To Love and Protect (10 page)

She nodded.

“Good. Let me go get Mrs. P. so the two of you can meet.”

Forty minutes later David walked back into his office. He’d introduced Liz and his landlady, then had headed back to work. He had his regular assignments to deal with, along with checking in with Ainsley to follow up on what she’d found out.

His message light blinked. He punched the numbers into the phone to retrieve messages, then sat down in his chair. Seconds later, he was standing again, listening to Ainsley’s voice.

“David, page me when you get this message. I heard from one of my sources that a teenage prostitute was found murdered last night. It’s crazy to think she might be involved with Liz and Natasha, but I remember Liz mentioning a teenager helping out at the orphanage. Didn’t you say she was missing? I’ll wait to hear from you.”

He pushed in the numbers for Ainsley’s pager on his cell phone even as he raced toward the stairs. The agent called him back right away.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Heading for the morgue. Did you meet this girl? Can you identify her?”

David reached the parking level and headed for his car. “Yes. I’ll be right there.”

The morgue was an old building on a street of old buildings. The inside had been modernized, but no amount of remodeling could erase the smell of decades of death.

David met Ainsley by the reception desk.

“What did you find out?” he asked.

“Not much. The girl’s between fifteen and seventeen. No family. Her body was found floating in the river this morning. She’d been stabbed. It could have been done by an angry customer. They’ll perform the autopsy tomorrow.”

He followed her deep into the building, then waited to view the body. He hadn’t spent much time with Sophia, but Liz had fondly spoken of her. Of how she’d cared about Natasha and looked out for her. Had that caring been more than the concern of an involved volunteer? Had Sophia been the baby’s mother and had she been killed because of the relationship?

“They’re ready,” Ainsley told him.

He followed her into a large white room with a row of metal body lockers against the far wall. A technician, a small man with glasses, glanced around nervously, then opened one of the lockers and rolled out a sheet-covered body. The man folded back the sheet to expose the girl’s head and bare shoulders.

Her face was bloated, her features distorted, but David knew he’d never seen this girl before. Her face was round, her hair blond and curly, and there was an old scar on her cheek.

“It’s not Sophia,” he said flatly.

Which meant they may never know who she was or why she’d been killed.

He and Ainsley left the morgue together. As they paused by their cars, she sighed. “Now what?”

“Let’s see if we can find Sophia. Maybe she has some answers. Send someone by the orphanage to get as much information as they have, then we’ll start looking.”

“If she’s a teenage prostitute, we don’t have a prayer of finding her.”

“Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

“You think she’s connected?” Ainsley asked.

“There’s enough of a chance that we have to try.”

“Okay. I’ll get right on it and report back as soon as I know something.”

David headed for his car. He would return to the office for a while, then he would go home where Liz was waiting.

Liz. She’d been through hell and there was more to come. He was determined to do his damnedest to keep her safe from everything. Even himself.

Liz woke to the sound of soft singing in a language she didn’t recognize. She blinked in the filtered light and tried to place herself. The room was vaguely familiar but not immediately so. In the back of her mind, a feeling of disquiet warned her of trouble when her memory returned. Her body ached from not enough rest and too much stress. But where was she?

And then she put the pieces together—the judge’s refusal to let Natasha and her leave the country, the bizarre James-Bond-like trip through the city to arrive at David’s apartment without anyone knowing she and the baby were there. David’s careful concern, his insistence that she rest while his landlady, a woman also employed by the embassy, looked after Natasha.

Liz sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed so her feet touched the floor. It was after six. She’d been asleep for nearly two hours. All she wanted was to curl up and rest until morning, but that wasn’t an option.

She stood and made her way to the large bathroom. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, she smoothed back her hair and walked into the living room.

Mrs. P., a tiny woman with gray-white hair and laughing brown eyes, sat in a large wing chair. She sang softly as Natasha finished her bottle.

Mrs. P. looked up and smiled. “I’ve been telling her Russian fairy stories. They are different from what you were told. Darker, but with good life lessons.”

She murmured something in Russian and set the empty bottle on the end table by the chair.

“What a good baby,” she said as she shifted Natasha onto her shoulder and patted her back. “Very smart.”

Liz grinned. “How can you tell?”

“I know these things.”

Natasha gave a very unladylike burp.

“The little one agrees,” Mrs. P. said. “See? She’s
very
smart.”

The older woman stood and handed the baby to Liz.

“I left some food in the refrigerator. Mr. Logan isn’t one to shop for himself.” She tsked affectionately. “A single man like him. He needs a wife.”

Not exactly a direction Liz wanted to go.

“Thank you for looking after Natasha. You’re very kind.”

Mrs. P. smiled. “It was no trouble. I’m in the other apartment on this floor. If you need me, come and knock on my door. Except for my trips to the market, I’m always here.”

She gave a wave and let herself out.

Liz crossed to the kitchen.

A bowl of apples sat in the middle of the small table. In the refrigerator she found potatoes, hamburger, carrots, beets along with milk and cheese. Three loaves of bread nestled together on the counter.

Liz considered the ingredients on hand and the possibility that David wouldn’t phone to let her know what time he would be home.

“Obviously not time for a soufflé,” she told Natasha. “Your great-grandmother might have been Russian, but my college roommate’s family was English. I think we have all the ingredients for shepherd’s pie.”

An hour later the entrée had been put together. All that was needed was some time in the oven to reheat the casserole and a couple of seconds under the broiler to brown the mashed potatoes. Liz gave Natasha a bath, then stretched out in the oversize brocade wing chair with the baby on her chest. The book of fairy tales was written in Russian, but Liz showed her daughter the pictures and made up her own stories based on the simple drawings. By seven-thirty, the baby had drifted to sleep.

Liz meant to put her in the crib, but she must have dozed off herself because the next thing she knew someone was lightly stroking her cheek and murmuring her name.

She liked both the contact and the voice, and she turned her head toward the touch so that a finger brushed across her mouth. The sensual caress made her eyes open.

David leaned over her. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“Good. Better.” She started to sit up and realized Natasha was still stretched across her midsection.

“I’ll take her,” he said as he carefully lifted the baby into his arms. “Is her bed made?”

“Yes.”

Liz had done that before her first nap.

She stood and stretched, then walked into the kitchen where she turned on the stove and washed her hands.

David wandered in a few minutes later. He’d left his briefcase in the living room, but carried a bottle of wine.

“Spanish,” he said. “One of my favorites. I thought I could order from a local restaurant and we could—” He paused as she pulled the casserole out of the refrigerator and slipped it into the oven.

“You’re not expected to cook for me,” he told her.

“You’ve done nothing but look out for me since I arrived in Moscow. Now I’ve invaded your home. Cooking is the least I could do.”

“No one’s cooked for me in ages. I’m not going to say no.”

“Good. Because refusing dinner would make me really crabby.”

“Then I’ll say thank you and leave it at that.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay as long as I don’t think about what’s going on. If I start down that path, though, I get scared and confused, and panic isn’t that far behind.”

“Then I suggest we don’t talk about it tonight. Let’s just relax. You’re safe, we’re taking care of things. Nothing more can be done until morning. Fair enough?”

She nodded, then accepted the glass of wine he offered her.

“We’ve got about thirty minutes until dinner,” she said.

He led the way into the living room where they settled on the sofa. Liz sipped the red wine. It was dry, but a little sweet and went down very easily.

“I haven’t had all that much to eat today,” she said with a grin. “It wouldn’t take much to get me drunk.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he teased. “I like the idea of you drunk.”

“You don’t know what I do under the influence.”

“I’m willing to take the chance.”

She laughed. Yes, there were dangers lurking in the city, and problems to be solved and risks everywhere. But for tonight she felt safe and comfortable. She was determined to enjoy every second of her time in David’s company.

“Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she told him.

He stretched out his arm along the back of the sofa. They were close enough that his hand rested behind her shoulders. She felt his fingers tangle in her hair.

“I remember thinking you were amazingly beautiful,” he said quietly. “After I left five years ago. I would recall our afternoon and evening together and tell myself you couldn’t be as pretty as I thought. Then I saw you at that party at the embassy and I knew I’d been wrong. You were even more beautiful than the image in my brain.”

She ducked her head. “Nice, but not necessary.”

“You don’t think you’re attractive?”

“Sure, but there’s a lot of space between pretty and beautiful.”

“You own all of it.”

“Thank you.”

“So tell me about the men in your life. Why are you adopting a child on your own?”

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows. “Not even a subtle transition.”

“Did there need to be?”

“Apparently not.” She sipped her wine. “I’ve dated and been involved, but I’ve never married. Finding Mr. Right seemed less pressing than adopting a baby, so I went ahead with it and here I am.”

“Why haven’t you married?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Go ahead, as soon as you answer mine.”

Liz set her glass on the coffee table, angled toward him and leaned against the back of the sofa.

“I have a whole list of reasons I usually give,” she said.

“Are any of them the truth?”

“A few. They satisfy curiosity.”

He nodded. “You’ve been busy with your career. Right now you have different priorities. You don’t want to compromise and you haven’t met anyone worth getting excited about.”

“Impressive. You’ve had the same conversation.”

“My mother,” he admitted. “She’d determined to see me happily married. So, Liz, what’s the real, deep, dark, secret reason?”

“Why does it have to be a secret?”

“Because you’ve prepared all the other platitudes to keep the masses happy.”

She laughed. “You do have a way with words.”

“I have a way with a lot of things. Quit ducking the question.”

She’d never much talked about her past, but with David, she found herself wanting to share the important bits. For some reason, she thought he would understand.

“My parents were very much in love,” she said quietly. “They were each other’s world. Looking back, I can see they shouldn’t have had a child. I was only in the way, keeping them from being alone together.”

“That’s rough.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think they meant to hurt me. I always had my grandmother and she loved me enough for five people.”

“That’s worth something,” he told her as he wove his fingers in her hair.

“I agree. I’ve let go of the past and moved on…sort of. My parents were kind people, just interested only in each other. Then my father died in a car accident. I was seven and devastated, but my mother…” Liz closed her eyes as she remembered her mother’s loud sobbing, how she’d keened like a wild animal night after night.

“She never accepted, never recovered. Eventually she just died. The doctors couldn’t figure out why, but my grandmother and I knew it was because her heart had been broken.”

“Is that your deep, dark secret?” he asked. “That if you love someone it will be so completely that you won’t be able to survive without him?”

She’d never articulated her views before, but now she realized that was exactly the problem.

“Yes. I don’t want to be like that. I don’t want to ever love too much or too deeply. I want to have more in my life.”

“So do it. Love differently. Why would you close off that part of your life simply because your parents got it wrong?”

“If you’re going to apply logic, there’s no way I want to have this conversation.”

“Sorry,” he said, and put down his wineglass. “Love is worth the effort.”

“So speaks the man who lives alone.”

“Good point.”

“So why haven’t you married?” she asked. “What is your deep, dark secret?”

“That I want you,” he said, even as he pulled her close and kissed her.

L
iz found herself leaning forward, even as she heard a voice whispering that this was all a mistake. Look what had happened the last time she and David had made love. They’d both been shaken by the experience and run for the hills. Did she want that again? Did she really want to be swept away by the moment and the man and not give any thought to the consequences?

Honestly, yes, she thought as she gave herself over to the tender brush of his mouth on hers. She knew she was reacting to both the uncertainty of her world and David’s drive to keep her safe, as much as the heat that began low in her belly and flared out in all directions. He was her only constant, her only hope. When that fact combined with the warmth of his mouth, the scent of his skin and the way he brushed his fingers against her neck, was it so very wrong to give in?

He pulled back slightly. “Now what was the question?”

She blinked. Had there been a question? “I don’t remember.”

“Good.” He kissed her cheek, her forehead, her nose, then her jaw. From there it was a short journey to her neck where he nibbled and licked and made her squirm in her seat.

“Are you enjoying this or thinking it’s a bad idea?” he asked in a low voice, his breath warm against her damp skin.

“I’m mostly enjoying,” she admitted.

“Should I stop?”

Should he? It was the best plan. Sensible, mature, the one that wouldn’t get her into trouble later.

She shifted closer and wrapped her arms around him. “As long as one of us remembers to turn off the oven so dinner doesn’t burn, no.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s take care of that first.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. As he put an arm around her waist, he urged her toward the kitchen. With a flick of his wrist, he turned off the stove. Then he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her.

She parted for him and caught her breath at the first stroke of his tongue. She felt on fire and instantly ready. Passion called and she wanted to give in right that minute. Only being naked and giving and taking would ease the ache inside of her.

“More,” she breathed, and began to tug on his suit jacket.

He shrugged out of it, not seeming to care when it landed on the kitchen floor. He loosened his tie and removed it. She pulled off her T-shirt.

He groaned low and moved closer. One hand rested on her waist, the other settled on her breast where his long fingers caressed her curves and his thumb teased her already tight nipple.

“Yes,” she whispered, wanting him to touch her everywhere and make her feel alive and out of control. She arched toward him, rubbing her belly against his erection.

Hard and thick and ready, she thought. The insistent pressure against her stomach made her own insides cry out in anticipation. She wanted more—bare skin against bare skin, his thickness stretching her, filling her, even as they kissed and grabbed and took.

He slid his hand from her waist to her back where he unfastened her bra with an ease that left her breathless. She shimmied out of the garment and let it fall.

He didn’t miss a beat. One hand covered her breast again, this time warm skin on warm skin, as he lowered his head and took her other nipple in his mouth.

Her legs trembled and she had to hang on to him to keep from falling in a heap at his feet.

It was good. Better than good. It was amazing. With each flick of his tongue, each pull of his lips, she felt an answering clenching between her legs. She knew she was wet and swollen. The only thing that stopped her from urging him to take things further right away was how good everything felt. She wanted more, but she wanted what she had right now. Aroused yet frustrated, she nibbled her way along his shoulder and licked at his hot skin.

He groaned. His arousal flexed. His teeth grated lightly against her nipple and she had to choke back a scream.

“Take me,” she breathed, dropping her hand between them and rubbing his length. Up and down and up and down until his breathing was as fast and heavy as her own.

“Touch me,” she begged.

He took her at her word and unfastened her jeans. She pushed them down, kicking off her sandals as she went. Then she was naked and he dropped to his knees.

She had less than a heartbeat of warning before he parted her thighs and pressed his mouth against her center. The intimate contact nearly sent her tumbling. She had to hang on to the counter to keep from collapsing.

He licked the length of her, then moved leisurely along her flesh until he found that single point of pleasure. When she sucked in her breath in response to his touch, he chuckled against her.

But his humor faded as he settled into a steady pace—one designed to make her entire body tremble as her muscles tensed and her need for him grew.

It was too much. It was amazing, she thought hazily, still clinging to the tile to stay upright. She couldn’t come like this, but she wasn’t sure she could stop herself. Not when he inserted a single finger inside of her and curled it slightly so he seemed to stroke that one place in tandem with the magic of his tongue.

And then she could no more stop her release than she could stop the seasons. She gasped once, then twice and called out his name as her body shuddered with pleasure. Wave after wave rippled through her, and still he touched her, steadily, lightly, dragging every ounce of it from her, moving his finger in and out as the contractions went on for what felt like hours.

At last she stilled. He straightened and before she could say anything, he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the sofa in the living room.

She lay there, half sitting, half lying, as he ducked into the bedroom, only to return a couple of seconds later with a condom in hand.

She watched him move as he shucked his trousers, socks and boxers. When he was naked, she reached out to stroke him. So smooth, so hard. Mesmerized, she reached forward to press her lips against the very tip of him. She flicked lightly with her tongue and he moaned.

When she would have done more, he pulled back and opened the wrapper of the condom.

“I’d rather be inside you,” he said.

“Yes.” Because that was where she wanted him. Deep. Filling her over and over until her body surrendered again.

He sat next to her and urged her to straddle him. She’d never made love this way but whatever awkwardness she might have felt quickly faded when she lowered herself onto his waiting thickness.

He filled her perfectly, she thought as she sank down until their thighs touched. From this angle, he rubbed her most sensitive places.

The second time she moved up and down she felt her eyes flutter closed. On the third, she sighed. Then he slipped one hand between her thighs and rubbed his thumb against that single spot.

Her muscles clenched. She braced herself on his shoulders and moved faster. Up and down, pleasing them both.

“Look,” he breathed.

She forced her eyes open and saw him watching her. He glanced down and she followed his gaze. Her breasts bounced with each thrust. His hand was between her legs. She could feel as well as see and it was too much. She arched back as her climax claimed her again.

Under her, he stiffened, pushed up and cried out. She felt his tenseness, his release, and they came together in a tangle of bodies and heat and pleasure.

Later, when they’d dressed and cuddled together on the sofa to wait for the dinner to finish heating, David studied Liz carefully.

“What?” she asked, reaching for the wine she’d abandoned in favor of their lovemaking. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m wondering about regrets,” he said. “Do you have any?”

She tucked her long hair behind her ears and sighed. “No. Do you?”

He shook his head. The last time they’d done this, they’d both felt awkward afterward. She’d headed back to her hotel as soon as she’d dressed, and he hadn’t minded her leaving.

Too much, too fast, he thought, remembering his uneasiness. But now… Instead of wanting Liz farther away, he wanted her closer. Connected.

“Are you okay with what we did?” she asked.

“Completely.”

“Good.” Her lips curved up in a smile. “It would be a serious drag if I were feeling all snuggly and close and you couldn’t wait to show me the door.”

“Not a chance.”

Their gazes locked and he felt something flicker between them. Not just the sexual attraction that was always there, but something more, something significant.

Caring? He knew that Liz mattered more than anyone had in a long time. He enjoyed spending time with her and Natasha. He supposed that the thought of a kid should have had him running for the hills, but it didn’t. Did that have something to do with knowing she was leaving in a few days, or had he bonded with Natasha, too?

“So if neither of us wants to bolt, I guess we’ve entered a whole new world,” she said quietly.

“Agreed.”

Emotions swirled through him, but he didn’t try to name any of them. It was enough to feel something for Liz. A nameless bonding. In the end she would leave and he would let her, but for now they could pretend that this was all real and that they had more than the next few days.

Everett fingered the note in his hands. He’d come into his office that morning to find it waiting for him. Even as he read it over and over, he couldn’t believe it was anything but a cruel joke. Yet here he was, hopeful and eager.

He glanced down at the square of paper. Large, looping handwriting filled the sheet. “I thought maybe we could have lunch together today—12:15 work for you?”

Nancy had signed her name, then finished it off with a happy face.

He liked the happy face. The quick drawing made him smile as he tried to convince himself she’d meant what she’d said about them having lunch. He couldn’t stop his insecurity. Sure, she’d stopped by his table and talked to him a couple of days ago, but that didn’t mean anything. What would a wonderful, pretty woman like her see in a guy like him?

He shoved the paper into his pocket and turned to head back to his office when the elevator doors opened and Nancy stepped out.

Her brightly colored scrubs brought out the green in her hazel eyes. Her brown hair looked shiny and bouncy and there was a happy eagerness in her smile that made his heart thunder.

“Everett,” she said when she reached him. “You got my note?”

He nodded, too amazed and thrilled to speak.

“Good. I got scared after I left it. You know, that maybe you were busy or didn’t really want to have lunch with me.”

He stared at her. “Why wouldn’t I want to? You’re perfect!”

She laughed and ducked her head. “Trust me, I’m not at all, but you’re sweet to say so.”

When she looked back at him, he saw something in her big eyes. Something like interest and maybe affection. His chest swelled with pride. Maybe she
did
like him. Maybe she thought he was special.

“Ah, would you like to get some lunch?” he said, motioning to the entrance to the cafeteria.

“That would be great.”

They went through the line together and collected their food. Everett paid for both their lunches, even though Nancy tried to pay for her own. He liked that she didn’t assume he would take care of things. It made him want to do more for her.

They found a quiet table by the window and sat down. When he pulled his chair in, his knee bumped hers. He jerked back and apologized. She gave him that warm smile, the one that made his stomach flip and his throat get tight.

“It’s been one of those mornings,” she said as she dug into her salad. “Four billion things to do and not nearly enough time.”

“Four billion seems like a lot.”

She laughed. “Okay, maybe it was only three billion. I love nursing, you know, helping people, especially kids, but sometimes I get exhausted. I envy you your job, working with numbers and stuff, but math was never my thing.”

“Accounting isn’t exactly math,” he said. “It’s more about being organized and keeping things together.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Another failing of mine. Whatever minor talent I have for that I use up at work.” She glanced around, as if checking to make sure they weren’t overheard, then she leaned toward him. “Will you think less of me if I tell you I can’t balance my checkbook?”

He was surprised, but tried not to show it. “Do you have trouble with it? Would you like me to help?”

She sighed. “I would love to but I’m terrified that if you saw how truly messed up I am at the whole finance thing, you’d run screaming in the other direction.”

“That would never happen,” he promised.

“You say that now…”

“No, Nancy. I mean it.”

“Wow.” She stared at him. “You’re quite the guy, Everett.”

“Thank you. I think you’re special, as well.”

As soon as he spoke the words, he wanted to call them back. What if Nancy hadn’t meant that he was special? What if she thought he was weird, or anal, or just too uptight? But instead of looking uncomfortable, she bit her lower lip and blushed.

“Thank you,” she murmured.

Everett suddenly felt as if he could take on the world. Nancy liked him. He didn’t know how that had happened or why he was suddenly so lucky. He just knew that he didn’t want to do anything to mess this up. Not when for the first time in his life he sensed…potential.

“This is fun,” he said. “We should do it again.”

Nancy gave him a smile. “I’d like that very much,” she told him.

David left early the next morning so he could get his work done and still get home in time to take Liz and Natasha to the orphanage. They’d discussed going in the late afternoon today, then at a different time tomorrow.

Liz dangled the plastic baby keys in front of Natasha and smiled when her daughter reached for them.

“Good girl,” she said. “You’re doing so well.”

She handed her the keys and watched as Natasha stared at them. Sometimes, when it was quiet like this, or when she was with David, she could relax and enjoy her life. But then reality rushed in and she began to worry about what might happen and then it was tough to breathe. She had to fight against the need to run for cover and remind herself that she was in a foreign country. The regular rules no longer applied.