by Sandra Brown
"So lovely," he murmured as he pressed his face into her round softness and breathed deeply of her fragrance, which had permeated the knit of her sweater. With nose and mouth he nuzzled her while his fingers continued their tender torment. "You feel so good," he whispered just before his lips closed around one distended nipple. His tongue dampened her sweater.
"Oh, Dax!" She shoved against his shoulders with the heels of her hands. He bumped his head on the ceiling of the car as he jerked upright.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked, alarmed.
No, no. It wasn't pain she was feeling. Mark had touched her there, but had never done anything as intimate as Dax just had. Never had she felt a spear of pleasure piercing her so deeply that it went straight to her womb and opened up a floodgate of desire that overflowed until she wasn't able to contain it. It had thrilled her, frightened her, terrified her.
He could read the fear on her face and blamed himself for putting it there. Guiltily, wearily, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Keely. I only wanted to touch you, to kiss you."
Sadly she stared out the windshield as he slipped the car into gear. The rear wheels spun, trying to gain traction on the mushy turf. Finally the car lurched forward and Dax maneuvered it back onto the highway.
The rain had lessened significantly to a dreary mist. The windshield wipers clicked back and forth, making the only sound in the car. When the radio had come back on with the motor, Dax had switched off the silver knob. He cursed the slow bumper-to-bumper rush-hour traffic as they approached the city.
The brakes screeched when he pulled the car to a halt outside the hotel, He was a long time looking at her and when he did, he was struck to see tears glistening in her eyes. Her mouth was working with emotion.
"Keely—"
"It was a beautiful day. Forgive me, Dax, for— It wasn't your touching me that I was frightened of, but of my not wanting you to ever stop."
Before he could reply, she was gone and running toward the doors of the hotel.
* * *
She lay huddled under the covers, clad only in her underwear. She wasn't sure how much time had lapsed since she had let herself into the cold, lonely room, stripped off her clothes, which still lay where she had dropped them, and crawled into the false sanctuary of the bed. Convinced that she needed rest, she tried to sleep, but it eluded her.
Her mind wouldn't let her escape from this maelstrom of indecision and guilt – guilt over betraying Mark, if not in deed, then certainly in thought, guilt over leading Dax on so shamelessly. He would despise her after today. She couldn't blame him.
Her heart jumped in her chest when she heard the light tapping on her door. She had put out the Do Not Disturb sign when she came in and had taken the telephone off the hook. But whoever was on the other side of the door wasn't taking her at her word.
She threw back the covers and padded to the door, putting her eye to the fish-eye peephole and seeing a man dressed in a hotel uniform. "Yes?"
"Mrs. Williams?"
"Yes," she repeated, this time in affirmation.
"Are you all right? I'm Mr. Bartelli, an assistant manager here at the hotel. A Mrs. Allway has been trying to reach you and hasn't been able to get through. She was worried and requested that I come check on you. Are you well?"
"Yes, Mr. Bar – Bartelli. I only wanted to rest undisturbed, I took the telephone off the hook. Please tell Mrs. Allway that I'm fine and that I'll see her in the morning." She could have offered to call her friend herself, but she didn't want to speak to anyone.
"Very well. You're sure we can't do anything?"
"No, I'm fine, thank you."
"Good night. I apologize for disturbing you."
"Good night." She watched in the distorted glass his minuscule figure disappear down the hall.
Since she was already up, she decided to take a shower before going back to bed. It worked well to soothe and relax her. Almost too well. Feeling languid and warm as she stepped out of the shower, she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her skin was rosy from the hot water. Her breasts tingled from the shower's invigorating spray. Watching herself in the mirror, she raised her hand and lightly touched the pink crown. It pouted in instant recollection of Dax's touch, his lips. Unbearable heat spread like an ink stain over her skin
Ashamed and embarrassed by her own physical need, she got back into bed and pulled the covers tightly around her. Never had the bed seemed so empty and unwelcoming. Yielding to an immature temptation, she laid the extra pillow against her, snuggling to it, rubbing her hands along it, wishing that it were warm vibrant skin covered with springy hair, wishing that it would speak to her the words of a lover. But there was no surcease to he found either physically or spiritually.
The pain in her heart conquered her control and she gave way to tears.
* * *
In the morning she felt somewhat better, or at least determined. She had been playing with fire and she had no one to blame but herself for getting burned. Time and again she had told Nicole it wasn't worth the time and effort to become involved with a man, because it could only end in disaster. She hadn't heeded her own words where Dax Devereaux was concerned. It was only a shame she couldn't gloat to her friend in New Orleans that she had been right. Nicole, nor anyone, would ever know about Dax. What was there to tell? It was over before it was begun.
Her cinnamon-colored crepe dress didn't quite match her military posture, but she convinced herself it did. She peeled her hair back into a sleek bun on the nape of her neck and disdained any jewelry. She didn't want to look or feel feminine and vulnerable.
Earlier she had called Betty Allway and they agreed to meet and ride to Capitol Hill together as they had done that first day. When they arrived, Keely entered the subcommittee chamber with a straight back and raised chin, looking neither left nor right. She took her chair and then buried her nose in notes that blurred before her eyes.
Only when Congressman Parker called the hearing to order did she raise her eyes. Purposefully she didn't look in Dax's direction, yet she knew he was there. She could see him out of the far corner of her eye. He was wearing a gray jacket, a light blue shirt, a maroon tie. She refused to allow her eyes to waver from Congressman Parker's face.
"We are going to hear this morning one more time from the army. Colonel Hamilton is going to read an affidavit documenting strides the various military branches have taken toward finding the MIAs. Colonel Hamilton, you have the floor."
For two hours the colonel took advantage of his platform and read every word of the affidavit in a nasal monotone. Had Keely not been strung so tightly by nerves, she would probably have gone to sleep. Several times Congressman Walsh's snore rose above Colonel Hamilton's steady drone.
Keely studied her cuticles, the wood grain in the table, the spiderweb in the chandelier. She didn't look at Dax. Betty shifted uncomfortably beside her and once leaned forward to say, "I'm glad he's such a bore. This might really damage our case if he were the least bit interesting and anyone were listening." Keely only smiled. What would her friend think if she knew what a traitor she was?
A few minutes before noon Colonel Hamilton finally wrapped up his remarks. Congressman Parker banged the gavel to get everyone's attention again and looked down at Keely. "Mrs. Williams, before we adjourn, would you like to say anything more?"
Keely hadn't expected this unscheduled courtesy and nervously moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. She sat up straighter in her chair and surprised herself by speaking in a level voice. "Only that we have said all that should be necessary. Speaking for all of us, I can't believe that you, as representatives of the American people, would even consider introducing a bill that would declare any citizen of our country dead, when proof of that death is nonexistent.
"True, it may save tax dollars, but what is a man's life worth? Can something that intrinsic be appraised? Personally, I feel that at least some of these men may yet he accounted for, found to be alive, but if they aren't, don't their fam
ilies deserve to be honored, repaid for the suffering they have endured? If Congress declares these men dead, and severs their pay, then America has just cast off one of her children in the cruelest of manners."
Congressman Parker smiled at her with secret approval while her constituents applauded. He glared down either side of the panel tables as if daring anyone to dispute her. When no one did, he picked up the gavel and banged it loudly on the block. "We are adjourned until two thirty when we will reconvene to announce our decision. Members of the subcommittees will please take a brief lunch and meet back here at one forty-five for discussion." The gavel crashed again and they were dismissed.
Keely was surrounded by photographers and reporters. She answered what questions she could, avoided others, and methodically threaded her way toward the door. When she was free of the room, she broke through the throng with an apology and dashed for the ladies' restroom. Betty was close behind her.
"You were wonderful, Keely. Thank you." The older woman hugged her tight, but when she pulled back, she was struck by Keely's shattered features. "Are you okay? You're as pale as a ghost."
"Nov I'm fine. Really." One wouldn't have believed it by the deep breaths she was pulling in. "It was so crowded in there and all the people and flashing lights on those cameras. I don't want to be the focus of attention."
"Then you shouldn't look so tragically, beautifully, heroic." When Keely's lips didn't show even the faintest smile, Betty said quickly. "Why don't I go out ahead of you and fend them off. I'll wait for you at the top of the stairs. Take your time." At the door of the lounge she paused and turned around. "Keely, I think we've won."
For the first time Keely smiled back. "I do too."
"See you in a minute."
Keely collapsed onto a stained, threadbare chair and covered her pale face with her shaking hands. It was over, or almost so. Everyone was lauding her, and she didn't deserve it. I don't, I don't, she averred as she breathed deeply. Forcing herself to move, she went to the sink, washed her hands, smoothed her hair, and applied fresh lipstick, which made her paleness even more noticeable.
Picking up her coat and purse, she opened the door and stepped into the empty hallway. She was looking the other way, and when she turned around, she pulled up short and gasped when Dax loomed largely in front of her.
"Easy, easy, this is only another of our chance meetings," he said under his breath and behind a camouflaging smile.
She glanced over his shoulder and saw Betty's silhouette at the end of the long corridor. "What are you doing here?"
"I work here," he quipped. She tried to brush past him, but he caught her arm and said, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be cute, but dammit, I want to talk to you." He released her arm and when she didn't move away, he rushed on in a quiet undertone. "I tried all night to call you, but your phone was off the hook. I called down to the main desk – anonymously, I might add – and asked the hotel management to check on you. I was informed by Mr. Bartelli that he already had. You were fine, but only wished to he left alone."
"That's right, I did … do."
"Then you're out of luck."
"Dax—"
"Shh. Here comes Radar Ears Van Doff. Are you on the eight-fifty flight to New Orleans?"
"Yes."
"We'll talk then." He raised his voice. "So, speaking off the cuff I'd say that the committee will table the bill, Mrs. Williams. Well, hello, Al. Why aren't you eating lunch like all the other nice press boys?"
"Because I'm not nice," he said, smiling that obscenely cunning smile. "Mrs. Williams, you were as eloquent as always. Do you mean everything you say?"
Taken off guard by his blunt question, she replied heatedly, "Of course I do!"
"Okay, okay. I was just asking. By the way, I tried to reach you for comment all day yesterday. You were out. The doorman at the Hilton said you'd left that morning in a silver sports car."
She resisted the urge to glance worriedly at Dax. Instead she answered calmly. "That's right. I went sight-seeing with a friend."
"It wasn't exactly an ideal day for sight-seeing, was it?"
"No, it wasn't."
"But you went anyway. Hmm. Wouldn't want to tell me who that 'friend' was, would you?"
"No, Mr. Van Dorf, I wouldn't. It's none of your business."
Van Doff stroked his chin as he looked at her. She met his incisive stare unflinchingly and only hoped he couldn't see her heart as it hammered against her ribs. He turned his foxlike face toward Dax. "You weren't available either, Congressman. Funny, isn't it, that you two are either together, like now, or nowhere to be found?"
"I'd say it was a downright shame that I wasn't available for an interview with you yesterday, Al. You know I never pass up an opportunity for free publicity." Dax's smile was so genuine, that Keely almost believed it herself. How far could anything Dax said be trusted?
"If you gentlemen will excuse me, Mrs. Allway is waiting for me." Without another word she moved past them and by a sheer force of will kept herself from running down the hall in cowardly retreat.
* * *
It was no surprise later that afternoon when Congressman Parker announced to the anxious members of PROOF that, for the time being, the bill that would have declared the MIAs dead was to be tabled. He thanked everyone involved for their time and adjourned the hearing one last time.
An undignified period of celebration ensued. PROOF members weepily hugged Keely and Betty. Sympathetic members of the press came over to offer their congratulations. The committee members who had obviously argued in their favor came by personally to congratulate Keely on their victory.
Across the room she felt the magnetic pull of Dax's eyes and met them. Al Van Dorf's speculation had been a warning and Dax wasn't about to jeopardize either of their reputations by publicly talking to her again. His eyes were warm with gladness over her triumph. But they bespoke more than that. They held a pride for her, the woman she was, and her knees went weak under his silent praise.
He ducked his head slightly before turning away, as though to say, "I'll see you later." But he wouldn't. After a hasty lunch she hadn't tasted, didn't even remember, she had gone back to the hotel, packed her bags, and sent them on to the airport via the hotel's limousine service to be checked in with the airline.
Then she had called and changed her reservation to an earlier flight. She and Dax had done nothing that either should be ashamed of – yet. They shouldn't press their luck. This time she had escaped unscathed, and it had made her more resolute than ever not to become involved with a man until she knew what had happened to Mark. "I'm still married," she had repeated to herself like a catechism. And now she said the words again as she watched Dax's retreating back, fighting the urge to run to him and beg to be held and supported by his strength.
Betty was disappointed to learn that she was leaving. "I thought maybe all of us could go out and celebrate tonight. I know none of the others are leaving until tomorrow."
"I'm sorry, Betty, but I need to get back. The radio station wasn't too thrilled with me for taking time off." That wasn't true. Her employers were proud of her stand on the topic of MIAs and never chastised her for taking time off to further PROOF's cause. Another lie. Ever since she met Dax… "I've already called them and told them I'd be there tomorrow. Have a glass of champagne for me."
"We will." Betty laughed. "Several, I'm sure. Take care of yourself, Keely. You can't know how much you mean to us. No one could be a better spokesperson than you. Thank you again."
Keely hailed a cab outside the Congress and it took her straight to National Airport. She went through all the mechanics of boarding a domestic flight without conscious thought. Her mind was on what Dax would do and how he'd feel when she wasn't on his flight. Would he be worried? Angry? Both? Would he demand to know which flight a Mrs. Keely Williams had taken? Or would he ask for Keely Preston? He would ask for neither. He couldn't afford to.
What had he wanted to talk about? He hadn't seemed angry like he h
ad been the evening before when he had let her out at the hotel. What would he have said to her tonight? It didn't matter. Nothing could change their circumstances.
She tightened her seat belt before the airplane taxied and took off. She declined dinner and pushed her seat back into a reclining position, feigning sleep to prevent constant attention from the stewardesses.
The flight was routine. There were no thunderstorms. Nor was there anyone to hold her hand.
* * *
Chapter 7
«^»
"Why won't you come with us?"
"I've told you, Nicole. I don't want to."
"That's no reason."
"It's the best reason."
"I'm sick of the Sulky Sue role."
"Then leave me alone," Keely shouted and, planting both hands on the edge of her desk, shoved her chair back. Pushing out of it, she went to the grimy second-story window and looked down on Chartres Street. It was a drizzly day in the French Quarter, perfectly matching her mood. She had been avoiding Nicole for the past few days, but her friend had finally trapped her in her office at the radio station.
Actually her "office" was little more than a closet at the end of a long, murky hallway at the back of the building. Into the room had been crammed two ugly olive-green steel desks. Keely shared the office with the midnight-to-six disc jockey, whom she had never even met. She knew him only by the picture of him and a leggy blonde that was signed: It was fun, Cindy. The photograph was stationed on his littered desk in what could be presumed was a place of honor.
Keely sighed and closed her eyes. She wished when she opened them that the rain would have washed away some of the dirt on the window. But it wouldn't. Nor would the dull ache around her heart have disappeared. None of that was Nicole's fault, however, and she regretted having snapped at her friend. Nicole's nagging was a product of concern. Keely turned to face her now, though she remained standing at the window.