He knelt on one knee and raised his hands to settle them on her shaking shoulders. She was in so much pain that unexpected tears came to his eyes.
“Brie? Kitten?” he began haltingly. Linc berated himself. He was so damn good in a dangerous situation. Why couldn’t he be just as good when it came to a genuine human crisis? His hands wavered inches from her shoulders, and he didn’t know whether to touch her or not. JoAnne had always accused him of being incapable of expressing emotions openly, of always hiding behind his image as a cool, collected agent. Linc swallowed hard, then called Brie’s name again and again until she responded.
The need to touch her, to soothe away some of her pain forced him to settle his hands gently on her shoulders. Her skin was clammy. The moment he made contact with her, she reacted violently, pushing him away, her eyes wide and unseeing. Linc slowly got up, holding out his hand toward her, talking to her in a low, unsteady voice.
“Brie, it’s all right, take a deep breath. You’re here, in your bedroom. The explosion is past. You’re safe now. Take slow breaths…”
Her face was contorted. For several long, agonizing seconds she stared at him. Her breasts rose and fell beneath her nightgown; her hands dug convulsively into the mattress.
“That’s it,” Linc whispered, seeing her eyes begin to lose their terrified look. “Slow your breathing down. I’m here, and you’re safe.”
Brie wanted to cry, but no tears would come out! The need to cry was like a knife thrusting deeply inside her, but no tears would come! Linc’s face wavered like a mirage before her, conflicting with the image of the warehouse and the flames roaring around her as she tried to get to John. Disoriented, Brie raised her hand. “John…John?” she cried hoarsely.
Linc winced and shut his eyes momentarily. “No, kitten, I’m not John. Come on, pull from the grip of that nightmare. You’re at home, and I’m Linc. Linc Tanner. Remember? Brie, keep taking deep breaths.”
She staggered and fell, the jolt ripping through her. For a moment, she felt blackness swallowing her. Reaching out with her left hand, Brie crawled forward across the blackened concrete toward John. He had to be alive, he just had to be—and yet, the voice she was hearing wasn’t John’s. Fighting to shake off the powerful nightmare, Brie closed her eyes and concentrated on listening to the instructions to control hyperventilation. When she opened her eyes some minutes later, she found herself staring directly into Linc’s tortured features.
Licking her dry lips, she croaked, “What are you doing here?”
Relief flickered in his blue eyes. “Thank God,” he whispered. “You had a bad dream, Brie. And you screamed.” He looked toward the windows. “I thought someone had broken in and was attacking you, so I practically took your door off the hinges getting in here.”
Brie turned slowly to look at the door. It hung by one hinge. She buried her face in her hands because she couldn’t stand the look of pity written across his face. “Just leave,” she said brokenly.
“Are you sure? I mean—”
“Please!”
Linc started for the door. “Are you sure, Brie?”
Tears struck her eyes. Maybe it was because of the unexpected tenderness in Linc’s voice. Or his protectiveness. Brie wasn’t sure. She felt embarrassed. With a trembling hand, she pulled the throat of the gown closed. He had seen her ugly burns and seen her down. Not even her own family had seen the extent of her injuries yet, only the doctor. And more than anything, Brie didn’t want to be alone. She felt him close to her and lifted her chin. He hadn’t left, and old hurt tore loose from her heart. Linc looked exhausted and ravaged.
“M-maybe some water…please?”
“Sure. Just stay put. I’ll be back in a minute,” he promised.
Brie shakily reached for her apricot robe at the foot of the bed, pulling it haphazardly across her shoulders to hide her burns. The shame of being seen weakened washed over her. Unable to cope with what he probably thought of her now, Brie simply sat there until Linc returned. He shut off the lamp when he entered the room, the moon giving them enough light. Gratefully, Brie took the glass of water he offered her. Linc knelt beside her, one callused hand resting lightly against her elbow. She drank the contents and handed the glass to him.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw.
Linc set the glass on the bed stand. “It’s the least I could do. Listen, let’s get you back into bed and covered up. You’re pretty sweaty, and this cool air isn’t going to do you much good.”
His voice was like balm, and numbly, Brie did as he directed. As she allowed him to pull up the quilt, she closed her eyes.
“I wish I could have a bath,” she murmured, her voice slurring with exhaustion.
Linc stood there, puzzled. “I can fix it for you if you want, Brie.”
A broken smile faded from her lips. “Can’t…yet…my burns…time, the doctors say it will take time before I can take one. I miss the bath so much. I can relax in it…”
He gently sat on the edge of the bed and took her hand. She had curled up on her side. “You can relax now, Brie,” he soothed quietly. “Just hold my hand and you’ll relax.”
Her fingers tightened slightly around his hand. “I’m so scared,” she whispered, “so scared…”
“Shh, that will go away, Brie. Go to sleep, kitten. I’ll just sit here and hold your hand so you can sleep. You’ll be safe now. No more bad dreams.”
The tension began to dissolve from her face, the soft corners of her mouth relaxing. Linc continued to talk in a low monotone to her, speaking from a heart he didn’t realize existed within him. He spoke in words meant to heal and take away her pain. He willed her anguish into his hand so that she could sleep in a dreamless world where only peace existed, instead of grief. Within half an hour, her fingers uncurled from his hand; Brie had found an edge of peace in the torn fabric of her universe. Linc wanted to stay with her, but he fought the desire. He could take her into his arms and hold her…and protect her.
As Linc sat there, watching the slow rise and fall of her breast beneath the rainbow quilt, he was able to put all the letters together. Brie had no one she could reach to for solace or healing. Even he knew that at times he needed someone in order to heal himself. Of course, Linc thought with a bitter laugh, he was the pot calling the kettle black. He was just as bad as Brie in that instance. Except he had channeled out all his traumas and cleansed himself, and Brie had not.
Sadness overwhelmed Linc as he reluctantly stood. He leaned over, tucking the quilt behind her back, and noticed Brie had thrown the robe across her shoulders— to hide her scars from him. Against his better judgment, he reached down, barely stroking the crown of her sable hair. It was as soft and silken as he had imagined it would be. That small discovery pleased him as much as if he had taken her to bed and made love to her. True, he hadn’t known her very long, but that didn’t matter. Just having the privilege of being near her, sharing the haz-mat incident and now sharing her tragedy, had melded him like hot, molten steel to her. The forge of trauma had cast them into one. They held an indestructible link to one another whether they wanted it. He tried to break that emotional bond, because she was still a prime suspect. Brie could be a killer, and he reminded himself he was an investigator, not her haz-mat partner.
Linc forced himself to leave her bedroom, and he left the door hanging at a sad angle. He wanted it open in case Brie started having nightmares again.
Chapter Four
The morning sun was warm against her back, the soil moist between her hands. Kneeling, Brie lifted her head momentarily, allowing the sun to caress her face. The birds, mostly robins, some sparrows and a pair of noisy blue jays, provided the music that surrounded her in the small garden behind the house. Brie took the hoe and got to her feet. She dug a shallow trench from one end of the plot to the other, the freshly turned soil like a dark scar against the lighter, drier earth.
That’s how she felt—stripped. She was cold inside. Her stomach had knotted
soon after she had awakened this morning. She tried to concentrate on planting her garden and pushing last night’s memories away. But it was impossible. As she knelt and opened her first packet of peas, a flood of embarrassment washed over her. Not only had Linc seen her stripped of all control over her emotions, he’d probably seen a portion of the massive scarring caused by the burns on her back. She gently nestled three peas every few feet until the entire row had been sown. The lulling songs of the birds quelled her screaming nerves, and Brie devoted her complete attention to one of her favorite pastimes of the year—spring planting.
Glancing at the watch on her wrist, Brie saw it was almost eleven o’clock. She risked a glance toward the house. Linc was still sleeping soundly, thank God. She didn’t want to have to meet him face to face after last night, but she knew it was inevitable. Her gut had told her not to allow him to stay overnight, and now she was going to pay dearly for ignoring her instincts. Linc was the kind of man who would hold last night against her. More than likely, he’d throw it up in her face at a critical moment, questioning her authority.
Lips compressed, Brie pushed the right amount of soil over the peas and gently pressed it in place with the palm of her hand. Jeff was supposed to arrive around noon. If only he would arrive before Linc woke up. That was almost an impossibility, Brie realized. No one slept until noon. She was surprised Linc had slept this long. Perhaps her screams had unsettled him more than she realized, and he hadn’t been able to get back to sleep for a long time afterward. A ragged sigh escaped her as she got up and made another shallow row with the hoe.
Time melted away with the joy of caressing and molding the soil of the earth between her hands. Brie’s back was to the house, and she was kneeling near a row in which she was dropping beans, when a slight noise startled her. She twisted her head around.
“Good morning,” Linc greeted quietly. He stood there with a cup of coffee in each hand, dressed in a navy blue polo shirt that emphasized the clean, powerful lines of his chest, shoulders and hard stomach. Worn jeans hugged his narrow hips and long thighs like an intimate lover. Brie’s lips parted, and her heart banged at the base of her throat. Her hands froze in midair as she forced herself to look at him. She melted beneath his sleepy inspection. If his face had been hard and unforgiving, as it usually was, she would have died a little inside. As Brie took in his drowsy features, her heart wrenched with compassion. She recalled Linc telling her he didn’t wake up quickly in the morning. Right now, he looked like a little boy with his hair softly mussed, eyes sleep-ridden and his features vulnerable to her inspection.
Brie returned her attention to the planting, averting her gaze from the tender flame that sparked in his half-closed eyes. “Good morning,” she muttered.
Linc looked around. The back yard was embraced on all sides by towering trees and, a strong shaft of morning sunlight brightened the lawn and garden. His gaze moved to Brie, who was doggedly paying a great deal more attention to her planting activities than to him. Could he blame her? Although he was still groggy, he noticed the high flush to her cheeks when he had spoken to her. He sat down on the grass a few feet from where Brie worked, and put down the coffee cups.
“When did you get up?” he asked, his voice gravelly. He rubbed his face wearily.
Brie shrugged. “A couple hours ago.” Please don’t let him start asking me about last night. Please don’t! She didn’t know what she would do if Linc did. Even now, she could feel tears pricking her eyes, and she was stunned that Linc would bring out that kind of response in her.
Linc sipped the coffee. “You make good coffee.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
He realized Brie’s cool, clipped manner was to protect herself from last night’s ordeal, and he tried to steer delicately clear of anything having to do with the episode. “I’m used to concrete, condos and people all jammed together. Not trees, birds and quiet.”
She managed a slight smile, continuing down the row. Why wouldn’t Linc just get up and leave? If only she could will him to go into the house. “Canton’s a nice middle-size city. Large enough to offer you anything a big one has, but small enough to afford the luxury of trees and privacy, if that’s what you want.”
Linc gazed at the two acres of neatly kept lawn that was guarded by trees. “I think you wanted your privacy.”
“I did.”
He sipped more coffee, a feeling of contentment filling him. There was something almost maternal in the way Brie was running her fingers through the soil, planting the seeds then patting the soil into place. Dirt had lodged beneath her short nails, her hands were stained with the color of the earth she was lovingly tending, and a small smudge streaked her right cheek. But that didn’t detour him from thinking how beautiful she was this morning. Dressed in a long-sleeved pale pink blouse and a pair of loose-fitting jeans, she looked as if she belonged with the land. When he remembered her parents’ letter and the fact that they farmed for a living, it all made sense. At least he hadn’t caught her in a lie…yet.
“This place must have cost you a bundle. Two acres in D.C. would equal our paychecks combined for the next ten years.”
Brie took a tiny breath of relief. Was Linc going to have the sensitivity not to mention last night? She got to her feet, retrieved the hoe and began another shallow row. “It didn’t cost that much, but it has put a definite strain on my budget.”
“Why aren’t you like every other modern woman I know who owns an apartment closer to the city?”
Brie gave him an irritated look, then resumed her hoeing. “Modern woman? Is that your concept of one? She owns a condo and parties in town?”
“Sounds good,” he mumbled.
“Are you always a comedian in the morning?”
“Hey, slow down, you’re getting too far ahead of me. Remember, I’m the one who staggers around after getting up.”
She relented, stealing a glance at Linc. There was something about his groping and stumbling demeanor that endeared him to her. He was more open now than she had ever seen him. Still, that alert glint was in his eyes, always making her think he was a wolf stalking a quarry. And that red flag of warning was screaming at her again. She wrestled with the clash between her gut feeling and Linc’s vulnerability. He invited her trust, and his actions thus far made it easy for her to trust him. So why was the alarm going off inside her head? “Then refrain from those chauvinistic remarks.”
“Ouch.” He gave her a boyish smile meant to defuse her abruptness. “Just ignore me, okay? I’m not much good the first hour.”
“That’s an understatement,” Brie murmured, trying to curb her slight smile. She put the hoe down and went through her collection of seeds yet to be planted, trying to decide what should go next to her green beans.
“You’re a country gal.”
“Yes. I love the land,” she admitted softly.
“Is that why you got into haz-mat? To protect the earth? A lot of chemicals are buried in the earth, ruining it for years if not decades to come.”
She was pleased with his insight and sat back on her heels, a package of bush beans in her hand. “Being a city boy, you’d laugh if I told you the truth.”
Linc crossed his legs Indian fashion, the cup resting on one knee. “No, I wouldn’t. Besides, it will help me understand you.”
Brie wrinkled her nose and tore the top off the seed packet. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Isn’t it natural for people to want to get to know each other?” Part of him wanted to know because of the assignment. Another part of him wanted to know for personal reasons. Linc was disgusted with his indecisiveness regarding Brie. To hell with it. He wanted to know her more intimately because she was a suspect, he rationalized.
She shrugged and crawled up to the head of the row, carefully putting the seeds into it. “Up to a point,” she parried.
“You know, you’re like this place of yours: hidden, guarded and mysterious.”
“I like it that way.”
“Why? What’s wrong if someone knows you?”
Brie shifted uncomfortably. The coffee he was drinking must be waking him up; he was sharper and more focused. “Technically, nothing. I’m just a private person by nature. I don’t feel it’s anyone’s right to know all about me.”
Linc absorbed the stubborn set of her face. This morning, there was a fragility to Brie. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what made him sense that. The nightmare had left her devastated and wide open to attack. That was why she was behaving defensively with him, he reasoned. Desperate to establish some sort of beachhead of trust with her, Linc shifted the conversation to himself.
“When I was a kid growing up in the city, I often wished I could just pack up and head for the country. I guess it’s like that old saying—the grass is always greener on the other side of the hill.”
Brie closed her eyes for a moment, thankful Linc was talking about himself instead of trying to needle her. She resumed the planting, needing the warmth of the earth in her hands to soothe her frayed nerves. “Didn’t your parents ever take you to the country?”
Linc drank the last of the coffee, then set down the cup and rested his hands on his thighs. “I grew up between foster homes and orphanages in New York City, so I saw a lot of skyscrapers, glass, steel and concrete.” At least that part of his life wasn’t a lie. Linc laughed at himself. Why should he care? Brie had a soft side, and he wanted to cultivate it in order to make her trust him. Ordinarily, he never spoke about his childhood to anyone.
Brie lifted her chin, her eyes dark with compassion as she met and held his blue gaze. “Orphanages?” she uttered, a catch in her voice.
“Now don’t go getting soft on me,” he warned. “Plenty of brats got dumped by mothers who didn’t want them, and they ended up kicking between foster homes or an orphanage. It’s no big deal.”
Her hands stilled on her thighs. She could imagine him as a dark-haired, blue-eyed little boy who strutted around pretending he was tough and could take anything. Perhaps that was why he came across like that now. It was the only way he knew how to protect the vulnerable inner core of himself. “I—I had no idea…”
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