by Dee Davis
John.
She sighed and leaned her head against the window glass. There was something so elemental about him. Something that touched her at a level she hadn’t even known existed. She shook her head, her hands tightening on the windowsill.
But none of it was real.
None of it. This was all an elaborate charade. The woman John had kissed didn’t exist. She was a creation of the situation. A pretend woman that Katie was using to get what she needed. So he wasn’t interested in the real woman. He was interested in a chameleon. A shadow.
She watched as the lightning flashed again in the distance. Rain would be nice. Anything to break the heat. She tipped back her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She’d been in worse spots than this and she’d always landed on her feet. There was no reason to believe that this one would be any different.
The trick was to keep part of her, the real part of her, walled off somewhere deep inside. To keep herself separate from the person she was pretending to be. That was the only way she could be certain to keep things straight in her head. To clarify between reality and fantasy. And anything she felt about John Brighton was fantasy.
She tightened the belt on her robe, twirling it absently. There were lines one just didn’t cross. Even in undercover work. And quite honestly, she was dangerously close to jumping over them with total abandon.
Damn it all to hell.
The lightning flashed again, the light bright even against the neon of the city.
“Heat lightning.”
His voice was gruff with sleep, washing over her with the softness of velvet—deep, dark velvet. He was standing in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of sweats, the moonlight playing off the angular planes of his chest.
She shivered despite her earlier resolve. Whatever game they were playing, it was for real, and just at the moment she wasn’t certain she stood a chance of winning.
But then, perhaps the term was relative.
Chapter 10
“It’s not going to rain?” She sounded so disappointed, he almost wished he could conjure up a storm. Of course, he wasn’t a sorcerer. He was just a man. Half a man, at that.
“No. It’s just heat lightning. Nature’s idea of a practical joke.” He came up to stand behind her, not touching her, but still close enough to feel the rise and fall of her breathing.
He’d stood in the doorway watching her for longer than he cared to admit. She’d looked so lost somehow, swallowed up by the dark of his apartment. Hell, the dark of his life. He hated the thought that any of what was happening to him could touch her.
The sensible thing to do was dismiss her.
Send her packing. Back to Boston. As far away from this nightmare of a life as possible. But he knew that he wasn’t going to do it. He needed her here. In some insane way she had become his lifeline.
Which probably showed just how screwed up his thinking had become. She’d been here for less than three days and already he was making her into a touchstone of sorts. Maybe he was crazy. He’d certainly been through more than enough to qualify him for a breakdown.
“Does it ever rain here?” She’d turned to face him, her green eyes bright in the light from the city below.
“Yes. But this is tough country. Around here, it’s all or nothing.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“It’s dry here for months at a time. Hot beyond belief. And then suddenly it rains. Not just a gentle shower, mind you, but a full-blown storm that washes out roads, trees, sometimes even houses. When it rains here, it’s not long before people are wishing for a drought again.”
There were words being spoken beyond the mundane. Promises being made by primal instincts beyond his control. He blew out a breath, realizing that he wasn’t up to fighting nature. Whatever their course, he wasn’t capable of staying it. So he’d just have to go for the ride, and pray that they survived the tempest.
“All or nothing.” Her words were soft, less than a whisper. “And then?”
“Then it rains some more.”
She searched his face, looking for answers he knew he couldn’t provide. “You make it sound so feral.”
“It is. We forget sometimes that we’re only here on borrowed time. With all our accomplishments, all our posturing for superiority, we’re fragile beings. One big swat from nature and we’re gone. Just like that. Any security we think we have is nothing more than an illusion.”
“We’re back to Miller again, aren’t we?”
“It’s hard to think of anything else.”
She chewed on her lower lip for a moment, the gesture reflective of her thoughts, but also incredibly sexy. He wondered idly if she was aware of the fact, then dismissed the thought. Katie Cavanaugh was exactly what she appeared to be.
Unlike everything else in his life.
“I wish I could say something that would help.” She reached up to push the hair back from his face, and he covered her hand with his.
“It’s enough that you’re here.”
She turned her hand in his so that their palms were touching, the contact sensual in its simplicity, her gaze still locked with his. “I don’t think people can change that fundamentally, John. Not even when they go through something as traumatic as you have.”
“So who we are is cast in stone from birth?”
“Well, that’s oversimplifying. What I mean is that there’s a balance inside all of us. A continuum of good and evil. And once we find our place on that continuum, I think it’s pretty difficult to move to a different position.”
“So good is good and evil is evil. That’s a pretty naive way to look at the world, don’t you think?”
“I said it was a continuum.”
“Shades of gray.”
“Something like that. Look, you’re missing the point. What I’m trying to say is that I don’t believe you could have done something before you were injured that you wouldn’t do now.”
“So you’re saying that there’s a reasonable explanation for the things I’ve been discovering.”
“I’m saying there’s an explanation, and that if you look deep inside yourself, you’ll know in what direction that explanation lies. You’re still fundamentally you, John, despite everything that’s happened.”
He pulled away from her, his eyes drawn to the skyline out the window. Lightning still flashed intermittently along the horizon, but it was waning, the encroaching night taking away its power, the promise of rain dying with each fading flash.
Was he the same?
His memories seemed to mesh with the man he was now. More or less. But it was the part that he couldn’t remember that was haunting him. The part that had him skimming money from his own company and writing checks to drug-addict employees. The part that liquidated assets to the tune of half a million dollars. The part that seemed for all practical purposes to have run away to Mexico.
Which left a frightening question.
If he hadn’t been shot, would he have ever come back?
She watched the pain cross his face. Not physical pain. But something even worse. Self-doubt. And the sight almost broke her heart. He was such a strong man. And he’d survived so much. It seemed almost criminal to let someone like Miller bring him down.
She ignored the tiny voice in her brain, the one saying that she was the one who was going to bring him down. It was too much to handle. Especially right now.
Without meaning to, she reached out for him, her hand closing around the fingers of his lame hand. He lifted his head, his gaze seeking hers, emotions laid bare.
“Katie, I—”
She shook her head, bringing his hand to her mouth, kissing first one finger and then the rest, her touch almost reverent, her eyes never leaving his. With a low groan, he pulled her to him, his lips slanting over hers, his kiss at once gentle and hard. She twined her fingers through his hair, pressing closer, opening to him, their tongues dueling, dancing—following steps that seemed preordained. As if somehow they
had always known each other.
His good hand found the opening to her robe, and impatiently he pushed inside, his fingers brushing against the crest of her breast, the nipple tightening immediately in anticipation. She dropped her hands, letting them slide over the powerful muscles of his chest, reveling in the feel of him.
His kiss deepened and his hand slipped behind her, pulling her tight against him. Body to body. Skin to skin. The fingers of his injured hand tracing the planes of her face as his lips dipped lower, following the line of her neck to the tender hollow at its base.
She closed her eyes, allowing sensation to wash over her in hypnotic waves of heat, filling her, touching her deep inside, the power of his touch almost more than she could bear. His mouth closed over her nipple, the wet suction sending fire spreading through her. Threatening to consume her. Her hands cupped his head, holding him, urging him on. She wanted more. Wanted him.
John.
The man she was here to trap.
She pushed back, gulping for air, her eyes searching his, guilt replacing passion. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know.” He stepped away, a shadow crossing his face. “I’m sorry.”
She reached for him, her hand closing around his arm, scrambling for an explanation. Anything but the truth. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that, indirectly at least, I work for you, and—”
“And I overstepped the boundary.” He walked over to the window, his voice still rough with emotion.
“No.” She followed him, forcing him to stop, to turn and look at her. “I wanted to kiss you. But I can’t. We can’t. I tried to explain it before. I’m your therapist.”
“Physical therapist, Katie. It isn’t like you’re my shrink. There aren’t rules against it.”
“Actually, there are.” Serious rules. Career-impeding rules. Rules against agents fraternizing with criminals. “But that wasn’t what I meant.” She reached up to run the back of her hand along the strong line of his jaw. “You’re in a vulnerable place right now.”
“Damn it, you make me sound like a freak.” He pulled away, turning back to the window.
“I didn’t say that at all. You’ve been through a lot, John. And you can’t pretend that it didn’t affect you. I’m just saying I don’t want to take advantage of that.”
His laugh was bitter. “Watch out for the emotional cripple, is that it?”
“No. You’re not listening to me.”
He turned around to face her, anger burning in his eyes. “All right, then. Explain it to me. Explain how I don’t know my own feelings.”
Despite her resolve to maintain her professional equilibrium, his words sparked anger. “I am not placating you. I loved kissing you. All right? Loved it enough to have let it go farther. But I don’t think that’s a good idea for either of us. And I, for one, don’t want to wind up getting hurt.”
He reached out to pull the edges of her robe together, tying the silk belt firmly around her waist. The simple gesture somehow more intimate than if he’d stripped her naked. “I’m not going to hurt you, Katie.”
“You can’t say that unequivocally. No one can. You, of all people, know there are no givens in life.”
“Everything is subject to change?” He reached for her hand. “Well, I know my own feelings. And I’m a man who goes after what he wants.”
She sucked in a breath, heat pooling somewhere deep inside her. “I understand that. I’m just saying it’s possible you don’t know what it is you want.”
He shrugged, but didn’t release her hand. “What do you say we agree to disagree.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “I suppose I can live with that.”
Which was, of course, an understatement. She was treading on ice so thin now that she could almost feel the rushing waters underneath. Never in her years undercover had she felt anything at all for the people she’d been hunting. Never. And yet here she was arguing with a man that moved her beyond anything she could possibly have imagined. A man who was quite possibly a killer—among other things.
She’d danced with the devil more than once. So it ought to be second nature.
But then, she’d never met a devil like this one.
Katie watched as the sun shot pale pink fingers into the sky, curling over the horizon and into the clouds. High above the city, she felt insulated. Separate from the early-morning commuters with Starbucks coffee cups balanced on their knees.
But separate wasn’t always good. And she wasn’t living in a fairy tale. Reality waited for her. The hot summer sun ready to burn through all illusions. The magic of his kiss vanishing with the night.
She sighed, wondering when she’d become so damn poetic. It was just a ball of hydrogen and helium. She turned from the view, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. She hadn’t slept at all. A fact that would have been providential had she used the time to dig deeper, find something incriminating.
But instead she’d passed the night mooning like a schoolgirl over something she couldn’t have. And she wasn’t a schoolgirl. Not by a long shot.
“I brought you some tea.”
Katie started guiltily. Flo Tedesky’s voice held a hint of something just beneath the surface. As if she knew what Katie had been thinking. Or worse, as if she knew what had passed between Katie and John last night.
But of course she didn’t know anything. Katie was just tilting at windmills. Making problems where none existed.
She forced a smile. “Thank you. I’m afraid I couldn’t sleep.”
Flo nodded, her expression nothing more than companionable. “I know the feeling. It’s the heat. Even with the air-conditioning, I can’t seem to relax.” She set the tray on the table, the smell of bergamot filling the air.
Katie sat down on the sofa and took the cup Flo offered. “ Hot tea?”
Flo shrugged. “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it? But it actually works somehow. Something to do with the pores. Or so say the English. Even in the hottest climate we still drink hot tea.”
Katie sipped the scalding liquid, studying Flo as she poured milk into her tea. “You said ‘we.’”
The older woman laughed. “I realize you’d never be able to tell it from my accent, I’ve been in Texas way too long, but I was born in Manchester. A lifetime ago.”
“So how did you wind up here?”
“I met George in a pub.” Flo smiled. “He was in England on holiday. A big, strapping Yank. There was something exotic about him. Bigger than life.” She shrugged. “I was lost from the moment I saw him.”
“You must have loved him very much.”
Flo met her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears. “More than you can imagine.”
Katie held up a hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
The redhead reached over to take Katie’s hand in hers. “Honey, not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. It’s lovely, really, to have someone ask.”
“Has he been gone long?”
“Seems like forever. But we had twenty-two wonderful years together.”
“Sounds magical.”
Flo’s smile widened. “It was.”
Katie stood up, walking to the window, feeling irrationally jealous. “How did you meet John’s father?”
“He and George were old friends. So it seemed natural to settle in Houston, to begin our married life with Buck and Crystal as a part of it.”
Katie resisted the urge to smile. Buck and Crystal sounded so . . . well, Texan. “And Danny and John.”
She nodded. “We didn’t have children of our own. And when Crystal died—” She broke off, her voice quivering.
“You were there to help.” Katie’s tone was gentle, as she turned to face the woman John considered a mother.
“It was the right thing to do. And I loved those boys as if they were my own.” She reached for the teapot, pouring more tea into her cup. “And then when George died, working for Buck seemed like a godsend. He and John and Danny were the only family
I had left.”
“Well, they’re lucky to have you. And luckier still that you decided to come to work for Guardian.” Katie put her empty cup back on the tray, and sat down on the ottoman, facing Flo.
“I don’t know about that. I mean, look around you. I have a lovely home and my boys underfoot all the time. The truly lucky one is me.”
“Until John was shot.” Katie waited, studying the older woman’s face.
“They thought he was going to die, you know. Were certain of it actually.” The woman’s anguish was mirrored in Katie’s gut. “But John’s a fighter.”
“I see that in him.”
It was Flo’s turn to study her. “I think that maybe you do. But he’s more than that. John feels things that others don’t. He was sensitive as a child, and that sensitivity has matured into a depth of character that most people don’t see. There’s so much of John that he keeps hidden away. Especially now.”
Katie understood the need to hide away part of oneself, understood it at a soul-deep level. But she wasn’t about to share that fact with Florence Tedesky. “I’m not surprised that he keeps part of himself separate. Guardian seems to be his lifeblood, and unfortunately it also seems to have the potential to suck him dry.”
“An astute comment. You care about him, don’t you?”
Katie was startled, wondering how much the older woman could see. “He’s my patient, Flo. Of course I care about him. It would be impossible to work with someone so closely and not care. But it’s purely professional.”
The older woman smiled, nodding her acceptance, her eyes signaling just the opposite. Flo Tedesky definitely saw too damn much.
Katie stood up again, suddenly restless. “Why do you think John gave all that money to Derek Miller?”
Flo’s expression was immediately guarded. The mother hen protecting her chick. “It could be for any number of reasons. You have to understand something about John. He’s generous to a fault. And if Derek came to him in trouble, I wouldn’t put it past John to help him out. No matter the personal cost.”
“But that’s just it. It wasn’t personal. It was Guardian money.”
Flo nodded, her brows drawn together in a frown. “I’ve thought about that. But it’s entirely possible that John simply used that account because he had access to it. He certainly would have had no problems paying it back.” She obviously wasn’t aware of the money John had taken to Mexico. Flo’s gaze met hers. “Even with the money he took to Mexico, Katie. He still had more than enough to repay the Guardian account.”
