Hooper, Kay - [Hagen 09] (8 page)

"No," she murmured, an automatic protest
against what was, as his lips lifted from hers.

"Yes." He kissed one side of her trembling
mouth, then the other, his big body taut against hers. "It's too
late now." His voice was deep, husky.

"The game – ?" she whispered.

He half laughed, a rough sound that was almost a groan.
"Who the hell's talking about a game ..." His mouth fitted
Itself over hers again, possessing.

A vague sense of alarm swept through Jennifer, even as
her mouth responded to his. No game ... No game now, so quickly, and
no chance of not being hurt if it ended badly. It was real, it was
all real, and she had known it would be.

She felt one of his hands in her hair, tangling,
holding her head firmly while he plundered her mouth, and a
whimper of pleasure and pain escaped her at the force of him.
Instantly, he gentled, the fingers in her hair caressing, his lips
softening, the hard arms around her cradling.

"Dammit, Jenny," he muttered, lifting his head
and staring down at her, "how am I supposed to keep my mind on
my job? Why did you have to be the one to walk into the study last
night?"

"Of all the gin joints," she managed
unsteadily.

He laughed a little. "Right. You had to walk into
mine. The lady in red, a stolen bracelet in her hand and panic
stirring in her eyes."

"It wasn't stolen," she said idly, fascinated
by the way his lips shaped words. "Just taken back."

He kissed her again, eyes restless. "Whatever. You
haven't been out of my mind since then. And now I've got to go back
into that house and play poker with a shark."

"Do you have to?" She had forgotten everything
else, and his words implied that he would soon leave her – an
implication she was passionately against.

"Yes." He stifled a sudden groan as she moved
against him in protest, her body instinctively seductive, and he slid
his hands down to her curved hips, holding her firmly away from him.
"Jenny," he warned huskily.

Some part of Jennifer's mind told her to get her
splintered control back quickly before she made a total fool of
herself, but it was gone. Irretrievably cast to the winds. She knew
he wanted her and that was enough, for now. "I want you,"
she told him fiercely.

Dane half closed his eyes, fighting for a command over
his body and senses that he hadn't expected to lose, a control he had
never before lost. The professional part of him that had always
maintained a certain detachment had vanished. He wanted her,
right now, here in the woods like some pagan act, their clothes
scattered, moss for a bed. He wanted her naked against him, wild in
passion, and that need burned in him like a fire almost out of
control.

But it was
Jenny
he wanted, the very – what
had she said earlier? – the very essence of her, not just a
female body matching his in passion. And that desire couldn't be
satisfied by a brief and necessarily hurried joining hidden In the
woods. He wanted to take her to bed for a week, a month, to learn her
so thoroughly that no part of her held a surprise for him –
except the surprise of eternal fascination.

"Jenny," he said roughly, "there isn't
time."

She went still, gazing up at him as her blue eyes shaded
abruptly toward gray. Uncertain. Doubtful.

He framed her face in his hands. "I want you,"
he told her in a tone that left no doubt of truth. His thumb brushed
her trembling lips in a small caress, and he managed a crooked,
rueful smile. "But I can't stop other things I've already set in
motion. And I won't cheat either of us by trying to fit lovemaking
into a schedule."

"Because it isn't a game?" she whispered, very
aware of his emphasis on the word
lovemaking.

"Because it isn't a game," he agreed. "A
few days – and then there'll be time for us." His gaze
moved restlessly over her face. "Do you understand, Jenny?
The other things aren't more important, they're Just – more
imperative right now."

Though her body still throbbed with unsatisfied
desires, Jennifer's mind was at last beginning to clear. And if
a large part of her trusted him implicitly, there was still that
rational, reasoning part that distrusted instinct and demanded
answers. His discovery of Kelly's counterfeit plates had sounded
accidental when he had explained it to her; why was it now so
"imperative" that it had to be dealt with on a careful
schedule?

Why had he really come here?

"Jenny?"

Her hands had slipped down to rest on his chest, and she
unconsciously gripped the lapels of his jacket. "What are you,
Dane?" she asked, mystified.

His crooked smile reappeared, and the violet eyes,
masked now, were very intent on hers. "A gambler and a thief.
You're thinking of hitching your fate to a rogue star, honey. And
that's the last warning you'll get from me."

She absorbed that as he took her hand and led her to the
car, but when he opened the driver's door she paused, looking at him
searchingly. She felt peculiarly displaced, as if some headlong rush
had left her quivering on the brink of something,
half-committed, still vaguely uncertain. She tried to think,
wondering if that were possible right now. "Umm . . . you were
going to tell me if I rattled Kelly."

"You did." Dane, too, seemed distracted, but
his shuttered eyes never left her face. "He came back into
the parlor and then excused himself again immediately. Phone calls to
take care of, he said."

"So, he'll look for the plate? And find it in that
guard's room?"

"Very likely."

"Then what? The guard will deny taking it."

"Of course, since he's innocent."

"He'll be fired, won't he?"

"Maybe." Dane hated saying that in a hard
tone. hated seeing the dismay on her face. Without Intending to,
he added more gently, "He'll be taken care of, Jenny. I promise.
He won't suffer for this."

She relaxed just a bit, clearly trusting him in that.
"I-I see. Then what will you do?"

"Play poker." He shrugged. "Find out
what's going on. Look for the other press, the plate. Find out if
Kelly's passing counterfeit money."

"Because you owe a friend in the Treasury
Department?"

"Because I owe a friend."

"Won't Kelly be suspicious when the guard denies
everything?" she asked, talking now more for the sake of
prolonging their time together than anything else.

"Probably. I'll deal with it, somehow."

Jennifer fell silent. There seemed nothing more to ask,
except the one question she wouldn't voice aloud.
When
will
I see
you
again?

"Jenny..."

"I know," she said hurriedly. "I have to
go."

He reached out to tip her chin up, and leaned over the
open car door, kissing her firmly and thoroughly. And that kiss left
her in no doubt that desire was still very much present, and still
very real.

"Don't forget me," he said softly.

Silently, she got into her car and started it as he
closed the door. Then, with a last half-baffled look at him, she
drove slowly off down the rutted track toward the main road.

Dane remained there until he could no longer see or hear
the car, until the forest swallowed it – and her. Then he
turned slowly and started back toward the house. A glance at his
watch told him he still had time before dinner, that the interlude
with Jennifer had spanned minutes only.

He wondered if he was being a damned fool.

A soft whistle caught his attention just as he found a
way back into the overgrown garden near the side of the house, and he
paused, looking around.

"Here," Skye said in a low voice, stepping out
from the early evening shadows beneath what might once, In an era of
garden parties, have been an arbor.

Dane looked at him for a moment, then glanced around to
make certain they were alone. There was no one in sight, no sound to
be heard. Joining his partner in the dimness of the arbor, he said in
an equally quiet tone, "Taking a chance."

"Couldn't be helped," Skye said. "Mind if
I ask you a question?"

"You will anyway," Dane muttered.

"You're so right. When are you going to tell your
lady the truth?"

Dane didn't answer for a moment, or look at the other
man. Instead, he gazed toward the house, senses automatically probing
to alert him in case someone approached. "The truth?" he
said finally. "Ten years of lies, shadows, and half-truths. What
can I tell her?" Then, realizing, he shot his partner a sharp
look. "You saw us out there."

"Sorry. Purely unintentional, I assure you. I was
looking for you. And you didn't answer the question."

"Yes, I did."

"Cut it out," Skye said roughly. "You
know what I'm talking about."

They stood gazing at each other, two men who had been
partners for a decade and best friends much longer than that. Both
big men, both with bright eyes and shadows inside. Men whose shared
pasts formed a bond rarely put into words. Men who knew each other
too well to be able to dissemble; between them, there was little left
except the unvarnished truth.

"She talked about honor, Skye," Dane said
tautly. "What could I say to that, except more half-truths? What
could I tell her? If I have any honor left to me, it's been hacked to
pieces over the years."

"That isn't true, and you know it."

"I don't know anything anymore. Except that I am
what she thinks I am. A gambler and a thief."

"No. That's the masquerade."

"Is it? When does the actor become the role? We
both know it happens sooner or later. Maybe I need Jenny to remind me
that I crossed that line a long time ago."

Skye drew a deep breath and released It slowly. "So.
You're in love with her."

It hit Dane like a physical blow, a fist driving into
him, bruising some integral part of him. But he didn't deny it.
Because the unaccustomed tangle of emotions suddenly made sense, and
he saw what his partner had seen first.

He was in love with Jennifer. At some moment during
the past twenty-four hours, she had become vitally important to him,
as necessary as his next breath. He didn't know when it had happened.
Perhaps minutes ago, when he had held and kissed her. Or before, when
she had so comically related her mother's intention of poisoning his
wife, if one existed. Or even last night, when a lady in a red dress,
a stolen bracelet in her slender hand, had gazed at him with panic In
her eyes.

"Damn," he said softly.

"All this talk about honor," Skye murmured,
"because you're a gambler, and her father lost her home in
a poker game. So she asked you – or you're asking yourself –
If there are any lines you won't cross. There are, Dane. You think I
don't know after all these years?"

"How can you, when I don't?"

"But you do know. That certainty was always yours,
or you'd have never gotten into this business. It's being in love –
with her in particular – that's thrown you. You've already
committed yourself to this job, which is one Instance of Integrity,
by the way; you're stuck in the masquerade for the duration, and it's
sheer habit to stick to those half-truths you were talking about.
She's got buckets of doubts, understandable after what happened to
her father. But I didn't notice those doubts holding her off very far
a few minutes ago."

"Voyeur," Dane muttered, but with a spark of
amusement.

Satisfied with the reaction, Skye went on calmly. "I'd
be willing to bet, assuming Jennifer's instincts are in good working
order, that she knows integrity when she sees it. She'll probably be
mad as hell when you finally confess, but I doubt she'll be very much
surprised."

"She could never love a gambler," Dane said
roughly.

"She's already loved one," Skye pointed out,
and before his partner could respond, he added, "And, to
you, gambling is business. The odds and skill fascinate you, not the
winning. You might have folded a few times with a winning hand, but
you've never dealt off the bottom to win. That's another line you
haven't crossed."

"I may have to cross it this time."

After a moment, Skye asked, "Is Kelly that good?"

"Rumor has it. And unless he starts passing that
phony money from the start, I'll have to back him right to the wall.
We don't have a hope in hell of finding that press unless he leads us
to it, and I doubt hell go anywhere near it until he needs money
badly. I have to win this time. I have to."

"It's business, Dane."

"No. This time, it's personal. I
want
to
beat him. Don't you see? I can't tell myself there's a precise line
between right and wrong, a line I'm balancing on. Not this time."

"You want to beat him because you're in love with
Jennifer. Hell, it's so obvious.
That
is your point of honor.
You can't stomach what Kelly did to Jennifer and her mother; you
can't walk away from it; and you can't leave somebody else to clean
up the mess. You promised her she'd have her home back. And you'll
get it back for her, come hell or high water. Because you love her,
and you made a promise. If that isn't integrity, then I don't
know what is."

Dane chuckled suddenly, the sound of balance restored.
"I don't know if you're right, but it sounds good."

"I'm right. Trust me."

After a glance at the luminous dial of his watch, Dane
murmured, "Ten minutes until dinner. God, this has been the
longest hour of my life. They'll think I'm lost out here." He
looked at his partner. "Why were you looking for me?"

"A slight hitch in the plan."

"'You couldn't find Seton's room?"

"Oh, I found the room. And Seton found me in it,
worse luck. The only thing I could think of was to have him pack a
bag quick and get him out of there."

Dane frowned a little. "So Kelly will assume he got
nervous when Jenny showed up, and bolted?"