In the middle of the night, he woke up sweating. His heart was pounding, adrenaline rushing through his system as the remnants of the dream receded.
Damn. This was the second time in less than a month.
Del was sitting up in bed beside him, one hand lightly clasping his arm. “Hey,” she said. “You were having a bad dream.”
After the first time, he’d had the dream over and over again, whenever he closed his eyes. Only in the dream, sometimes the gunman turned and pointed his weapon at Sam before he could get to the guy. It had been months before he’d gotten a decent night’s sleep. As the years had passed, though, it had ambushed him less and less frequently, so much so that now he was surprised when it recurred.
“Want to tell me about it?”
He hesitated. He still wasn’t ready to tell her all about his past. Being called a hero made him cringe. He’d only been doing what he’d been trained to do that day; he’d known he had a moral obligation to try to stop that killer.
But if he was going to continue to be with her she deserved to have some explanation.
He pulled her down into his arms, enjoying the way she instantly softened and draped her body over his. “It’s a recurring dream. I’ve had it for almost eight years now.”
“It has to do with your injuries, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.” He stroked her back, absorbing the silky texture of her smooth skin. Somehow it wasn’t as hard as he’d expected to talk about this with her, lying here in the dark, quiet room. “But I wasn’t wounded in combat.”
“Then how did you get shot?” Her voice was intense and puzzled. “Those are gunshot wounds.”
And she would know. One of their bodyguards had been winged a couple of years ago, and just last year a member of the abduction team took a bullet in the thigh while reuniting a little boy with his custodial parent after he was taken out of the country by the other parent.
He took a deep breath. “I got shot by a nut job on the street. It was kind of ironic—I’d never been wounded in combat, but a day after I get home on leave, I get nailed right on the street.” That was all true. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
“This one—” she lightly touched the puckered scar above his left hip “—must have done some damage.”
“It nicked my spine,” he said tersely. “I spent a couple months at a rehab center.”
“Rehab center?”
“Learning to walk again.” He could feel the muscle clenching and unclenching in his jaw. “For a while they thought I was going to be paralyzed. I had no feeling in my legs for about three weeks.”
She gasped and her hands moved in an unconscious gentling circle on him. “No wonder you have nightmares. That must have been terrifying.”
“It was. Luckily it only lasted a short time.” He dismissed the fear and abject terror, the budding despair of those three weeks with one sentence.
“I’m so glad you weren’t permanently paralyzed.” She stretched up to kiss his chin, then lingered, pressing light, soft kisses against his throat and working her way down his chest until she found one small, flat nipple.
He forgot his somber thoughts as pleasure instantly ricocheted through his body. Del didn’t seem to want to talk, didn’t seem to need additional explanation. And that was fine with him.
Way more than fine. She was soft and warm and eminently arousing as she squirmed into better position atop him, and he found himself swiftly, completely aroused, hard and full and aching for the sweet oblivion she promised. He reached down and pressed against her inner thigh until she parted her legs on either side of his body.
He sucked in a raw breath of need as he grabbed protection from the bedside table. “Wait a sec,” he growled as he deftly covered himself. Then he moved into place, inching himself into her at an excruciatingly slow pace. When she moaned and wriggled, trying to push herself down onto him, he held her hips in his big hands and kept it slow and leisurely.
“Sam,” she pleaded, “please…please…”
“Please what?” With one quick move, he rolled them so that she lay beneath him. The motion had nearly dislodged him, and her hips surged restlessly as he braced himself above her and resisted her urgings.
“Please…” She was panting, her fingers digging into his hard buttocks as she tried in vain to pull him closer.
“Please…this?” He lowered his weight onto her abruptly, driving his hips forward, embedding himself deeply within her as she arched up to meet him, her arms tightening as if to hold him there forever.
“Yes.” The word was a bare whisper of delight.
He looked down at her, silhouetted in the moonlight that shone through her window. Her dark hair was a wild spill across the pillow. Her eyes were closed and her lips were full and soft from his kisses, lightly parted now with passion.
God, she was beautiful. And she was his.
He and Del were meant for each other, meant to spend the rest of their lives together. They complemented each other in so many ways. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, couldn’t predict a future that didn’t have her in it.
He was determined to have her in his life.
Now all he had to do was convince her. She was wary and as skittish about commitment as he’d been just days ago, but he was going to change that, he vowed. He was going to marry her.
The following week, Del popped her head into his office toward the end of the day and said, “We’re celebrating Beth from bookkeeping’s birthday this evening. Do you want to go?”
He hesitated. No was on the tip of his tongue but he wanted to spend the evening with Del, and he supposed this was her indirect way of telling him she planned to go. “I guess since I went to one, it might cause ill will if I didn’t go to them all now,” he said with a grimace. “Right?”
“Probably,” she said in a cheerful voice. “It would be a nice thing to do, too.”
He stared at her. “I am not nice.”
She laughed. “All the more reason for you to go and be civil.”
Which is how he found himself sandwiched between Del and the new woman, Karen, at a round table in a small Italian restaurant, singing “Happy Birthday” to Beth from the bookkeeping department. They had just finished the song when the door to the restaurant opened and Walker entered.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Happy birthday, Beth.”
Sam felt both Del and Karen stiffen. It was hard to miss, smashed between them as he was in the bench seat. Women, he supposed, had an internal radar for relationship trouble. And that was what had just walked through the door.
Walker had the top-heavy, intellect-light redhead with him again. His tie was crooked—very—and the redhead’s lipstick was smeared across one cheek. Her hair looked as if someone had set off a small explosion beneath it. There was little question what the pair had been doing. God, he hoped he and Del were never that obvious.
Both of them looked as if they’d had more than a few drinks. Even if Karen had divorced Walker a long time ago, it probably still was no fun seeing your ex make an ass of himself with a woman young enough to be his daughter.
“Thank you,” said the birthday girl. “Pull up a seat.”
Walker grabbed a chair from a nearby empty table one-handed, swiveling it around so that he could sit. Then he grabbed the redhead and tugged her down onto his lap, winding a brawny arm about the girl’s waist as she giggled. “Jennifer, everybody,” he said, waving a hand. “You met some of them before. Everybody, this is Jennifer.”
“Hi.” Jennifer waved like a beauty queen on a parade float. She turned to Walker. “Which one is Karen?”
“That would be me.” Karen raised her hand, her voice cool and casual.
Jennifer examined Karen for a long silent moment, then turned to Walker. “You said she was old. She’s pretty,” she said in a sulky voice.
Walker looked as though he’d swallowed his tongue. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and Sam wondered if he was talking to Jennifer or Karen.
Around the table, curiosity was as strong a presence as the new guests. No one else in the company, other than Del and he, knew Walker and Karen Munson had been married once, as far as Sam knew.
At his side, Karen stirred and spoke into the uncomfortable silence. “Could you excuse me, please? I need to get going.”
She stood and Sam stood automatically, pushing Del before him so they could let Karen slide out of the seat.
She paused at the edge of the table and smiled at Beth. “Happy birthday,” she said. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“We do it all the time,” Peg said. “You’ll soon be good and sick of us inviting you to celebrate birthdays. We might as well just glue this on our thighs.” She indicated the piece of chocolate cake on her plate.
There was a general ripple of agreement and a few chuckles, and Karen smiled again. “See you tomorrow.”
She was already turning to walk away when Jennifer-the-redhead said, “Why’s she leaving? I thought you said she didn’t have a family anymore.” Although she was speaking to Walker, the words carried across the table.
Karen stopped abruptly. “Pardon me?” She turned back to the table, her face carefully expressionless.
“Well,” said Jennifer, “Walker said you didn’t have a husband or a kid anymore, so—”
“Jennifer, shut up,” Walker growled.
Karen looked as though someone had punched her in the stomach. Tears sparkled in her eyes, but after one scathing glance at Walker, all she did was smile again at Beth, though her lips quivered. “I hope the rest of your evening is wonderful,” she said. One tear trickled down her cheek but she didn’t wipe it away before she turned and walked steadily out of the restaurant.
“Well,” said Peggy brightly, “I think it’s time we all headed out, don’t you?”
Subdued murmurs of agreement greeted her words, and the table was suddenly a flurry of activity as people gathered personal items and rushed off. A few of them cast dark looks in Walker’s direction as they left.
“Dammit, Walker,” said Sam, “that was completely out of line.”
Jennifer spoke. “Sorry,” she said in that ridiculous baby-doll voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings.”
“Of course not,” said Del in a voice that left no doubt of her opinion.
“If she can’t take the heat,” Walker said aggressively, “she should get out of the fire.”
Whoa. Now he’d done it. Sam had been around Del long enough to know when the match touched the fuse. It didn’t happen often but when it did, there was no stopping her.
Del leaned forward, her expression set in stone. “That’s kitchen, you moron. ‘Get out of the kitchen.’” She stood, almost shaking with fury. “You had no business sharing Karen’s personal difficulties with that twit.” She didn’t even look at the redhead as she slid her arms into her jacket and picked up her briefcase. “Your life,” she added in an icy tone, “is your own business. But when you inflict someone on us who’s so offensive that she can ruin an entire evening in one sentence, it becomes our business.”
She stood, then jabbed Jennifer in the shoulder with a stiff forefinger. “If I ever see you at a PSI party again, I will pull out every fake red hair on your empty head.”
“And you.” She transferred her attention to Walker. “Don’t bother coming to any more of the office parties unless you’re sober and single.”
Walker was glaring at Del, a muscle in his jaw ticking uncontrollably. “Sam?” he said, not looking away from her angry face.
Sam sighed. “She’s right. You showed up and everyone left. That ought to tell you something.” He put an arm around Del, feeling the anger vibrating through her as he hustled her out of the restaurant before she completely lost her temper. He didn’t really want to have to bail her out on assault charges.
He held her car door until she settled herself with rigid, angry motions, then climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine without speaking. A smart man knew when to keep quiet. As he drove out of the lot beside the restaurant, he could feel Del still simmering.
Finally, about halfway home, he said, “Every fake red hair on her empty head?”
There was a moment of tense silence and for a minute, he thought she might be about to take his head off. Then Del snickered. “I thought it was fairly poetic.”
He laughed aloud. “That wasn’t quite the first word that sprang to mind.”
“So what was?”
“Sincere,” he said, “It sounded like you meant it. I think if I were Jennifer, I might not be anxious to cross your path again.”
Del sobered quickly. “I can’t believe that bimbo said that. I really can’t believe Walker was dumb enough to tell her that he was married to Karen once.”
“And believe me, I’m sorry I mentioned it to him.”
“You should be,” Del said seriously. “That’s personal information and we don’t have any right to talk to anyone about it. You think she’ll quit?”
“I hope not. Frankly, I’d sooner fire Walker than lose her. She’s been working her butt off this week, and she’s about ten times as diplomatic as Mr. Foot-in-Mouth has ever been.”
Sam grinned. Walker did have a reputation for telling it the way he saw it. They didn’t often let him deal directly with clients. “I hope we don’t lose either one of them.”
Del was quiet for a moment. “Why do you suppose she ever married him?”
“I imagine he had his good points at the time.”
“I guess.” She sighed.
“People can be deceptive,” he said, thinking of Ilsa. “A little chemistry can blind you to someone’s less-charming traits.”
From the corner of her eye, he caught the abrupt motion of her head as she turned toward him. “You sound as if you have firsthand experience.” It wasn’t a question and yet he knew it was.
“I was engaged once.”
He heard her suck in a sharp breath. “But not married?”
“No.” He was glad he was driving. It was easier than facing her when he went through this story. “She changed her mind pretty fast when she thought she might be stuck with a paraplegic for life.”
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
“It was no big deal,” he said. “If she wasn’t going to stick, better I found out before the vows.” But when he glanced over at her, her brown eyes held a well of sympathy, and he suspected she didn’t believe his profession of unconcern. “I can’t even remember what she looked like anymore,” he said, and was surprised to find it was true. Since he’d gotten involved with Del, the past had faded into insignificance.
“Still, it must have hurt when she cut and ran.” There was anger in her tone.
“Look,” he said, feeling cornered, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before—”
“I’m not mad at you!” Her eyes went wide with surprise. “I’d like to rip her heart out, though.”
Amazingly, he was able to laugh again. Ilsa really wasn’t important anymore, and the knowledge was like emptying his pockets of a load of rocks. “Your bloodthirsty side is showing tonight.” He reached over and laced his fingers through hers, drawing her hand onto his thigh. “Lucky for you, I like bloodthirsty women.”
Her hand turned over in his, then slipped down between his legs and a jolt of electric sexuality ran up his spine. He wanted to whimper aloud when her fingers began to explore, and he felt himself begin to pulse and fill. “Lucky for you,” she said, her fingers exploring the growing bulge behind his zipper, “this bloodthirsty woman likes you. In fact—” she glanced down at the evidence of his desire for her, plainly outlined in the khaki pants he’d worn to work “—she can’t wait to get home.”
He gave a hoarse laugh which turned into a moan as his zipper opened with a soft hiss and she slipped her hand inside. “Much more of that and we won’t make it home.”
The next morning at work, he couldn’t ignore the buzz of gossip in the hallways. Everyone was talking about what had happened the night before. If he heard, “I had no idea they used to be married!” once, he heard it a dozen times.
Karen had puffy dark bags beneath her eyes, but she worked with the same efficiency he’d begun to notice she brought to all her tasks, presenting him with a study of the manpower it would take to covertly watch a home in Rio where a client’s child was believed to have been taken by her noncustodial ex-spouse.
Around three o’clock, he was standing beside Del’s desk going over flight reservations for a visit to the German canine people to finalize the deal, when Peggy appeared in Del’s doorway with a vase of flowers. “Check it out,” she said. “Karen got flowers!”
“From who?” Del went around her desk and tried to look at the card but the tiny envelope was sealed.
“Don’t know. But I already called her to come get them, so we won’t let her leave until she spills the beans,” Peggy said cheerfully.
Sam snorted, and both women looked at him.
“What was that for?” Del asked.
He shook his head, grinning. “No reason. I just don’t get what the big deal is.”
Peggy shot him a pitying look. “Receiving flowers is always a big deal.”
Karen stuck her head in the door at that exact moment and both women turned to her, but Sam remained rooted to the spot where he stood. Guilt, strong and forceful, rushed through him.
He’d never given Del flowers. Hell, he’d never even taken her out to dinner unless it was work related. He’d intended to, but somehow they always seemed to get sidetracked by a mattress when they weren’t working.
In fact, that was pretty much all they did, he thought with a pang of regret. They worked, ate and fell into bed together. They damn near burned up the sheets every night, and neither one of them had gotten enough sleep since her birthday, but he wasn’t complaining.
And neither had she. He wondered if she really didn’t mind the fact that he’d never once taken her on a real date. If she did, she hid it so well he’d never caught a hint.
“What’s it say? Who’s it from?” He tuned back in to the conversation as Peggy began to pester Karen.
With an odd, frozen look on her face, Karen silently passed the card over to Peggy.
“That rat bastard!” Peggy wasn’t shy about voicing her opinion.
Del, crowding over her shoulder, said, “At least he realized he was way out of line.”
Karen didn’t say anything. She just stood there, holding the vase of pretty pink-and-lavender flowers with a blank, bewildered expression on her face. Sam reached out and snagged the card from Peggy, reading the simple message.
I’m sorry. Walker
“Hey,” said Peggy, “You okay, honey?”
Karen sighed. “As okay as I’ll ever be with that jerk on the same planet,” she said. She shoved the arrangement back at Peggy. “You can keep these. Brighten up your office. Pitch ’em. I don’t care.” She turned and started toward the door, then turned back and plucked the card from the arrangement. “But I think I’ll keep this. Just to remind me he isn’t a complete and total waste product.”
Sam was pretty impressed that she managed a smile in response to Peggy’s and Del’s laughter before she left the office.