"Anyway," he'd gone on, looking a little embarrassed, "I guess they did pretty well." His blue eyes had flashed his pleasure then. "Enough to buy a ring to match your eyes," he said. "And I think we could even afford that sail around the world, if you want."
Her throat was tight and her voice husky when she finally said softly, "I'll settle for a little cove on the windward side of Catalina."
And so they were aboard the Phoenix once more, its full tanks and well-stocked galley a gift from Wayne, preparing to return to where it had begun for them all those months ago.
It had been Shiloh's idea to have the small ceremony aboard the lovely vessel, but she knew by the gleam in Con's eyes that he had liked the thought, as well. She had insisted on keeping it simple, and Con had had to rein in Sam's enthusiasm; he'd been ready to charter the Queen Mary.
Shiloh's eyes had been filled with a quiet pleasure when Con had, somewhat shyly, asked Linc to be his best man, but they had overflowed when her father, with unshakable determination, told her that he would be on his feet to give her away.
And he had, standing tall and amazingly steady, the crutches that helped him barely noticeable. "Good to be on a deck again," he'd said, and she had hugged him fiercely.
She had gone below to slip out of the slim white dress when Con suddenly appeared behind her. "Need some help?" he asked huskily, his eyes going over her hungrily.
"No," she said with mock sternness. "This brother-and-sister act for the last month was your idea, so you can just wait awhile longer."
"Not one of my better plans," he said with a growl.
"I don't know," she said softly. "Some things are the better for the waiting."
"Yeah. Sure." The fact that a hunger that matched his own was glowing in the depths of her eyes was the only thing that kept him from reaching for her. It had been hell, keeping his hands off her these last weeks, and now the ever-present coil of desire was throbbing low and hot in him with such force it made him shudder.
You wanted it this way, he, reminded himself fiercely, knowing deep down that he'd been right. He'd wanted it to be as it should have been from the beginning for her, and he would wait if it killed him.
Shiloh had been surprised, then touched, by the fact that he'd sworn hands off until after they were married. And despite the hunger for him that had been building to a fever pitch, she had to admit it had added a heightened sense of specialness to the night to come.
The mechanics of casting off and clearing the harbor kept them occupied for a while, and Shiloh grinned when she realized he had been studying.
"Just trying to hold my own in a navy family, that's all," he quipped when she teased him, and she thought then that she would ask nothing more of life than to see him like this from now on, smiling and secure. He had a family now, and both her father and brother had made certain he knew it.
It was only when they were there, anchored at last in the quiet, secluded cove, that Con remembered he had one last thing to do. He went below and dug in his bag, coming up with a small box wrapped in silver paper.
Shiloh looked at him curiously when he handed it to her; they'd exchanged their own gifts earlier, when they'd opened those from the small group that had witnessed their vows.
"It's … sort of a wedding present. From Sam," he said.
Her eyebrows went higher; Sam had already given them a ridiculously extravagant gift at the simple reception. When Con only nodded at the small box, she tugged at the big white bow and slipped off the shiny paper.
When she lifted the lid to see a brass key nestled on a bed of cotton, she raised her eyes to his, even more puzzled. "A key? To what?"
"My heart?" he said with exaggerated wistfulness.
"I already have that," she said softly, rubbing a finger over the new, unfamiliar weight of her wedding ring.
"That you do, Green-eyes," he said, covering her hand with his, his own wedding band glinting golden in the spring sun. "Actually," he went on after a moment, "it's, uh … the key to my office."
"Your what?"
"My office."
She stared at him. "You have … an office?"
"I do now. I sort of got promoted." He grimaced rather wryly. "I think."
"Con," she said warningly; she was about to burst with curiosity.
"Patience, wife." A grin split his face at the word.
"Feeling like a swim, are we, husband mine?" She tried to sound ominous and only succeeded in sounding deliriously happy. "Talk."
"After Joe, Sam decided he needed to beef up his security. He's adding more men to the Problem Management Force and moving it out of the main headquarters. Wants it independent, so there's no chance of anybody having access to too much information again. Or being too familiar with the PMF people."
She was gladly noting the fact that he was able to talk about Joe Selkirk's defection with only the barest hint of a shadow darkening his eyes; it was gone in an instant. Then his meaning sank in. "Moving it?"
"To Orange County, as a matter of fact."
Her eyes widened. "I thought you meant to somewhere else in Denver! Isn't this a little far? Why here?"
"Had to. It's where the guy who's going to run it is."
"The guy—" She stopped, staring. "You?"
He nodded, shrugging. "Tied to a desk at last."
Her brow furrowed. "Con … you don't have to. Not for me, I can handle—"
"I know. We proved that quite thoroughly, I thought." He reached out and took her hands. "It's not that, Shy. I want out. I'm tired. Burnt out, maybe. I … came too damned close, this time. I didn't really care then. Sam was right about that. But I do now. More than I've ever cared in my life."
Shiloh turned her hands in his, her long, slender fingers squeezing his, her eyes full of tender warmth. She was under no illusions about how little he had cared whether he lived or died, and it made his words all the more precious to her now. "You're sure?"
He grinned. "I'm sure. I'll have enough to do just to keep up with you!" The grin wavered, and he looked suddenly, incongruously, shy. "Besides, I'd … like to be around to play with my kid someday. If you meant what you said…" He trailed off uncertainly.
"Oh, I did!" she cried, throwing her arms around him. "A little boy with blue eyes like his father's."
Con hugged her, full of the knowledge that he was holding the rest of his life in his arms. "I had a little girl with tiger eyes in mind," he whispered.
"One of each, then," Shiloh murmured against his chest. Then she pulled back to look at him with eyes that were suddenly hot and glowing. "Just when were you planning on starting this little project?"
Heat flared in him, and wildfire raced along his nerves, released at last. "Now," he said hoarsely, lifting her in his arms as he stood. "Right now."
And once more he carried her down the narrow steps, taking her mouth in a searing kiss that was at once both tender and enflaming. The Phoenix rode the gentle swells quietly, serenely, almost protectively, as if she had been built for a time like this.
And the small banner that Jimmy had insisted on running up the mast, with Just Married in bright letters, floated gently in the spring breeze, offering a silent, heart-warming explanation for the mysterious emptiness of the cockpit of the small, elegant ship that bobbed peacefully on an unshadowed, sunlit sea.
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COOL UNDER FIRE Page 25
