Who Do You Trust?

by Melissa James

  Still suckling her, he touched her beneath her skirt, feeling the delicious wet heat through her panties. She bucked against his hand again and again, creating her own friction until his hand slipped inside the cotton barrier, and his finger gently stroked and circled her where she had to have him, where she ached and pulsed and pounded for release; and within moments, she shuddered all over, cried out his name and collapsed on him, in the most beautiful surrender he’d ever known. A surrender that held no losers—they both claimed victory.

  He kissed her hair and held her, feeling content. “We have to go,” he whispered eventually.

  She lifted her face. It was flushed, flooded with dazed wonder, satiation and renewed need. “But Mitch, you didn’t…”

  He smiled, and touched her warm che. “But you did, Lissa. You did, and that’s enough for me.”

  Total confusion filled her eyes: a stunned, glazed look. “But how can it be—”

  Hoo-wee. She truly didn’t know. Tim must’ve been a hell of a loser in bed. “I can wait,” he murmured, with a quick glance at the back of her bed.

  Instant comprehension: all her rosy color faded. “Oh, God, he heard me,” she breathed in his ear. “He heard me… That filthy creep listened in on my most private moment…” She glared at him in bewildered betrayal. “How could you? How could you remember, and still go on?”

  He muttered a curse, holding her close as she tried to pull away. “I’m sorry, Liss. I forgot, too, until just then.” Still she struggled against him. “We have to keep up the whole lovers’ thing until we find out who the hell this guy is, why he wants to destroy me and why he just pulled a gun on you!”

  She stilled so completely he wondered if she’d fainted. He cursed himself. Maybe she hadn’t seen the jerk, after all.

  Then she sighed. “Tonight’s your turn, then. I’ll make sure of that.”

  Her voice was filled once again with the sultry saccharine sweetness of the fake siren. Lissa the consummate actress was back, with a vengeance.

  He was still unforgiven.

  Tim’s fair, handsome face showed up stark and pale against the fading glare of a hazy city dusk when he and Lissa returned from their little walk around the fuel-and-tar-scented airport. Through the passing lights of early-evening traffic, his eyes met those of his one-time best friend in a silent question.

  Mitch handed Lissa her bag, lifted his brows and slowly nodded.

  Tim invoked the name of his savior beneath his breath, then said levelly to the kids, “Hey, guys, I’ve got a great surprise for you. Just wait till we get into the car!”

  “Yeah!” Matt bolted without a backward glance; and Jenny, after unsuccessfully trying to get Tim to tell her what his special surprise was, followed Matt to find clues.

  But Luke glanced from Mitch to Lissa, his eyes filled with the same old question, the same fear. The need for love and reassurance that would take years to fade, if it ever did.

  Lissa hugged him. “Luke, darling, I’d never, never leave you. Neither will your dad. We’re just going away for a few days, okay? We’ll call you every day on Uncle Tim’s cell phone.”

  “Your mum’s right.” Mitch bent to his son. “Matey, hear this now. I’m your dad and I love you kids more than anything in the world. I never left you and I never will. If Kerin hadn’t taken you away from me, we would always have been together. But we always will be from now on. What Mum says is the truth. Trust us. We’re just going away for three or four days. Okay?”

  “Yes, Dad,” Luke whispered, shadows in his hurting eyes.

  Tim joined in. “Matey, I swear the fun’ll only last three or four days before Mum and Dad are back to drive you nuts, so you’d better make the most of it!”

  With another of those heartbreakingly uncertain, haunting smiles of his, Luke nodded. “Okay, Uncle Tim.”

  Tim clapped the boy on the shoulder. “Good man. Liss, my little love, why don’t you take Luke to the car? I wouldn’t mind catching up with my old buddy Mitch for a few minutes. You know, male bonding, swap war stories, etcetera.”

  “We don’t have time, Tim,” Lissa replied, her voice sharp. The warning carried itself clearly to both men.

  “Lissa, sweetie, trust me. You have time. Say goodbye to the kids,” Tim retorted, in curious gentleness.

  With flared nostrils and gritted teeth, Lissa herded a reluctant Luke to the car waiting fifty meters away. “Poor Liss always had too much pride for her own good,” Tim said softly, watching his ex-wife walk across the car park. “She’d really rather you walked through life not knowing the truth—even if it means losing you.”

  Mitch faced his old school friend squarely. “Spit it out, Tim. I’m sick of working in the dark with her. We’re in the middle of a bloody serious situation here and we don’t have much time.”

  “I’ll protect those kids with my life,” Tim said quietly. “I’ll take ’em where he couldn’t possibly find them, and he’ll have to walk over my dead body to get to them. And you’d better do the same for Liss or I’ll kill you myself.”

  Mitch rounded on him. “If you still love her that much, why the bloody hell did you ever leave her?”

  Tim met his accusing gaze without flinching. “Because, though I love her to death and always will, I’m not the man for her. I can’t give her what she needs.” He shrugged and said simply, “I’m gay, Mitch.”

  “Oh, crap!” he gasped without thinking. “You had twenty girls before Lissa. You were married to her more than five years, and all over her like a bloody rash for three years before that!”

  Tim’s mouth quirked. “Ever heard of denial, mate? That’s what those girls were for me—and what my marriage to Lissa was. I loved her like crazy. I still do. I wanted to believe it was the right love—that if I married her, my attraction to men would die out. I hoped, almost believed it was teenage stupidity, a passing thing I’d get over with the right woman. But I only made Lissa unhappy, in and out of bed.”

  “Let’s skip that part, shall we?” Mitch growled, wanting to deck him for ever having Lissa in bed, feeling totally flabbergasted by Tim’s unexpected revelation. Tim Carroll, who could barely keep count of the girls he’d bedded, was gay?

  Tim said seriously, “Do you think I want to talk about this? I can’t leave it out. If it weren’t at the heart of all the problems you have with Lissa now or will have in the future, I wouldn’t bring it up at all.”

  His gut wrenched. “So she’s told you we have problems.”

  “No, mate. She didn’t have to. The tens so thick I could make a gourmet sauce with it.”

  Mitch shrugged. “So you know what’s causing it. Get to the point, Tim. We’re in a bit of a hurry escaping some jerk after Lissa with a gun, if you haven’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, okay—but this is hard to talk about, so give me a minute.” Tim shook his head. “She’s scared of sex. She thinks she’s no good in bed—that she’s incapable of turning a man on.”

  Mitch stared at his old friend and swore. Hard.

  Tim sighed. “You know how she wanted to be a virgin till her wedding night? Well, she was—and for two weeks after that.”

  “What?”

  “It took me all the honeymoon to make love to her—and it was a nightmare.”

  Mitch blew out a sigh. Sheesh. No wonder Lissa was so tetchy about sex. No wonder she wanted them to be lovers so long before she’d marry him. “Go on.”

  “We wrote it off at first that were both upset about what I did to you, me being drunk, and grieving over the way you left. But deep down I knew we had a real problem. My love for her is what I’d feel for a little sister, if I had one. Touching her felt so damn wrong I couldn’t get past it. What she didn’t realize—and probably still doesn’t—is that she never wanted me, either. We should never have been anything but friends.”

  Mitch said slowly, “But if you knew that, why would she—”

  “Because we grew up together! C’mon, mate, think! You were there. She heard the rumors, talke
d to girls in the locker rooms. I might be gay, but she knows I was more than bloody capable with some girls. A lot of girls. Just not Lissa.”

  He felt the blood drain from his face. Good God. What must that have done to Lissa’s self-esteem?

  “In five years, it was only good once. Once. After I’d met Ron, my partner of the past six years—but I didn’t act on the attraction. I still wanted to deny what I was. I came home from the gym where I met him, tortured about my life, and saw my beautiful Liss waiting for me, so lonely, so glad to see me. It was the only time I didn’t have to pretend she was someone else—I just wanted to give her all the love I had, all the care she deserved. We conceived Jenny that night.” He sighed. “I left two weeks later.”

  Mitch growled an expletive.

  Tim shrugged. “Yeah, I’m a bastard. But whether or not I meant it, whether or not I could have changed things, doesn’t help Lissa now.” Tim’s eyes met his. “Think about it, Mitch. You know Liss as well as I do. How many other lovers do you think she’s had to show her she’s a desirable woman?”

  A home question. Oh, yeah, he knew Lissa, knew her romantic idealism, her dreaming soul, her hidden hopes and fears. So she’d been alone since Tim left. She’d gone through twelve years of thinking of herself as undesirable, unwanted by any man…and he’d never come home to her because he hadn’t wanted to see her happiness or loving sexuality with Tim.

  Happiness. Sexuality? Dear God.

  Tim went on with his demolition job on everything Mitch believed about the past fifteen years. “Do you get it now? I had to tell you, because the damage has never been undone. She’s never let another man within ten miles of her since I left. I sure as hell can’t fix it. So that leaves you.”

  “Yeah,” he sighed. “Me.” Me who’s blundered from the minute I got home. Me, who thought of “perfect solutions”—more reasons to destroy her self-esteem—because I was too bloody scared to tell her the truth. And now she doesn’t trust me enough to hear it.

  Tim’s hand gripped his shoulder. “I know why you’re hanging back, mate, but you have to stop it. Tell her you love her. Show her you want her—seduce her. Believe me, she wants you. She always wanted you, and far more than she lets on. Have you touched her? Let her know how much you want her?”

  “Mind your own business,” he growled.

  Tim laughed. “Good. No worries, mate. I’m outta here. I’ll head up the north coast. I’ll call you with our location—”

  “No,” he said sharply. “Don’t. Don’t tell the kids the name of the place where you are, either.” He found he didn’t give a damn about Tim’s sexuality, what happened to make him realize it or what he’d done after. All he knew was that he could trust Tim with their kids. He handed Tim a card, plain and unadorned, but for eight numbers. “Call that number if you even think you’re in danger. Someone will be there fast. I’ll have people ready on hand between Coffs Harbour and Byron Bay to protect you.”

  Tim stared at him, frowning. “Who are you, Mitch?”

  He returned without a second’s hesitation, “A man who’s giving up his current life and job for his wife and kids. So keep them safe, Tim.”

  “With my life. You just take care of Lissa.” Tim turned back to him after walking a few steps, his face relaxed, like a huge weight had been lifted from him. “When this is over, we’ll have to go somewhere for dinner, or do something with the kids. Sort of nice, the three of us together again. But now it’s the way it should have been from the start—you and Liss together, me the friend. I don’t regret making the mistake—we wouldn’t have Jenny without it—but I do regret like hell what I’ve done to Lissa.” He added slowly, “Jealousy’s a bloody rotten thing, isn’t it?”

  He grinned in the near darkness. “I didn’t think you’d know all that much about it.”

  Tim’s smile faded. “I probably know more about it than you ever will—and Liss is the one who’s paying the price for it. Call me. See ya.” Tim waved and faded into the gathering dark.

  Within moments Lissa returned. Even in the soft purplish darkness that comes between dusk and night, he could see her face, pale and proud and aloof. Every line of her carefully held body read back off. “Let’s go.”

  He climbed into Bertha’s cockpit without a word, and radioed the lile-known, barely used airstrip outside Canberra, to notify them of their ETA. Then he sent out a message to the other Nighthawks on their exclusive channel, hoping someone was out there to tell Anson what was going down.

  Within moments, he got an answer. “Flipper here, Skydancer. All clear for return?”

  “Extra package arriving. A real live wire. Will need supernatural briefing before recent package heads north, Flipper,” he informed Flipper, an ex-Navy diver and pilot who, with Irish, a crazy bush pilot, had been his backup in Tumah-ra. Flipper was now on recon looking for some black-market arms dealer’s lady on the run, under the guise of an investigative reporter.

  “Will do, Skydancer,” Flipper answered, and signed off.

  The drill would be in place in half an hour. Whatever happened to them now, the Nighthawks would be protected—and he’d protect Lissa with his life.

  Lissa gazed at him, her brows lifted. “Well, I suppose ‘livewire’ is an upgrade from ‘reliable.’”

  He grinned. Let her think she was the “package.” If their silent watcher was listening in, all the better. “I think so. You’ve managed to surprise me from the first day I got back,” he said, and waited for the defensiveness to begin.

  She settled back in her seat and buckled up. “Good,” she sighed. “I’m glad I’ve managed to surprise someone in my life. So did Tim tell you about how he wished it was you in bed with him on our wedding night instead of me?”

  He gasped, coughed, choked on air. “What?” he finally spluttered.

  “Oh, I see. So he took the coward’s way out, told you he was gay and stuck to my more embarrassing moments in life, huh?” She peered at his face. “I can see by the stunned look in your eyes that Tim left out some of the interesting bits, like the fact that he was in love—but with you, not me. Yes, indeed, it was a strange wedding night. Both the bride and groom wanted the best man in bed with them instead of their spouse. Wouldn’t that story go down well in one of those true confession magazines?”

  “Rio Delta Bravo. All clear for takeoff. Rio Delta Bravo, do you read?”

  He couldn’t respond. His mind was totally blanked out and his hands nerveless, useless. Lissa picked up the receiver and said blithely into it, “Yes, we do read. Thank you very much.” She replaced it and smiled at him, sunny and unruffled. “Um…Mitch? You can take off now.”

  Slow, disbelieving, turned to her. “Is that true?”

  “Uh-huh.” She singsonged the word. “That’s why he remained in denial for so long, darling—besides feeling so obligated to stay with poor unwanted little me. He was fussier than the average guy. He wanted you, and until he met his partner, Ron, he never met another man who—to put it delicately—lit his flame enough to leave me. So at least I didn’t have to worry about diseases. He swears he was faithful to me until the day he left. Um, I think you’d better start the plane, or the control tower people will start worrying.”

  He couldn’t tear his gaze from her, so bloody flabbergasted he couldn’t think. He’d always thought himself a modern, open-minded kind of guy—he hadn’t put a foot wrong when Tim told him he was gay—but he couldn’t be open about this. The thought of Tim—oh, holy Hannah, his best mate back then—Tim, who’d seen him in the buff so many times…and oh, man, he’d probably been horny, staring at his naked body like a lovesick girl. Listening to him rave on about how much he adored Lissa. And though he’d never discussed it, Tim knew he’d rejected every sexual advance from every bloody girl in Breckerville who approached him, so that his and Lissa’s first time could be together.

  Oh, yeah, Tim knew him well enough to let Lissa be the one to give this juicy tidbit to him—and no wonder Tim hadn’t told him or tried an
ything on him years ago. He’d have thrown up, beaten the crap out of him, never spoken to him again—in essence, shown in every way an insecure and lonely teenage boy can that the answer was and would always be no. And if Tim had dared touch Lissa after that—

  Was that why Tim snatched Lissa from under his nose in the first place?

  Jealousy’s a bloody rotten thing, isn’t it? I probably know more about it than you ever will.

  “Rio Delta Bravo, we have two crafts in line behind you. Please notify if you’re experiencing difficulty.”

  Startled, he grabbed the receiver. “Rio Delta Bravo, all clear for takeoff.”

  He glanced at Lissa as he started the plane in motion. She looked like a doll carved from alabaster—beautiful but untouchable, cool, not quite human. A tiny smile curved her mouth. Oh, yeah, she was enjoying this, wanting to put him on the back foot—and her use of the word darling was a dead giveaway. She wanted their unwanted listener to have something to think about besides how she came apart for him in bed this morning.

  But she was also telling the truth—a truth that tore her world and sexual self-esteem to shreds, and left her doubting his motives for wanting her. If he told her he loved her now, she’d probably spit it back in his face—and that was leaving out the fact that she thought he was a bloody people smuggler.

  Then when they were in the air, the rest of her blithe recital finally hit him. “You wanted me, too, Lissa?” he asked slowly. “You married Tim, wishing he was me? You wanted me to make love to you?”

  “Oh, yeah. I was even sillier over you than Tim was.” She turned to look at him, her eyes bright with self-mockery, the hatred of unresolved grief turned inward to anger. “You were my white knight, the man who’d save me from the biggest mistake of my life. My gallant flyboy hero, whom I adored so blindly it felt like sacrilege when my fiancé touched me.” She laughed, and he knew this conversation had become personal—way too personal. She’d forgotten about their silent listener, and she’d probably hate him again for that later. “You wanna know how dumb I was? Even after you left for the Air Force, I had the stupidity to hope you’d fly back for me, and we’d fly away together. Then I was romantic enough to hope you’d come home to stop the wedding. Then when you came home and did nothing, I prayed you’d stop it at the last minute. Oh, God, how I prayed you’d object, tell me you loved me, and marry me yourself. What a dumb jerkhuh? I begged God for years that one day you’d love me as much as I loved you. You have no idea how much I worshipped you back then.”