Dangerous to Love

by Sally Tyler Hayes

  “I won’t. At least not until you’ve had a chance to explain yourself.”

  She leaned over and kissed him softly, sweetly. Dan felt heat unfurl inside his body, flaring up and burning steadily, seeping into every inch of his body. He pressed his hand against the side of her face, bringing her mouth back to his. Her lips parted easily. Her breath hitched, and he let himself savor the taste of her, the small intimacy of being inside her this way, even as he cursed the awkwardness of trying to kiss her while sitting in the damned chair.

  Still, he went right on kissing her, needing her, knowing he’d take the memory of this back with him and it would help him through the long, lonely nights and frustrating days ahead, as the memory of her had done all along, ever since he woke up in the hospital three months ago. Even if she’d never known it.

  “I missed you, too,” she admitted as she broke off the kiss and stood up.

  He watched, drinking in the sight of her, knowing he’d take this image of her back with him, that she was going to get him through the battle that still lay ahead. Dan smiled up at her, staring until soft color filled her cheeks and she walked around behind him. He started to turn around, because he wanted to look at her some more. But then he felt her come to stand right behind him, her hands settling on his shoulders, gently kneading the muscles there.

  “God, you are like some kind of poison to me,” she confessed.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Obviously. I didn’t kick you out,” she complained. “If I had any sense at all, I’d kick you out of my office. I wouldn’t listen to anything you had to say, and I’d tell myself I’d suffered enough because of you.”

  Dan would have been worried, if she hadn’t been touching him as she spoke. “Believe me,” he said. “You’ve tormented me the entire time I’ve been gone.”

  “I doubt we’re talking about the same thing.”

  “You don’t think you’ve messed with my mind? Or that you’ve gotten inside my head?” He laughed. “You honestly believe it’s just about sex, Jamie?”

  He held her by her arm and twisted around in the chair until he could see her.

  “If it was just about sex, I wouldn’t have stopped that day in the solarium. The damned building could have come down around us, and it wouldn’t have mattered to me. We would have finished what we started. You understand that, don’t you?”

  “I—”

  “Don’t mistake me. I want you. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I still want you.” He let his eyes rake over her body in one long, slow, blatantly assessing look. “But this thing between us is much more complicated than that.” She came tantalizingly closer, her hands settling onto his shoulders again, working in earnest over the strained muscles there. It felt so good to have her touch him that way.

  “Jamie—I’m sorry about disappearing,” he said. “I know there’s nothing I can say to make up for what I did, but...I’m sorry, babe. It’s practically a reflex to me, to push people away. Although I’m not usually so callous about it.” But he found he was scared half to death of her, of the way he needed her in his life.

  She said nothing, her hands now lying still on his shoulders.

  “It’s not you,” he tried to reassure her. “It’s just the way I am. You know that, don’t you? You know it wasn’t you?”

  “I wasn’t sure,” she said hesitantly.

  Damn. Her words cut right into him. He’d hurt her terribly. And he thought he should come clean about everything, to give her fair warning, at least.

  “Jamie, there haven’t been a lot of women in my life in the last few years. None that meant anything to me, anyway.” He hesitated. It had been a long time since he talked about this to anyone. “You should know...I was married once. A long time ago.”

  “I know that.”

  “And I wasn’t what you’d call stellar husband material.”

  “Oh, I never would have guessed that.”

  She laughed, softly, sadly, and slid her fingers into his hair.

  “I should try to explain it to you. I owe you that much at least.” He sighed. “You remind me of her.”

  Jamie stiffened. “How?”

  “She was so young. She didn’t have a cynical bone in her body. When I met her, she was so happy. She always had a smile on her face. She could make me laugh when no one else could, and I took that innocent young woman and drained every bit of happiness right out of her. By the time she left me, she was a totally different person. I did that to her. I hurt her. I ruined everything for her.”

  “How?”

  “She hated being a soldier’s wife. Hated the long separations, the danger, hated what I was like right after I came home.”

  “You were a soldier when she met you, weren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you change so much after the two of you were married?”

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  “Or did she think she was going to change you?”

  “She wanted me out of the military.”

  “And you didn’t get out.”

  “I wouldn’t,” he admitted. “She wasn’t... The job...”

  “Meant more to you than she did?”

  He nodded. It had come down to that. He hadn’t loved her that much, had never loved anyone or anything that much. He wasn’t sure he was capable of such an emotion, but he was a stand-out at regrets.

  “She wanted a husband who would be there for her. Babies—I made her miserable,” he confessed. “And I don’t ever want to do that to a woman again. I don’t want to do that to you.”

  “And you’re certain that any kind of relationship we might have would leave me miserable in the end?”

  “I don’t know, babe.” He leaned back against her. Jamie’s arms tightened around him.

  “I just wanted you to know what it was like between me and her,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “And Jamie? If there comes a time when this is too much....” He looked down at the wheelchair. “If it gets too hard... I want you to know that you don’t owe me anything, all right? You can just turn around and walk away. Promise me you will.”

  “No.”

  “Jamie—” Her arms fell away. She backed away from him as well, and when he turned to face her, he could tell he’d said something very, very wrong. “What?”

  “You don’t understand anything, do you?”

  “Maybe I don’t.”

  “Dan, if I could forget about you... If I could just turn around and walk away, believe me, I would have done it by now.”

  He let the words sink in, found them profoundly satisfying. She couldn’t forget about him, either. No matter how hard she tried.

  He felt like a fool for waiting this long to see her again. Maybe he didn’t deserve her, but he was going to do his best to give her whatever she wanted from him, whatever she needed.

  “Jamie, I—”

  The intercom unit on her phone sounded. A voice said, “Ms. Douglass?”

  Jamie closed her eyes tightly. “Yes.”

  “Final mission briefing in five minutes.”

  “I’ll be right there,” she said, moving behind her desk and pressing a button to break the connection.

  Dan wished he could get up and go to her. He wished he could take her in his arms and hold her tightly. He wished he knew exactly what to say to her and how to make things right. Now that he’d seen her again, he didn’t want to leave her.

  She looked as if the whole scene had thrown her totally off-balance. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing back a few strands that had escaped from behind her ears. Then she stood behind her desk, leafing through some papers, finally finding what she wanted.

  “Dan?”

  “Hmm?”

  She held up a stack of papers. “Tanner gave you the Section 123 report?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “I skimmed it.” He hadn’t been interested in giving it a careful read. That damne
d report wouldn’t change anything. He knew what he’d done. He knew he felt guilty about it, that he always would. Especially because of Doc.

  “Would you look at it again? Carefully?” Jamie asked.

  “I need to talk through it with somebody.”

  “If you’re worried about what it says about me...”

  “It’s more than that,” she insisted.

  “Okay,” he said, wondering exactly what was wrong. “I’ll read it.”

  “Thanks.” She looked at the clock once more, picked up the tiny, glittering black bag she’d stowed her gun in, then grabbed the stiletto. “I really have to go.”

  “Can I call you tonight?”

  “It’s probably going to be late before I make it home tonight. Midnight, at least.”

  Which he took to mean that she’d be there alone, waiting to talk to him. He had a sudden image of her curled up in a rumpled bed, her dark hair fanned out against the pillow, creamy skin waiting for him beneath the covers.

  This could prove to be a very interesting conversation.

  “That’s all right,” he said. “I’m up late.”

  “Okay,” she said.

  He caught her hand as she walked past him, tugged her down for a frustratingly brief kiss. “Be careful.”

  “I will,” she promised.

  And then he sat there and watched as she walked into the hallway. Joshua Carter appeared, beaming at her, and Dan watched as they walked away together.

  Chapter 10

  She wasn’t home at midnight. He knew, because he called. She wasn’t home at twelve-fifteen, either. Or twelve-thirty.

  He had no idea what she and Josh were supposed to be doing at the French embassy, but he was certain it had the potential to turn dangerous.

  By twelve forty-five, he was thinking of bribing one of the orderlies to drive him to Georgetown, where she lived. By one o’clock, he would have been pacing if he’d been able to stand on his own for any length of time.

  And finally, at a few minutes past one, she called him.

  “Hi,” she said, sounding sleepy and relaxed. And happy.

  Happy to be talking to him? He could certainly hope so. He felt ridiculously better just to hear her voice.

  “Hi,” he said. He really wanted to say something like, “You’re late,” but knew he didn’t have the right.

  “I’m sorry. I was out later than I thought. Did I wake you?”

  As if he could have gone to sleep wondering where she was and whether she was safe.

  “No,” he said. Then he heard a slow, sleepy sigh and a few other sounds he couldn’t identify. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Jamie?” She must have pressed her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, because he didn’t hear anything for a moment.

  “I don’t want to tell you, all right?”

  “No, it’s not. What’s wrong?”

  “I’m just feeling a little self-conscious.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was hoping to get through this conversation without you figuring out what else I’m doing right now.”

  “This is starting to get interesting,” he said.

  She groaned.

  “I know what I’d like you to be doing,” he offered, ready to seduce her with words, if nothing else.

  “And that would be?”

  “I’ll give you a hint. It involves a bed—yours. You’d be lying down on it. I’m still trying to decide what you’d wear. Something soft. Not satin. It would be too cold against your skin. Something warm. Touchable. Something short.”

  “I have soft, short things I wear to bed.”

  It was his turn to groan.

  She laughed. Beautifully. Softly. The sound brought every nerve ending in his body roaring to life. Then he heard water, the gentle, rippling sound of water moving against a surface, and he groaned.

  “You’re in the bathtub?”

  This was better than he imagined. No, worse. His body reminded him once again of just how long it had been since he’d taken a woman to bed with him, how long he’d likely have to wait before he had her with him in a bed.

  “Dan,” she protested.

  “You are. You’re in the tub.” He swore, picturing an expanse of pale, ivory-colored skin and dark clouds of hair. And soft candlelight. If he ever saw her in the tub, he’d want the light to come from candles. She’d put something in the tub, that stuff she wore to smell so good. Bath salts, probably. They would make the water a little cloudy. Along with the rippling of the water so her image would be slightly distorted, letting him see her but not really see her.

  Dan could hardly believe it. She was talking to him on the phone from her bathtub. Naked. The temperature in his room rose instantly. He was starting to sweat, could barely breathe.

  “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” he asked.

  “I told you I didn’t want you to know. I was just tired and all wound up, but I wanted to talk to you. And a bath always helps me to relax.”

  “I’m not relaxed,” he complained, feeling the heat settle low in his belly, feeling a slow, hard throbbing of his pulse.

  “Sorry.” She laughed again.

  “No. You’re not. You’re enjoying this, and I’m...”

  “What?” she asked innocently.

  “What do you think?”

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  Dan groaned and cursed and smiled in rapid succession. “You’re killing me, babe.”

  “Really?”

  “You little witch. You know you are.”

  He heard another ripple of water, was crazy enough to let himself imagine what she might have been doing to make that sound. He was going to get her into that bathtub again, when he was there. He’d look his fill. Wash every inch of her. And then get into the tub with her.

  Damn.

  He wanted her now, had done nothing but dream of her and want her and make love to her in his mind for weeks on end. He’d become obsessed with her to the point that there was nothing else inside his head except walking again and having her. Somehow, the two had become inexplicably intertwined. He would walk again. He would go to her, He’d have her.

  She was going to be his reward.

  Just a few more weeks, he told himself. He could wait a few more weeks. As far as he knew, no man had ever died from wanting a woman.

  “So,” he said, “have you forgiven me yet? Or do I need to grovel some more?”

  “You don’t grovel well at all, you know.”

  “Well, it’s not something I normally do.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’ve been indulged to this point.”

  He tried to concentrate on the conversation, but it wasn’t working. He could still hear the soft movements of her body in the water, could so clearly imagine rivulets of water running down her sleek, sexy body. He couldn’t go on like this.

  “Do me a favor, Jamie. Indulge me this one time. Go put on some clothes, and I’ll call you back.”

  “Dan—”

  “I’ll beg, okay? Whatever it takes. Just get dressed I can’t have a conversation with you while you’re naked.”

  “Dan—”

  “I’m not kidding. Get dressed.”

  Jamie heard the click of the phone, and then nothing. He’d hung up on her.

  She smiled, put down the phone and leaned back until her head was resting against the rim of the tub. He meant it. She was making him crazy, and she found the whole idea incredibly satisfying. After all, he’d made her crazy for years. And she wasn’t getting out of the tub right away. Let the man suffer a little more.

  When the phone rang a moment later, she brought it slowly to her ear and left her head where it was, leaning against the back of the tub, feeling happier and more relaxed than she’d been in months.

  “Hi,” she said softly.

  Silence greeted her and then a rather formal, “Ms. Douglass?”

  She sat up quickly, splashing water eve
rywhere and nearly dropping the phone. She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end of the phone. “Yes?”

  “This is Detective Russell, D.C. police.”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry to call so late. I thought I had your office number.”

  “It’s all right. I was awake.” She jumped out of the tub and grabbed for a towel. “What can I do for you, Detective?”

  “I put in a request for information with the FBI a few days ago about an odd-sized slug we found in the wall of a liquor store after an armed robbery, and a Mr. Jansen at the FBI asked me to call you. I work the night shift, so I tend to make calls either late at night or very early in the morning.”

  “It’s no problem,” she reassured the detective, trying to think like an agent, not like a naked woman who’d been caught in her tub. “This bullet...you haven’t been able to identify it?”

  “No, ma’am,” he drawled. “It’s smaller than anything I’m used to seeing, obviously made of something capable of piercing body armor. I’d hate to be out on the streets with these all over the place.”

  “I’d like very much to see it,” she said.

  “Name the day.”

  “What time does your shift end?”

  “If I’m lucky, 7:00 a.m.”

  She frowned at the clock, then decided she didn’t need sleep. Not if he had evidence. “I’ll meet you in the morning. At your precinct house.”

  She thanked him, toweled off quickly and was riffling through her underwear drawer in search of a short, soft cotton nightgown when the phone rang again. This time she recognized the gruff, impatient voice.

  “So,” he growled, “I’m not the only man you converse with from your bathtub?”

  “What?”

  “Your messaging service,” he reminded her. “It was kind enough to tell me you were on the phone at the moment, before it offered to take my message.”

  “Oh?” Her phone had a vast array of special features, including a messaging service that picked up when she was on another call and told the second caller precisely that.

  “So, I’m not the only man who gets to talk to you while you’re naked?”