Only then did Lance pause, scrabbling through one of the pockets of his trousers and pulling out a small foil-wrapped package. He hesitated for the barest second, but Kara nodded. She hoped they wouldn’t have to use those for too long, but now, when she knew how many women he’d been with —
No, she wasn’t going to think about that now. She wasn’t going to think about anything but the feel of his hands on her, the touch of his fingers against her, so delicate and deft, a contrast to the hard muscles of his arms and chest and stomach. Then he was stroking her, seeming by instinct to find the exact right place to touch her, to tease her close to climax and then pause before continuing the relentless featherlight stroking until at last she was gasping, crying out his name as the orgasm shuddered its way through her.
It wasn’t enough, though. It wouldn’t be enough until he was inside her. She heard him rip the foil package away from the condom, and she reached down to touch him, to help him roll the thin membrane on, feeling the tantalizing incongruity of silky-smooth skin with the rock-hard flesh beneath. He moaned a little at her touch, his breath coming in short, fierce gasps, and then he was ready, pushing against her, sliding into her at last, her whole body seeming to thrum and pulse with the heat of him, with the culmination of so many years of hopeless longing.
She ran her fingers down his back as he moved in and out, felt his muscles contracting and expanding, encountered the unexpected roughness of a scar high up on his shoulder blade. Then there wasn’t anything else but their bodies moving together as if they’d done this a hundred times before, as if every chance fantasy or fevered dream was the preparation for here and now, for the time they could finally leave everything else behind and meld into one being, one dream, one hope.
Maybe the climax hit her a fraction of a second before it hit him. It didn’t really matter, because they clung to one another as the orgasm swept over both of them with the strength of a tidal wave, washing them to the far side of ecstasy to a place where neither one could do anything except lie there and cling to the other, breath coming in harsh gasps, flesh slick against flesh, until finally they came back to now, to the realization that nothing could be the same for them, that they’d crossed a line that had been drawn in the sand years earlier.
“I love you,” Kara breathed, and then thought probably she shouldn’t, it was too soon, and even if he knew how she felt, he wouldn’t want to hear it, not yet —
But then his breath warm against her throat, the irony gone from his voice for once as he murmured, “I love you.”
That was all, but it was everything. He said it almost in wonder, as if it had taken this for him to finally recognize what she was to him. In truth, daydreams aside, she had never really expected him to say it to her. He didn’t seem the type.
Her arms tightened around him. She wished she could hold him there forever, but that was silly, of course. He’d have to pull away eventually, go get cleaned up and get a drink of water and do all those prosaic things that inevitably followed sex. Not that she really wanted to call what they’d just shared “sex.” It had been lovemaking in the truest sense of the word.
At last he did get up, but gently, pulling away from her with a reluctance that was clear in his every movement. As he stood, she could see the round scar on his shoulder that she’d felt earlier. It looked like a bullet wound.
She swallowed then, remembering what he’d told her of Natalie, the things he’d said about his time in the army, with the remote viewing program. It had been easy to forget everything as she lay in his arms, but now it all came rushing back to her — the aliens, the men in black, the lurking danger in Secret Canyon, coiled there like a rattlesnake hiding in the brush.
First things first, though. She reached down and retrieved her underwear and jeans, then drew on her bra and tank top. One good thing about using a condom; the aftermath wasn’t nearly as messy.
He returned to the living room, water still glittering on the tanned planes of his face from where he must have splashed it in the sink. For a long moment they stood there, watching one another.
At last he came to her, took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. The gray eyes watching her had some of their old wariness, but beyond that was a kind of terrible hope, as if by getting the thing he’d wanted for so long, he’d unwittingly created a whole new set of problems.
Well, that was understandable. She didn’t quite know what to do next, either. For one thing, it was barely two o’clock in the afternoon. It wasn’t as if they could just retire for the night and figure out what to do with each other the next morning.
So she flashed him a grin, stood on her tiptoes, and gave him a quick kiss, then said, “Buy you a burger?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Lance had thought himself far past the stage where he could be surprised by anything. But the woman sitting across from him at the Red Planet Diner was the most amazing thing he’d seen in a long time.
She sat there, sipping her iced tea with airy unconcern, as if both their worlds hadn’t just been rocked to their foundations. He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t even sure how he should look at her. Her lovely mouth was the slightest bit swollen; he must have kissed her harder than he’d realized.
Somehow, though, he found it easier than he thought to fall back into their old familiar patterns. “I can’t believe you brought me to this place.”
“What?” she replied, widening her eyes in mock innocence. “Kiki loves it.”
“She would.”
The diner was the height of kitsch — UFO tchotkes and souvenirs everywhere, topped off by a huge bug-eyed green alien that loomed over one of the booths, although thankfully not the one they sat in. Lance had always avoided the place like the plague, and winced every time he drove by. He knew the aliens all too well, and they weren’t cute or funny in the slightest. The people sitting in the restaurant and drinking their milkshakes or eating their cheeseburgers would probably have a heart attack if they knew what really lurked only a few miles away in Secret Canyon.
Kara smothered a grin and said, “Their burgers really are pretty decent. And I figured you probably didn’t want to wade through the crowds uptown.”
“You’d be right about that.”
A waitress drifted by, inquired as to their orders languidly, as if she had much more important things on her mind, then jotted down their requests and disappeared into the back.
Lance lifted an eyebrow. “We may be waiting a while for these burgers.”
“You have someplace else you want to be?”
For a few seconds he just watched her, noted the graceful line of her throat and the way her deep gold hair fell against it, the way her breasts moved under the tank top with every breath. A tightening in his loins told him he could think of someplace else, very much — back at her house, in her bed this time, or at his place, or…
A glint in the blue eyes told him she had more than an inkling of what was going through his mind. “Later. I need to refuel, even if you don’t.”
“You’re probably right.” He drank some of his water, then asked, “You still have Grayson’s jumpsuit?”
“Wow, topic change.” Her expression sobered, and she nodded. “Shoved into a dark corner of the garage. I tried to follow up on it with the manufacturer and was totally shut down.”
“You what?” Alarms started going off in his head, but he managed to keep his tone even as he said, “Tell me about it.”
He sat there, trying to keep the irritation at bay as she related her failed attempt at getting more information from the Patriot Uniform Company.
Obviously she sensed his annoyance, because she laid her hands flat on the Formica tabletop and said, “I really don’t think it’s a big deal, Lance. If I’d tripped any alarms, they would have been on me by now.”
“Maybe they are. Or do you think it’s just coincidence that those two MIBs are hanging around suddenly?”
That got her, he could tell. She seemed to sag a l
ittle, but then she rallied and replied, “I don’t think so. I think they’re here because of Mr. Sun Devil’s video. Or at least, that’s what sent them up here in the first place. I don’t know why they keep hanging around.”
He didn’t, either. Things had been pretty placid the last few days…at least on the surface. No strafing UFOs or other close encounters.
Kara’s lips curved into a wicked little smile. “However, I’m starting to get the distinct impression that one of them wants to ask me out.”
That wasn’t even funny. He glared at her, and of course she burst out laughing. After a second or two she subsided, saying,
“I’m kidding, Lance. Only he does seem a little too friendly for the proverbial Man in Black, so I’m not quite sure what his game is.”
“Roswell burger,” said a voice above him, and Lance couldn’t help starting a little. Damn, he must really be losing it.
“Mine,” he replied automatically, and the waitress set his plate in front of him, then delivered Kara’s mushroom swiss burger with an abstracted air, as if bringing them their food had just taken her away from something vitally important. Who knows, he thought, taking in the girl’s blue-streaked hair and severe eyeliner, maybe she’s just visiting here, too…
Despite his earlier disparagement of the place, the food did smell good, and his stomach told him it needed some kind of sustenance even if his brain thought it had more important things to do. So he let the matter of the MIB-on-the-make go for now, concentrated on taking a few bites, getting some protein into his system.
After a minute or two he said, “I wish you’d called me before you did that, though.”
“Mmm,” she said, through her own mouthful of meat and cheese and mushrooms. Once she’d finished chewing, she added, “And what, confess I’d let some strange man who’d collapsed on my living room floor take up residence in Kiki’s room?”
Ah. So that told him they hadn’t tumbled into bed together right away. Not that he’d expected anything less of Kara, but you never knew. She’d been single for a long time, and Grayson had the kind of movie star looks that might have made her forget a few of her scruples.
“Okay, maybe not. But still…”
She swirled a French fry in some ketchup with a meditative air. “Lance, the phone I used is completely untraceable. You and Jeff have seen to that. So even if that call sent up red flags somewhere, how would they ever have been able to track it down?”
“I don’t know. But — ”
“But nothing. I think it’s going to be okay.” A hesitation, and she set down the fry without eating it. “That is, I don’t know how all of this is going to shake out, but I’m pretty sure the uniform angle is a dead end. You won’t be able to buy another one like it.”
“I’m not going to buy one,” he told her, and picked up his burger once more. “I’m going to have one made.”
* * *
Lucinda Torres lived over in Cottonwood, and she ran a business doing custom embroidery for various uniform suppliers and sporting teams. She was also an accomplished seamstress.
Kara watched as Lance handed over the tattered jumpsuit and explained that he needed a duplicate made. How he’d known about Lucinda, she had no idea, but it really didn’t surprise her all that much. Lance always had been a font of unexpected knowledge…a good deal of it supplied by Jeff Makowski, no doubt.
“Okay,” Lucinda said, turning the jumpsuit over in her hands and then actually pulling it inside out so she could inspect the seams. “I don’t carry this fabric in stock, so I’ll have to order it.”
“How long?”
She shrugged, shoulders plump and bra strap slipping out just a little from underneath the sleeveless polyester shirt she wore. “Two, three days to get the material, then another two days to take a pattern off this one and make a new one.”
Lance didn’t look too thrilled by the delay, but inwardly Kara was relieved. Four days at least until they could follow up on this insane scheme to send Grayson back into the Secret Canyon base. Maybe by then she could come up with a really good reason for them to abandon the plan and try something else.
Right.
She wanted to see Grayson again, wanted to talk to him, but the opportunity hadn’t really presented itself. Lance had stayed over last night but again melted away before dawn, presumably so she wouldn’t be caught in the compromising position of having his Jeep sitting in her driveway all that time. Neither one of them had said anything about the shift in their relationship, although something in Michael’s voice when Kara called that morning to check on Grayson told her that the shaman already guessed something had changed about her.
He’d also told her that Grayson wasn’t available, was down by the creek, and she didn’t know whether to believe Michael or not. Okay, maybe the hybrid soldier was out communing with nature, but more likely he just didn’t want to talk to her. She couldn’t even blame him. She’d all but abandoned him, hadn’t she?
Now I know why this whole love triangle thing is such a nightmare, she thought, as she watched Lance lay down a respectable stack of twenty-dollar bills and Lucinda pick up the money and secret it somewhere in a drawer in her sewing table. Because you don’t stop caring for the one just because you’ve decided to be with the other.
However you looked at it, the situation was a mess. True, maybe she hadn’t cheated on Grayson, because she’d broken things off before she’d gone to Lance, but it still felt like cheating. Sort of. Or had she been cheating on Lance when she went with Grayson, since she knew in her heart Lance was the one she really loved?
She didn’t know what to think anymore. She just wished she could think of a way to let Grayson understand that she had never meant to hurt him.
The blazing heat of the August afternoon hit her the second she stepped outside Lucinda’s small shop in a shabby little strip mall. For some reason Kara felt dizzy for a second or two. Then the spell passed, and she shook her head slightly as she climbed into Lance’s Jeep.
Just a temperature change, and too much on her mind. The heat had never really bothered her before, but she’d had a rough couple of days.
“You okay?” Lance asked, shooting her a sideways look before he pulled out onto the highway.
“Oh, sure,” she replied with a lift of her shoulders. “My only problem is that someone hasn’t been letting me get enough sleep.”
At that he gave her one of his rare grins, a flash of white teeth brilliant in the bright sunshine. “First time I’ve heard you complain.”
“Who says I’m complaining?”
Another smile, accompanied by a shake of the head. Then he was aiming the Jeep northeast, back into Sedona, which, though hot, somehow didn’t feel as oppressive as Cottonwood. It had always seemed too bare and flat to her, accustomed as she was to the red rock formations and juniper-studded hillsides of her hometown.
He dropped her off at the house, saying he needed to go meet with Brian Henderson, a pilot with one of the helicopter companies that ferried tourists around the area. Kara almost asked if she could go along, but then realized it was probably better if Lance handled those negotiations on his own. Besides, this gave her a chance to drop in at Michael’s place unannounced. She had a suspicion that was the only way she’d get a chance to see Grayson, since she’d gotten the distinct impression everyone in the group was trying to keep the two of them apart.
So she went back inside and brushed her hair and repaired her lipstick, which had gotten more than a little smeared from her goodbye kiss with Lance. Then she took a few deep breaths, picked up her purse, and headed out.
Surprisingly, Michael’s battered old El Camino wasn’t in the driveway. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him actually drive it, but she supposed this answered the question as to whether it ran or not. Unless, of course, he’d finally gotten around to having the thing towed away.
She parked more or less in front of the house, in a level place in the dirt. This part of town didn’t have sid
ewalks or streetlights; hell, it barely even had a road. The last few hundred yards were gravel, not asphalt.
Down here the heat didn’t seem quite as intense. Maybe it was the creek’s influence, or just the tall cottonwoods and pines and sycamores that seemed to crowd everyone’s lots. The breeze soughed through them, echoing the faint chatter of the creek.
For some reason she knew not to knock at the front door, but instead opened the gate into the side yard and moved on past the back of the house and the little trail that wandered through the trees until it dead-ended at the creek. She’d been this way often — barbecues in Michael’s backyard seemed to end up more often than not with evening walks along the water’s edge — so her footsteps didn’t falter until she got to the creek’s bank and saw the man sitting there, staring out at the water.
He didn’t turn. “Hi, Kara.”
How he’d known it was she, she couldn’t guess. Her perfume, maybe, carried on the wind, or maybe the light fall of her footsteps, probably very different from Michael’s. Or maybe he had super-attuned senses, half-alien warrior that he was. She wasn’t brave enough to ask.
Instead, she stopped a few paces away from him and said, “I think you’ve found the one cool place in Sedona.”
A lift of the shoulders. She saw that he held a smooth black stone in one hand, as if he’d been contemplating chucking it across the quick-moving waters. Oak Creek never ran dry, even at this time of year, although its level was far lower than it would be in the spring, or after the first snowfall up on Lookout Mountain in Flagstaff.
He set the rock down and spoke, still without looking at her. “What do you want, Kara?”
“To talk.”
“I don’t know what we have to talk about.”
There was no bitterness in his tone, and yet something in his voice sent a chill down her spine. Well, what had she been expecting? She’d left him when he needed her the most. Never mind that she had her own crap to deal with. It hadn’t been fair, even if she knew they had no possible future together.
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