by Donna Fasano
The lid of the china pot rattled as she poured a refill of his coffee. He watched her hands, but wouldn’t meet her gaze. He didn’t dare. If he looked into those accusing eyes again he was afraid he’d jump up and grab her, and try to shake some damn sense into the woman.
Either that, or fall on his knees and beg her to stay.
He’d just as soon skip that particular humiliation.
"So,” he said, turning purposefully to Grant. “Tell me about this list of KGB operatives everyone is so hot to get their hands on.”
At that, Joanne's eyes widened, and she sank down in her chair and started to fidget.
Really? She as good as accuses him of seducing her to get his hands on it, but now she doesn’t want to know?
He focused intently on Grant’s answer to keep himself from glaring daggers at her.
“The Russian defector I was smuggling out was carrying a pretty extensive list of KGB assets operating in Europe,” Grant said. “Mostly locals they recruited, I believe.” He shook his head. "But that was decades ago. I can't imagine why anyone would want it this badly after so many years.”
"There must be someone important on that list who doesn't want the world to know he was once a KGB operative," Leif said.
“Or she,” Joanne said. She met his gaze when he accidentally looked at her. "It’s not just men who make poor choices.”
He looked away. No fucking kidding. “By poor choices, you mean helping your country,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even.
“No, I mean betraying those who trusted you,” she murmured softly.
At that, he couldn’t help shooting her a glare, but she was studying her coffee cup again, looking miserable.
He was taken aback, and scrambled to replay the exchange in his head. Had she just offered him an apology, and not another accusation?
"Okay. Someone on the list," said Grant, clearing his throat at the sudden tension between them. “A man or a woman who is in a position of power today. Someone who’d be disgraced if it became known they ever worked for the KGB.”
Leif leaned forward. "Or if it would cause some kind of international crisis or national embarrassment if it leaked out.”
“Why do you think that?” Joanne asked, still fiddling with her cup.
"Because at least three different governments are after it,” he said. “There wouldn’t be this much interest if the person isn’t a world figure.”
“And given the AVO agents,” Grant observed, “I assume we’re talking about someone from Hungary.”
Leif nodded. "They’re having elections next month. I’m guessing it’s someone running for office.”
Grant stirred his coffee thoughtfully. "With democracy and communism constantly playing ping pong with the governments in Eastern Europe, something like this could tip the scales pretty drastically.”
Joanne finally looked up. “Have you seen that KGB list?” she asked Grant. “Are there even any Hungarians on it?”
The old man nodded. “The list was several pages long, divided up by country. And yes, Hungary figured prominently because of the unrest brewing there around that time.”
Leif said, "If one of the current party leaders is on that list, it could explain why AVO is trying to stop Joanne from getting it.”
"And why the CIA wants it to stop them from getting it," Grant added.
Joanne crossed her arms over her breasts and looked at Leif. "So, what's Sweden's excuse?"
Leif said evenly, "A neutral country doesn’t have a lot of bargaining chips out in the world. Perhaps my government feels it can use the information to gain some advantage from one of the main players.”
Her lips twisted. "That's a bit cynical, isn't it?”
"No, just pragmatic." He leveled her a steady, penetrating gaze. "We have to look out for ourselves, since, obviously, no one else will.”
She swallowed. "Perhaps if Sweden were a little more honest about its needs, it wouldn't have to resort to subterfuge and taking advantage of its friends to fulfill them." She stood abruptly and cleared the coffee cups from the table with a loud clatter.
Grant looked from one to the other, a peculiar expression on his face. "My God. You two are in love, aren't you?”
"No!" she declared at the same instant Leif ground out, “Not a chance.”
Grant's eyebrows lifted. "I thought so. But I take it something is wrong. And I get the uncomfortable feeling it's because of me and that damned list." He wheeled away, toward the phone. "Well," he said calmly, "I suggest we get our hands on it before someone else does. Then we can decide what to do about it. And about you two.”
They both stared after him.
"And how do you intend to find it?" she asked.
"Why, that’s easy." Grant smiled and poked a slender finger at Leif. "We just need to call your father. Harry's got it.”
Chapter 65
Joanne slipped into the bathtub back at the Hjortron with an enormous sigh. It had been a damn long day, and she intended to soak every disagreeable moment of it out of her system. She sank down as far as she could, and rested her head on a towel folded over the edge of the tub.
She felt so battle-scarred she could hardly think. From the moment Leif had answered the phone in bed that morning, she had been on an emotional roller coaster.
Hell, from the moment she’d stepped foot in Sweden.
She squeezed a wet washcloth over her neck, letting the water pour down her skin. It felt wonderful—warm and languid. Almost as good as when Leif poured his loving over her like warm honey. When he moved erotically on top of her, his weight pressing against her breasts, between her thighs. When he—
Oh, God, she missed him.
How could she get back that Leif—the Leif from last night—after the way she’d hurt him?
Earlier, she, Leif, and her grandfather had flown back together to Karesuomi, but they’d decided they were all too dead tired to search Harry's house for the list tonight. They would do it first thing in the morning.
She still didn’t know Leif's intentions concerning that stupid list, but his intentions toward her had been painfully clear. He’d been cordial but aloof as they checked her grandfather in at the Hjortron.
So different from the way he’d treated her last night...when she was in his arms.
Vanja had noticed, too, as they filled in the registration forms and wheeled her grandfather to a room on the ground floor. Joanne felt a little guilty about leaving Robert alone almost as soon as he was settled, but she couldn’t have faced his kindly questions about Leif—or Vanja’s—without losing it.
As it turned out, she had, anyway. When she got to her room, she’d called home to break the news to her grandmother.
Virginia had been shocked, and filled with disbelief. But Joanne had managed to tearfully convince her it really was her own Robert Grant, still alive. As she told the story of his injuries and his self-sacrificing decision, she realized she had truly accepted that her grandfather was a good man, trapped by tragedy as much as her own family had been. She could sense Virginia was as touched as she was. She heard the tears and the struggle in her grandmother’s voice as she came to terms with everything that had happened.
Joanne had fully intended also to tell her grandmother about Leif, and ask her sage advice. But Robert had begged her to ask Virginia to come to Karesuomi and meet with him. When she did, her grandmother had been so overcome that she couldn't continue talking. She’d said she would think about it overnight and call Joanne the next day with her answer. Then she had said good-bye, and hung up.
In the tub, Joanne reached for the shampoo and lathered up her hair, filled with conflicting thoughts. She would just have to decide what to do by herself.
Memories of her night with Leif swept through her, and the searing pain of loss crushed her heart.
Leif had been so strong, so loving. So right in every way.
Should she just take the leap and trust him? Trust her feelings for him?
&
nbsp; On the short trip back from Umeå, she'd had ample opportunity to reflect on the evils of jumping to conclusions. After all, she could not have been more wrong about her grandfather.
Throwing the washcloth against the wall with a splat, she watched it hang suspended for a moment before it fell and plunged back into the water.
Oh, Lord, what should she do?
She didn't know what to believe anymore. What if she was wrong about Leif? What if she was wrong about being wrong about him? What if he really did care for her? What if he didn’t?
Before he'd come up to her grandfather’s apartment, she had decided she had totally blown it. That she’d accused him unfairly. That she loved him and wanted him back.
But then he’d been so incredibly cold to her. Like a brick wall, not giving her one damned inch, despite her—okay, admittedly feeble—attempts to thaw things between them.
Had it been because she’d hurt him so badly? Or because he’d finally stopped pretending he cared...?
Should she just let him go? Fly home and nurse her broken heart, and try to forget him?
But what would she be throwing away if she did that?
Look at what had happened to her grandparents when one of them had lost faith in the other...or rather, the other’s capacity to love unconditionally... When one of them made a life-altering decision without giving the other a chance to say, no, you’re wrong!...
If she didn’t give Leif that chance, would she be throwing away a lifetime of happiness with the most amazing man she’d ever met?
Should she have faith in Leif, trust that his feelings for her were real, and that there was an explanation for him not telling her about the list—and live with the consequences of that faith, as they came?
One thing was certain, she hated the place they were in now. Even the steaming bath water could not soak out the unbearable pain of his cold rejection.
She wanted him back.
She wanted him back.
And so, in the end, she knew what she must do.
Chapter 66
Joanne dressed quickly and went down to her grandfather's room. She wanted to make sure he was comfortable and had everything he needed before he went to sleep. If she could gather enough courage, she would not be at the hotel later if he called on her.
Robert seemed pleased when she came to check on him. He took her hand and squeezed it as she tucked him in. "Do you think Virginia will come?”
She squeezed him back. "I don't know Grandpa, she was pretty bowled over by the whole thing. She said she'll call me tomorrow after she's had a chance to think it over clearly.”
He smiled. “I’ll take that.”
"If you need anything tonight, call the desk and ask for Vanja. I'm going to be out for a little while. Okay?”
His smile widened. "Good, Joanne. That's good." His eyes twinkled. "I'll be fine. You go. I don't want you to make the same mistake I did. See you in the morning.”
She gave him a hug. It was amazing how quickly their understanding had grown. "Good night Grandpa.”
"Good night, sweetheart. And Joanne?”
"Yes, Grandpa?”
"Thank you for coming for me.”
Chapter 67
Joanne parked in Leif's driveway and curled her fingers around the steering wheel, gathering courage. She couldn’t wimp out. Not now. Not here.
Taking a deep breath, she got out of the car, smoothed her damp palms on her skirt, and approached the door.
He didn’t answer her knock.
She knocked again. And again.
Still no answer.
Discouraged, she was about to give up and leave. On a whim, she tried the knob. It turned easily. The door swung open.
"Leif?”
Again, nothing.
She stepped inside, and closed it behind her. "Leif, are you here?”
A trail of discarded clothing led from the living room toward the bedroom.
Oh, God.
She glanced around nervously for evidence that he might not be alone.
The blue Customs jumpsuit on the floor looked like the one he'd been wearing earlier. A bottle of vodka stood on the coffee table, but there was only one glass next to it. No lipstick.
Still, the sultry-voiced redhead could have taken hers with her to the bedroom...
Sticking her shaking hands under her armpits, Joanne stared at the vodka. There wasn't too much gone from the bottle, but enough for a couple of shots for two people. Or several for one. Last night, neither she nor Leif had gotten much sleep, and the night before, he’d been on the stakeout and had gotten no sleep at all. It wouldn't take much alcohol to have a major effect.
She wasn't sure she wanted to find out what kind of effect it had had on Leif. But she needed to find out about that redhead.
Plunking down on the sofa in front of the bottle, she eyed it for a moment, then poured herself a stiff one and threw it down in a gulp, wincing as it burned its way to her stomach.
Just to even things out. And give herself the Dutch courage to face that walk to the bedroom.
One hesitant step at a time, she made her way to Leif's room, pausing to pick up the scattered clothes as she went...prepared to run away at the first sign of lace. The door was ajar, so she eased it open and peered in.
Leif was sprawled face down across the bed, snoring softly.
Alone—
She released the breath she'd been holding. Thank you, God.
—and buck naked.
Lord have mercy.
She nearly licked her lips at the sight. He really was magnificent. He had shoulders that seemed to span the width of the bed, muscles rippling even in repose. Not an ounce of wasted flesh marred his slender hips or narrow waist. And directly in her line of vision, his tight, shapely backside beckoned her fingers to glide over its smooth hollows and tangle themselves in the tuft of auburn curls peeking out from under the juncture of his thighs.
Her nipples zinged, and the heat of the vodka she had gulped settled right between her legs.
Cautiously, she approached the bed. "Leif?”
No response. Not even a grunt.
Sitting gingerly on the edge of the mattress, she resisted more tempting territory and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jerked it off with a swift movement and a growl so deep it made her gasp.
Alrighty, then.
Changing tactics, she ran her hands up his thighs, and slowly over his butt. She massaged his back, up to his shoulders, and all the way down again. This time, the sounds he made were more agreeable. When she reached his backside, he rolled over. Her hands dangled above him, uncertain what to do.
"Don't stop now," he urged sleepily, his eyes still shut tight.
She darted a look at his blissful expression, bit her lip, and lowered her hands. His reaction was immediate and gratifyingly powerful as she stroked him. When she leaned over to run her hands up his chest, his arm snaked out, snagging her hair in his fist.
His eyelid cracked open and he grunted. "So, it's you.”
She frowned. "You were expecting someone else, maybe?”
"Hey, this is my dream, I can have anyone I want." He closed his eye and settled back. "Continue.”
"Trust me, honey, this ain't no dream,” she murmured.
"Must be. You're being nice to me." He jetted out a breath as she sucked in one.
She tried to rise. "I can leave if—”
He pulled her back, slitting his eyes open again. "Djävlar! Dreams aren't supposed to give me lip. Not that kind, anyway." He ran a hand over her breast and made a face. "And you should be naked.”
Fighting the temptation to simply become his dream lover, she tried to still his hands as they fumbled with her T-shirt. "Leif, we need to talk.”
He groaned and covered his eyes. "God, I can't believe you're torturing me even in my dreams. Go away." He turned his back and pulled the corner of the quilt over his shoulder.
She sat there, feeling rebuffed and guilty all at the same time. She d
eserved his scorn. But holy hell, she'd never been thrown out of a man's bed before. It stung a little.
In any case, she wouldn't leave until she'd said what she'd come to say. Afterward, if he still wanted her to go away, well, she would.
Turning his head, he peered over his shoulder at her. "Still here? Helvete, even nightmares aren't this damn stubborn. It must really be you." He reached his hand out and tested her solidity.
"'Fraid so,” she said.
He rolled onto his back and raked both hands through his hair, leaving it looking wild and disheveled. "What do you want?"
The sight of his naked, masculine body, his utterly untamed virility, made her knees go weak. Suddenly she couldn’t think. Why the hell had she come?
"I—”
"Come to tease me a little more? Remind me how much I'll be hurting when you leave me for good?" He dragged his hands down his face and closed his eyes. "Not interested, Jo. I already know, and I'm too tired for this bullshit.”
Clearing the lump from her throat, she reached out and softly touched his cheek as he stifled a yawn. "Leif, I'm sorry. I acted like a real jerk today." She trailed her fingers down his neck and onto his chest, sifting through the soft, golden curls. "I'm so sorry I hurt you.”
His gaze slowly focused on her from under heavy lids, stripping her with his taunting blue eyes. "I suppose now you’ve come to make it up to me...”
"Yes. Well, that is— I thought—” She swallowed thickly, unable to rid her throat of the hot desire welling up in it. "I mean, I came to apologize.”
"I believe you've done that." His lids lowered even farther as he captured her hand on his chest. "And...what else did you want?”
Her pulse raced. "Um...”
He pulled her hand down and rested it on his cock. "This?”
She darted her tongue out nervously and moistened her lips. Tentatively, she stroked him, eliciting a husky moan from him.
Sliding back onto the bed, she leaned her face over his. "No. This." She covered his lips with hers and caressed them, painting them with wet kisses.
With a groan, he reached up and wound his hand around her hair, holding her fast where she was. "Well, I'm just fool enough to let you." He gave her a scorching kiss, urging her lips apart, invading her mouth with his thrusting tongue.
