She shot a surreptitious glance at Damien across the table and caught him staring at her. Her stomach fluttered and she swallowed hard. Passion smoldered in his dark eyes. She wondered briefly how things might have progressed had they met under different, more normal, circumstances. A wistful sigh escaped her and she banished the notion. Wishing was useless. Things were not normal.
The chair legs scraped the floor as she pushed her chair back and all but bolted from the table. Stacy scrambled upstairs to play. Damien pushed his half-empty plate away and only sat there, watching her. Self-conscious, Laurie handled the post dinner cleanup. Quit staring, she ordered Damien silently. The back of her neck prickled. His eyes seemed to drill holes in the back of her skull. Intensely aware of him, she slammed the frying pan into the sink. Soapy water splashed on her.
"Shit,” she muttered, her stomach jittery. “The man is making me crazy."
She scowled at their reflections in the darkened window. October nights came early in the mountains. She shoved the pan into the dish rack, drained the sink, and tried to dry her hands on her damp shirt. To avoid even looking at him, she prepared the coffee pot for morning use. Damien fidgeted impatiently behind her. Let him wait! She stood by the sink, staring out window into the dark woods.
"Laurie,” he said with quiet intensity.
She ignored him, refused to face him despite the soft caress of his voice in her ears. He could say nothing she wanted to hear. She had given in to desire once before and nearly ruined her life. She had built a secure world for herself and Stacy. There was no room for anyone else, no room for more heartache.
"Talk to me, Laurie,” he said directly behind her as his strong hands gently covered her shoulders.
Startled, she flinched hard. He moved so silently, like a ghost. She sighed, turned, and he dropped his hands. The warmth of his touch lingered and flowed into her. She tilted her head, peered into his eyes. Desire blazed in those dark chocolate depths. An answering heat rose in her and she leaned back against the sink. He moved closer, crowding her. She flattened her hands on his hard chest in a tentative push.
"No, Damien,” she said as she moved aside. “We can't. I can't. I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have.... “Her voice trailed off. His steady probing stare held hers. Disconcerted, she averted her gaze over his shoulder.
He frowned. “What's wrong? You did what you wanted to do.” He leaned a hip on the edge of the sink. Grasping her chin loosely, he urged her to look at him. “What do you want?"
You, she thought in automatic response and drowned in his eyes. She barely managed not to say it.
"I just want to get through the next few days with my sanity intact.” She looked at him in confusion. She was here. This was her life, but she did not recognize it. She sighed. “I feel like I've been dumped into the location of a Hollywood action movie without a script. Next I'm supposed to fall madly in love with my rescuer."
To her surprise, he laughed. A spark of amusement lit his eyes. His hearty laughter boomed around the room and infected her so she grinned at him.
"Well, in all the movies, the heroine ends up in bed with the hero at some point.” He paused and the brief humor faded. “The terrorists are still moving. We haven't located them yet."
"So they could be anywhere, doing anything,” she surmised, gnawing on her lower lip. “What are we going to do?"
"As long as we're here, I'm going to teach you to defend yourself,” he said. His tone forbade argument. He scowled and his eyes were very dark and impenetrable.
Learn to fight, she thought skeptically then conceded the merits of the idea. It wouldn't hurt to learn to defend herself and Stacy. “What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you to do it.” His uncompromising stare bored into her.
She nodded slowly, thoughtfully, as she crossed the room. She sank onto the mattress of the sofa bed. Damien straddled the chair at the end of the table, leaning his arms across the back. He studied her intently, silently, as though trying to fathom her depths. Uncomfortable, she squirmed under his scrutiny. She stared at the floor and finally looked up at him again.
"What?” she snapped waspishly, disconcerted. “Did I grow another head or sprout wings?"
An absent smile curved his lips but she read nothing of his thoughts. He only looked at her. A soft light entered his eyes, turned them from dark to milk chocolate. Tension faded and a gentle smile softened the hard lines of his mouth. For the moment, the solider disappeared. He was just a man. She almost imagined they were just two ordinary people on the verge of discovering each other. She shook her head determinedly. There was nothing ordinary about them or the situation.
"Something wrong?” His eyes narrowed slightly.
"No,” she replied curtly.
He frowned but said nothing. She watched, fascinated, as Damien once again became the professional soldier. His face hard, he tensed. Alert and wary, he stood up and shoved the chair under the table.
"I'll be back,” he said and grabbed his jacket off the hook by the door. He turned with his hand on the doorknob. “Just going to walk around."
Laurie nodded. “Be careful."
He flashed a brief grin and patted the gun he wore constantly on his hip. “Always.” He opened the door and the night swallowed him.
Laurie wandered around the cabin, stopping at a row of low bookshelves in the corner under the loft. Scanning the titles, she discovered Damien's varied taste in reading material. She found history, military adventure, science fiction, action adventure, and even a row of romances on the very bottom shelf. She pulled one out at random, wondering who had read it. She could not imagine Damien McAllister reading romance novels. Curled into the corner of the sofa bed, she opened the book. She only managed to finish one chapter before sleep stole over her.
* * * *
After an invigorating walk through the woods to check the area, Damien returned to the cabin. He hung his jacket on the hook, strode across the room—and stopped abruptly by the sofa bed. Laurie was curled in the corner, sound asleep, with a book on her chest. He smiled indulgently, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. He bit back a groan of desire. It was going to be a long week if he kept his hands to himself, as she expected. Scowling, he locked the door and turned off the main lights. She wanted him. She had been all over him just that afternoon, more eager than he. The memories burned him, aroused him.
"Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
The soft glow of the reading lamp spilled over her face. She looked younger in sleep though he knew she was twenty-nine. He removed his shoes and socks, put his gun on the end table, and pulled his shirt over his head. He crawled under the blanket, close to her. Then he hesitated. He should wake her and send her upstairs. Instead, he drew the blanket to her shoulders. He sighed. It was difficult but he honored her wishes. After all, SEALs excelled at doing difficult things. He settled on his back, his arms crossed under his head, and drifted off to sleep.
Damien woke to early daylight and curious warmth draped over him. He shifted slightly, pleasantly surprised and aroused. Laurie still slept, snuggled up to him. Her head rested on his shoulder, her hair spread over his chest like silk. Her leg lay across his thighs, her knee nudging him to painful hardness.
He curved his arm around her, drawing her even closer. Her skin felt like satin under his stroking fingers. Her breasts brushed his chest with every breath she took. He swept the hair from her face and caught her dreamy smile. She shifted, her arm sliding over his chest. That soft friction nearly short-circuited his brain. Her palm rested on his nipple. It pebbled instantly. He groaned aloud and wanted badly to wake her, to kiss her until her eyes opened, glazed with passion.
Her warm breath caressed his bare skin. Need erupted in him. He tried to disengage himself, but she clutched at him. Her body tightened along his. Her knee stroked him, scorched him through the denim barrier. His resolve weakened.
<
br /> "Laurie.” Almost desperate, he gently shook her shoulder. “Wake up."
Her eyelids fluttered and she tilted her head to stare sleepily at him. She looked like she absolutely belonged in his bed and in his arms. He wished she did. Her hair slid across his skin like silken rain. Surrendering to his urges, he rolled and pinned her to the mattress.
She stared at him, her eyes clouded with the lingering effects of sleep “Good morning,” she murmured, her face flushed and her skin warm.
"Morning.” He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her softly.
He stroked his tongue over her lips until she parted them. He explored, savored, and drowned in her taste. He drew back slowly and stared at her, searching her face for any indication that he should continue.
Awareness cleared the sleep from her eyes. She dropped her gaze with a guilty flush and murmured, “Sorry."
The taste of her still lingered on his lips and tongue. With a deep, longing sigh, he rolled off her. The springs of the mattress creaked as she scrambled off the bed.
"I'm sorry, Damien.” Her nervous glance landed on everything but him. “I should have taken that book upstairs."
"Don't worry about it.” He left the bed and rummaged in his duffel bag for clean clothes. Her involuntary glance at his bare chest scrambled his pulse. Blushing furiously, she fled to the loft. He chuckled wryly and watched her go, wondering how long she'd fight her desires and why.
How long could he keep his hands to himself if she continued to sleep in his bed? The memory of her snuggled next to him fired his blood. Teeth clenched, he dressed quickly, resolved to resist her temptation.
* * * *
Subdued and uncertain, Laurie led Stacy downstairs. Damien wasn't there. A quick look out the window puzzled her. Damien was stacking sandbags at the far side of the clearing. Watching him, she settled Stacy at the table with a bowl of cereal then poured a cup of coffee. Curiosity sent her outside. She studied the man-high stacks of sandbags and arched an eyebrow.
"What's this for?"
"Target practice.” Damien pulled a holstered gun from the back of his waistband. She recognized it as the one he had given her when they left her house. He slid the gun from the holster. “This is a Tokarov .9mm pistol."
He pushed a small button on the grip. The magazine dropped into his waiting hand. He pulled the top piece of the gun back and another bullet fell out. He caught it deftly and shoved it into his pocket. He indicated the moveable piece. “This is the slide. Watch."
Under Damien's careful tutelage, Laurie learned to load and chamber the pistol. He made her repeat the actions several times. Though uncomfortable and leery of firearms, she soon relaxed until Stacy wandered, bored, outside. Jolted, Laurie lowered the Chinese rifle Damien had switched her to and stared at her daughter in alarm.
Obviously seeing her concern, Damien nodded for her to continue shooting at the rough red circles of paper on the sandbags. He kept Stacy well back from the firing line, patiently answering her questions. Laurie shot him a brief grin knowing full well Stacy would pester him with questions until someone stopped her. At noon, Damien called a halt to target shooting.
"Keep this gun with you,” he insisted, handing her the loaded pistol once more in the holster. “Wear it during the day. Keep it with you at night. Get used to it."
"Can I try?” Stacy piped up, her eyes sparkling with fascination.
Laurie eyed the gun warily then glanced uncertainly at her daughter. Stacy exhibited a healthy child's typical fascination with the unknown—in this case, guns.
"Don't worry about Stacy.” Damien grinned at Stacy, who smiled brightly back at him. “I'll teach her a few things, too."
Alarmed and shocked, Laurie gaped at him then shook her head vehemently. “You are not putting a gun in my daughter's hands."
"Damn it, Laurie.” His expression went hard and his eyes glittered with harsh light. “All right, we'll discuss it later. For now, do as you're told. If you want to survive, do what I tell you, when I tell you, without argument."
Laurie instinctively stepped back from his cold anger but not out of fear. Irritated, she silently made sure the gun was on safety and holstered it. With an icy glare at Damien, she led a protesting Stacy into the cabin and left him to put away his ‘toys'.
Obviously sensing the tension between the adults, Stacy cast furtive glances at each in turn. She pouted but finished her peanut butter and jelly sandwich then sat back in her chair, her small arms crossed over her chest.
"Mommy."
Laurie glared at her. “Take a nap."
"But...."
"Go!” Laurie ordered, more sharply than she intended. Flooded with guilt at taking her irritation out on her daughter, she glared out the window. Stacy shoved her chair back and stomped up to the loft.
"Damn it!” Stacy's voice carried quite clearly down to the table.
"Stacy!” Laurie scolded loudly. “I'll wash your mouth out with soap, young lady!"
Damien smirked. Laurie glared at him. But her anger subsided as a reluctant grin tugged at her lips. Stacy tried to be independent, which for a five year old meant imitating adult behavior. Guns. She frowned at Damien across the table.
"I don't want my daughter around guns. They're dangerous—especially in the hands of children."
"She'll learn.” His steady stare caught hers.
Laurie stubbornly crossed her arms over her breasts. “It's all over the news, Damien. Kids take guns to school and kill each other. Then their parents, who are stupid enough to have guns in the house, plead ignorance. I don't want my daughter to be a statistic!"
Damien let out a frustrated breath and leaned forward on the table. “Do you trust me to know what I'm doing with a gun?"
Laurie studied him for a moment and nodded sharply. “You're trained to use guns. Stacy is only five! She could hurt or kill herself or someone else."
"Listen to me. Stacy is around guns for the duration of my assignment,” he pointed out sternly, a sharp glint in his eyes. “Now, would you rather have her pick up a gun and treat it like a fascinating new toy, or would you prefer that she know she is looking at a dangerous weapon? Do you want her to understand or do something tragic and stupid out of ignorance?"
Laurie gave his logic careful thought. She considered knowledge a formidable weapon. She rarely excused stupidity. Ignorance, however, could be cured. In light of the circumstances, Damien's stand had some logic. The more Stacy knew about guns, the less likely she was to cause a tragedy.
"All right, Damien,” she conceded reluctantly. “Teach her but, please, keep her safe."
He peered at her, his expression thoughtful. “That's the idea. The more she knows, the safer she'll be. I can do the same thing with her that my father did with my brother and me. I did it with my kids."
Puzzled, she stared at him. “What was that?"
"I'll show her what guns will do,” he replied. “I don't have watermelons but we can use jugs full of water."
"For what?"
"To simulate a person's head. She'll see what a gunshot will do to people. It will teach her that guns are dangerous and should be treated with respect. I want you to watch."
"Hmm,” Laurie murmured. “It might be effective.” She actually hoped the demonstration scared Stacy away from guns. “I know guns are dangerous if misused. Why should I watch?"
"You never point a gun at someone unless you intend to use it,” he emphasized, his gaze stern and unwavering. “Shoot to kill."
Abruptly apprehensive, Laurie only stared at him. He expected her to kill? An image of Stacy sleeping in the loft flashed in her mind. Her heart swelled with love. She would kill to protect her daughter. Resigned to the inevitable, she left the table to stare out the window. The pile of sandbags waited at the clearing. She squirmed. The gun on her hip was not uncomfortable or even heavy. But the extra weight was a constant reminder of danger.
Behind her, Damien's hands settled on her shoulders. His presence was strangely
comforting.
"I'm not trying to scare you.” He paused, tensed behind her.
"Yes, I'm scaring you,” he continued, his tone grim. “I want you to be scared. A healthy dose of fear might keep you alive."
Tears threatened but she scoffed bitterly, “I guess you're not scared."
His gentle hands turned her to face him, his piercing brown eyes holding hers relentlessly. Grim determination burned in the dark depths of his gazes. “Honey, I'm always scared. I get scared on every mission. Fear keeps you from being stupid or reckless. But don't let it paralyze you."
Honey. The endearment echoed in her mind, warmed her heart. She searched his face but found only truth. Leaning against him, she sought strength as his arms closed around her.
"This is so unreal,” she said into his chest. “I'm scared, Damien—especially for Stacy. I don't want to lose her.” She wrapped her arms around him and clung.
"Trust me, Laurie."
She tilted her head and looked deep into his eyes, so full of determination. Tightening her embrace, she trusted him with her life and Stacy's. Could she trust him with her heart? She deliberately pushed that thought away. It didn't belong. She laid her head on his shoulder. His heart beat steadily, infusing her with his calm strength as his arms sheltered her.
Chapter Four
After Stacy woke up from her nap, Damien took her outside, talking to her in a low serious voice. Stacy followed eagerly, chattering excitedly as Damien placed a plastic one-gallon jug of water on top of the sandbags. Stacy grinned, her excitement almost tangible. Damien unloaded the rifle and his pistol. Stacy touched, held, and examined them.
Her heart in her throat, Laurie watched them through the window, hoping the demonstration curbed her daughter's fascination. Sheer anxiety finally drove her outside.
"Can I shoot it?” Stacy pleaded, her emerald eyes as bright as a child's on Christmas morning. “Please, Damien?"
Laurie swallowed the lump of fear in her throat as she approached them. Damien looked at her over Stacy's head, leaving the final decision to her. She gulped, relinquished that bit of fear, and gave a reluctant nod.
Always a Warrior Page 5
