AWOL with the Operative (8 page)

The minutes dragged on in a silence so absolute it was eerie. Why wasn’t she hearing something? The rustle of a small animal in the brush, the snapping of a frosted branch heavy with ice. Nothing.

Maybe Sam was wrong. Maybe they wouldn’t come. How could they possibly track them in all this expanse of forest when she and Sam had left no prints this time, when darkness was closing in? They couldn’t.

But Sam had been right. Like wolves able to scent the direction of their prey, the enemy did come. Eve went rigid in her temporary grave when she heard the soft thud of approaching feet. And then suddenly they were there. Close, not more than a few yards away. But, mercifully, not close enough to take notice of the mound in the hollow.

There were two of them. She could tell that from their hurried exchange. Although she couldn’t make out what they were saying, she was able to distinguish the quality of their voices. One had what sounded like a European accent. What country in Europe she couldn’t say. The other had a deep nasal tone, as if he had a cold.

And then there was nothing. The footsteps moved off. Toward the south, she thought. The direction in which Sam had gone. She was alone again and safe. But not free of concern. She kept waiting to hear the bark of a rifle off in the distance. A chilling sound that would mean they had sighted Sam, that they possibly were able to bring him down.

But the rifle was silent. The worst of her strain gradually diminished. She grew restless, wanting to burst free of her confinement. She didn’t. Much as she hated waiting, not knowing what was happening, she went on obeying Sam’s direction to stay where she was.

Time passed, an eternity of it. It had to be full night by now. She brushed away enough of the needles to clear her view, expecting to see nothing but darkness. To her surprise, a silver light filtered down through the pines. The strong light of what must be a full moon.

The moonlight, together with the aroma of the pines, was soothing. She was able to relax her tense muscles. But not her mind. With nothing to do but think, her mind was busy. Random thoughts that went first in one direction, and then another. But always Sam McDonough was the subject of those emotional searches.

Only now, when she was without him, did Eve realize just how much she had come to depend on him.

What’s happened to that willful independence of yours?

All right, so these were extraordinary circumstances. She had a right to depend on Sam. He was an FBI agent, wasn’t he? Assigned to safeguard her until he delivered her to his squad supervisor in Chicago? And maybe, when all was said and done, they had come to count on each other.

You don’t believe that, do you? It’s more than that—much more.

Remembering last night in the root cellar, it was a truth she had to acknowledge. Even back at the plane wreckage she had felt it—this special attachment to Sam, this attraction for a sexy, forceful man that was more than just lust. That had her yearning for him on some deeply emotional level.

Did Sam feel it, too? She hoped he did. She had sensed he might when his arms had enveloped her in the root cellar.

There are the demons that haunt him, Eve.

Nonsense. Just because she had observed a fleeting bleakness in his eyes when they’d first met, had been conscious of a stress in his taut expression, didn’t mean that beneath his current state of amnesia he suffered some secret torment. What kind of evidence was that?

A hollow one, that’s what.

You know you’re falling for him. You’d better watch it. It’s not safe.

Yes, that was true, too. She did need to be careful. It would be so easy to involve herself both physically and emotionally with this Sam McDonough. But what would happen when the other Sam McDonough returned, the hard-edged one whose eyes didn’t spark with humor? That Sam McDonough could seriously hurt her.

Oh, Sam, Sam, where are you when I need you?

How could he possibly—FBI training or not—find his way back to her at night, even with the moonlight to guide him?

Along with all this wild seesawing of worried thoughts and mixed feelings was her memory of Charlie and, whatever his connection with a crime boss, how kind and generous he had been to her. How she continued to mourn him. And probably always would.

Eve didn’t know how long she waited there before she once again caught the muted sound of approaching footsteps. Had their pursuers returned, or could it be—

The footsteps suddenly stopped. She stiffened with both anticipation and apprehension.

A few seconds later, a husky whisper called out to her, “Eve, where are you?”

She had never heard a voice so welcome. Shoving herself up from the pine needles and onto her knees, she cried a glad, “Over here, Sam! I’m over here!”

With several long, eager strides he was with her, falling to his own knees in front of her. All restraint vanished in a rush of joy as her arms reached out to him. His own arms wrapped around her, gathering her against him tightly.

Their reunion was simultaneously sweet and savage as, head lowered, he covered her face with kisses. Eve had never experienced such wonderful kisses. Feverish kisses of both relief and their growing feelings for each other. Kisses of the longings of two souls seeking a connection beyond just the physical. And in between each of them they managed quick, breathless snatches of explanation.

“I heard them nearby and I was terrified they’d caught up with you. That you were dead.”

“Would I do that to you? Never.” He kissed a sensitive area at the side of her neck, making her shiver with delight. “I managed to outrun them.”

“Where—” Eve sucked in her breath as his mouth traveled to her jaw, then her cheeks. She exhaled slowly, weakly. “Where are they now, do you suppose?”

“Gave up for the night, I imagine, and returned to their chopper. What else could they do?”

His lips had found her eyes, which she closed to accommodate him. He began to tenderly kiss each lid. Trembling, she croaked, “But they’ll be back, won’t they? They won’t quit.”

“Yeah, sooner or later they’ll be back. But by then we’ll be long gone. Has anyone ever told you you have the most beautiful eyes?”

“Not lately. I don’t know how you ever found your way back here.”

“The moonlight helped. That and a few landmarks. I may not remember my past, but I did remember those landmarks.” His lips left her eyelids and moved downward along the side of her nose. “And your nose. That’s beautiful, too.”

“Sam, we can’t—”

“No more talk now. Let me concentrate.”

His mouth settled beside her own. But only for a second. Only long enough for him to slowly cross that fraction of an inch between his mouth and hers. He was deliberately torturing her. Eve was on fire with impatience until his mouth finally, fully, claimed hers.

His kiss was more than she could have imagined. A passionate action that involved his teeth nipping gently at her lower lip, then the tip of his tongue licking that same lip and finally his mouth grinding against hers, demanding her response. She obediently parted her mouth, inviting his entry.

Sam complied by sliding his tongue inside, seeking and finding her own tongue. And when he deepened their kiss with an exquisite mating of their tongues, Eve lost all self-control.

It was madness, of course. How could she forget the promise to herself not to get involved with him on this level? That it was dangerous, that when his amnesia lifted he would no longer want her. Nor was she apt to want him. An outcome that would be painful for both of them.

But it was useless. She was helpless. In spite of every warning to herself, she ignored her inner voice and surrendered to the raw pleasure of their kiss, relishing the heat of him, along with his pure, masculine flavor.

When in the end his mouth lifted from hers, Eve was so limp that she would have collapsed if his arms hadn’t been supporting her. He rested his brow against hers for a long moment, rocking her slowly. A low chuckle rumbled out of him.

“You were saying?”

She was so dazed that for a few seconds she didn’t know what he was talking about. Then, understanding, she dragged her head back.

“Thanks to you, Special Agent McDonough, I don’t have a clue what I was talking about. Wait, yes, I do. I was starting to tell you that we can’t possibly move on tonight, even with the moonlight.”

“You’re right. We’ll spend the night here and then go on at first light.”

Eve looked around her. “Right here?”

“Sure. You were warm enough, weren’t you?” he said, indicating the depression in which he had buried her.

“Actually, I was.”

“Then you’ll be even warmer with me beside you.”

The thought of him lying close beside her, sharing his body heat, was unsettling. It was also irresistible.

“Come on,” he said, “help me widen and lengthen this thing.”

It took them only a short time to scrape out enough pine needles to permit the excavation to accept both of them.

“We’ll take off our coats,” he suggested, “and use them as blankets. A double layer over the both of us should be all we need to keep from freezing.”

He was right. The cavity made a snug bed with them settled in it side by side, their shed coats covering them and the excess pine needles pulled in against their sides.

Hand cupping her chin, he turned her face toward his. His mouth again descended on hers. This time, however, his kiss was not a fierce one. Nor a lengthy one. His lips against hers were feather-light but no less pleasant.

A good-night kiss, she thought. She was wrong. Although his mouth left her, his hand did not. It slid under the coats and down to her breasts where he began to caress her soft, swollen flesh. Even with the barrier of her sweater and bra, Eve felt her nipples grow instantly hard. She couldn’t prevent the moan that escaped from her throat, nor her strangled plea that followed it.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Something I want you to like,” he whispered.

His hand didn’t stop at her breasts. It went on, dropping to her belly, which he slowly circled. Only when he reached the waistband of her slacks did his hand pause, as if he were giving her time to understand and sanction his intention.

Already in another daze, Eve didn’t understand. Not, anyway, until that skillful hand of his burrowed its way beneath her slacks, then her panties. She gasped when she felt the heat of his palm in direct contact now with her vulnerable flesh.

Before she could object, or even decide whether she wanted to object, his hand dipped lower, his fingers stirring through the nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

“Sam, this is—” She couldn’t get the words out.

“Do you want me to stop? I’ll stop if you want me to.”

No, she didn’t want him to stop. A mistake though this might be in every way, she didn’t want him to stop. He must have read her silent assent, because his probing fingers searched onward until he found the petals of her cleft. Gently, he parted those folds, inserting his middle finger inside the center of her being. She was already wet, her nub swollen and throbbing as he began to tenderly stroke her.

Eve lost herself in a delirium of yearning, her need for release mounting, mounting. In the end, when the first spasms seized her, she bucked and arched upward, beyond all control as she rode wave after wave of indescribable pleasure.

“You’re beautiful, angel,” he told her. “You’re beautiful in every way.”

She was shaking, unable to respond until her body was at last quiet. “Sam, what about you? We haven’t…satisfied you.”

“Not here. Not now. We’ll get to me later. We’ll save the best for both of us until then. That’s a promise.”

He seemed so sure there would be a
later
. She wanted to believe that.
Did
believe it, even though that kind of thinking could end in grief for her.

He had called her beautiful. Eve knew she was no better looking than scores of other women. But every woman liked to feel she was special in some way, and Sam made her feel just that. Special.

On that satisfying note, secure in his embrace, warm and satiated as never before, she slept.

Like last night in the root cellar, Sam was unable to let himself fall asleep. Not for a while, anyway. His mind was too active. Eve, of course.

Hell, McDonough, can’t you think of anything else?

No, he couldn’t. He was responsible for her.

Yeah, like that’s what’s on your mind.

Okay, so it wasn’t. Not at this moment. At this moment, it was plain lust. Well, that and all these tender feelings he had for her that went beyond more than just his need to protect her.

You could have had her. She was more than willing.

Sure, but he wasn’t. All right, so maybe he was a fool, but it was just as he said. When he made full love to her, he wanted it to be perfect in every way. Reliably warm and comfortable, for one thing, and, for another, with no article of clothing between them. Eve deserved that. Until then, he’d just have to endure this misery of self-denial.