“Tonight,” she said honestly. “Oh, Jarod, wonderful can’t describe it. There aren’t words for the feeling…. Thank you.”
He wrapped his arms around her, holding her very close. “Thank you,” he said, and his words were deeply husky and shockingly humble. Suddenly Erin didn’t want to move. She wanted to stay where she was and forget there was a world, stay caught within the magical fantasy of the night and beat of his heart against her cheek.
She closed her eyes and opened them. It was dark, but the glow from the bathroom, which had allowed them the aesthetic pleasure of seeing one another, still filtered over the room.
They hadn’t had dinner, she thought, but she wasn’t hungry. Not now. Or if she was hungry, it was for a second chance to stimulate and then appease the appetites she had just learned existed.
God, she thought, in silent prayer, what Jarod had done for her tonight. She hadn’t believed, she hadn’t dared dream, that ecstasy existed, but Jarod had given it to her. And in that simple giving, he had dimmed all the horrors of the past. He had taken the pain away, absolved the humiliation. And as her body was healed, so now was her soul.
Yet as her heart accepted these things with gratitude, she was learning that she had been wrong before. Jarod Steele could hurt her, because she had just discovered how she needed him. She was caught in a web, living a life that was farce.
Morning would come, and she would have to resign herself to all the inevitable confusion, accept the fact that Jarod was an expert lover but that he didn’t give love itself. She was an inconvenience, a burden he had taken upon himself because of determination and the will to win.
No, she told herself, don’t think now. Just savor this….
“We missed dinner,” he murmured. “Are you hungry?”
She met his gaze and shook her head. But her silver eyes were wide and bare. They told him that she was hungry with fascination, with the incredible joy of the world he had created.
He chuckled, softly, huskily. “Oh, honey,” he whispered, taking the time to thread his fingers into the golden strands of her hair with a possessive pleasure. “I think forgetting about dinner is just fine for both of us. Because I am hungry. Very hungry. Starving …”
Morning would come. But for now, the contentment and satiation of fulfillment could not be left alone. Fantastic discoveries had been made; they had explored … and explored … studied and analyzed … enjoyed … and explored further and further … deeper and deeper….
This time her senses, attuned now to him, pulsed at his slightest touch. She could meet his lips with slow, savoring seeking.
Morning would come, but the beauty of this unique moment in the endless eternity of time was hers, with this man.
Blue ice …
Raging blue fire …
And his fire was hers.
As he tenderly began to make love to her again, she vaguely realized that, somewhere within the city, a chorus of clocks was chiming out the strokes of midnight.
INTERLUDE
DEAR MARY,
Greetings from the U.S.S.R.! (Sorry—no palm-tree cards available!)
How are things in the old Big Apple? Believe it or not, I miss home and the insane traffic and the early spring slush and the horns blaring loud enough to deafen.
But anyway, without travelers, you couldn’t have a travel agency!
How is your other half of business and home? Give Ted my love.
Anyway, the country is fascinating. I have thoroughly enjoyed everything that I’ve seen. I have a marvelous guide named Tanya, who has been with me all week. I have learned more from her than I could learn from a million books!
I wanted to let you know that my trip will be extended a bit, and since I know how you—and that charmingly overprotective husband of yours—worry about me, I wanted to let you know that I’m just fine. This is going to be a surprise, I know, but I’ve remarried. (An American, not a Russian—don’t go panicking on me!)
His name is Jarod Steele and he’s attached to the U.S. Embassy through the U.N. Actually I met him in the States—call Casey and she’ll fill you in on our first encounter! We simply kept colliding, and though I know this has been hasty, it might have been one of those inevitable tricks of destiny. I was literally swept off my feet—never knew what was happening until it was too late….
Erin stopped writing with a wince. She bit on the nub of her pen. What an incredible fabrication. But she couldn’t tell Mary the truth. It seemed that no one knew the truth about anything except for her and Jarod.
And she didn’t think Jarod would appreciate her giving lengthy explanations to anyone. And so for the time being she had to convince Mary that her life was moving along beautifully. Besides, Mary and Ted would be horrified if they knew she was embroiled in a strange web of lies and deceit and confusion. She stopped chewing on the pen and started writing again.
Jarod is an incredible man. (Again, I will refer you to the opinion of our mutual friend Casey, “the male connoisseur”!) He has the capacity for great kindness, and has done wonderful, wonderful things for me….
Again Erin lifted her pen from the paper. Jarod. What could she say about him? He is a magnet, a flame; he draws, he demands. His passions are insatiable; he is like living in the center of a storm, and yet he is the most controlled man I have ever met. His eyes can be blue fire, and they can be coldest, driest ice. Behind them he hides his feelings, if he has any. I live with him, I sleep with him; I do not know him.
She thought of what she could have added in her letter.
For the next two months I will be his wife. But he does not think of me as a wife; his wife is dead. I became a responsibility of his, because of things I don’t understand. He is still not sure whether or not he harbors a spy, although I think he really believes me innocent.
When he holds me it is so wonderful I almost lose consciousness, I enter a paradise. But outside of that room, his room, our room, he is cool and abrupt. He is polite, but distant. He speaks, and he expects his words to be honored without question. I am not always sure—at times when we are physically engaged—whether he actually realizes I’m there or not. He is constantly working; I’ve called him several times to discover he spends a great deal of time with a mysterious “Catherine.”
Oh, God! Erin thought, if she could only write the truth, speak out. If only she could tell Mary what was in her heart.
I’m falling in love with this man, and I mean nothing to him! I am comfort at night, wild, exhilarating passion, but beyond that I am a guest he tolerates with cordiality.
I fear his temper, I know it can be explosive. I think I am a strong person, but he can sweep me away like a tidal wave. And I’m frightened, I’m caged. He can hurt me far worse than I’ve ever been hurt before, because I don’t believe I’ve ever loved like this. But we both know the facts; if he deems me innocent, as soon as he is free to get me out of the U.S.S.R. our pretense at love will be over. He expects me to file for a divorce, because he doesn’t believe in marriage. Not since Cara died. She had his love. I have his desires….
And I do try to be so adult, so mature. I act as cool as he. I can’t pretend that I wish to be anywhere but in his bed, but I do pretend that I accept our situation as that of two knowledgeable adults, mature enough to accept our needs for what they are.
Erin bit through the plastic shell of her pen. Scowling at herself, she picked up the pieces and discarded them before the ink could create a disaster. Jarod had gone to Kiev. She didn’t expect him back until tomorrow, but she worked at his desk and wanted to leave it as organized and immaculate as he did. She didn’t want to give him any cause to find her bothersome.
She picked up another pen.
Mary, I know this is brief, but I just wanted to let you know that everything is wonderful and I’m very happy….
Wonderful! Oh, Erin! You’re married to a man who still thinks you might be capable of espionage! He watches you, he monitors you, and you still don’t know what’
s going on, what Project Midnight is, why your engagement ring came from a Russian official. He orders you to stay in the apartment when he is gone, unless you are out with Tanya. Although he often ignores you, he knows your every move. If one step were out of line, he would pounce on you. You never see him during the day; you sit down to dinner like polite strangers.
Yet every time he touches you, you melt like heated silver. Like an absolute idiot, you fell in love with a man with no wish to love you back. And you cling to him with your senses lost, your willpower nonexistent.
Oh, Erin, how could you let such a thing happen to you after all you’ve struggled to achieve for yourself? You are no innocent, no young child to become infatuated and believe in fairy tales. You have to break away.
And it wouldn’t be a loss, because he had given her so much. He had given her back her own belief in love. But she knew what she tried to hide in her subconscious; she would be just as crippled, because another man would never, never compare to Jarod Steele.
It was growing late. She picked up her pen again.
Miss you and Ted very much. Please believe that I am fine and happy and don’t worry about me a second! Tell Casey I’ll write her soon, and I promise a much longer account when I get the time to really sit down!
All my love,
Erin
Erin carefully folded her letter and left it in a sealed envelope on the right hand corner of Jarod’s desk. She was about to leave the desk when another thought struck her and she reached for the telephone. It was growing late, but she hoped Tanya would still be up.
She chewed her lip as she waited for the call to go through. In moments of sanity during the day following that first delirious night together, Erin had begun to worry about the consequences of “adult behavior.” Consequences which could be disastrous in her situation.
“Tanya!” She breathed a little more easily when the Russian woman answered and assured Erin she hadn’t woken her.
Erin chattered idly for a second and zeroed in on what she hoped would sound like a casually asked question.
“Have you managed to get me a doctor’s appointment yet?”
“I believe I have a date for you—”
“Great! Next week?”
“I’m afraid not. In several weeks. Our medicine is socialized, you know, and emergencies always come first.”
Erin bit her lip unhappily.
“Erin—if you asked Jarod, I’m sure he could do something.”
“I, uh, Jarod isn’t here,” Erin said hastily. “And he’s so terribly busy right now I hate to bother him with trivia.”
She could hear Tanya’s pause. Trivia? They were husband and wife.
“I’m surprised you didn’t take care of this in the States,” Tanya murmured.
“Ahh …” Erin murmured weakly. “Bad planning on my part. Do the best you can to push it for me, will you, Tanya?”
“Sure,” Tanya promised. “But you should be all right—”
Erin knew what she was thinking. Tanya had reluctantly done some shopping for her in the local drugstore so that she would have a modicum of protection.
“I don’t like to rely on such methods,” Erin murmured nervously.
“I assure you, our products—”
“Tanya! I believe in your products!” Dear God, she hadn’t meant to offend her Russian friend. “I wouldn’t like to rely on such methods in the States!”
Tanya chuckled softly, appeased. “Erin, you really should speak with Jarod—”
Erin knew it troubled Tanya that she always avoided the issue, but she could do nothing else. “Maybe,” she said evasively, “but in the meantime keep pushing for me, will you?”
Tanya agreed, and they said their good-nights. Erin rose and stretched and left the den to walk into the bedroom.
It was her anniversary, she thought dryly. She had been married to a man who had been a total stranger for two full weeks. What a great record. Her first marriage had been for three months, her second would be for two months.
In her long flannel gown she tried to settle down to sleep. But she found herself staring at the moonglow entering in through the window.
She tossed and turned for hours of misery before she slept. It was the first night he had been away. Good God, what was going to happen when they split for good? If this were her torture now …
You’re a fool, Erin, you have to find some strength, some cool, cool authority of your own….
But as she fought for sleep, she only knew that she ached with missing him beside her, burned for his touch.
In another city, far into the Russian interior, Jarod Steele also lay awake and he was angered by his sleeplessness, angered by the need he felt for the woman he supposed rested easily in his bed.
She had gotten beneath his skin, bewitched him, enchanted him. She was like no other woman. A cool, assured beauty, an inferno, a wildfire in his arms.
He had awakened her, he had elicited her magic. He could close his eyes and think of her, of the boldness she had learned, of the lazy, seductive cast of her half-closed silver eyes as she padded softly to him with her long-legged walk of effortless grace. Putting her arms around him, drawing taunting strokes over his back and chest, she teased and teased and increased the fevered ardor until they were together again, her lithe body fulfilling all promises.
He stood up in a cold sweat and walked to the window. He was in Kiev on business. Erin McCabe—no, Steele, he reminded himself dryly—was just another woman, a beautiful woman, a sensual, passionate woman … but just a woman.
In a few months she would be gone, out of his life. He would form liaisons with other women went he felt the need.
Or would he be able to? he mocked himself. A widow he had known in the city had issued him veiled invitations tonight; he had politely and subtly refused…. Because I’m married, he told himself. Supposedly madly in love, a newlywed. That wasn’t it. No sane man could hold Erin and then seek another….
Damn her! his thoughts hissed. She created fires in his blood as no other woman before her, not even Cara. But Cara had been love, the folly, the recklessness, the wonder of youth. And Cara was gone. Love, tenderness, and the extreme heartache and extreme wonder of youth were gone, tenderly buried, cherished in memory.
But he wanted Erin. He had come to feel that somehow she was his; the ragged depth of fierce possession he felt for her was startling.
Jarod glanced at his watch and groaned. It was midnight; his day would start at five A.M.
Damn her, he thought. Damn her and her guileless silver eyes. Eyes that seduced, eyes that could deceive.
He still didn’t know if he had bedded a devil or an angel
It didn’t matter in the heat of her midnight fires.
VIII
BY THE TIME SHE woke up on Saturday morning, Erin was edgy and miserable. I’m acting like a wife, she told herself dryly as her agitated movements caused her to spill half the coffee she was pouring.
Wrapped in one of his velour robes, Erin took her coffee into the living room and prodded at the dying fire. Moscow was cold. She wondered if spring would ever come to the city.
Sitting tired and morose, Erin couldn’t control the fury that bubbled within her. He had been due home by dinner time last night at the latest. She had tried with her meager culinary skills to accomplish a beautiful rack of lamb. And at twelve thirty her beautiful rack of lamb had hit the garbage.
He could have called. Kiev. She wasn’t even sure of where the city was—somewhere inland. As usual, she had no idea of what he was doing. He had given her some type of explanation about seeking out all those whom Ivan had seen near the time of his arrest.
This damned Project Midnight business. He lived for his work. Or did he? she wondered suddenly, her imagination taking bitter flight. She knew she hadn’t interrupted Jarod in the middle of a love affair; the man had no necessity to love. But there were other types of affairs, and it had been evident all along that their marriage was an in
convenience. No real marriage. He might not have been in love—he hadn’t intended to ever remarry—but there might be a woman he did care for….
Catherine. He was always working with Catherine. Perhaps his business trip to Kiev hadn’t been business at all. Perhaps he wanted to be with this Catherine and he couldn’t do so in Moscow—not when he had married the “fiancée” he had supposedly brought over from the States. And what right would she have to say anything? None. She had no rights at all where Jarod was concerned. No right whatsoever to be so furious now. But she was. Her rack of lamb in the garbage was enough to whip her temper into full steam.
He should have called out of common courtesy—and it was the more unusual because Jarod was courteous even when distant. But he had made her sit and sit. She wasn’t even supposed to leave the apartment without Tanya, and he couldn’t bother with a call.
She had to get out, she was going crazy. And she would also be damned if she sat around at his beck and call while he disappeared for days on end—possibly with Catherine!
That was a sobering thought. One that reminded her that she had to cut loose. When they had started out, she had thought she could be adult. Handle the sexual relationship. But she hadn’t been in love with him at the time. Or if she had been, she hadn’t known it. And like an absolute idiot she had become dependent on him. Which was why she was so angry now … and hurt.
She had to reassert herself. Remember that she was Erin McCabe. With a fascinating life stretching ahead of her when she did return to the States in such a relatively short amount of time.
The phone started ringing and she leaped to her feet with anticipation. It would be Jarod. He would have an apology and an explanation.
It wasn’t Jarod, and her disappointment was so vast that tears sprang to her eyes.
“Erin?” Gil Sayer’s voice was anxious.
She swallowed, her fingers tightening around the wire, but her voice was level and cheerful. “Yes, Gil, I’m here. How are you?”
“Fine, thanks,” he laughed, “but actually I called to ask you that question. I heard that Jarod was held over in Kiev. I thought you might be feeling a little lost m the city without him so I thought I’d call and offer my services! I don’t believe you’ve been to the circus yet. How about letting me take you?”
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