“I can’t sleep,” she told him. “It’s too quiet. Too nothing. I don’t like it. I can’t hear anything at all.”
Frisco glanced at Mia, who had turned back, but wouldn’t meet his eyes. Man, she’d just spilled her guts to him, and he hadn’t responded. He’d said nothing, done nothing. At least he had to tell her that her declaration had totally blown him away.
“Tash, go on back into bed,” he said. “I’ll be there in a sec, but I need to talk to Mia first—”
Mia interrupted him. “No, it’s okay. Alan, we can talk later.” She forced a smile, but her eyes looked so sad. “It was…bad timing on my part.”
She looked away, and there was silence in the room. Frisco could hear his own heart beating, and Tasha’s slight snuffle and that damned ticking watch….
The idea came to him in a flash.
Frisco pulled himself to his feet. “Come on.” He led the way back into Tasha’s bedroom. The little girl followed, but Mia didn’t move. He stuck his head back out the door. “You, too,” he told her.
He could see uncertainty in her eyes. “Maybe I should just wait out here….”
“Nope, we need you. Come on.” He went back into the bedroom. “Back in bed, Tash.”
Mia stood in the doorway, letting her eyes get used to the dark. She’d been in this bedroom, helping Tasha put on her nightgown. Even though it was dark, she could identify the different shapes that were the furniture. The bed Tasha had climbed into was against one wall. Another bed was directly opposite it. There was a small table and a chest of drawers, and several long windows that were open to the soft breezes of the summer night.
Frisco was sitting on the other bed, his back against the wall. “Come here,” he said to Mia quietly.
She stepped hesitantly into the room, and he gently took her arm and pulled her down in front of him on the bed so that she was sitting between his legs, her back leaning against his chest. He looped his arms around her waist, holding her firmly in place.
She fought him for all of a half a second before giving in to the decadently glorious feeling of his arms around her. She let her head fall back against his shoulder and allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the sensation of his rough chin against her temple.
She knew she’d surprised him with her statement of love. Shoot, she’d surprised herself. But when he’d failed to react in any way at all, she’d assumed that unless she could somehow explain her feelings, he was intending to push her away.
But right now, he was doing anything but pushing her away. He was holding her close.
His lips brushed her cheek and she fought the sudden urge to cry again. Maybe the fact that she was falling in love with him didn’t frighten him quite so much as she’d imagined. Maybe now that he’d had several minutes to get used to the idea, he actually liked it. Maybe…
“Tasha thinks it’s absolutely silent in here,” he said, his voice raspy and warm in the cool darkness. “It is.” The little girl sat up in the other bed.
“Gotta lie down,” Frisco told her. “This will only work if you lie down.”
She obeyed, but then popped right up again. “What are we doing?”
“You are lying down in your bed,” he told her, waiting as she did so, amusement in his voice. “We are here to check on this odd silence you claim is in this room. And it’s odd because it’s far from silent out in the living room. And it’s sure as he—heck not silent outside the cabin.”
“It’s not?” Tasha sat up again. This time she caught herself, and lay back down before Frisco could scold her.
“No way. Shh. Lie very still and listen.”
Mia found herself holding her breath as Frisco and Tasha fell silent.
“Man,” Frisco said after a moment. “You’re wrong, Tash. This is one of the noisiest rooms I’ve ever been in.”
The little girl sat up. “Noisy…?”
“Lie down,” he commanded. “And listen again.”
Again the silence.
“Listen to the wind in the trees,” Frisco said quietly. Mia closed her eyes, relaxing even farther into his embrace, loving the sensation of his arms around her and his breath against her ear as his voice floated out across the darkness. “Listen to the way the leaves whisper together when a breeze comes through. And there’s a branch—it’s probably dead. It keeps bumping against the other branches, trying to shake itself free and drop to the ground. Do you hear it?”
“Yeah,” breathed Tasha.
Mia did, too. But just a moment ago, she hadn’t even been aware of the noise at all. Another gust swept by, and she heard the sound of the leaves in the wind. Whispering, Frisco had said. His descriptions were poetic in their accuracy.
“And the crickets,” Frisco said. “Hear them? And there must be some kind of locust out there, too, making their music, putting on a show. But they’ll hush right up if a stranger comes around. The story the insects tell is the loudest when their music stops.”
He was quiet again.
“Someone must be camping around the other side of the lake,” he said quietly. “I can hear a dog barking—whining, probably tied up somewhere. And—shhh! Listen to that rumble. Must be train tracks not too far from here. Freight’s coming through.”
Sure enough, in the distance, Mia could hear the faint, lonely sound of a train whistle.
It was amazing. Although she made her living teaching U.S. history, she considered herself an artist, raised around artists, brought up surrounded by artists’ sensitivities and delicate senses of detail. She’d never be able to paint like her mother, but she wasn’t a half-bad photographer, able to catch people’s quirks and personalities on film. On top of being an artist, she considered herself a liberal feminist, in tune with her world, always willing to volunteer at the local church homeless shelter, sensitive to the needs of others. She was a modern, sensitive, artistic, creative woman—who had never taken the time to truly stop and listen to the sounds of the night.
Unlike this big, stern-faced, gun-carrying, flesh-and-blood version of G.I. Joe, who ignored physical pain as if his heart and soul were made of stone—who had the patience to listen, and the sensitivity to hear music in the sound of the wind in the trees.
Mia had been amazed at herself for falling for a rough, tough professional soldier. But there was so much more to this man besides the roughness and toughness. So much more.
“The night is never silent,” Frisco said. “It’s alive, always moving, always telling a story. You just have to learn to hear its voice. You’ve got to learn how to listen. And once you learn how to listen, it’s always familiar, always like being home. At the same time, it’s never boring. The voice might always be the same, but the story it tells is always changing.”
Another breeze shook the leaves, carrying with it the sound of that distant dog barking. It was remarkable.
“And that’s only outside the cabin,” he told them. “Inside, there’s a whole pile of noises, too. Inside the cabin, you become part of the night’s story.”
“I can hear you breathe,” Tasha said. Her voice sounded sleepy and thick.
“That’s right. And I can hear you breathing. And Mia, too. She keeps holding her breath, thinking that’ll help her be more quiet, but she’s wrong. Every time she exhales and then sucks in another big breath, it’s ten times as loud. If you don’t want to be heard, you need to breathe slowly and shallowly. You need to become part of the night, breathing along with its rhythms.”
Mia could hear the distinct sound of his lips curving up into a smile. She didn’t need to see his face to know it was one of his funny half smiles.
“Every now and then I can hear Mia’s stomach rumble. I don’t know, Tash—maybe we didn’t feed her enough at dinner,” Frisco continued. “And I can also hear the second hand on her watch. It’s making a hell—heck—of a racket.”
“Maybe it’s your watch that you hear,” Mia countered softly, feeling much too noisy. Her breathing, her stomach, her watch…next he was going to tell her
that he could hear her heart beating. Of course, due to her present position, pressed firmly against him, her heart was pounding loudly enough to be heard across the entire state.
“My watch has LED’s,” he breathed into her ear. “It’s silent.”
She had to ask. “Where did you learn to listen like this?”
He was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know. I did a lot of night details, I guess. When it’s just you and the night, you get to know the night pretty well.”
Mia lowered her voice. “I’ve never known anyone like you.”
His arms tightened around her. “The feeling is…very mutual.”
“Are you gonna kiss?” Tasha’s voice was very drowsy sounding.
Frisco laughed. “Not in front of you, kid.”
“Thomas told me if you and Mia had a baby, it would be my cousin.”
“Thomas is certainly full of all kinds of information, isn’t he?” Frisco released his hold on Mia, giving her a gentle push up and off the bed. “Go to sleep now, Tash. Remember, you’ve got the night keeping you company, all right?” He picked his crutches up off the floor.
“All right. I love you, Frisco.”
“Love you, too, Tash.”
Mia turned away as Frisco bent over the little girl’s bed and gave her a quick kiss.
“Sit with me for a minute?” the little girl asked.
Mia heard Frisco sigh. “All right. Just for a minute.”
Mia went into the living room, listening to wind in the trees, listening to the sound of her own breathing, the ticking of her watch. She stood at the screen door, looking out into the night, aware of the flames from the candles leaping and flickering behind her.
It may have been one minute or ten, but when she finally heard Frisco follow her out into the living room, she didn’t turn around. She was aware of him watching her, aware that he didn’t move any closer, but instead stopped, not even crossing to sit down on the couch.
She felt nervous at his silence, and she kicked herself for letting her feelings slip out the way they had. She hadn’t been thinking. If she had been, she would’ve remembered that love wasn’t on his agenda.
Still, the way he’d held her as they’d sat together in Tasha’s room…
She took a deep breath and turned to face him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. You know… Before.”
“You didn’t.” He shook his head, as if he were aware he wasn’t telling her the truth. “You did. I just… I don’t…” It was his turn to take a deep breath. “Mia, I don’t understand.”
“What part are you having problems with?” she asked, taking refuge in her usual cheekiness. “The part where I said I love you, or… Well, no, that was the only part, wasn’t it?”
He didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. “A few days ago, you didn’t even like me.”
“No. A few days ago, I didn’t like the person I thought you were,” she told him. “I was wrong, though—you’re incredible. I meant it when I said I’ve never met anyone like you. You’re funny and smart and—”
“Dammit, stop,” he said, pushing himself forward on his crutches, but then stopping in the middle of the room as if he were unsure of where to go, what to do. He ran one hand through his hair, leaving it messy—a visual testament to his frustration.
“Why? It’s true. You’re wonderful with Tasha. You’re gentle and patient and kind, yet at the same time I don’t doubt your ability to be anything but gentle in more aggressive situations. You’re a soldier with an absolute code of honor. You’re sensitive and sweet, yet you’ve got a willpower that’s made of stone. You’re—”
“Physically challenged,” Frisco ground out through clenched teeth. “Don’t leave that out.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“YES, YOU’RE PHYSICALLY challenged, but you’re also strong enough to deal with it.” Mia took a step toward Frisco, and then another and another until she was close enough to touch him, until she was touching him.
When Mia touched him, it was so easy to forget about everything. When she touched him, the entire world went away. He pulled her toward him, needing the sanctuary of her kiss, but afraid she might take his silence for agreement. He stopped himself and forced himself to pull back.
“Mia, you don’t understand. I—”
She kissed him. She kissed him, and he was lost. He was lost, but he was also suddenly, miraculously found.
She was fire in his arms, fire beneath his lips. She was an explosion of all that he wanted—only she wasn’t out of reach. She was right here, well within his grasp.
Frisco heard himself groan, heard his crutches clatter to the floor, heard her answering sound of satisfaction as he kissed her harder now—deeper, longer, hotter kisses filled with all of his need and desire.
And then she pulled back. “Make love to me.”
It wasn’t an entreaty he needed to hear twice. “I’ll check on Tash,” he said hoarsely.
She slipped out of his arms. “I’ll take some candles into our bedroom.”
Candles. Candlelight. Yes. Frisco picked up his crutches and moved as silently as he could toward the room where Tasha was sleeping. He could hear the child’s slow and steady breathing before he even reached the doorway.
She was asleep.
For how long, he couldn’t say. She might wake up in an hour or two. In fact, she’d probably wake up in an hour or two and be scared and confused. But for right now, she was asleep. For right now, he had the freedom to lock himself in that other bedroom with Mia and indulge in physical pleasures the likes of which he’d gotten a taste of early this morning.
For Mia, their joining would be more than mere physical satisfaction. Mia loved him. She actually believed that she loved him.
But sooner or later, just like Tasha, Mia would wake up, too. And then she’d see him without those rose-colored glasses that she always wore. She’d realize that he had been lying—lying both to her and even to himself.
His knee wasn’t going to get any better. Steve Horowitz was right. Frisco had come as far as he could. He’d fought hard and long, but to keep fighting would only damage his joint further. It would be counterproductive. It would put him back into a wheelchair—maybe even for the rest of his life.
It was time to accept that which he’d denied for so many years.
He was permanently disabled. He wasn’t going to be a SEAL ever again.
The truth crashed down around him, crushing him, squeezing him, and he nearly cried out.
He had to tell Mia. She said she loved him, but would she love him if she knew the truth?
He wasn’t Lt. “Frisco” Francisco of SEAL Team Ten. He was Alan Francisco, disabled civilian. He didn’t even know who Alan Francisco was. How could she possibly love him if he no longer knew who he was?
He had to tell her. Yet at the same time, he didn’t want her to know. He couldn’t bear the thought of her looking at him with pity in her beautiful hazel eyes. He couldn’t bear to say the words aloud. It was hard enough to admit he was temporarily disabled. But permanently disabled…
Mia’s hair was down loose around her shoulders and she was smiling as she came toward him. He closed his eyes as she began unbuttoning his shirt, tugging him toward the bed at the same time.
She took his crutches and laid them on the floor. Then she gently pushed him down so that he sat on the bed, and swept his shirt off his shoulders.
“Mia…” he rasped.
“Get rid of the gun, will you?” she murmured, pressing feathery light kisses against his neck.
He unbuckled his shoulder holster and slipped it and his sidearm into the top drawer of a rickety old bedside table. He tried again, and again his voice sounded hoarse and strained. “Mia. About my knee…”
She lifted her head, gazing directly into his eyes. “Does it hurt?”
“No, it’s all right. It’s not—”
“Shh,” she whispered, covering his mouth with hers. “We’ve already talked enough tonight.”
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She kissed him again and he let himself drown in her sweetness. He’d tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to talk. And he really didn’t want to say any of those awful truths aloud.
She was offering him a temporary escape, and he reached for it eagerly. He grabbed it with both hands and held on tight to the magic of right here and right now. In Mia’s arms, reality vanished, leaving only sheer perfection, only pure pleasure.
The outside world, with all of its problems and harsh truths disappeared.
But only for an hour or two.
He rolled back with her onto the bed, covering her with his body, kissing her, determined to take that hour or two and use it to its fullest.
He pulled her shirt up and she helped get it over her head. She was wearing a bra, and the black satin and lace against her skin was enticingly sexy, but not nearly as sexy as the candlelight would be, flickering across her bare breasts. He unfastened the front clasp, freeing her from its restraints.
He made a sound, deep in his throat as he touched her, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Is your knee all right? Maybe I should be on top.”
Her eyes were a swirl of yellow and brown, flecked with bits of green and concern.
“No,” he murmured, lowering his mouth to where his hands had been just moments before, lightly encircling one hard bud of a nipple with the tip of his tongue.
He heard her sudden inhale of pleasure, felt her legs tighten around him and her hips rise to meet him. But just as quickly as she’d reacted, she released the pressure of her legs. “Alan, please, I don’t want to accidentally hurt you….”
He was balancing on his left leg. It was awkward, but with practice, he knew he would become more graceful. “You’re not going to hurt me,” he told her.
“But what if—”
“Mia, you’re going to have to trust me on this, okay? Trust me enough to know that I’ll tell you if I’m in pain. Right now, I’m not in pain.” He pressed himself against her, fitting his arousal to her most intimately, to prove his point.
She moaned, arching up against him. “I do trust you.”
Tall, Dark and Dangerous Vol 1: Tall, Dark and FearlessTall, Dark and Devastating Page 70
