by Kay Hooper
Something inside her was shaking, trembling. She couldn’t believe he really wanted her. Not her. He’d probably been breaking hearts since his teens with that smile, his dark eyes, and he’d break hers if she let him … or even if she didn’t. Let. Such a simple word. There wouldn’t, she thought, be any let about it. Just as there wouldn’t be any peaceful, logical decision for her no matter what happened.
Didn’t he know that? Did he know she was already overwhelmed, afraid of how he made her feel? Afraid of him … If she could have run from him now, she would have. When all this was over, she’d run. A man like Derek wouldn’t be interested in her anymore once her particular crisis was over, and she wouldn’t wait for him to tell her that. She wouldn’t wait to be hurt.
You’re a coward, Shannon. Cowardly Shannon, always running because it hurt too much to stay. Running from her mother. From the failures of lost jobs and the wounds of pitying looks. Scurrying from one boring but safe shelter to another, one drab apartment to another. Walking carefully, speaking softly. Afraid to risk anything of herself. And now, when a man showed interest in her, she’d run again.
The man was ordinary. He was average in height, build, coloring. His clothing was unobtrusive, his stride even and steady. He didn’t turn his head left or right as he walked, but a perceptive observer would have noted that his muddy brown eyes moved ceaselessly back and forth, back and forth, scanning his surroundings with the automatic intensity of old habit.
There were several phone booths, the old-fashioned enclosed kind, near a corner of the busy street, and he entered one with the faint frown of a man with things on his mind. He didn’t have to fumble for change since it was already in his hand, and he quickly deposited it and punched out the number he wanted. After a few seconds, there were several clicks and buzzes on the line, and he waited with outward patience.
“Yes.” The voice was guarded, muffled, completely unidentifiable.
“They were gone.” The man’s eyes continued to scan his surroundings, and his own voice was cool and matter-of-fact. “An alarm system, of course.”
After a moment of silence, the voice hissed, “You should have had them. A bomb, or—”
“You’ve blown up one building without success,” the man interrupted curtly. “My partner and I don’t work that way; you knew it when you hired us.”
“All right, all right.” There was anger in the voice, almost rage, followed by the sounds of several deep breaths being drawn.
The man waited patiently, his lips twisting in a grimace. Childish games, he thought. The line had been scrambled at the other end; he recognized that peculiarly hollow quality to the connection. As if he didn’t know who it was he worked for on this job. They thought it protected them, the faceless, nameless men who tended to seek his services. They thought that they were beyond his reach, should something go wrong.
He laughed about that sometimes.
“All right,” the voice repeated, calm now. “I’ll find out where they’ve gone to ground.”
“He’s an experienced agent, by all accounts,” the man said dryly. “It won’t be easy.”
“I’ll find out. Call me back around midnight.” There was an abrupt click, and then the dial tone.
The man left the phone booth and walked away, still casual. And he wondered idly what it felt like to have the kind of power his employer demonstrated.
Tension built in Shannon as the day wore on. Derek was casual, keeping the conversation on theoretical possibilities about who could be involved at Civatech. He had her close her eyes and describe the layouts of the parts of the building she’d seen, while he sketched a diagram. He questioned her about the security system, inside and out. About procedures.
Shannon might have forgotten or doubted that the earlier tense conversation had taken place, except that Derek gave himself away. Whenever she was near, he couldn’t seem to prevent himself from touching her, sometimes drawing his hand away hastily after a fleeting contact. His voice roughened from time to time, and he’d quickly clear his throat and go on as if nothing had happened. He watched her all the time, even when he was on the phone trying to gather information about Civatech and get a “line” on the men hunting them.
His obvious awareness heightened her own, making it impossible for her to completely withdraw from him. She was too conscious of him to hide herself away, too confused by her own feelings to rebuild the wall his stark admission of desire had sent tumbling down. She caught herself limping a few times, knowing he saw it, too, and gradually accepted that he’d been right about that, at least. Conscious of him, she was more conscious of herself, more aware of her imperfect body.
As night came, her own restless tension became something she could barely control. She prepared the evening meal while Derek talked on the phone with another friend, this one having heard a bit more about Civatech or “Cyrano.” Derek had explained that he wanted to safely gather as much information as possible today before making the difficult decision of what to do about the matter.
And the knowledge that something had to be done, that it wouldn’t end by itself, just added to Shannon’s strain. As always in her life, things were happening beyond her control, and the sense of helplessness was demoralizing. All she could do was wait and be prepared to run. The worst of it was that she sensed Derek was more inclined to turn and fight instantly despite the advance preparation of his “burrows.” Instead, he had chosen this hide-and-seek game, and that told her only too clearly and painfully that she was a handicap, that he had to consider her protection in all his future plans.
She felt a growing scorn for herself along with the restlessness, a gnawing sense of being powerless when she should have been able to do something. She couldn’t even be a normally strong woman; instead, she cringed like a frightened child. Oh, she knew rationally that being hunted like an animal would test the courage of anyone. But what about the other? Did every woman start falling to pieces because a man said he wanted her? No. And why had she? Because she was afraid.
She was tired of being afraid.
Derek offered to clean up after the meal, and Shannon slipped away to take a bath, hoping the hot water would warm her cold hands and ease the tension. But it didn’t. The huge, old claw-footed tub, likely claimed from some junkyard by an ambitious decorator and restored to its former pristine whiteness, was almost deep enough for her to swim in, but not even her vague amusement at it relieved the tension she felt.
She dried off and dressed in the silk pajamas even though it was still fairly early. She had realized that the finely honed look of Derek’s handsome face spoke of too little rest, and thought if she went to bed early he might rest tonight. That was why he was so tense and restless himself, she decided firmly. He was just more tired than usual, and despite what he’d said about mixing business and pleasure, she couldn’t believe a man with all his undeniable attractions was accustomed to spending even a few days without some woman happily in his bed—
Shannon felt a stab of pain so sharp then that she caught her breath and braced one hand on the sink, staring at her white face in the mirror. Automatically, she rubbed her hip with her free hand, even though she knew the pain hadn’t come from that old injury. Her mind went blank, walled-off, refusing even to consider the possibility. She waited until that face in the mirror had lost its look of shock, until the eyes were calm again. Then she left the bathroom.
FIVE
SHE WAS SERENE, tranquil. Outwardly and inwardly. The utter stillness inside her seemed a good thing to her, a welcome thing, and Shannon had no way of knowing it was like the hushed silence before an earthquake. She had no way of knowing, unaccustomed as she was to emotional highs and lows, that her kind of composure was a terribly fragile layer of calm over emotions that were seething.
And the shock, when it came, was so sudden that she could only respond with equal suddenness, completely out of instinct. She was standing on the bottom step going down into the softly lit living area, looking
at Derek as he stood to stretch cramped muscles and frowned down at the diagram and notes littering the coffee table.
Shannon opened her mouth to ask some unformed question, and that was when they both heard the sharp, echoing report from outside, chillingly loud and stark in the silence of the night.
Derek turned toward her instantly, but even then he barely had time to realize she had moved before she was in his arms, shaking violently. Her reaction came from nothing rational, but from the primitive fear of loud noises that any hunted animal would have shared.
“Shannon …” He held her tightly, aware of nothing in those first seconds but the desire to reassure and comfort her. “It was just a car, honey, backfiring. It’s all right.” He smoothed her thick hair and murmured wordlessly, but her trembling body wouldn’t stop shaking. And when she lifted her face from his chest and looked up at him, he realized that something had changed, something irrevocable. He thought he even knew what it was, and tried to save them both from what was happening by explaining to her.
“Shannon, sometimes a primitive emotion like fear will trigger another one.” He heard his voice hoarsening, felt his belly knot hard in a rush of heated desire, and tried to fight his spiraling senses even as his arms unconsciously tightened around her slender, trembling body. “It’s natural.”
“Is it?” She was staring up at him, her voice slow and wondering, dazed. She thought she’d fallen over the brink of something, was still falling wildly, and for some reason she couldn’t do a thing to save herself. “I’ve never felt this way before.”
Derek knew what he should have done. He should have gently released her, pulled her arms from around his waist and stepped away from her. He should have made some light comment and turned both their minds from the unexpected physical encounter, managing somehow not to hurt her needlessly by making her feel rejected.
That was what he should have done.
He knew even as his head lowered toward hers that this was a mistake, and a faint despairing voice in his mind told him he’d pay dearly for it later. But he had to kiss her, the way a starving man has to take sustenance, or a thirsting man has to drink. The demand of his clamoring body wouldn’t be denied. His need for her was as primitive as the need for security she had shown when she’d instinctively leapt into his arms.
At the first touch of her cool, trembling lips, what might have been a tentative first kiss, what should have been just that, exploded between them violently with a force that jarred them both. Shannon stiffened for an instant, almost crying out, and then her arms tightened fiercely around his lean waist and her fingers dug into the rippling muscles of his back as she melted completely, bonelessly against him. The detonation of that kiss shocked everything inside her, senses and emotions and rationality, leaving behind nothing but burning need.
Dizziness flowed over her and a faint sound tangled in the back of her throat when his mouth slanted over hers, deepening the devastating kiss with a surge of possession that rocked her to her soul. The duel of tongues was shocking in its molten heat, vibrantly exciting in its mutual need and searing intimacy. She was vividly aware that her body was changing as it pressed against his, that her breasts were swelling and aching, her limbs weakening, her veins running with fire. It was a combination of feelings so intensely alive that she wouldn’t have fought them no matter what.
She barely heard Derek groan, but felt the vibration of the sound. She felt one of his hands slide down her silk-clad back to her hips, pressing her even closer to his hardening body, and a shudder of raw desire went through her at the starkly intimate sensation.
He ended the kiss suddenly, tearing his mouth from hers with an effort that was almost violent. “Shannon … you don’t know what you’re doing,” he said hoarsely, unable to resist the soft flesh of her throat.
“Yes, I do.” She could feel his other hand at the back of her head, his fingers moving in her hair caressingly, and lifted her chin to allow him more room to explore as his lips trailed down her throat. Eyes half-closed, she was mindlessly basking in the radiant fire of his body and her own. It was so warm. He was so warm and hard, and she needed him so badly. She couldn’t catch her breath and didn’t care, didn’t care about anything but these wonderful feelings.
“Stop me,” he whispered tensely against her throat. “For your sake—stop me.”
“Not even for my sake,” she murmured, wondering why he would say something like that. Why on earth would she want to stop him? She felt so alive, so wonderfully alive, and so much a woman. For the first time in her adult life, she truly felt like a woman. And she could feel the strength inside herself for the first time, a tempered steel core that had lain hidden beneath fears this explosion had ripped away; it was a strength she hadn’t imagined herself capable of, and she gloried in the knowledge that it existed within her.
Wonderingly, she repeated, “Not even for my sake. Make love to me, Derek.” And there was no shock left in the astonishing freedom she felt in that moment.
Even then, Derek might have been able to stop himself, because he knew what he stood to lose in the recklessness of his need and her response. And if Shannon had shown one instant’s hesitation, one flicker of uncertainty, it would have been enough to give him the strength he needed. But more than her words told him she wouldn’t hesitate. Her body told him. She was moving restlessly against him, unconsciously seeking, and her trembling hands stroked his back, tried to draw him closer. And he couldn’t fight them both.
He tried. Dear God, he tried. His head lifted, his body stiffening with the fierce effort to take that first step back away from her. But Shannon’s arms slipped from around his waist and her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, and when he felt her seeking touch, felt her lips as she pressed them to his chest, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.
“Shannon …” It was little more than a breath of sound. He framed her face in his hands and kissed her with all the gentle restraint he could manage, making a silent promise to her and to himself that this wouldn’t be a mistake. That he wouldn’t let this be a mistake. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her up the steps and to the side of the bed.
She felt right in his arms, just as she had that first night, and he was reluctant to let her go enough to set her on her feet by the bed. He couldn’t stop touching her, couldn’t stop gazing into the dark amber fire of her eyes. She was so beautiful it almost stopped his heart.
Shannon was hardly aware they’d moved. She was vaguely conscious of the bed behind her, but could only gaze up at his taut, handsome face and marvel at her own feelings. These strange new feelings that had brought her alive. “I want you,” she said wonderingly.
Derek caught his breath and went still for a moment, then rapidly discarded his shirt and kicked off the soft-soled moccasins he always wore. “I’m glad,” he said with rough-edged gentleness. “Because I want you, too, honey.”
Shannon’s gaze went over his body, curiously half-primitive clad only in jeans, and the wonder in her grew. He was so beautiful, so stunningly male. So perfect. The thick mat of hair on his broad chest was gold-tipped, both soft and rough to her touch, arrowing down his hard stomach and disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Muscles rippled with every movement, catching the light, and the sheer power of him was a palpable force that stirred her senses wildly.
And the warmth of him … the wonderful, seductive warmth of him. She went into his arms as though drawn by a lodestar, wanting him, needing him and the warmth he’d created in them both. Impatient, she wanted the barriers gone, wanted to feel him against her. She lifted her face to meet the heat of his kiss, barely able to hold herself away from him long enough to allow him the room to unfasten her silken pajama top. She shrugged out of the top and instantly pressed against him, gasping at the intimate contact as the tips of her breasts turned to fire, seduced by her own body’s response to the hardness of his. Her hands found the ridged firmness of his stomach, and she felt muscles contra
ct beneath her touch.
“Nobody told me,” she said shakily as he lifted his head and looked down at her with his dark, hot eyes. “Nobody told me it felt like this.”
Derek wanted to tell her that, in his experience, it didn’t feel like this. Not like this. Nothing had ever felt like this. For the first time, he truly understood why Kelsey, one of the strongest men he’d ever known, had all but come apart in the turbulence of love and need. Derek knew what it felt like now, and he wondered on some distant level of his mind if he would be able to survive this intact. Something shuddered inside him. He didn’t think he would.
He had already lost something, given it to her. Or perhaps she had stolen it, taken it from him in her innocent need. It was gone, hers, and he’d never get it back again.
“Derek—?”
He realized he’d gone very still, and wondered if the sudden ferocity he felt showed on his face. His eyes searched her lovely, awakened face, gazed in fascination at the pulse beating rapidly in her throat, and then lowered to the pale gold mounds of her breasts. “You’re beautiful, Shannon,” he murmured tautly. “Lord, you’re so beautiful.” His hands found the waistband of her pajama bottoms, and he began drawing them downward as he bent his head and kissed her shoulder.
One of Shannon’s hands left his stomach, capturing his left wrist with jerky quickness as she caught her breath suddenly and stiffened.
Derek raised his head and looked into amber eyes that skittered nervously away from his intent gaze for the first time. And he knew, even before the whispered words escaped her.
“The light … turn it off, please, Derek. I don’t want you to see—the accident … there were operations, and I don’t want you to see.” Her eyes were changing, darkening, a new kind of awareness bringing a sanity that was cold and afraid.
