Shades of Gray

by Vicki Hinze

  She feared being blamed. Feared the photo. Feared being targeted. Normal, that. But Connor had assured her countermeasures would be taken and counter-crews were damn good at their jobs. This wasn’t professional concern. It was personal. Laura, the woman, needed to know that Jake, the man, didn’t doubt her. “I don’t doubt you.”

  He picked up a piece of cereal that had missed the bowl and landed on the placemat. “Is that what’s got you up stealing my Cheerios and putting peaches in them when you should be sleeping?”

  “No. Mind clutter. And waiting to hear if Madeline’s responsible for Timmy’s room,” Laura said, being deliberately evasive and wishing she’d asked Jake to put on a shirt. The last thing she needed tonight was to have to self-lecture on curbing lust and retaining discipline. Good God, she could’ve lost him.

  “We should hear soon,” Jake speculated, grabbing his bowl and moving to the kitchen sink. “Something more is bothering you. Is it Timmy?”

  Laura debated lying, but she couldn’t. Not after seeing how much just withholding the truth from Jake had upset him. “Not really.” She joined him at the sink and swiveled the faucet, leaving him high and dry. The stream of warm water flowed over her hands, and she rinsed her dish. The smell of chlorine burned her nose. She twitched it. “But the timing is lousy for discussing it.” True, even if it wasn’t the real reason.

  “Odds for there being a good time in the foreseeable future look grim.” Jake took back control of the faucet. “We’re up waiting for the call anyway. You might as well get it out.”

  She turned and slumped back against the cabinet. A direct hit. She couldn’t not discuss it now. He’d think she was holding out on him again, and after last time . . . “Before you got home, I was sitting in Timmy’s empty room, and it all just hit me.”

  “What hit you?” He paused, still not rinsing his bowl.

  A sob cracked her voice. “That my whole life is a lie.”

  That response, he’d never expected. “What do you mean?” Was she confessing to a crime?

  “I sat here and took a cold, hard look at my life, and I’ve discovered it sucks.” Her chin quivered. “I’ve got a car stuck in first gear. A husband, who isn’t really a husband and doesn’t love me. A son, who wants to be my son but really won’t be, because his birth mother is going to take him back or to die trying. And as soon as I move back to the apartment—when he wants me to stay with him—he won’t love me, either. He’ll never get over feeling abandoned again. And I’ve got a job—at least, as of yesterday, I was employed—where I’ve been totally devoted and yet I’ve been jerked around, activated, and then fully activated, and my boss, who’s normally my boss’s boss, suspects me of being a traitor. That’s what I mean, Jake. I’ve got nothing that’s real. Not one damn thing that isn’t a lie or an illusion.”

  Expecting the charged air to crackle, Jake stilled. He had no idea what to say. When his mind stopped racing and he could grasp simple thoughts, he weighed his words carefully, knowing they’d both live with them a long time. “If Connor still suspected you of treason, you’d be in the brig.”

  She fisted her hands on the sink ledge. “There was doubt in his eyes, Jake. Don’t deny it. We both saw it.”

  He had seen it. “True, but he believes you’re innocent.”

  “Innocent? You don’t refuse to discuss countermeasures with someone you believe is innocent.” She affected Connor’s dry tone. “‘That information is classified, Mrs. Logan.’” She scowled. “I’ve got clearance, damn it. The only reason he said that was because he still had doubts.”

  She had a valid point. But so did Jake. Figuring the issue was a dead horse, however, he moved on. She wanted something real. Something more. What woman wouldn’t? Guilt shrouded him. “You forfeited too much, staying married to me.”

  “Great.” She banged a hand against the countertop, grabbed his bowl, and then bumped him with her hip, nudging him away from the sink. “Now you want a divorce, right?”

  He seemed to be screwing this up badly. More at a loss than he cared to be, he raked a what-the-hell-do-I-do-now hand through his hair and then tried a novel approach: the simple, unadorned truth. “I want you to be happy.”

  “You want me happy?” She looked at him as if he’d sprouted a spare head. “Well, of course you do. Suggesting a divorce in the middle of mayhem is bound to make me positively ecstatic, Jake.”

  Muttering, she turned a glare on him he wouldn’t soon forget. The bowl tilted into the stream, and she doused herself with water. It sprayed down the front of her silk robe, soaking the fabric, chilling her skin, and puckering her nipples.

  “Damn it.” She swatted at her stomach, causing more damage.

  Why was she angry? He’d been telling her he understood why she wanted a divorce. That had been what she’d been leading up to, hadn’t it?

  Maybe. But from her reaction, maybe not. Jake spun her around by the shoulders, grabbed a towel from the counter, and then gently blotted at the rivulets of water running down her neck, those soaking her chest, and finally her breasts. She was so beautiful. Irked to the gills, or calm and soothingly serene, she was an enigma that drew him like a two-ton magnet. A bundle of contradictions; competent and confident and tenacious, open yet private, elusive and fragile. Lingering, he stared into her eyes. The air between them grew thick, heavy, charged. He had to kiss her. Just once. Just . . . once.

  The phone rang.

  Vacillating, he stepped away from her to answer it, his insides shaking. “Logan,” he said into the receiver.

  Laura watched him, looking stiff and tense and wary. Because he’d nearly kissed her? Or because of the call?

  He listened to the brief report, muttered, “Thanks,” then tapped the hook button. Frowning, he lowered the receiver to the bar, then looked over at Laura. “They checked Madeline’s prints against those in her Intel file, but found no matches anywhere in the house.”

  “Then they did lift other prints?”

  Jake nodded. “A man’s. Off the door in Timmy’s room.”

  Fear rippled through Laura. She strained to squelch it, and then forced herself to ask a question whose answer she feared would incite sheer terror. “Have they formed a supposition?”

  Jake nodded. “ROFF.”

  Twelve

  Laura shivered. “Oh, God.” She crossed her chest with her arms. “Oh, God.”

  Jake wanted to hold her, but he kept the bar between them to avoid doing something he- knew they’d both regret. “We can’t do anything about this yet. It’s too soon. The pros need time to nail this down, Laura.”

  “Right.” She kneaded her arms, leaving creases in the silk sleeves covering her upper arms. “You’re right.”

  He fingered the twist tie in the bottom of the fruit bowl, wondered where the penny had come from, and stole a sidelong glance at her. She looked calmer, but she definitely needed to rechannel her thoughts. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “What?” She clearly had no idea what he was talking about.

  “Earlier.” His throat went thick. “No one deserves happiness more than you do. I wasn’t asking for a divorce. I thought you wanted one.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Maybe you should,” he countered. “Then you could find a man who’d make your lies and illusions real.” It might be right, but just saying it made him sick. No way could he look at her while doing it. No way.

  “Find a man?” Anger radiated from her in palpable waves, and her voice went tight. “That’s not an option.’’

  She wasn’t making a bit of sense. Maybe she just needed to vent some stress, and this wasn’t supposed to make sense. Yeah, that had to be it. It was a stress valve. He wasn’t supposed to get it. “Why not?”

  “It just isn’t.” She refused to look at him.

  She had nothing real, bu
t she obviously wanted it, and he couldn’t give it to her. What the hell was he supposed to do except offer to release her? Having no idea and feeling frustrated to the max, he held off a sigh by the skin of his teeth and then asked, “What do you want, Laura?”

  She looked up at him, her eyes wide and luminous. “I want Timmy safe. I want to feel safe again. I want Madeline to leave us alone. And I want to know ROFF isn’t setting me up to take their fall for treason.”

  “I can’t give you those things.” If he could, he would. Those things, and more.

  “I know.” Her voice went soft, nostalgic. “Remember back in survival school how the instructor split us up into teams?”

  She, Jake, and ten others had been tagged the A-Team. “Yeah. Six feet of snow, sub-freezing temperatures, and he dumps us in the middle of nowhere for five days with a ten-pound bag of potatoes and a live rabbit.”

  Laura got misty-eyed. “I fell in love with that rabbit.”

  “Bunny,” Jake corrected her, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You called it a bunny.”

  “And you knew that the person on each team who got most attached to the bunny would be the one the instructor ordered to kill it.”

  Jake shifted uncomfortably. “I’d been warned by a former attendee.”

  “And you warned me not to get attached to it.”

  “Which you did anyway.”

  “Yes, I did.” Her gaze turned tender. “And while the other teams ate rabbit stew, our team didn’t.”

  Jake slid her a wry grin. “Your argument was very persuasive.”

  She blushed. “I really wouldn’t have shot my team members, Jake.”

  “I knew that, but they didn’t,” he said. “I meant the other argument, though. The one you levied on the instructor. The Air Force oath is to protect and serve, and that means extending protection to those smaller, weaker, and unable to defend themselves. And, in context, ‘to serve’ means more than ‘serving’ a small, weak, and unable-to-defend-itself rabbit for lunch.” A chuckle rumbled in Jake’s throat. “My God, you were impassioned, and very convincing.”

  A poignant smile touched her lips, and her eyes hazed. “And the team backed me.”

  “Yes, it did.” Hell, who could have resisted backing her? All fired up, she’d been irresistible. She still was.

  “Only because you backed me,” she said softly. “They respected you, and you insisted they back me.”

  “You weren’t supposed to know that.” Feeling his face grow hot, Jake frowned. “But you’re wrong. They respected you.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to know you put the fear of God and Jake Logan into the other teams too, and kept them from touching Bunny, either. But I knew.” She visually caressed him. “Saving that rabbit meant a lot to me, Jake.”

  Was she bent on saving him, too? Is that where she was going with this trip down memory lane?

  An insight flashed through his mind. Smaller, weaker, and unable to defend itself, the rabbit had been vulnerable. She’d saved it and set it free. Timmy, a child, was vulnerable. Just as vulnerable as the child Laura had been. No one had saved or set her free, and she was determined not to let that happen to Timmy.

  A knot swelled in Jake’s throat. Now he understood the reason for her depth of loyalty, her steadfastness. And now, he knew just how deeply his doubting her had hurt her. Buying time to get a grip on his emotions, he filled a large glass with ice water.

  He couldn’t not acknowledge that he’d hurt her any more than he could not acknowledge all she’d done for him and Timmy. “You’re an important part of my life, Laura.” She and Timmy were his life—them, and the job.

  “Yes, I am.” She walked around the end of the bar, then stopped beside him. “You asked me what I wanted.”

  “Laura,” he cut in, the words he had to say slicing at his heart and his sense of worth. “I can’t give you any of those things. I wish I could, but I—”

  “You can give me what I want most right now.” She looked up at him, beheld him, her eyes glossy and overly bright. “I want most to be held by the man who saved my rabbit.”

  Certain he’d never faced a more dangerous adversary, Jake stiffened. She affected him on all levels—physically, emotionally, spiritually. Sexually. And while he had a will to resist her, he also had a need to succumb to her, and little confidence about which would prove stronger.

  The heart always wins.

  Remembering that, he inwardly grimaced. “I can’t do that.” Outwardly, he downed the large glass of ice water, fighting the temptation when he wanted nothing more than to just give in to it.

  “Then just let me hold you.” Hands raised, she hesitated, then slowly circled his waist with her arms and hugged him as if she feared letting go.

  He ordered himself to object. Ignored it. And insisted his arms stay at his sides. But when she looked up at him and he saw how upset she was, he couldn’t convince himself of one logical reason why he shouldn’t hold her. Until they’d married, they’d hugged often. If she’d dated since their marriage, she’d been discreet and he knew nothing of it. She needed to be touched, appreciated as a woman. She needed more. But from him? The last time he’d had physical contact with her had been the kiss they’d shared at the chapel in Lake Tahoe on their wedding day.

  Her face against his bare chest, she swallowed a whimper that jerked at his heartstrings. “Please, just put your arms around me, Jake. I won’t consider it a break in our agreement or anything, but I . . . I need to be held.”

  Laura didn’t rattle easily, but she was rattled now. He hated it with conviction, and he wanted it to stop. Just hold her, he ordered himself. Just do it. It and nothing more. His water glass dripping condensation, he set it onto the bar, feeling his resistance melting away as quickly as the ice in his glass, then lifted his arms and coiled them around her back. Oh, God. He squeezed his eyes shut. She felt so good. So warm and perfect, and so good.

  Her mouth, sensually soft, and her eyes, dead serious and that stormy blue color that rocked his senses. She held his gaze, her teeth parted, revealing a hint of her tongue. She pressed closer, breasts to chest, thighs to thighs, and he nearly came undone. Untethered, her robe-clad breasts flattened against his chest, warming the thin silk pressed between them, warming him far beneath the skin touched. Every hormone in his body rocketed into overdrive.

  “I want to kiss you too, Jake,” she whispered, letting her lips trail over his clavicles down to his turgid nipples.

  Do it. Do it! His heart knocked against his ribs. “That’s, um, a bad idea right now.” They were both too raw, too vulnerable. Holding her like this had his emotions churning and those damn fantasies of her being his wife giving him unadulterated hell. He was human, for God’s sake. Flesh and blood, muscle and man. And logic, common sense, and good intentions were getting blown out of the water by emotional, erotic longings. They didn’t stand a chance against her. Not a chance.

  “It’s an awful idea. But I’m going to do it anyway.” She lifted her chin, aligned their mouths, and her breath warmed his face. “I want to feel close to you, but I won’t forget you don’t love me—not for a second,” she promised, then claimed his lips.

  His reaction was instantaneous, electric. The simple meshing of mouths, swirling of tongues, grazing of teeth and lips, aroused, energized, empowered, then turned frantic, frenzied, frenetic, spurring hands that had been tender to grope, to greedily claim pleasures too long denied. Tactile sensations, sweet scents, and moans uttered from deep in her throat bombarded him, drove him wild, and burned to pure heat. He struggled, grasping for reason in a last-ditch effort, demanding that it and logic prevail. But it had been too long since he’d been held by a woman. Too long since he’d dreamed of holding and being held by any other woman. He failed. And conceding defeat, he resigned himself and let go. The heart’s time had come.

/>   With possessive hands and lips, she skimmed his chest, cruised his back, and stroked his neck. His skin seemed to sizzle. Shuddering, sucking in sharp breaths, he forgot everything except how long he’d wanted her in his arms. Nuzzling him, soft and trembling, her body molded to his, she summoned him, and Jake answered, lifting her to him. She buried her fingertips in his hair, cradling his head in her hands, and locked her legs around his hips, murmuring urgently between hot, lusty kisses and rapid, urgent ones, “Make love with me, Jake.”

  Craving, thick and hot and dense, gushed through his veins. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. The knowing inflamed him, unraveled him, made him ache to see her come apart in his arms, to see her mindless, reckless, desperate, satiated and still wanting more. Always wanting more of him. They couldn’t have forever. They had no tomorrows. But they had tonight. Yes. Oh, yes. A night of loving Laura.

  The thought stunned him through desire’s haze, and he jerked back, severing their mouths and gasping staggered breaths against her cheek.

  No. No, Jake. No, please. “Don’t say it. Just don’t say anything,” Laura whispered raggedly against his chin. “I know it all, and I don’t care. Right now, I just want you. I really want you.” She tangled their tongues in a kiss steeped in passion, feeling intense resentment against the layers of clothing separating them. She wanted him closer. So close she couldn’t feel where he stopped and she began. So close there was no stopping and beginning.

  His hands at her waist unsteady, and quaking, he set her to her feet on the floor.

  Was he refusing her then?

  Dread bolted through her, and she forced herself to gaze up to his face. He just stood there, solemn and sober, staring down at her, his eyes reflecting a thousand emotions at once. She’d never needed a man to feel complete, but she wanted this man. Desperately.

  Vulnerable, nearly petrified by a fear of rejection, she summoned courage and boldly reached out, letting her hand glide down his chest to the waist of his jeans, pausing where bare skin met denim, then drifting on further, down over button and placket and zipper, feeling him under her hand. Rigid. Engorged. He wanted her, and reassured at knowing it, she cupped him in her hand, then gently squeezed. “I need you, Jake.”