Family Secrets: Books 5-8 Page 11

  She laughed.

  He raised himself on one elbow and eased her onto her back. His gaze skimmed her face, dropped to consider her breasts. She was wearing one of his T-shirtsProperty of the U.S. Navy was stamped across the frontand a pair of her own panties. No bra.

  He met her eyes again, and the heat in his melted her bones.

  Do I get to take off your shirt, too?

  Oh, goodness. She swallowed and pressed her knees together. I dont think

  You took off mine last night.

  It was like a game. A silly, delicious, dangerous game. I will if you will. Simon says. Mother, may I?

  She knew better than to play. She did.

  Wellin the interest of fairness, she said. She sat up to pull her shirt off, but her elbow caught in her sleeve. Her hip pinned the hem in back. By the time she struggled free, she was feeling more awkward than seductive.

  Until she dragged the darn thing over her head and saw his face.

  He was breathing hard, as if hed just come in from a fourteen-mile training run. He looked at her breasts. They puckered. He looked in her eyes.

  Wow, he said with perfect sincerity.

  Her awkwardness disappeared. She smiled.

  Thank you, she said, equally sincere.

  Youre beautiful. He shook his head. Pretty lame, huh?

  His honesty pleased her more than any pretty words could have.

  No, she said quickly. Thats very nice.

  He lifted one big, tanned hand toward her pale breast. Do you mind if I?

  She was almost dizzy with anticipation. No.

  He stopped. No?

  No, I mean She wet her lips. I dont mind.

  He gave her another of those mind-blowing, heart-stopping smiles. Hoo yah.

  His knuckles grazed the soft, full underside, bringing her nipple to aching, full attention. So he touched it, too, opening his hand on her breast, running his fingers over the erect tip, stroking, squeezing, teasing.

  Her blood pounded in her head. Pleasure coursed through her veins.

  And then he took his hand away and clenched it in the sheets.

  There. His voice was tight. Now were even.

  She opened her mouth to breathe. No, were not. I touched more than your chest.

  His mouth opened, too. He shut it with a snap. Despite his expressed willingness, shed managed to surprise him.

  That was okay. Shed surprised herself.

  Close enough, he said.

  But it wasnt.

  Its all right. I dont mind. Oh, now, there was an invitation likely to drive a man wild with desire. I want you too, she said. Better.

  His throat moved as he swallowed. His voice was raw. I touch you anyplace else, babe, and Im not going to stop. Is that what you want?

  Was that what she wanted?

  Warm and tingly feelings aside, was she actually contemplating sex with a man-not-her-husband whom she had known less than a week? A professional soldier whod locked her driver in a utility closet and forced her to lie to her secretary?

  Well

  No point overthinking things, Marcus said. The mattress lurched as he moved closer. Forget I asked.

  He was very large and very near. Nerves jumped in her stomach. No. Youre right. Its not like we have a relationship. We dont even know each other very well.

  He spread his palms wide. What do you want to know? Just ask me.

  She smiled. It was like a continuation of their game. All right. Where were you born?

  He gave her an odd look, as if shed demanded something difficult or deeply personal. How about instead I tell you Im up to date on all my shots and you tell me how you like it?

  She arranged the sheet over her legs. Thats certainly to the point, but much less effective in creating an atmosphere of trust. Tell me about your childhood.

  He got out of bed. I cant tell you anything.

  Hurt and confused, she watched him pull a pair of jeans from his duffel. Why not?

  I cant, thats all.

  She stuck out her chin. And I cant be intimate with a man who refuses to share himself with me.

  He stopped in the act of zipping up his fly. That didnt seem to be a problem for you five minutes ago.

  She winced.

  He swore. God, Im sorry. Look, Ive got to check on the generator. Will you be all right?

  She held the T-shirt to her breasts. What is this, emotional hit and run?

  We call it tactical retreat in the navy. Will you be all right? he repeated.

  She wanted to tell him no. She wanted to demand he stay until she had what she wanted. Answers. An orgasm.

  Only, of course, she didnt. She was too much the diplomat and too big a coward.

  Im fine.

  Okay. Good. He put his keys in his pocket and holstered his gun at his back.

  He was leaving? He was leaving.

  What am I supposed to do while youre off playing with tools?

  He yanked on his bootlaces. Want to come hold my flashlight?

  She shivered between annoyance, laughter and lust. You wouldnt let me.

  I changed my mind.

  She tossed her hair. I changed mine first.

  He paused in the doorway, his eyes shadowed. So you win. Go back to sleep.

  At least he didnt suggest she cook them breakfast.

  Although alone in bed with the still-warm sheets and her cooling desire, Samantha thought it might have been better if he had. At least then shed feel more like a partner. At least then shed have something to do.

  She could have had a partner. She could be doing something right now.

  With him.

  She took a deep, frustrated breath and scrambled out of bed.

  The blind at the window was the old-fashioned roll kind, tattered at the edges and gray with dust. She raised it and sneezed.

  Marcus was crossing the yard, tall, dark and competent in boots and jeans. Her heart bumped at the sight of him.

  I grew up on a farm, hed told her last night.

  So why wouldnt he talk to her this morning?

  She didnt understand him, this warrior with his haunted eyes and blindingly bright smile. That more than anything had stopped her from making love with him. She was a woman who prided herself on her understanding.

  And yet there had been raw need in his eyes and real frustration in his voice when hed jumped from their bed. I cant tell you anything.

  Why not?

  What other secrets was he hiding?

  Samantha frowned, staring out the window at the sunlit yard. She would have to show him that he could trust her, that was all. She would make him breakfast and they would sit down and talk calmly and openly. For goodness sake, shed just brokered bilateral peace in Eastern Europe. She o
ught to be able to negotiate an understanding with her bodyguard.

  With new confidence, she went to open the window. It raised two inches and stuck. Wiping her palms on her shirt, she tried again. It didnt budge.

  Bending, she inspected the frame. Two nails were driven into the window sash, blocking the track. Sometime last night, while she had been changing the bed and getting her things from the other room, Marcus had nailed the window shut.

  Her stomach clutched.

  Was he trying to keep intruders out? Or keep her in?

  Marcus stared at the tangle of power cords connected to the generator. That one fed the well pump and that one led to the refrigerator. The cable there should hook up with the houses wiring. If he could find the transfer switch, he might be able to swing real lights tonight.

  Or he could backfeed electricity into the power lines and blow up the house.

  He jerked the wrench against the rusty lug nuts that held the cover panel.

  Tell me about your childhood.

  Sure thing, honey. Which one? You want to hear what it was like to grow up big, fast and dumb in Conover Pointe or do you want the details of my life before that? The one I cant remember?

  The metal panel slipped and sliced his hand. He stared at the bright welling blood and, unbidden, the memory came.

  Hold out your hand, the dark-haired girl ordered.

  He shoved it behind his back. Its just a scratch.

  Any wound that breaks the skin is prone to infection, she lectured, and then favored him with her small smile, the one he never could resist. Besides, I want to practice applying an adhesive dressing. Please?

  You mean, a Band-Aid? he teased. But he held out his hand to her.

  He held out his hand. It trembled.

  God, he really was losing his mind.

  And if he needed further proof of that, look at the way hed just blown things with Samantha.

  Shed been sitting half-naked in his bed, practically offering herself to him, her beautiful eyes shining, her beautiful body begging for his touch, and hed said

  He closed his eyes in pain, remembering. Hed said, Close enough.

  Mrs. Crane, his eleventh-grade English teacher, was right. He really was an idiot. Because he hadnt been anywhere near close enough. Close enough, on top of. Close enough, inside of. All the way close, as deep, as hard, as often as he could go.

  He drew an unsteady breath and propped the panel against the generator box. He had to stop thinking about it. Because it would never happen now. What had she said? I cant be intimate with a man who refuses to share himself with me.

  And he didnt do sharing. He couldnt. Because where other guys had family stories and childhood anecdotes, he had nightmares and great big memory blanks.

  He flipped the transfer switch and unscrewed the fuel intake, nodding in satisfaction when he found the tank full. James Robinson, Senior, was a practical man who prepared for emergencies. Just like Jimmy, his son.

  Marcuss satisfaction faded. He had no clue what he might have inherited from his own father. No idea what he might pass on to his own son. No memories at all.

  He secured the fuel cap and checked the vents for blockage and the power cords for fraying. There was no way he could give Samantha what she asked for.

  But he would keep her safe. He would provide for her basic needsher other basic needsand maybe that would be enough.

  It had to be enough. For both of them.

  Marcus frowned in concern. Youre not eating. Is everything all right?

  Samantha set her coffee mug precisely on her flowered place mat. Her red hair was confined in a neat ponytail at the back of her head. Her eyes were guarded and cool. Her T-shirt might read Sexy Chick, but her attitude said, Ambassador Barnes to you, fella.

  Are you inquiring how I feel about my enforced absence from Washington, or

  I was asking about your breakfast. Is it okay?

  Its fine.

  Because I know powdered eggs and milk take a little getting used to. Now that the refrigerators up and running

  She arched her eyebrows. Youll take me grocery shopping?

  Well, no.

  She sipped her coffee in silence.

  If youre bored, you can play the piano, he offered.

  Ive played the piano. Its out of tune.

  It sounded fine to me.

  She sniffed. The D sharp sticks.

  What?

  The D sharp above middle C. The key sticks.

  Is that bad?

  It makes it difficult to play anything. She met his gaze and a little of her bad humor slid away. She smiled ruefully. Particularly if the player is as out of practice as I am.

  Its only for a couple of days, he said. He hoped. Just until they catch whoevers after you.

  There will always be someone after me. As long as the Coalitions in existence and DeBruzkya is in power.

  She was right. Marcus had said pretty much the same thing to Jerry Baxter. The thought didnt make him feel any better about what he was doing here. Until they plug the leak in DS, then.

  She leaned forward, passionately earnest. I have to be back in Delmonico next week to discuss the implications of the accord with the Euro-Atlantic Partnership Council. I dont have that long.

  He met her eyes regretfully. You dont have a choice.

  Her gaze dropped. She toyed with her scrambled eggs, neither agreeing nor arguing with him.

  Hell.

  You want toast? he offered.

  No, thank you.

  You got a problem with toast?

  The toast is fine.

  Okay, so its not the food. Are you sick or are you just in a mood?

  She put down her fork in annoyance. Has it occurred to you that a person might choose not to eat simply because he or she is not hungry?

  No, he said frankly. Im always hungry.

  For the first time that morning, she smiled. Relief loosened the knots in his shoulders.

  I imagine you are. But youre much more active than I am.

  He shrugged. So after breakfast well take a walk.

  Interest gleamed in her eyes. Walk where?

  He drizzled honey on a piece of bread and handed it to her. To the well house.

  She took the bread, but said, I hardly need to bulk up to walk across the yard.

  Its farther than you think. A well has to be located away from potential sources of contamination. Animals, machinery, waste

  She licked honey from her fingers and looked at him.

  He felt his face redden. Okay, its not that far. Well go to the farm pond after.

  The farm pond, she murmured. Wont that be exciting.

  He grinned. Yeah. Maybe youll fall in and Ill get to prac
tice my highly developed lifesaving skills.

  Mouth-to-mouth. His body on top of hers, pressed to the warm grassy bank

  She narrowed her eyes. In your dreams, farm boy.

  Nine

  W atch your step, Marcus warned from inside the dim well house.

  Easy for you to say, Samantha muttered.

  Compared to the brightness outside, the well house seemed dark and cramped and creepy. Gaps between the wooden walls and tin roof admitted just enough light to reveal the encroaching wilderness. Spiderwebs festooned the eaves. Honeysuckle poked pale fingers over the sill to creep along the dirt floor. Something unseen rustled in a corner.

  Samantha shuddered. There was too much here she could not see and did not trust. Spiders. Snakes.

  Marcus?

  No, she trusted him. She had to trust him. Didnt she?

  She took a deep breath and one step forward. A plank wobbled beneath her feet.

  Stay by the door, Marcus ordered from inside.

  She stopped. Why?

  These old hand-dug wells can be treacherous. This ones almost three feet across. Once I lift the cap off, theres nothing to keep you from falling in.

  Her heart beat faster. What about you?

  Well, sure, Id do my best, but

  No, I meant, whats to keep you from falling in?

  I have room. The farmer who built this place didnt waste any wood on it, but he left some space to work in. Besides, I can see.

  She could see, too, now that her eyes were adjusting. Beyond the plank on which she stood, a round concrete slab covered most of the floor. A plastic bucket, its bright orange diminished to gray by dirt and darkness, occupied one corner. Leaves occupied another. Marcus knelt next to a metal tank that looked like R2-D2. A short, low cylinder connected to a pipe that ran under the slab.

  As Samantha watched, he stooped and wrapped his arms around the concrete slab. His muscles shifted under his T-shirt. As easily as a maid lifting a tea tray, he hefted the well cap, exposing a deep, dark hole in the ground.