She was curled into a ball on her cot, her arms wrapped around her legs. She held herself stiffly, her whole body shaking. She'd been like this since Rafe had dropped them off at the warehouse.
"Did my best?" she repeated. "That's what I tell my nephews when they miss a fly ball. This wasn't a Little League game at the community center. This was a child's life for God's sake."
"We'll find him."
"I promised his father we'd bring him home. The ambassador and his wife must be frantic. They've already been going through hell."
Flynn maneuvered between her cot and Sarah's and squatted down in front of her, bringing his face level with hers. "Don't give up yet, Abbie."
"But the terrorists won't let Matteo go now. What happens to him if…if…Oh, God, this has to be a nightmare. It's my fault. Again. This is the second time I messed up the ransom exchange."
"It's no one's fault," Flynn said firmly. "It's Murphy at work."
She wiped her eyes on her knees and lifted her face. Her skin was blotchy, her nose red. Her lips were swollen and her chin trembled. She wasn't a dainty weeper. No, there wasn't any ladylike sniffling for a woman like Abbie. The emotion that was pouring out with these tears was as genuine as everything else about her.
Flynn felt out of his depth. He knew he wouldn't be able to remedy this situation with a smile. No clever words were going to help, either. He stroked back a lock of hair that was stuck to her wet cheek. "Except for the men on guard duty and Esposito, the rest of the team is still out there," he said. "Even the major. They're following those men from the LLA the same as if the ransom exchange had gone through."
"I can't believe this happened. I just can't believe it."
He eased the hair behind her ear, then rested his hand on her arm. "Would you feel better if I took you home?"
"God, no! I can stay, can't I?"
"Sure, you can stay. You're still part of the team, and the mission isn't over yet."
"I need to know when…or if…" She paused, her breath hitching. "I need to know how it turns out."
Flynn had rid both of them of their electronics as soon as they'd entered the tent, so he was no longer able to listen in on the team's progress. He tipped his head toward the canvas wall. "Esposito's monitoring the radio. He'll tell us when there's a development."
"A development? That's what you'd call it if you found Matteo Vilyas's body—" She pressed her lips into a firm line as her eyes brimmed.
He leaned closer and caught the front edges of her jacket. He tugged it off her shoulders. "Abbie, you need to relax. Let it go. It's out of your hands now."
She uncurled from her huddle in order to take off her jacket. She stared at the bullet-proof vest she wore beneath it as if she'd forgotten it was there, then jerked back and stripped it off as if it burned her. With a sob she flung it to one side. "I know there's nothing I can do, but I hate feeling helpless. That's why I make lists and follow schedules. That's why I always wear a watch."
He rose from the floor to sit down beside her. The cot started to tip, so he shifted his weight to the center and moved behind her back. With his knees bent, he propped his feet on the cot's frame on either side of her, looped one arm in front of her shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. "We all hate feeling powerless, Abbie," he said. "That's why we commando types like to compensate by carrying big guns."
"What?"
"It goes along with all that equipment I'd started to tell you about yesterday. The army shrinks have a term for it, I think."
She made a choking sound. "Please, don't try to make me laugh, Flynn. It would only make me feel worse."
"What I'm trying to do is to get you to stop blaming yourself."
"Flynn—"
"Did you get any sleep at all last night?"
She hiccupped, then gradually relaxed into his embrace. "I don't know. I don't think so."
"You're wiped out. That's why this is hitting you so hard. Once you get some rest you'll be able to establish some perspective."
"I can't distance myself, if that's what you mean."
"It would be easier for you."
"Sure, it would be easier. You're used to this because it's your job. Nothing personal, right?"
He folded his arms over hers, then closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her hair. "Not always."
"I'm just not cut out for this."
"Don't sell yourself short, Abbie. I wasn't being patronizing when I said you did your best. You handled tweed man as well as anyone could."
"Tweed man…Oh, no." She exhaled and let her head fall back against his shoulder. "Poor Peter. He looked like a kicked puppy. So did Bradley. The worst of it is, I'll never be able to explain to him why I acted that way."
"You were trying to keep him and his kid safe by getting away from them."
"Yes, but he'll think I was just trying to avoid him. I'm sure I hurt his feelings. Bradley's, too."
"Sometimes we have to do things we wouldn't normally do for the sake of a mission."
"I'm starting to see that."
He rubbed his nose against her temple. "So what kind of car does tweed man drive?"
"A Volvo station wagon. Why?"
"He seems to like kids. He sounded as if he could be a history buff, too. But he isn't your boyfriend?"
"No."
"Sounded as if he wanted to be."
"He asked me out, but I wasn't sure I wanted to go so I made an excuse."
"Good."
She hesitated. "Why would you say that?"
Flynn remembered the surge of satisfaction when he'd whisked Abbie away from Peter. It hadn't had anything to do with the mission. Neither was what he was doing now. Since when had he held a woman in his arms simply because she needed to be held?
Yet he couldn't pretend he was holding Abbie like this only out of some noble desire to offer her comfort. He did want to comfort her, but there were other things he wanted to do, too.
"Flynn?"
"He might fit most of your requirements for what you told me you want in a man," he said. "But you wouldn't be happy with him, Abbie."
"What do you mean? Why not?"
He shifted her in his arms so that he could see her face. Her tears had stopped. Her eyes were luminous. His gaze dropped to her lips. He couldn't find the words to answer her question.
But that was nothing new. When it came to his feelings for Abbie, words had failed him before.
Why should he try to analyze this? He was simply going to have to show her.
Chapter 9
It was like the first trembling instant when a roller coaster lingered at the crest of a drop. Abbie felt her heart thud painfully. She could see the danger ahead. She could do nothing to stop it.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she'd known this was going to happen. That moment on the bus when Flynn had seared her with his kiss, she'd understood there would have to be more. There hadn't been time then. This wasn't really the time, either. After her spectacular failure this morning, how could she possibly think of her own pleasure? Had she no shame? Had she no conscience? Had she forgotten what could happen if she followed her instincts instead of her brain?
But her mind was still spinning, her emotions in turmoil, and Flynn's arms felt so solid and right that she couldn't turn away. What else could she do but hang on for the ride?
Flynn kissed her gently at first. With one arm supporting her shoulders and his long legs angled on either side of her, he held her in a secure embrace. Although his big body surrounded her, she felt no uneasiness. She'd never felt uneasy with his size, even on that first evening when she'd let him into her apartment and hadn't known who he was.
That had been Thursday. This was Sunday. Once again she wondered how it was possible that only three days had passed. It was as if she'd known him longer, as if she'd been waiting for him for years, the man in her dream, the one who would guide her through the sensual maze of candle flames without getting burned.
She twisted,
tipping up her face to improve the fit of their mouths. She felt a smile flicker over his lips. She followed the smile with her tongue.
He groaned and brought his hand to her face. His fingers were unsteady where they stroked her cheek, the muscles of his thighs and arms were rigid with tension, yet he kept his strength under control. He tunneled his fingers into her hair to hold her steady as he answered her caress with one of his own.
She could feel his erection against her hip. It exhilarated her, like the rush of air on her face as the roller coaster took her through a swooping turn. Her body remembered how this went. Responses long denied were swelling with a force that was far more powerful than anything she could have dreamed.
He pulled back. His gaze burned into hers. "That's why."
She spread her fingers over his chest. "What?"
"Let me show you again," he murmured.
His kiss was more certain this time. He tasted her with lush sweeps, using his lips and his tongue in a way that made her melt. When he closed his hand over her breast, it felt so inevitable, like an extension of his exploration of her mouth, that she didn't even consider resisting. She arched herself more fully into his palm, exclaiming in delight as he found her nipple through her clothes.
Something creaked. Abbie felt herself falling sideways. Before they could tip onto the floor, Flynn flung himself backward and hauled her on top of him. She landed on his chest, her legs sprawled between his, her nose against the hollow of his throat. The cot slid a few inches upward, wobbled, then steadied.
They were both breathing hard. Abbie braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted her head. She shook the hair from her face so she could look at him.
He was smiling, his lips still moist from their kiss. Dimples creased the grooves beside his mouth. Warm little laugh lines spread from the corners of his heartbreakingly blue eyes. His black hair was tousled into soft curls that fell carelessly back from his forehead. And somehow his palm was still cradling her breast.
Oh, but he was a wickedly handsome man. So sure of himself, so sexy, so appealing. He was stretched out beneath her, watching her with a hunger that sent a shudder of response down her spine. He hooked his legs over hers, pressing their lower bodies together. The intimate contact made her shudder again.
"Does that answer your question?" he asked.
"What question?"
He gave her breast a light squeeze, then moved his hand to her cheek. "Why you wouldn't be happy with Peter."
It took a moment for her brain to register what he'd said. The response that bubbled through her started to ebb. "Is that why you kissed me? Were you trying to prove something?"
"Hell, no. I just wanted to kiss you, that's all." He stroked her jaw. "You're a passionate woman. I thought you'd like it."
"Passion isn't all I want, Flynn."
He moved his thumb over her lower lip. "But you did like it."
She sighed and kissed his thumb. "I think we had this conversation before."
"Uh-huh. Right before you claimed I'm not your type."
"You're not."
He tilted his hips. It was a subtle movement, only a slight shift in the angle. The quiver it sent through her body made her a liar.
Oh, yes. Yes. At this moment he was exactly the man she wanted. "Flynn, this shouldn't have happened. We shouldn't do this."
He lifted his head and sucked lightly on her lower lip.
Abbie made a low noise in her throat. She tried to summon the energy to argue. She fought to remember why she should argue. She moved her head aside. "I'm not that kind of woman, Flynn. I'm not casual about…"
"Sex?" He kissed the side of her neck. "Desire?" He ran his palms down her back and cupped her buttocks. "Mutual enjoyment?"
She pressed her face to his shirt. For a weak moment she let herself absorb the pleasure of his touch, his familiar scent, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. But she knew better than this, didn't she? Didn't she?
But it had been so long. And this felt so very, very good….
But it had felt good with Stuart, too.
She blinked and raised her head. "Please, stop. I can't do this."
Flynn's smile faded. He immediately took his hands off her buttocks and released his hold on her legs. "Abbie? What's wrong?"
She pushed off his chest. The cot started to tip with the shift in her weight. She got to her feet and half fell onto Sarah's cot. "Flynn, I haven't had sex in eight years."
He looked as if he'd been punched. He jackknifed upward and twisted to face her. "What did you say?"
She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "Don't look at me as if I'm some kind of freak. Celibacy might not be fashionable, but—"
"No. That's not what I thought. I'm surprised, that's all. I'm…surprised," he repeated. He moved his hand as if he was about to touch her, then shoved his fingers through his hair. "Why, Abbie?"
She hesitated. Normally, she wouldn't talk about this to anyone, not even her sisters. But there had been nothing normal about her life since she'd met Flynn. She glanced around, belatedly aware of how thin the canvas walls were.
"It's okay," Flynn said, as if recognizing the reason for her discomfort. "The men on watch are too far away to hear us and the chief's wearing a radio headset. There's only you and me." He swung his feet to the floor and sat facing her, his forearms braced on his knees. As he continued to regard her, his expression hardened. "Did somebody abuse you? Is that it?"
"No, not in the way you think. Stuart didn't—" She stopped and took a deep breath. "I was twenty-one when I met Stuart Moran. He swept me off my feet. We lived together for almost a year. He was…very skillful when it came to sex. He always made sure I enjoyed myself and he taught me things about physical pleasure that I hadn't known were possible. I loved him with my entire heart."
Flynn's expression didn't ease. If anything, it grew grimmer. "And you're still in love with him, is that it? Like the way Sarah is still mourning her fiancé?"
"No, Flynn. Stuart didn't die. He only left."
"He what?"
"He cleaned out his closet and emptied our bank account and he left," she stated. "That's when I finally realized that I loved him for his looks and his body. I loved him for the good times he showed me, all that mutual pleasure that you said men and women were made for. I was so completely wrapped up in a sexual infatuation that I didn't see how empty it all was."
Flynn regarded her in silence. Apart from a muscle that twitched in his cheek, he was completely motionless. He looked as if he'd been punched again.
"And it was empty, Flynn. It was hollow, just a shell of what a real relationship should be. I thought Stuart was my Mr. Right and that we would build a life together, but as soon as he learned there might have been consequences to all the sex, he packed up and ran."
"Consequences?"
"I thought I was pregnant. I wasn't, but I was eager to have a child. I love kids. I'd assumed Stuart and I would get married."
He rubbed his face, then squeezed his cheeks between his fingers and his thumb and continued to study her. "I'm sorry, Abbie."
"No, it was just as well I learned what he was like before I actually did become pregnant."
"Yes, it was, but I'm sorry for that crack I made yesterday about picking out your china pattern and the names of your firstborn."
"You didn't know."
"That's right, I didn't." He took her hands and held them loosely between his. "But eight years is a long time to deny yourself. Plenty of people have bad experiences and try again."
"What makes you think I'm not trying?"
"You said you've been celibate."
"That's because I learned from my mistake. I know exactly what I want now, and it isn't a few stolen kisses or some shallow affair."
"Then what do you want, Abbie?"
She knew the answer to this question—she'd thought about it for eight years. "I want the kind of love that doesn't depend solely on how you look or how cleverly you perf
orm a sex act. I want the real thing. I want what my parents have, what my sisters and their husbands have. What we saw when Anton and Neda Vilyas hugged their youngest child." Her throat felt thick. She swallowed and went on. "I want commitment in the truest sense of the word, Flynn. I want a marriage that grows stronger with each baby that's born and every gray hair. Every wrinkle. Every argument, every holiday and every twist in the road of life."
He dropped his gaze to their joined hands. "Most marriages aren't like that, Abbie."
"I know that. That's why it's so important to find the right person to fall in love with."
"You're an idealist."
"You say that as if there's something wrong with it."
"It's not wrong. It's rare."
"Why? Because I have dreams and I won't settle for less?"
"Because you don't hold back. Everything you do, you do a hundred percent. Like the way you've let yourself feel about this mission. The way you cry. The way you believe in love."
"Well, what about you, Flynn? Don't you have dreams? Isn't there anything you want?"
He moved his thumbs over the backs of her knuckles, trailing them down the faint lines of her tendons. "Yes, Abbie. There are things that I want."
She waited for him to continue. Another silence fell, this one longer than the last.
When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough. "Each time I have to fire a round at an enemy's heart so he doesn't kill my teammate, or I see a wild-eyed teenager with explosives strapped to his chest, I want world peace. Every time the team is bivouacked near some village and I give my rations away to the hungry kids who beg on the edge of camp, or I see farmers with no legs because their fields were full of land mines, I want the scientists who develop our weapons to turn their energies into finding a way to feed the planet's starving people."
She might have been all right if he'd smiled or if he'd followed his comment with some witty quip. Instead he lifted his gaze and looked at her.
His barriers were down. He was dead serious. He was letting her see the pain she'd merely glimpsed before, and the depth of his emotion stunned her.
She felt the memory of her own troubles pale beneath the force of Flynn's sadness. What had happened to him? It had to have been far worse than an unhappy love affair. Had it been a mission? Or was it something to do with the family he didn't want to talk about? "It sounds as if you're as much of an idealist at heart as I am, Flynn."
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