by Ana Leigh
The announcement of the final boarding call for her flight was made and she forced a smile. “I guess I have to go n
He kissed her lightly. “Have a safe flight.”
“You, too.”
He gently cupped her cheek in his palm. “I’ll call you, Violet Eyes.”
She smiled and hurried to the gate, paused at the door and looked back at him.
She knew he wasn’t going to call.
Chapter 26
Ann heard the phone ringing as she came down the hallway. She unlocked the door as quickly as she could. Brandon skipped in ahead of her and ran to his bedroom as she rushed to the telephone. She was too late. The ringing stopped and the caller hung up without leaving a message.
Sighing, she returned the receiver to its cradle. This was the third time that week the same thing had happened.
For the past thirty days she had held on to the hope that one of these times when she answered the phone or pressed the blinking light on the answering machine she’d hear Mike’s voice.
Ann went back and turned the dead bolt on the door—just as Mike had always insisted she do. Her mouth curved in a poignant smile and she could hear him scolding her whenever she had failed to do so. How long would his voice linger in her ears before she would forget the sound of it?
Wearily she kicked off her shoes and went to Brandon’s bedroom. He was already sitting in the middle of his bed watching his favorite cartoon characters on the television set that Barney had bought him.
Ann sat down beside him and slipped her arm around his shoulders. The delightful sound of his laughter lifted her spirits as he watched the antics of Ernie and Big Bird on the screen.
Shortly after, she got up, kissed the top of his towhead and went to her own room. After changing into a sweatsuit and socks, she padded in her stocking feet into the kitchen to start to prepare dinner.
While the oven preheated, she removed a chicken breast and several legs out of the refrigerator. Chicken legs were Brandon’s favorite food, next to chocolate chip cookies. According to the six-year-old culinary expert, “Chicken legs, with chocolate chip cookies for dessert, was the best dinner a fella could eat.”
She rolled the fowl in seasoning, then with loving care Ann placed them in a roasting pan.
She had been on a nonstop treadmill since her return from Wisconsin. Her job was on hold. Going back to work at this time was an impossibility. Thank goodness Barney understood why.
As yet, she had not found a house to her liking, and with fall approaching rapidly she had enrolled Brandon in a private school in Manhattan for the coming semester.
They had returned to Kourou and spent a busy and emotionally painful week packing up the personal items in Clayton’s house and her condo. She had to decide what to retain and what to let go of—and more often than not, the decision had not been an easy one.
Clayton had been a man of refined tastes. Not only did he have many costly pieces of furniture and antiques, but he also had an expensive art collection that she felt should be properly crated and stored until Brandon was old enough to make a decision of what he wished to do with it.
Working with a well renowned consultant, she shipped most of the art collection to an art museum in New York where it would be cared for and preserved more properly than if it was left stored in a warehouse for years.
As for the retained items, some had to be marked for shipment to her rental apartment in New York, and others marked for shipment to a storage facility until she had a permanent residence.
But so many items such as a grand piano and other expensive pieces of furniture and household items would have to be disposed of at an auction. Ann turned such arrangements, as well as the sale of the two residences, over to a real estate broker.
She had decided to forego the sale of the villa Clayton had willed her until a later date. It could remain in the care of Guillaume and Marie Sellier until all of the more pressing business in Kourou was completed.
Then there’d been the issue of Brandon. In the past week she had interviewed over twenty nannies. Either they did not have green cards or she wasn’t impressed with them. She would not release him to the care of someone she wasn’t totally comfortable with. She had even called Sarah Millen at the British Embassy in D.C. Brandon had liked the older woman and Ann thought she would make an ideal nanny for him. However, the woman was returning to England to be with her daughter who was having a baby.
And through it all, try as she might, she couldn’t shake the thought of Mike out of her mind—or heart.
Lord knows you tried often enough, Ann.
It had been a month since he kissed her goodbye at the airport. She had not heard from him since. No phone call. No letter. Not even an e-mail.
Did you really expect he would?
Of course, there was the possibility that he didn’t know her telephone number, much less her e-mail address.
Right, Ann. Especially for a man who works for an intelligence agency.
Maybe it was for the best. They were so different. She was no longer that young girl who came out of college expecting to conquer the world. At this stage in her life her heart was no longer on a career; it had become simply a means of support. She was ready for a less hectic life where she could devote her time to children and a home. Not stress herself out over some pampered model delaying a shoot.
But, of course, Mike had been a major player in that scenario. Having him near, hearing his laughter. The scent of him. The strength of his touch. Being able just to reach out and touch him. Tolerating the impatience of his bad moods and the tenderness of his teasing ones. Loving him. Being loved.
That had all been part of the scenario, too. The peace of mind in knowing that every night he’d come through the door, and lie safely beside her through the night. Not having her stomach tied into knots knowing the danger he faced every time he went on an assignment to some nameless country to confront a faceless enemy.
How long are you going to go on kidding yourself, Ann? You’d take him any way you could get him.
“Shut up,” she declared, and flung down the knife she’d been using to chop up the vegetables for a salad.
For weeks she had been waging this internal battle. Trying to convince herself she could find a life so much better without Mike Bishop. But her nefarious alter ego always won the debate with the same argument.
You can learn to live with the risks he takes, Ann. You love him too much to be without him. Think of all the other women whose men are in the military, law enforcement, the fire department. Men who work undercover dealing with drug dealers and the other scum of the world. There are hundreds of thousands of them out there risking their lives every day. And for every one, somewhere there’s a woman who loves him. Come on, girl. Get real. Isn’t a little part of Mike’s life better than none at all?
Ann snorted. “What’s the difference, anyway? Apparently Mike has settled the issue for me.” She picked up the knife and resumed chopping the vegetables.
She had even developed the film and sent him the pictures and negatives she’d shot of him and the other squad members, including those beefcake ones she had taken of him in his cabin. She had kept the three he’d taken of her, and one other photo: a candid shot she’d taken in New York when she’d caught his grin on film. That endearing grin that transferred warrior to boy and never failed to tug at her heartstrings.
Maybe it was a mistake not to send him those nude photos of myself, she thought. They might have tempted him enough to pick up the telephone.
“Oh, go away.” she said to the thought, and shoved the pan of chicken into the oven.
As they ate dinner Ann listened with delight as Brandon went on about the worth of a chicken. “It’s got to be just about the best animal there is.”
“Honey, a chicken is a fowl, not a mammal.”
“It tastes ’bout the best of any meat.”
“But many, many people don’t eat meat, Brandon.”
�
��Chickens make eggs, too.” He raised his hands apart and leaned his head toward her, his eyes wide with intensity. “You see, Ann, that’s what I mean about chickens. If a kid doesn’t like meat, he could always eat eggs.” His face curled into a serious frown. “Yep, a chicken’s gotta be ’bout the best animal…I mean fowl…there is.”
Ann’s heart overflowed with love. She had all she could do to keep from snatching him up and hugging him. She forced back a smile and attempted to look serious.
“But Brandon, consider a cow. It offers beef. That makes it very worthy.”
“Don’t like beef as much as chicken.”
“But a cow gives milk, too, dear. And not only that, its size is so much larger than a chicken’s that it produces a greater source of beef and milk.”
His mouth puckered, and a serious frown creased his brow. The little munchkin was not about to go down without a fight.
“So what, Ann. You always said good things come in small packages.”
“That’s true. You’re a small package.”
“What about Mike, Ann? He’s big. Don’t you think he’s a good thing?”
“Sweetheart, how did this conversation get from chickens and cows to Mike Bishop?” She stood up quickly and began to clear the table. “And don’t lick your fingers, Brandon. Use your napkin.”
Later she drew his bath, and while he bathed she did the dinner dishes. Then she tucked him in bed. While she was reading to him, there was a knock at the door.
“Now, who could that be?” she said.
Brandon jumped out of bed. “Bet it’s Barney,” he said hopefully. “He told me on the telephone that he’s got a big surprise for me.”
When Ann opened the door, her breath caught in her throat, and she stared speechlessly at Mike Bishop.
“I see you’re still opening doors without checking who’s on the other side.”
The same Mike—as crotchety as ever about security. They hadn’t seen or spoken to each other for four weeks, and the first words out of his mouth were a reprimand.
Ann wanted to shout with joy, but she was too breathless to make a sound. She felt deliriously, dizzyingly, delightfully, and all those other D adverbs—or were they adjectives—overcome with happiness.
God was in his Heaven again and Mike Bishop was back in charge down here.
“May I come in, Ann?”
She nodded and managed to step aside, even though her legs were trembling so badly they could hardly support her.
“Mike!” Brandon streaked across the floor.
“How you doing, pal?”
The two of them high fived, then Brandon jumped up into his arms. Maybe she should have tried that. It might be better than just standing and gaping at him. But, oh, he looked so good.
Mike put Brandon back down on his feet, and then handed him the box he’d struggled not to drop when Brandon jumped up on him. “I brought you a little present.” He shifted his gaze back to her. “It’s some kind of electronic robot. Batteries not included.”
“Wow! Can I open it now?”
“Sweetheart, take it into your room, and we’ll get some batteries for it tomorrow. It’s past your bedtime now, and Mike and I have some business to discuss.”
He wasn’t happy about it, but started to leave, clutching the box. Then he suddenly stopped and turned around. “Mike, which do you like the best? Chicken or beef?”
Ann had been around Mike long enough to know the man would eat a steak a day if given the choice. But she held a great regard for that sixth-sense perception of his.
For the length of a drawn breath, he hesitated. “Chicken, pal.”
Brandon flashed a wide grin. “Good night, Mike, and throbot.”
“I’ll be back shortly,” Ann said. “I just have to tuck him in.” They were the first words she spoke directly to him since he arrived.
Chapter 27
Mike moved to the bedroom door and peeked in. Brandon was sitting up in bed with his hands folded in prayer.
“Please, God, bless Ann and Mike and Barney and Pete and Rick and Dave and Don and Kurt and Jimmy the doorman and Patty the switchboard operator. She’s the one with the red hair who always gives me a piece of candy when she sees me.”
Ann was kneeling at his bedside with her head bowed. Mike’s hungry gaze devoured the beautiful lines of her profile as the youngster continued.
“And bless Jeremy over in England, and Mrs. Millen and her daughter and little baby.” He frowned in deep concentration. “Do you think I should bless Mrs. Hubbard, Ann? I didn’t like her very much but she really wasn’t mean to me.”
“Well then, I think you should, sweetheart,” Ann said softly.
“And bless Mrs. Hubbard…and…” He yawned and his eyes began to droop.
“Sweetheart, why don’t you just ask God to bless all the children and anyone who loves Him or needs His help?”
Brandon nodded. “And please bless all the children in the whole world, and all who love You and need Your help. And take care of Grandfather and Daddy and Mommy in Heaven with You. And, God, thank you for sending me a new mommy. And thank you for the robot, too. We’re going to get batteries for it tomorrow. Amen.” He flopped his head down on the pillow.
Mike grinned. What a kid. He moved away and studied the pictures on the wall. Ann had the place looking real homey in the short time she’d been there.
He couldn’t remember a time he felt so nervous. He had to talk himself into staying calm before every mission, but coming here tonight had been the hardest decision he’d ever made.
Mike sat down and began to nervously drum his fingers against the arm of the chair. The delay was working on nerves that were half-gone to begin with. He leaped to his feet when Ann came out of the bedroom and carefully closed the door.
“He’s asleep already. We’ve been on the go all day, so he was really tuckered out. Can I get you something to drink? I’m afraid I don’t have any beer though. How about a cup of coffee?”
“No, thanks. If I drink any more coffee, I can probably fly back to D.C. on my own steam.” A straight shot of hundred proof would help, but he wasn’t about to ask for booze since he already was on a caffeine high.
“I don’t even have any wine to offer you,” she said.
“No problem, Ann. I’m cool.”
She seated herself on the couch, so he sat
“Well, this is a surprise, Mike. What brings you to New York?”
The situation was becoming more ludicrous by the minute. They were acting and talking like two stiff-necks in a Victorian novel. He’d had enough of the game. He would say what he came to say. Make his apology and then get the hell out of there if she told him to.
At least, that was his intention until he opened his mouth. “I got the pictures. Thank you. But where in hell are the three I took of you?”
Her eyes widened in disgust. “That’s the reason you came here!” She jumped to her feet. “You perverted bastard! Get out of here.”
He was on her at once. Grasping her by the shoulders, he looked into the withering scorn of her glare. “Ann, that’s not what I meant to say.”
“No doubt. A Freudian slip, Bishop? You’ve got to be really sick to come all this way for three damn pictures. And I must be as depraved as you to have gone along with it.”
“You’ve got it all wrong Ann. I came to apologize. I know I have no right to show up here on your doorstep, and I tried to stay away, but I couldn’t any longer.”
He released his hold on her, and she stepped away shaking her head in bewilderment.
“Apologize for what?”
“I almost got you killed.”
“Let it go, Mike! We’ve been through that before. I don’t blame you for what happened. And if it weren’t for you, Brandon and I could both be dead. So stop beating a dead horse. I’m not looking at you through the eyes of the Agency. You may have slipped a little in duty ethics in their eyes, but in mine you protected Brandon and me, and saved our lives. Mission a
ccomplished.”
“I don’t see it that way.”
Frustrated, she spun to face him. “For God’s sake, how do you people reason? What do you want me to say, Mike? You were negligent, so I can’t forgive you even though you saved my life. Sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? What happened in your cabin was predictable. We were two adults sexually attracted to each other, and the outcome was inevitable. And when we said goodbye in Milwaukee, I knew it was over and you never intended to call me.”
“That’s not true. I’ve called you a dozen times, but I hung up before you answered.”
Her anger had cooled, but her confusion was obvious. “I don’t think you would lie to me, Mike, but I don’t understand all of this. What is your real motive for coming here? To apologize? Is that it? Somehow ease your conscience? It would have been a lot easier and less embarrassing for both of us if you had given me your slam-bam, thank you, ma’am message by telephone. I even have an answering machine you could have left it on. Or an e-mail or letter would have enabled you not to even say it aloud. Wouldn’t that have been less personal?”
All the fight drained out of him. He figured she’d be angry, but he hadn’t anticipated such bitterness from her. His heart felt squeezed in his chest and ached like hell.
“Yout take prisoners, do you?”
She turned away. “Like you do?” she said sarcastically.
He walked up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “I never intended to hurt you, Ann. That night in the cabin I knew we both were out of control, but I figured we were old enough to know what we were doing and could work it out in the end. That was a class-A blunder on my part. I knew we were already in too deep before we even had sex. That this wouldn’t be just another one-night stand. This time it was different. But I let it happen, anyway.”
She turned and faced him. His knees almost buckled at the sight of her eyes. Misty with tears, they were velvet pools that lured his soul into their depths.