as fragile as a fledgling with a damaged wing.
She stared straight ahead, her voice quiet. "After I left, I prayed for you to come to me."
And say the words he was saying now, the words that were suddenly too late. How could he blame her for being wary? For not believing in him?
She rose from the bed and headed toward the dresser. "I should get ready to go." She fumbled through the top drawer, gathering fresh undergarments.
She still looked fragile. But the unexpected shyness struck him most of all. They had made love less than an hour before and now she balled a pair of lace panties in her fist as if it embarrassed her to let him see them.
It made him feel like a stranger, a lonely soul aching for familiarity. If she divorced him, this is how it would end. They wouldn't remain friends. There would be nothing left but faded memories.
And then she would meet someone else.
Dakota tensed against the pain, the fear he couldn't dismiss – Kathy finding solace in the arms of another man.
Who would be her next lover? A handsome young politician searching for the perfect partner? Or maybe a widower who already had children, someone who understood her need for family?
She motioned to the connecting bathroom. "I'm going to take a shower now. I don't want to be late for my appointment."
He nodded. Her appointment to look at a rental house. God. How could he lose her? How could he let this happen?
Dakota watched her disappear into the other room, wishing he knew how to save his marriage.
* * *
Two days later, Kathy stepped into the kitchen, following the aroma of Colombian coffee.
Mrs. Miller stood at the counter rinsing dishes. She turned and smiled, and Kathy greeted her, surprised by the housekeeper's chipper expression. She could only assume that the older lady's newfound friendship with Dakota was the cause.
Kathy poured herself a cup of coffee and diluted it with hot water, noting the strength had been brewed for Dakota.
"Can I fix you some breakfast?" Mrs. Miller asked.
She added sugar and cream to her cup. "No, thank you. This will do."
"Lieutenant Lewis is in the backyard. He wants to talk to you when you have some time."
"Oh." She looked up, a twinge of nervousness setting in. "All right."
Crossing to the back door, Kathy walked through the courtyard, then stopped when she saw Dakota. He stood, leaning against a shovel, staring at a section of freshly tilled ground. Long and lean in a pair of threadbare jeans and a simple T-shirt, he was a striking sight to behold.
Sugar sniffed around his feet, pawing the earth, her white muzzle dusty with compost.
Kathy moved forward, telling herself to relax. It wasn't easy being around Dakota. Divorce still hovered over them like a murky cloud. "I think my dog is going to need a bath," she said, conjuring an airy voice and a manufactured smile.
He adjusted the shovel. "True, but she's been having a blast out here."
"So I see." Sugar dropped a stone into a hole she had dug and proceeded to bury it. She reminded Kathy of a mischievous little girl playing in her Sunday best. A fancy gold bow and a heap of rich soil presented an amusing combination.
They didn't speak for a few minutes. Instead they watched the dog, the sun shining brighter than usual. It was, Kathy thought, a beautiful day to be outdoors. It almost chased that cloud away, making her forget the turmoil in her life.
"When did you take up gardening?" she asked, breaking the silence.
He grinned a bit boyishly, a white flash against tanned skin. "This morning."
As her heart forgot its natural beat, she glanced away from that devastating smile and studied the trays of potted herbs. Gardens were her weakness, even though she had never attempted to start one herself.
"I've always been fascinated by herbs," he said. "Their healing and cooking properties. But I never asked my gardeners to plant them because it's something I wanted to do myself."
She didn't need to ask why he had chosen to pursue this task. He was home and feeling idle, needing to fill his time, the restlessness that normally left him eager for another mission.
Maybe he had the right idea. Kathy itched to dig in the dirt, to lose herself in manual labor, as well. Dakota wasn't the only restless soul. "Mrs. Miller said you wanted to talk to me."
He nodded. "Thunder called earlier."
"He did?" She looked up at the sky, focused on the vast, dream-like serenity before allowing the harshness of reality to overwhelm her. "About the mission?"
"Yes. He still doesn't know if it's going to happen or not, but he should have more information in a few weeks." Dakota implored her to meet his gaze. Beneath the brim of a tan cowboy hat, his eyes sought hers. "I told him I wasn't sure if I was available. That he may want to consider contacting someone else."
Her mouth suddenly dry, Kathy swallowed. "Do you want to be available?"
"Not if you would prefer I stay here."
"This should be about what you want, Dakota. The decision has to be yours." Reaching up, she secured a bobby pin. Her topknot was loosening, spilling errant strands of hair. It made her feel messy and disorganized, not in control.
"I'm confused," he admitted. "I love you desperately, and I want to stay married and raise a family. But I'm having trouble making a conscious choice to give up my work. If you ask me to, I will. Right now, that's the best I can do."
"I appreciate your honesty. But I don't want to be responsible for forcing you to stay home." In time it would destroy him, and she couldn't live with the emotional destruction it would cause. Neither could she live with the nature of his work, no matter how desperately they loved each other. "It looks like we're at a crossroad."
"I suppose," he said, his expression grim. "How about if we take a couple weeks to think about it? Don't make any decisions until then. You won't move out or file any papers, and I'll take some time to deal with everything that's happened." He paused to study her. "You haven't found a house yet, have you?"
"No." And what he proposed seemed logical. A few weeks of reflection would give them the opportunity to prepare for what lay ahead. The cairn, she thought, before the storm. "I did lease an office, though. Not far from the Ro
yal Diner."
He managed a smile. "I guess you won't go hungry at lunchtime." The smile faded, and he adjusted his hat. "Will you give it a couple of weeks, Kathy?"
"Yes." She fixed her hair again, nearly jabbing a bobby pin into her scalp.
"Good." He leaned the shovel against a shiny red wheelbarrow, but it slid to the ground with a thump. Sugar barked at it, then went about scattering dirt.
The dog's busy paws were the only movement. Dakota and Kathy both stood silently, nearly frozen like statues. It reminded Kathy of the recess bell at one of the elementary schools she had attended. She couldn't recall which school exactly, but she remembered that her playmates used to freeze in silly positions when the bell rang. Kathy, of course, never acted foolishly. She always stood with impeccable posture, her hands at her sides.
"So you're ready to set up shop?"
She blinked, only hearing a portion of his question. "I'm sorry. What?"
"Your office. Are you anxious to get things going?"
She shook away the recess-bell memory, wondering if she had been a dull child, too mature for her own good. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it."
"So what is it you'll be doing? We haven't talked about it. Other than it will be a satellite office your folks asked you to head up."
"I'll be managing the export operations for domestic companies my parents are affiliated with. Besides hiring distributors and reps, I'll be in charge of advertising, marketing and promotions. There's plenty to do."
"Sounds like you'll need help."
She nodded. "As soon as I get the office set up, I'll be interviewing for a secretary and an assistant."
"Well, I'm glad you found a convenient location."
"Me, too."
A hush fell over them again, the kind of silence that had them staring at each other in discomfort. She fussed with her hair for something to do, and he dug his work boots into the soil.
How could she divorce him? she wondered. Sever their tie completely? Then how could she not? He was willing to give up his work for her, but it wasn't what he truly wanted to do. And she hadn't anticipated a complication like that. In her dreams, Dakota never regretted the decision. He was eager to leave the danger behind.
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