Tall, Dark, and Dangerous Part 2

by Suzanne Brockmann

  “It’s really stupid, but even after all these weeks, I never know what to call you,” she murmured.

  He could feel her breath, warm against his skin, her lips a whisper away from his throat. Her words didn’t seem to make any sense.

  Not that any of this made any sense at all.

  “I don’t know what you mean.” His voice was hoarse. She felt so good pressed against him, her breasts full against his chest, the softness of her stomach, the tautness of her thighs…

  She lifted her head to look up at him. “I don’t know what name to use when I talk to you,” she explained. “Crash seems so…well, strange.”

  He was hypnotized by her eyes, drugged by the scent of her perfume, held in thrall by the beautiful curves of her lips.

  “I mean, what am I supposed to say? ‘Hi, Crash. How are you, Crash?’ It sounds like I’m talking to one of the X-Men. ‘Excuse me, Crash, would you and your buddy Cyclops mind carrying this tray into Daisy’s office?”’ She shook her head. “On the other hand, I find it nearly impossible to call you Billy, the way Jake and Daisy do. Calling you Billy is kind of like calling a Bengal tiger Fluffy. I guess there’s always Bill, but you don’t seem very much like a Bill.” She narrowed her eyes, still gazing up at him.

  “Maybe William…”

  Crash still didn’t walk away. “No, thanks. My father always called me William.”

  “Ew. Forget that.”

  “I guess you could always call me ‘The SEAL Operative Formerly Known as Billy.”’

  She laughed. “And I suppose I’d have to call you ‘The SEAL Operative’ for short.”

  “It works for me.”

  Nell’s eyes sparkled. “God, if that’s my choice, I’m going to have to rethink this ‘Crash’ thing. Maybe after a decade or two, I’ll get used to it.”

  Crash didn’t kiss her. For one instant, he thought he’d totally lost control and was going to do it. He’d even lowered his head, but somehow he’d stopped himself. He felt sweat bead on his upper lip, felt a trickle slide down past his ear. For someone who had a reputation of always keeping cool, he was losing his, fast.

  Nell didn’t seem to notice. “What’s the latest word on my security check?”

  “So far, so good. After this is over, you’ll be able to get a job working at FInCOM Headquarters, if you want.” As soon as he said the words, he realized how awful they sounded. “I meant, after the security check is over,” he amended. “I didn’t mean…”

  But the sparkle had already left her eyes. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’m just…I’m not letting myself think that far into the future. I know it’s coming, but…” She shook her head. “Damn. And we were doing so well.”

  The song had ended. Crash gently stepped away from her and led her off the dance floor. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m just…so tired.” Nell laughed softly. “God, am I tired.”

  He put his hands in his pockets to keep himself from reaching for her again. “Is there anything else you need to do tonight? I could handle it for you.”

  “No, I’m mostly done. Jake slipped the band God knows how much extra to play another hour, even though most of the guests have gone home. The caterer packed up hours ago. The only thing I have to remember is to turn the heat down in the barn so the trees don’t bake all night long.”

  “I can take care of that,” Crash told her. “Why don’t you go to bed? Come on, I’ll walk you back to the house.”

  She didn’t protest, and he knew she was more exhausted than she’d admitted.

  Jake and Daisy were still on the dance floor, wrapped in each other’s arms, oblivious to anyone else. Crash opened the door, holding it for Nell, then followed her out into the crisp coldness of the December night.

  She didn’t have a jacket and he quickly slipped off his tuxedo coat and put it around her shoulders.

  “Thanks.”

  Even as tired as she was, her smile made his stomach do flips. He had to get her inside, and then he had to get himself away from her. He’d walk her to the kitchen, no further. He’d unlock the door, and he’d close it behind her.

  But the stars were brilliant, Orion’s belt glittering like jewels against the black-velvet backdrop of the night sky. Nell was looking up at them, standing completely still, not hurrying toward the kitchen door. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  What could he possibly say? “Yeah.”

  “Now might be a really great time for you to kiss me.” She glanced at him, and in the darkness, her eyes seemed colorless and unearthly. “Just as a tonight kind of thing, like you said, you know? The grand finale to the perfect fantasy evening.”

  Crash’s lips were dry, and he moistened them. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” Christ, what was he saying? He wasn’t sure? He was certain that kissing her was a very, very bad idea.

  Nell looked back up at the sky. “Yeah, I thought you might think that. It’s all right. It’s been a nice fantasy anyway.”

  God, he wanted to kiss her. And he also wanted her to go inside so he wouldn’t be faced with such an incredibly hellish temptation.

  She took a deep breath and let it out in a rush as she turned again to look at him. “Tell me, ‘The SEAL Operative Formerly Known as Billy,’ do you believe in God?”

  Her blunt question caught him even more off guard than her talk about kissing, but fortunately her somewhat unorthodox delivery gave him time to recover. “You’re not really going to call me that, are you?”

  She smiled.

  His stomach flipped again.

  “Do you?” she asked.

  “Are you?” he countered.

  “Yes. But if you want, I’ll call you Billy for short. But you better believe I’ll be thinking the whole thing.” Another smile.

  This time his entire heart did a somersault. Crash nodded. “Yes.”

  “Yes, you want me to call you Billy for short, or yes, you believe in God?”

  “Yes for Billy, and…Yes, I believe in something that could probably be called God.” He smiled ruefully. “I’ve never admitted that to anyone before. Of course, no one’s ever dared to ask me that question. I think they’ve all assumed I’m soulless—considering the kind of work I sometimes do.”

  “What kind of work do you sometimes do?”

  Crash shook his head. “I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, but believe me, I don’t want to—and you don’t want to know.”

  “But I do.”

  He stood there for a moment, just looking at her.

  “I really, really do,” she said.

  “There are certain…covert ops,” he said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “in which a team might target—and eliminate—known confessed terrorists. The key word there is confessed. The kind of scumbags who take out an entire 747 of innocent civilians, then take credit—boast about it.”

  Nell’s eyes were wide. “Eliminate…?”

  He held her gaze steadily. “Still want me to kiss you?”

  “Are you telling me that Jake asks you to—”

  Crash shook his head. “No, I’m telling you nothing. I’ve already said way too much. Come on. It’s cold out here. Let’s get you inside before you catch the flu.”

  She stepped directly in front of him. “Yes,” she said. “I still want you to kiss me.”

  Crash had to pull up short to keep from knocking her over. “No, you don’t. I promise you, you don’t.”

  She just laughed. And she went up on her toes, and she brushed her lips across his, and Crash’s world went into slow motion.

  One heartbeat.

  He couldn’t move. He knew that the smart thing to do would be to go for the kitchen door. He knew he should get it unlocked, push this woman inside, then lock it tightly again, with him on the outside.

  Instead he stood there, holding his breath, waiting to see if she’d do it again.

  Two heartbeats. Three. Four.

  And then she did kiss him once mo
re, slowly this time. She stared into his eyes as she stood on her toes again, her gaze finally flickering down to his mouth and back, before she touched her lips to his again—her lips, and the very tip of her tongue. She tasted him, softly, lightly, and the last of his control shattered.

  He pulled her close and kissed her, really kissed her, lowering his head and claiming her lips, sweeping his tongue deeply inside of her sweet mouth, his heart pounding crazily.

  Crash felt her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back just as fiercely, just as hungrily. She pressed herself against him even as he tried to pull her closer and he knew without a doubt that she wanted far more than a kiss. All he had to do was ask, and he knew he could spend the night in her bed.

  She was a sure thing. He could sate himself, with Nell as a willing participant. He could bury himself inside her. He could lose himself completely in her sweetness.

  And tomorrow, she would wake him up with a kiss, her hair tangled charmingly around her pretty face, her eyes sleepy and smiling and…

  And the light and laughter would fade from her eyes as he quietly tried to explain why he couldn’t become a permanent fixture there in her bed. Not couldn’t—didn’t want to. He didn’t really want her. He’d just wanted someone, and she’d been there, willing and ready and…

  And he knew he couldn’t do that to Nell.

  Crash found the strength to push her gently away. She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her dress, her eyelids heavy with passion. Dear God, what was he doing? What was he giving up?

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He’d been saying that far too often lately.

  Realization dawned in her eyes. Realization and shocked embarrassment. “Oh, God, I’m sorry,” she countered. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”

  “You didn’t,” he said quickly. “That was me. That was my fault.”

  Nell stepped even farther back, away from him. “It was just, um, part of tonight’s fantasy, right?”

  She was searching his eyes, and Crash knew that she was more than half hoping he’d deny her words. But instead, he nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s all it was. We’re both tired, and…that’s all it was.”

  Nell hugged his jacket more tightly around her, as if she’d suddenly felt the cold. “I better get inside.”

  Crash went up the stairs and unlocked the kitchen door, holding it open. She slipped out of his jacket, handing it back to him.

  “Good night,” he said.

  To his surprise, she reached out and touched the side of his face. “Too bad,” she said softly.

  And then she was gone.

  Crash locked the door behind her. “Yeah,” he said. “Too bad.”

  Out in the barn, the band was finally packing up. But as Crash watched from the shadows beyond the doorway, Jake and Daisy still danced to music only they could hear.

  Admiral and Mrs. Jacob Robinson.

  The evening had been one of laughter and celebration. Jake had accepted the congratulations of friends and colleagues. He’d smiled through the toasts that wished the two of them long life and decades more of happiness. He’d laughed as friends had joked, trying to guess exactly how he’d finally convinced his long-time lover to willingly accept the chains of matrimony.

  Jake had finally gotten what he’d always wanted, but Crash knew he would trade it all for a miracle cure.

  As Crash watched them dance, Jake wiped his eyes, careful to keep Daisy from seeing that he was crying.

  Jake was crying.

  All evening long, Crash had fought to keep the constant awareness of Daisy’s mortality at bay.

  But now death’s shadow was back.

  Crash waited until the band had left, until Jake and Daisy slowly made their way out to the house.

  He turned down the heat and locked the barn door, then went to his room.

  Nell’s door was closed, and as he passed it, it stayed tightly shut.

  He was glad for that. Glad she was asleep, glad she hadn’t been waiting for him. He didn’t think he would have had the strength to turn her down again.

  He hesitated outside his own bedroom door, looking back down the hall toward Nell’s room.

  Yes, he was glad. But he was also achingly disappointed.

  Chapter 7

  Nell sat numbly on her bed, next to her suitcase. She was aware that she was going to have to stand up and walk over to her dresser if she wanted to transfer her socks and underwear from the drawer into that suitcase.

  It couldn’t have happened so quickly, it didn’t seem possible. But yet it had.

  Two days after the wedding, Daisy had had another of her fainting spells. It had taken even longer for her to be roused, and when she was conscious, she’d found that she could no longer walk unassisted.

  The doctor had come out to the house, leaving behind a final, chilling prognosis—the end was near.

  Yet Daisy and Jake had continued to celebrate their newlywed status. They’d sipped champagne while watching the sunset from Daisy’s studio. Jake had carried Daisy wherever she wished to go, and when he grieved, he did it out of her sight.

  And then, three days after Christmas, Daisy and Jake went to sleep in their master-bedroom suite, and only Jake had awakened.

  Just like that, in the blink of an eye, in the beat of a heart, Daisy was gone.

  The evening before, they’d all been together in the kitchen. Nell had been making a cup of tea, and Jake, with Daisy in his arms, had stopped in to say good-night. Crash had come in from outside, wearing running clothes and a reflective vest. Even though Nell had offered to make him some tea as well, he’d gone upstairs shortly after Daisy and Jake. Ever since the night of the wedding, he’d been careful not to spend any time alone with her.

  But he’d come into her room the next morning, to wake her up and tell her that Daisy had died, peacefully, painlessly, in her sleep.

  That day and the next had passed in a blur.

  Jake grieved openly, as did Nell. But if Crash had cried at all, he’d done it in the privacy of his own room.

  The wake had been filled with many of the same people who’d come to the wedding barely a week before. Senators. Congressmen. Naval Officers.

  Washington’s elite.

  Four different people had given Nell their card, knowing that she had not only lost a friend but was suddenly out of work. It was a gesture of kindness and goodwill, Nell tried to tell herself. But still, she couldn’t shake the image of herself in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Good personal assistants were hard to find, and here she was, suddenly available.

  Senator Mark Garvin had talked for ten minutes about how his fiancée was seeking a personal assistant. With their wedding only a few months away, she was hard-pressed to keep her social schedule organized. Nell had stood there uncomfortably until Dex Lancaster had come to her rescue and pulled her away.

  Still, despite that, the wake had been lovely. As at the wedding, laughter resounded as everyone told of their own special memories of Daisy Owen Robinson.

  The funeral, too, had been a joyous celebration of a life well lived. Daisy definitely would have approved.

  But through it all, Crash had been silent. He’d listened, but he hadn’t responded. He didn’t tell a story of his own, he didn’t laugh, he didn’t cry.

  Several times, Nell had been tempted to approach him and take his pulse, just to verify that he was, indeed, alive.

  He’d distanced himself so completely from all of the grief and turmoil around him. She didn’t doubt for a minute that he’d distanced himself from everything he was feeling inside as well.

  That was bad. That was really bad. Did he honestly expect to keep everything he was feeling locked within him forever?

  Nell stood up, took her socks from the drawer and tossed them into her suitcase. Just as quickly as Daisy had died, other changes were happening, too. She was leaving in the morning. Her job here was finished.

  As much as she wanted to stay, she coul
dn’t help but hope that once he was alone with Jake, Crash would be able to come to terms with his grief.

  Her favorite pair of socks had rolled out of the suitcase, and as Nell picked them up off the floor, she noticed the heels were starting to wear through. The sight made her cry. For someone who never, ever used to cry, nearly everything made her burst into tears these days.

  She lay back on her bed, holding the rolled-up ball of socks to her chest, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling, letting her tears run down into her ears.

  She’d loved it here at the farm. She’d loved working here, and she’d loved living here. She’d loved Daisy and Jake, and she loved…

  Nell sat up, wiping her face with the back of her hand. No. She definitely didn’t love Crash Hawken. Even she wouldn’t do something as foolish as fall in love with a man like him.

  She put the socks in her suitcase and went back to the dresser for her underwear.

  Sure, she loved Crash, but only in a non-romantic way—only the way she’d loved Daisy, the way she loved Jake. They were friends.

  Yeah, right. She sat down on her bed again. Who was she trying to kid? She wanted to be friends with Crash about as much as she wanted to sign on to be personal assistant to oily California Senator Mark Garvin’s pampered debutante fiancée. In a single word—not.

  What she wanted was to be Crash Hawken’s lover. She wanted him to kiss her again, the way he’d kissed her on the night of the wedding. She wanted to feel his hands against her back, pulling her close.

  She wanted to tear off her clothes and share with him the hottest, most powerful sexual experience of her entire life.

  But those feelings weren’t necessarily based on love. They were the result of attraction. Lust. Desire.

  There was a knock on her door, and Nell nearly fell off her bed. Heart pounding, she went to open it.

  But it was Jake, not Crash. He looked exhausted, his eyes rimmed with red. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to be sleeping downstairs again tonight.”