Against the Wall

by Lyn Stone

  As climaxes went, it left a lot to be desired, but the sound effects were fairly convincing.

  Jack released and moved off of her, collapsing on his back with a true groan of relief. "Enough?"

  She giggled. Actually giggled. Jack silenced her with a kiss. He just couldn't help himself. He had been wanting to do that again, and now seemed the time.

  He forced himself to come up for air, realizing if he didn't, this could become the real deal, whether she wanted it to or not. And she just might, he admitted, given the way she kissed him back.

  "You are a very unusual man, Jacques Mercier," she whispered. He doubted the mike in the lamp table picked that up. He wasn't even certain if she meant it to.

  "Thanks," he gasped. "I've never met a woman quite like you, either."

  She rolled off the bed and pulled the hem of shirt down to cover her panties. "May I come again?"

  "All right, but I'll need a few minutes." He laughed and crossed his arms behind his head, loving the way she blushed when he teased her.

  "Tomorrow night," she said, her voice pure silk. "Then it will be your turn." She injected so much promise in that drawn-out suggestion, he almost took her at her word.

  "Good night, Jacques."

  "Absolutely. You have an indisputable talent for this, Solange."

  "I know," she agreed. "Sometimes I even surprise myself."

  He watched the provocative sway of her hips as she disappeared into the bathroom. The water came on, the old pipes clunking within the walls. A few moments later she opened the door, switched off the light and disappeared into the other room to finish what was left of the night on the narrow cot close to her patient.

  Jack tried to go back to sleep, but none of the relaxation tricks he'd been taught had prepared him for shutting off what Solange stirred up inside him. The arousal would ebb eventually, but there was something deeper that wouldn't subside.

  He lay awake until dawn, still feeling the sweet play of her muscles beneath his hands, reliving her sighs of pleasure, inhaling the scent she had left behind. And worrying what tomorrow might bring for her.

  Chapter 5

  The next night Solange went to Jack's bed again. His smile reassured her as he took her hand and encouraged her to join him. When she sat down beside him on the edge of the bed, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

  Immediately, without touching her in any other way, he began a dedicated verbal seduction the likes of which she had never imagined, much less heard before.

  She merely murmured answers, thoroughly distracted as she watched, fascinated by what he was doing. His hands were not plying their magic on her body tonight. They were systematically manipulating the listening device he had removed from the back of the lamp base.

  He made a particularly lurid suggestion and right in the midst of a word, snapped a small wire. "There. These inexpensive gadgets are so prone to malfunction," he said with grin.

  Then he reassembled and replaced the instrument exactly where he had found it. "Now we can speak freely."

  She stared at the base of the lamp, glanced around the room, then looked at him and whispered, "You are that certain?"

  "I've been over the room inch by inch. This is the only one in here. It will be tomorrow before they can replace it, if they even bother."

  "No one could have known we were coming here. Why would there even be these things?" Solange asked. "They had to have been placed here before we came. No one has been inside these rooms but you, René and myself."

  "Yes, the mikes have been here for a while now. They're cheaply made and aren't even close to the latest technology. Chari probably outfitted every room in the house with them before beginning this. That way he could monitor any private conversations among those he hired to work here."

  He eyed the gadget, then winked at her. "You never know who might be working for whom these days."

  Solange looked down at her bare legs and tugged René's T-shirt down to cover as much of herself as possible. She suddenly felt very exposed. Jacques was still fully dressed.

  "Did I shock you? I'm sorry. You know all that I said was for Chari's benefit. Hopefully, he'll believe we were so...busily engaged, we could not possibly have been thinking about destroying that toy."

  She smiled and shrugged. "He might replace it just to see what you have to say to me next time. I would."

  Jacques laughed. "It's good your sense of humor's in working order."

  "A defense mechanism, I assure you. Nothing feels terribly funny at the moment. I take it I need not honor my promise of a massage?"

  He sighed. "I think it would be wise if we skipped that. I'm not sure I could bear another night like the last one."

  She frowned. "I regret you found it so difficult to endure."

  "Yes, well, you try sleeping when all you can think about is making love to the person in the next room."

  "I did," she said, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

  Again he laughed, a soft gravelly sound that did things to her inside. "Let's not go there, all right? As much as I'd love to, we have too many details to work out and very little time." He paused, reaching out to trail one hand down her arm as if he couldn't help himself.

  "Then we should begin working," she said, her voice a bit sharper than she intended.

  His laughter had died away and his dark eyes smoldered as they stared deeply into hers. "From now on you must act as if I have you completely in my power. That your one objective in life is to please me. You are a very independent woman, Solange, and I realize it goes against your nature, but it might be the only way Chari will believe you'll become involved in the work here. Will you be able to pretend this subjugation convincingly?"

  She pulled her hand from his and got up from the bed, turning her back to him, chafing her arms with her hands, feeling chilled. "I hope so." Then she faced him again, biting her lips together. He was standing, too, now. Too close.

  "You're afraid?" he whispered, putting his arms around her. "So am I, Solange. I'm afraid for you."

  He remained quiet for some time, just holding her.

  Then he seemed to come to a decision. "Please don't worry. Tonight I'll take care of everything. By tomorrow it will be over."

  She realized what he meant to do, simply because she had betrayed doubt in her acting skills. He would kill them all in the dead of night. And there would be no way to gather the intelligence both their governments needed so desperately.

  She pushed away, resolved to go through with the original plan. "No, Jacques. It's too soon. You will not sacrifice half of this mission because I had a fleeting moment of cowardice."

  "It's not cowardly to be afraid, Solange."

  "Well, it certainly is if you do not face those fears, is it not? My decision is made. We will do this. Can you not see? We have to succeed!"

  He blew out a sharp breath and shook his head. "Then you have to promise me if you ever get into that lab, you'll be extremely careful."

  "I am not a fool, Jacques. Nor am I inept."

  He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I know that. When Chari speaks with you about doing it—and I'm almost convinced he will—keep in mind the motive we decided on."

  "That I am entranced by you. Will do anything that you suggest?" She gave him a wry, deprecating smile. "What a typically male delusion."

  "It was the only thing I could think of that he might believe," he explained. "He thinks I'm as mercenary as he is and he knows I want you. So he expects me to brainwash you into helping with his little project. If you simply volunteered, he would immediately suspect—"

  "Yes, I do see your point. It would seem the most logical scenario, especially to a man such as Chari, I suppose." She hesitated before continuing, "I think it might be easier to pretend if..." She couldn't simply say it outright.

  He stroked her arm again, a feather light caress. "If we were intimate?"

  Slowly she nodded, risked leaning closer so that her mouth was only inches from
his and closed her eyes.

  The expected onslaught did not happen. Instead, he brushed her lips lightly with his. And again, the pressure was a mere touch. His hands cradled her upper arms, slowly drawing her closer.

  "Come back to bed. Let me hold you," he whispered.

  Solange went with him, lay next to him, amazed how natural it felt to be embraced by a stranger. She had never felt this comfortable in a lover's arms. But Jean had never simply held her this way, stroking her hair, her back, his lips pressed to her forehead. What incredible warmth.

  That warm feeling soon escalated into heat that suffused her body. His, too, she noticed. She realized he did not intend to make any further advances without encouragement. The next move would have to be hers.

  She raised her head and sought his mouth. Still his kiss remained gentle. Her hand wandered down his chest, toyed with the buttons. His fingers quickly covered hers, halting them.

  "Jacques?" She breathed his name.

  "This is a time out of time, Solange. Fear makes strange bedfellows," he murmured.

  "I think I do not mind how strange you are," she said, smiling against his lips, pulling her hand from beneath his and sliding it inside the gap where one button had slipped loose. His skin was on fire, his heart thundering beneath her palm.

  He wanted this as much as she did. Why was he holding back?

  "No protection," he answered her unspoken question with a heavy sigh. "You could become pregnant."

  "I am protected from that," she assured him. There was always a danger of rape in her work, both at the prison and following the late hours she often worked at the hospital. "And I am not promiscuous," she added. "There is no danger to you."

  "What about danger to you?" he asked, a note of humor in his question. "You think it's wise to trust me this far?"

  "You already hold my life in your hands, Jacques," she said honestly. "I do not believe you would put me at risk if you were not sure you were well."

  He kissed her again, this time with unguarded passion, a sweet, hot invasion she welcomed with a moan of pleasure. No sooner had he ended the kiss than he began another, angling it differently, devouring her mouth with a greediness that proved contagious.

  She kissed him back, sliding her hands through his hair, cradling his head as she demanded and offered, took and gave. His deep growl of encouragement had her moving closer to him, pressing her breasts into his chest, seeking contact with his lower body.

  He crushed her to him, one hand at the base of her spine, the other firm against her back. He turned them, lying beneath her and tugged the hem of her shirt. She raised her arms and he pulled it off, pausing a moment, worshiping her with a hot gaze. "Magnificent," he breathed the word, then tasted her.

  She cried out, a plea for more until he silenced her with his mouth again. Her fingers were already at his buttons, while his worked lower to get rid of the rest.

  Suddenly there was nothing between them but a desire so heady and magnificent it could not be denied. His hand found her and plied the most amazing magic.

  Solange reached for him, stroking in time to the way he touched her. All too soon, her body began to tremble, then quivered violently with release. He pushed into her with a force she had not expected and she came undone. One thrust and he held her still, his grip intense, his breath suspended. The tremors inside her drew him deeper still and he surrendered.

  She watched him reach the pinnacle, heard the flow of love words escape in ragged gasps, felt the heat of him suffuse her inside and out. Solange closed her eyes and held him, wishing the moment would never end.

  Solange had never felt so close to anyone in her life. This man who feared intimacy so much. This spy whom she could not afford to love and would never love her.

  Odd how she felt no regrets at all, she thought, as her arms refused to let him go. Perhaps she was the strange bedfellow here.

  Eventually he disengaged their bodies. She tried not to protest, at least not with words.

  "Are you all right?" he asked. A polite question any man of manners might ask a woman after an energetic bout in bed. No, she was not all right, but that hardly mattered, since her problem was in no way physical.

  "Better than fine," she answered, trying to make her voice sound light and well satisfied. True, her body felt content for the moment, but her mind and heart begged the question. This had been more than a quick tumble to relieve stress.

  No surprise if Jacques treated it as such. He might even convince himself that's all it was if he was wiser than she, which he probably was. But Solange both realized and admitted something had passed between herself and this man that could never be described as casual sex.

  "This is so wrong, Solange. You shouldn't even be here. I could kick myself for letting you and the others persuade me to let you come with me. And now it seems I have compounded the error."

  That should have made her angry, the words wrong and error, but somehow it did not. He was not speaking of their making love, and she knew it. He was very concerned about her, and this new closeness had emphasized that. "It will be all right, Jacques," she said. "I will do my best, you know that."

  "I do know that." He buried his face where the curve of her neck met her shoulder and kissed her there with what felt like desperation. "I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you. This is too déjà vu."

  "What do you mean?" she whispered, pressing her lips against his temple, reveling in the slightly salty taste of their recent exertion. "Tell me," she encouraged when he remained silent. She could feel his heart thundering next to hers as they lay skin to skin.

  "My wife. She took a risk I asked her not to take and she...did not survive. Always, I believed if something like that ever occurred again, I would be more forceful in trying to prevent a disaster. Now look at what I've done."

  He pulled back to gaze into her eyes with concern. He brushed her hair from her brow and kissed her forehead. "Look at you. About to enter the lion's den with only a bit of serum for protection. And it might not even work with what's in there waiting for you."

  "Your wife, she was doing the same work as you?"

  He nodded, releasing a weary sigh. "Also with National Security, but in a different area. If only I had insisted she keep the position within the agency that she had when we married, she would be alive today. She volunteered for undercover assignments instead. On the second one, she was killed. Shot."

  "Someone forced her to become something else? To do this more dangerous work?" Solange asked.

  His half laugh was dry and humorless.. "No, Maribeth was a strong-willed lady. She had her own ideas, and that was one of them."

  "She was trained for what she did, then? She must have known the hazards involved," Solange guessed.

  "Yes, she knew. But you know how youth is, believing itself indestructible."

  "How young was she?" Solange asked.

  "Barely thirty." He caressed her back, gently as if she were precious to him. "And you, you are a child by comparison."

  She sat up, taking his hand in hers and looking down at him. "Jacques, she knew what she was doing and so do I. Whatever has happened and whatever comes next, you are not to assume the blame for the decisions of everyone else."

  "I understand what you're saying. Really," he added when she looked doubtful. "In my mind, I know I wasn't responsible for what happened to Maribeth, but in my heart, I curse the weakness that let me give in to her and let her do what she wanted. And now I've caved again and here you are."

  She smiled. "Ah, poor Jacques. God deliver you from women with minds of their own."

  He smiled back. "You make me sound as sexist as Chari. Maybe you're right."

  "No, never that," she said, lying down again and snuggling closer to him. "You loved your Maribeth and I will not say again that you should not feel guilt. It goes with the grief, I believe. Anyone who loves someone dearly and loses them must experience a touch of responsibility for that loss no matter how the death comes abo
ut."

  "Possibly. I never thought of it that way."

  "If she had died of...say, a heart attack or cancer, would you not flay yourself unmercifully, certain that you had missed seeing the symptoms leading to her death?"

  The look of surprise on his face made her smile.

  "I see this all the time in the course of my work," she assured him. "It is not at all unusual." Then she added a warning in her most professional voice. "If I meet with a bad end, you may grieve me for a while, but do not take credit for the choices I've made. It is my responsibility as much as yours to protect the public from plague and death. I have made an oath to do so to the best of my abilities, just as I imagine you have done. Do we understand each other?"

  "I believe we do, and thank you, Dr. Micheaux." His tone was much lighter, as if he were teasing her. "Have you any more words of wisdom for this old war-horse?"

  "Only a prescription for his relaxation under pressure," she told him, emphasizing it with an intimate caress she knew would bring the desired response.

  "Take immediately for best results?"

  "Take as needed," she replied with a kiss of encouragement.

  He kissed her back, long and hard, his lips only straying from hers long enough to say, "I have never known anyone like you, Solange, a bright little sun in all this darkness. Keep shining, will you?"

  Never in a thousand years would she admit how frightened she was of what might happen to her. Since she was a physician, she knew better than most what a horrid death she could be facing if the serum she had been given proved ineffective. But she would not allow Jacques to double the guilt he felt over not protecting the women he cared about.

  He did care for her, Solange knew. And he had dearly loved the woman called Maribeth, the one who had gone boldly to her death in defense of her country.

  It would not do to let him know how afraid she was to do her duty as a human being and a doctor. If she did and things went badly, he would see it as his sacrifice of her for the good of all by insisting she go ahead and do as she had promised. Or if he prevented her going because she was afraid, that would endanger hundreds, perhaps thousands, by ending the mission too early. Either way, he would carry a burden of guilt on those broad shoulders of his forever if he believed for a second this venture into the labs had been his idea alone.