Surrender In Silk

“Don’t blame Estes.”

She glared at him. “I don’t blame Rick. I blame you.”

She turned away and walked to the window. From here she had a view of the capitol, but she couldn’t see the historical building or even the traffic snarling below. She couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that Zach had set her up.

She wasn’t mad at Rick. He’d just been following orders. But Zach. She’d hoped for something else from him. She grimaced and stared at the view. Funny how the broken dreams still had the power to hurt her.

“I did it because you can be more,” he said quietly. “You can be the best. Rick will stay with explosives. He’ll be a good man to have on a team, but he’ll never do the thinking.”

“Oh, and I will?”

“Maybe. Go ahead and be mad at me all you want. Just don’t forget what you learned. Next time I might not be there to rescue you.”

“May I remind you, Agent Jones, that I’m the one who saved your sorry hide?”

“I know.”

His voice was gentle. Too gentle. She felt her defenses slipping away. She tried to hold on to her anger, but it faded, leaving her vulnerable.

She didn’t hear him move, but she sensed him come up behind her. She stiffened.

“You have to deal with it,” he said softly. “Now. Or it’ll eat you up inside.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m not going to think about it.”

“That’s what the psychiatrist told me you’d said.”

“So much for confidential patient information.”

“You aren’t a patient. You were being debriefed. Dammit, Jamie, you killed one man and watched another die. You have to talk about it.”

She would have been fine if he hadn’t called her Jamie. “You never said my name before,” she whispered.

“Sorry. Sanders.”

“No, ‘Jamie’ is fine. I—Do we have to talk about it?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed. She didn’t want to even think about it. The horror was too great. Seventy-two hours later, she could still see the man falling to the ground. She could still feel the recoil of the pistol and the way her stomach had clenched and rebelled. She could see Havers’s body lying there.

When she’d spoken with the agency psychiatrist, she’d answered questions about the mission and her part in it. When the elderly man had tried to bring up the killing, Jamie hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She still didn’t.

“It wasn’t what you thought,” Zach said, still standing behind her. “You imagined killing someone, but it was different.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

She’d slammed the door shut on those thoughts, but his words opened it a crack. The first flicker of feeling swept through her, and she shuddered.

“You’re surprised because the killing is easy. It’s the forgetting that’s so hard.”

She turned to face him. He was close enough to touch. Large and looming, but he didn’t frighten her. Not anymore. “How do you know?”

“I’ve been there, Jamie. I want to tell you it gets easier. In a way, it does. But just when you think you won’t have to pay a price again, a death will hit you hard. Then you deal with it all over again.”

She had thought of him as uncaring, mean-spirited, even cruel. But at this moment, he was the kindest man she’d ever known.

“I can’t close my eyes,” she said. “I don’t see him falling anymore. But I can’t sleep. I’m afraid I’ll dream. I’m not sorry he’s dead. I just didn’t think—”

Zach reached up and stroked her face. His fingers brushed away tears. She touched her other cheek, shocked she was crying.

She spun away. “I’m sorry. I never cry.” She blinked hard, but the tears continued to fall.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m stronger than this.” She tried to control her breathing. It didn’t help. A sob caught her off guard. She clutched the window frame.

“You don’t have to be tough all the time,” he said.

“Yeah, I do. I can’t—” Oh, God, she couldn’t break down in front of Zach. “Please leave,” she murmured.

Instead of leaving, he put his hands on her shoulders. She tried to shrug him off, but he ignored her efforts. He turned her and gathered her close, pulling her into his embrace.

She resisted, hating her weakness, hating herself for wanting to give in and borrow his strength.

“Hush, Jamie,” he said softly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”

He knew her better than she knew herself. A sob overtook her, and she sagged against him. His arms came around her. He held her tightly, as if he feared she might be torn away from him. She cried until she was drained and empty.

Gradually she became aware of his body close to hers. Somehow during her outburst, he’d moved them both to the sofa. He was sitting in the corner with her curled up next to him. His arms held her close. She could hear the steady sound of his heart and feel the rise and fall of his chest. He smelled masculine and tempting. Very tempting.

The first trickle of desire was easily explained away. The second was more difficult. Then the trickle turned into a flood and she had to stiffen to keep from reaching out to him. Without thinking, without wanting to, she raised her head to look at him.

His dark eyes brightened with a fire she’d never seen before. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

“Dammit, Jamie, don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“As if I’m some kind of hero. You were right when you said I was a bastard.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah, you do. You don’t want this.”

She wasn’t sure what the “this” was, but she was pretty sure she did want it. She’d never felt this way before. Guys had always been friends and amusing companions. She had more in common with them than with women. But she’d never felt the need to—

Slowly, cautiously, knowing he might turn on her at any moment, she raised her hand toward his face. Using just the tips of her fingers, she touched his jaw. It was midafternoon. She could feel the heat of him, and the prickling of stubble.

He grabbed her hand. This time his grip punished. He squeezed her fingers until she thought her bones might crack. But instead of pushing her away, he brought her palm to his mouth and kissed her sensitive skin.

She felt the fire all the way down to her toes. Her breath caught in her throat. Her breasts, which had never been more than a nuisance before, swelled and she began to sense the possibilities. Between her thighs, a different kind of heat formed and grew, leaving her feeling both bold and weak.

Zach bit the soft skin of her palm, then used his tongue to soothe the wound. He released her, then leaned back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

“The first damn day,” he muttered. “I spend six months avoiding this, and the first day you aren’t my responsibility, I blow it.” He swore again.

Blow it? Avoiding it? She stared at him. “You’ve wanted to have sex with me for six months?”

He grabbed her hand again, but this time he brought it to his crotch. She felt the long, hard desire there. Of course, she knew the mechanics of what went on. She’d seen naked men before. In high school, she’d had to walk through the boys’ locker room to get to the weights, and the teenagers often flashed her. But she’d never been impressed or interested. Until now.

Everything clicked into place. They’d both wanted the same thing and they’d both done their best to avoid it.

Zach started to stand up. Without thinking, Jamie shifted until she straddled him. She pressed against him to hold him in place. “Don’t go,” she said. “Please. I—”

She never got to say what she wanted. Just as well, since she wasn’t really sure.

Zach stopped her words with his mouth. He pressed his lips against hers, taking everything she offered and giving back more. When his tongue stroked against her tingling skin, she parted for him. She clung to his shoulders, her legs clamped around his thighs. Her world spun.

Nothing had prepared her for this. His hands were everywhere. Her back, her rear, her stomach, her breasts.

Her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he cupped her curves, then teased the taut peaks. She broke their kiss and arched back to give him more room. Every part of her body cried out for him. When he tugged her to the big bed in the center of the room, she went eagerly.

He made love as he lived—hard, on the edge, with an attention to details that left her weak. He removed her clothes, then traced every inch of her. As his mouth sought, then found, her sensitized nipples, his fingers performed magic between her thighs. She hadn’t known it could be like this.

She hadn’t known his chest would be so broad, or his muscles so supple. They moved and tightened in response to her tentative touch. He moaned low in his throat when she nibbled on his shoulder and tasted his salty skin. He caught his breath as he entered her tight, virgin body.

Later, when he’d shown her what all the fuss was about, when she’d stopped shaking and panting and the room was finally still, he braced his head on his hand and stared at her.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said.

She did her best to look innocent of the charge. “Tell you what?”

“That you were a virgin.”

“I—” She smiled uncomfortably and tried not to notice that they were both naked and the sheet and blankets were tangled around their feet. There hadn’t been any physical proof. Her active life-style had taken care of that years ago. “How did you know?”

His smile was rueful. “You were too surprised by everything.”

“Oh.” She felt herself blushing and she looked away. “I’m sorry if it was horrible.”

“It wasn’t.”

He placed his hand on her bare belly and stroked her skin. From there he moved up to her breasts. He cupped first one, then the other. Within seconds she was trembling and ready. He leaned close and took her nipple in his mouth. He licked the tight point, teasing her to mindlessness. Then he drew his hand down between her damp curls.

“If we make love again, you’ll be sore,” he said.

She parted her legs. “I’ll be okay.”

He smiled. A real smile. One that took her breath away. She realized she knew almost nothing about this man’s life. Not the details, anyway. But she knew him. She knew his soul. Surely that was more important.

She touched his short dark hair. “Maybe I won’t hurt so bad if I’m on top,” she said.

He laughed and hauled her close. As they touched from shoulder to shin, as his erection pressed into her belly, she felt a sense of homecoming. As if this was where she’d always belonged.

“How come you’re still a virgin?” he asked.

“I was a jock in high school and college. Most men don’t find that very sexy. I never got asked out, never went to my prom.”

He kissed her forehead. “I apologize for the stupidity of my gender.”

“It’s okay.”

“I have a cabin in Colorado. It’s not much, but it’s private and the view is spectacular. We could spend the week there.”

For the second time that day, she fought tears. This time she won. She smiled and nodded. “Let’s go.”

Just before dawn of the last day, she woke up alone. Jamie stretched, then reached for Zach, but he wasn’t there. She sat up. The back of her neck prickled uncomfortably, and she sensed something bad was coming. She even knew what it was.

A week ago, if someone had told her it was possible to memorize every inch of a person, to bring him to exquisite pleasure with her hands, mouth and body and still not know him, she would have thought that person was crazy. Now she understood the truth.

She and Zach had spent the past week together. She knew everything about his body and nothing about his mind. He silenced her questions with kisses. They ate together, read together, made love together and yet they were strangers.

She stood up and grabbed a flannel shirt from the bedpost. After slipping it on, she pulled on thick socks, then made her way into the living room. Embers from the fire cast little more than shadows, but she was familiar enough with the room to find her way in the dark. She was well trained enough to hear his breathing in the silence as he sat on the sofa.

She glanced at the window and saw the first hint of light. She wanted to get this over with before the sun came up. She didn’t want him to be able to watch her face. He read her too easily.

“We leave today,” she said. “So just go ahead and say it, Zach. It’s over, isn’t it?”

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and quiet in the darkness. “You have to choose.”

She hadn’t expected that. She crossed to the small dining set in front of the kitchen and pulled out a chair. The smooth wood was cold on her bare bottom. She shivered. “Between you and my job?”

“No, between your job and the real world. I made my decision a long time ago. I chose this world. I’ll never go back.”

She’d known from the beginning it wasn’t going to work. She’d known when he didn’t let her inside, when he didn’t share his heart, that this was just about sex. Maybe he picked a woman for every week off. Maybe she was the seventeenth one he’d brought to his cabin, just another notch on the bedpost.

“The job isn’t like selling insurance,” he said. “You can’t walk away from what you do. If you stay with the agency, you give it everything you have and there’s nothing left. You don’t get to be like everyone else. You live in the shadows, Jamie. You forget what it’s like to be in the light. You have the chance to be the best. You’ll pay a price for that. I want you to know—”

Her temper flared, and she cut him off. “What a terrific speech, Zach. How many times have you used it before? Shadows and light. Very evocative. But I’m not like your other bimbos. I’m not going to cry and I’m not going to beg. Save the rest of it for someone else. If you want me out of here, I’m gone.”

She rose to her feet. Before she could cross to the bedroom, he stood up and grabbed her forearm. She noticed he was careful to avoid the still-healing burns at her wrist. Damn him.

“This isn’t about me, Sanders,” he said. “It’s about you. You’re going to have to be faster, stronger and better. After a while, there isn’t anything left. I’m talking about an empty life. No family, no home—nothing normal.”

His words washed over her. She ignored them, ignored everything but the pain. She jerked free.

“You’re saying this because I’m a woman, right?” She shook her head. “You’re a hypocrite, Zach. I don’t see you having this conversation with Rick or anyone else.”

“Maybe they don’t have as much to lose.”

“Forget it. You’re asking me to give up everything I’ve ever worked for. Leave me alone,” she said. “I’m out of here.” She went into the bedroom and slammed the door. Ten minutes later, she was packed and heading out the door.

There was only one Jeep, but she didn’t care. She would leave it in town and pay someone to drive it back to him.

He made no move to stop her. She spared him one last glance as she started the engine. He stood in the doorway, wearing nothing but jeans. He was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, and the most dangerous. As usual, she didn’t know what he was thinking and she told herself she didn’t care.

She put the Jeep into gear and started down the mountain. The beauty that had enticed her the first few days no longer impressed her. She wouldn’t be able to look at a mountain without thinking about Zach.

As the sun crept over the eastern horizon, she told herself at least she hadn’t cried. She would put this incident behind her and pretend it never happened. Then the lie got caught in her throat, and she had to fight back a sob. Who was she trying to kid? Zach had been right—she took things too personally. She wanted to tell herself that in a few days she wouldn’t even remember him, but she had a bad feeling she was never going to forget.

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