"Thank you for saying that."
"Are you still in love with him?" God knew why he had to know, but Jack sat on the edge of his seat waiting for her answer, feeling like his life depended on her answer.
"No," she said. "Not for a long, long time" She straightened her shoulders and turned toward her desk. "This won't take me too long."
It didn't take a genius to realize she had told him the rest of the story because she was reminded of the conversation they'd had the other day right here in her office.
He spent the next hour doing one of the things he did best—waiting patiently while nothing much seemed to happen. Dahlia took one pile of folders, then another, into a cubicle identified as belonging to Samuel Payton. A little while later Wanda returned carrying a thick stack of paper that also went into Payton's cubicle.
"What else do you need?" Wanda asked Dahlia.
"Getting the data printed—that's all I needed. Thanks." Dahlia looked up from her computer.
"No prob." Wanda blew a bubble from her gum.
When the coed wandered off, Jack rested his elbows on his knees and leaned farther into the cubicle. "You look like you're in heavy thought there, Dr. Jensen."
She sat for a moment longer with her fingers poised over the keyboard, then turned to face him.
"Do you understand what this meant to me? How hard I've worked?" she asked.
"I can imagine," he said. "But since I just got here, how could I know?" When her gaze searched his, he took her hand, hoping he had the right words to reassure her. He had heard enough of the argument between her and Doreen to understand that the attack on Dahlia was intensely personal. "You don't get to where you are—a scientist with a Ph.D. before you're thirty—without a hell of a lot of work and commitment. Today is only one skirmish in the larger battle."
The utter seriousness of her expression broke into a smile. "Here I was hoping for a sports analogy and you give me a military one."
"Finish up so we can go," he urged.
Ten minutes later she shut off the computer and announced that she was ready. They were at the door when it opened, and Sam Payton came through. He came to a dead stop when he saw Dahlia.
"Everything is on your desk," Dahlia said. "As ordered."
"Dahlia, you know I don't want this, and I sure as hell didn't ask for it."
"And that makes it okay?"
He shook his head. "No. It's your hypothesis, your data."
"No. It's not." She managed a tight smile and took a step toward the door. "It's yours now."
"Dahlia, don't be mad at me."
"I'm not mad," she said, the quaver in her voice betraying her.
"Because you know I'll probably be her whipping boy by this time next week."
Dahlia kept walking, her shoulders straight and her stride firm. Only Jack saw the tears that washed down her face.
* * *
Chapter 13
« ^ »
When they arrived back at her house a few minutes later, Dahlia let Boo outside, then flowed into Jack's arms.
"You are my protector, my friend … my lover," she whispered against his ear.
In response, his arms tightened around her. "I like being all those things."
She had come out of Doreen's office feeling as though she might shatter at any moment. She wasn't at all sure that she would have been able to keep it together if Jack hadn't been there, offering not only his moral support but the protection of his body.
Never before had she been held by a man tall enough, strong enough to make her feel sheltered. Protected. Comforted. Perhaps that most of all. She reveled in the feeling and was positive that she'd never tire of this. Their days together were numbered—to a dwindling few. She didn't dare think about that or she'd end up crying in his arms. She buried the stab of regret within the kiss that she gave to him.
Within his embrace she found a promise of fulfillment for all the nameless wants that erupted through her. Even though she reminded herself this man was only for today. Even though she felt like a coward. Even though she was proving to be too weak and needy. Being in his arms made it at least bearable. Almost.
He kissed her with tenderness and passion and held on to her, providing the lifeline she wanted. Only Boo's impatient bark to be let back into the house reminded her there were things beyond Jack.
With a soft laugh she broke the kiss and huskily murmured, "Hold that thought."
His answering chuckle was deep, sexy, and that dimple she loved flashed. He let her go as though doing so was hard, his hands sliding seductively down her arms, then across the swell of her bottom as she turned away.
She let Boo back in the house, closed the door, then locked it.
"I want you all to myself," she said.
"You've got me, sugar." His arms came around her waist, and he lifted her so she was sitting on the counter. Then he stepped between her legs, so close that she came apart when she felt the bulge of him at the apex of her thighs. Lust poured through her and left her shaking.
He didn't seem to mind that at all. In fact he seemed bent on driving her right out of her mind, his mouth roving all over her face and neck, returning again and again to give her the deep hungry kisses that were lightning in her blood, thunder in her heart. He unbuttoned her blouse, caressing each new exposed patch of skin. When his warm palms cupped her bare breasts, astonishment feathered through her. She broke the kiss to stare at his hands, shocked and thrilled that he'd managed to undress her in the midst of his drugging kisses. She still had on her jacket, and the hem of her skirt was pooled around her waist.
Never had she felt so deliciously wanton.
She slipped from the counter and took his hand. "I had intended to make you burn for me—"
"You do."
"For the next hour or two or five, but I can't wait that long." She led him through the house.
Without a word he followed her. By the time she reached the top of the stairs she had already taken off her jacket and unfastened her skirt. In the bedroom she stepped out of the skirt and dropped the blouse and bra on top of it.
When she turned around, she found Jack watching her, his eyes hot.
"You make me wish I was better at this," she whispered, thinking of the strippers he'd said that he'd grown up around. Undoubtedly they knew the moves that would drive a man out of his mind. "Being seductive. Seducing you."
"I'm seduced."
She believed him.
Bright sunlight streamed through the window, casting his face into sharp relief. She drank in the sight of him, wishing she was a painter or a photographer so she'd have this image of him forever. His brilliant eyes, the cleft in his chin, the curve of his mouth … that mouth that could kiss better than she had ever dreamed.
"Let me," he murmured, stepping close and snagging her panties with his thumbs. He pulled them down her legs. His mouth was on her then, kissing and nibbling and finally bringing her nipple deep into his mouth. She arched into him, loving everything about his touch.
Trembling so badly she could no longer stand, she sagged against him. He swung her into his arms and carried her the five feet to the bed, setting her down and sprawling across her.
Mindless relief engulfed her—her senses took over and she was completely in this moment, without anything coming before it or anything following it.
The man made her want. Her heart raced as he took her to new heights. And he still had his clothes on. She wriggled away from him far enough to pull at his shirt, tugging it from the waistband of his jeans. While he pulled his shirt over his head, she fumbled at the buttons on his jeans. She needed him now, needed him naked, needed him…
At last he was as bare as she, and she pulled him close, loving the way his skin felt next to hers. She helped him with the condom and guided him home.
"Ahh." She opened her eyes and held his face far enough away that she could look at him. He easily braced his weight on his arms. Within his eyes she imagined being at the center of the u
niverse—his, at least for this moment. The knowledge thrilled her.
"Hi," he said, a smile lighting his beautiful face.
She thought it sounded like the kind of greeting you'd give someone that you were really happy to see, really happy to be with. She giggled softly, her muscles tightening around him and taking them both to a new level of pleasure.
His smile grew wider, and he repeated the move. "You like that."
She shook her head and corrected him. "I love that."
His smile disappeared, and he gathered her close once more until they were again touching, skin to skin from head to toe. This … was how she had always dreamed of it being, had wished for it to be. This … oh, sweet mercy, it was like this.
He moved with her, sometimes at such a languid pace that she thought she'd go mad from the building pressure, sometimes fast, so fast that the sweat poured off them both and she was sure her heart would pound right out of her chest, sometimes with pressure in just the right place that she shattered repeatedly, only to be reborn again when he rested, then kissed her and began again as though it was for the first time. And somehow it was—first and last and forever.
They collapsed together and fell asleep, their arms wrapped around each other.
Jack slept maybe for only fifteen minutes before becoming aware of a faint beep-beep. He thought it was the alarm system, but in the next second, knew that it was his pager. He got up, pulled the pager out of the pocket of his jeans and shut it off. He didn't even bother to look at the display, since there was only one person who had the number—his commanding officer.
Pulling on his jeans, he padded downstairs and dialed a number that he knew by heart.
The voice on the other end of the line was terse and annoyed. "You're not on a secure line."
The connection broke, and Jack stared at the receiver a long moment before hanging it up. Dahlia's phone was bugged. Of course it was. Various scenarios whisked through his head. A way of finding her sisters. Fortunately, Dahlia hadn't talked to either of them. Find out who else was important to her or Lily and use them as leverage. Her conversations wouldn't have revealed that, either. The news that her mother had shared yesterday that Lily was expected to testify within a few days wouldn't be news, either.
He took the phone apart, and there it was. A bug that could be purchased at any surveillance equipment store.
After putting the phone together, he went back up the stairs two at a time. At the doorway to Dahlia's room he stopped. His breath caught in his throat. The sunlight tinted her body gold, the body that he would never grow tired of looking at if he lived to be a thousand. Automatically his credo—You don't do permanent—came to the forefront of his thoughts. With this woman he couldn't imagine anything less, and he knew he was within a heartbeat of the second part of his credo also going up in smoke—Never have sex with a woman you can't walk away from. As for babies, too easily he imagined that, even wanted that.
It took every ounce of willpower he had to simply go into the room and retrieve his shirt, his shoes and his weapon. Downstairs he finished dressing, and when he was done, he picked up his cell phone and redialed the number.
Halfway through dialing, he stopped. If Dahlia's phone was bugged, why wouldn't the rest of her house be? One thing he was sure of, the news his XO had was both secret and serious or he wouldn't have called.
Methodically Jack began searching. He might be taking caution to a whole new level, but he had to know. After fifteen minutes of meticulous hunting, he found the first bug, no thicker than a quarter and stuck onto the bottom of one of the kitchen chairs. Had it shown up before they installed the alarm system or after? The implications of after—he didn't even want to think about that.
He could only assume that Pale Eyes had done this. Jack thought hard about all the conversations that he and Dahlia had. The guy would have had a very good idea of where they would be on any given day. Thinking about the way the guy showed up yesterday morning before the thunderstorm hit, Jack decided the only surprise was that it had taken him so long. Worse, he would know if Jack ever left Dahlia alone.
A half hour later he found a second bug in her office. The next logical place to look, much as he hated it, was her bedroom. She continued to sleep while he quietly looked. He'd just about given up finding anything, but remembering the broken ceramic angel, he was more and more positive one had to be there. At last he found it—hidden within the base of the bedside lamp. The other two worried him, but this one made him furious.
"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting up in the bed and stretching.
"Coming to wake you up," he said, pressing a finger against his own lips and shaking his head. "I thought you might want some lunch." He lifted the lamp off the bedside table and showed her the bug that was hidden inside the base.
Color drained from her face as she realized the implication of what he was showing her. Her mouth firmed, and she got out of bed.
"Hungry again?" Her voice sounded completely normal, teasing, even—exactly as it should have for a woman who had just been thoroughly loved.
Watching her dress, he wished their role play were just that—the easy, teasing conversation lovers would have after making love. He'd only known her a few days, but the connection he felt with her was stronger than anything he'd had in his life since his grandfather died. The emotion he had for Dahlia was so much stronger than anything he'd ever felt for Erin, even on the day she gave birth, and he hadn't yet known his life was about to change.
This couldn't be love. His chest tightened. Love meant permanent. Love meant commitment. He looked at her, wanting both of those things. And that, quite simply, scared the hell out of him.
"You know me," he said, refocusing on what she'd said. "Two hollow legs. Peanut butter sandwiches okay?"
In spite of the serious light in her eyes, she grinned. "I was counting on gourmet, you know. From someone who cooks like you do, anything less would be a huge disappointment. Sure you don't want to make finger sandwiches or something?"
"Or something." The or something he had in mind was getting his hands on the guy who had planted the bugs. He went back down the stairs. His first instinct was to get rid of them. His stronger instinct was to keep them. Now that he knew they were in place, they could be used to create an effective decoy. The invasion of Dahlia's privacy, though, made him crazy. The idea that anyone would hear how she sounded while making love … those sweet cries of her coming undone should have been his alone.
When Dahlia came down stairs two minutes later, Jack was checking the contacts on the alarm system and still trying to decide whether to dispose of the bugs. After cataloging all the possibilities, he finally decided to get rid of them all. Even after he had flushed them down the toilet, he was only marginally relieved. What if he had missed one?
When he returned to the kitchen, Dahlia had made the sandwiches, which were on the table along with tall glasses of milk. Next to his plate was a note. Do you think my car is bugged, too? He caught her glance and nodded.
Then another question. Could there be more bugs? He hoped not, but without the right equipment to do an electronic scan, he couldn't be sure, so he shrugged his shoulders and nodded.
He wanted to tell her how proud he was of her—for understanding the situation, for playing along, for not falling apart. She was more than amazing.
They ate their lunch over inconsequential chatter. After they had eaten, Jack scooped up her dog and nodded toward the door.
"Let's take my car," he said when they were outside. Unless the security system on his car had been breached, there was no way anyone could have touched it without his alarm going off. Since he frequently left his car for weeks at a time, he had wanted to be sure that no one touched it, and he had purchased the best antitheft system that money could buy. "Do you want to get your computer and any of your equipment out of the van?"
"No," she said after a moment's thought, then met his eyes. "After this morning's debacle with Doreen, it's
a little hard to muster any enthusiasm." Her mouth turned down. "Guess that doesn't say much about my commitment, does it?"
He caught her arm and turned her toward him. "Stop beating yourself up, Dr. Jensen."
"But—"
He laid a finger across her lips. "No buts."
After a moment she nodded, and they got into the car.
Dahlia kept seeing the bug in her mind's eye—an ugly flat disk, right there in her bedroom. The more she thought about that, the angrier she became. How dare anyone come into her home like that. It was bad enough the house had been broken into, that she'd been stalked and threatened … and now this.
She found herself thinking about a sweater that she had once loved, one that began unraveling. No matter how she tried to fix it, every time she wore it, the unraveling became a little worse. Like now. Every time she thought they were just about at the end of it, things got worse.
She slumped down in the seat of the car, wishing she could be as carefree as her dog, who sat in the back seat looking around with the expectation that they were on some grand adventure.
Adventure. If this was it, she could live without it.
A few minutes later Jack parked the car next to a large sunny park. Midday in the springtime, and the place was deserted. She realized immediately that he'd be able to see anyone coming for several blocks.
He retrieved a Frisbee from the back seat, and they got out of the car. Boo was in heaven, running back and forth and playing her favorite game. A little while later Dahlia realized that Jack had stepped away, letting her play with the dog.
He was on his cell phone and engaged in a serious conversation. His expression became gradually more somber over the next few minutes. When he ended the conversation and clipped the phone to his belt, the action reminded her of the phone that he had insisted she wear. Since she didn't like the feel of it at her waist, she had slipped it into her pocket.
Jack stared across the park for a long moment, his fingertips anchored in the pockets of his jeans.
FRIEND, LOVER, PROTECTOR Page 17