Midnight Hero (13 page)

Desire shimmered, arced into passion. Passion exploded into aching need.

Fire burned inside her. Con's bright, hot fire that consumed everything, yet gave back, tenfold. She slid her hands under his turtleneck, her palms gliding over his smooth, heated skin. Sculpted pecs bunched under her caress, and he groaned.

Pulse pounding, she arched against him, reveling in his arousal. Her fingertips trailed down ridged abs and skimmed along his taut belly. She unsnapped his jeans, his body hard and ready under the rough denim. “Make love to me, Con. So a part of me will always live in you, and you in me.”

She struggled for breath, for hope. For life. “So that no matter what happens, we will always have this moment.”

7:00 p.m.

C
on's heart stumbled.
Oh, yeah.
The appeal he'd waited so long to hear. He grasped Bailey's shirts and tugged them upward. His mind's eye saw him strip them off, along with her jeans. Saw full breasts cupped by the black lace camisole. Milky white skin covered only by skimpy black panties. Her body bared to his stroking hands, arching under his eager mouth. He saw her eyes darken as he slid into her damp heat, her delicious lips part in a gasp of pleasure as she climaxed.

Saw the bad guys bursting in on them at the most inopportune moment, machine guns firing.

“Whoa!” He jerked back from the vision. From the warm, willing woman in his arms.

Fighting his way out of the passion-drugged high was like trying to stop a speeding getaway car by standing spread-eagled in the middle of the freeway. He was just as likely to get mowed down. His breathing as jagged as his composure, he gently grasped Bailey's hands and removed them from the hot zone. “As much as I want to make love to you, darlin'—” He sucked in a shaky breath and pulled down her rumpled shirts. “We can't.”

She stared at him, dazed and vulnerable. “Why not?”

Damn, with her looking at him with her heart in her eyes, breaking it off wrenched his guts. When seconds ago, he'd felt her love and desire pouring into him in a heady rush. When her sweet taste still flooded his palate. Her flowery, feminine scent still tantalized his nostrils. When his need still roiled his senses.

When he did not know if he
would
survive the night.

In spite of reassuring Bailey to the contrary, in spite of his
training, and SWAT on alert, nothing was certain. He'd seen incidents explode without warning—turn lethal between one breath and the next. Watched fellow officers die so quickly they didn't realize what was happening. He did not know if he would ever have a chance to make love to the woman who held his heart.

“Please, Con,” she whispered. “I need you.”

He groaned. “I
want
to.” Tempted, he scrubbed an unsteady hand over his jaw. Battled the throbbing ache. There weren't enough baseball stats in the universe to distract him. Not enough icebergs in Antarctica to douse the volcano seething inside.

He silently counted to a hundred. “Baby, there is not enough blood in my body to make love to you
and
operate my brain. If the bad guys show up, I won't hear them until too late. I sure as hell won't be in any shape to fight.”

She blinked. Blinked again. “I'm not…I didn't…”

“Not to mention,” he continued in a gentle tone, “I don't want our first time together to be here, like this. Not under these circumstances. Rushed. Desperate.”

The sensual haze cleared from her eyes like morning mist burned away by harsh daylight. Color flooded her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands. “I've lost my mind. I'm so sorry.”

He heaved a silent sigh. For a few minutes, he'd wondered if he'd also hurtle over the cliff into a freefall. Now that both of them had stepped back from the brink of insanity, tumbling over the edge was impossible. “It's all right, sweetheart. You've ridden too many scary highs and rough lows today. It's bound to affect your equilibrium. Only natural to seek comfort.” He'd experienced the same highs and lows, the same fears. But he couldn't afford to seek comfort. He had to stay strong—at least on the outside.

She squeaked like a stepped-on kitten. “
You
were comforting.
I
attacked you.”

“Did you hear complaints?” He kissed the bright curls on top of her head. “I'll take a rain check on that tactical assault.”

“How can you possibly even want me when I'm so…unworthy?” Her agonized question was muffled in his shirt.

“None of that. I'll always want you. Every minute of every day for the rest of my life.”

“Self-control has never been my strong suit where you're concerned. I got caught up in the feelings and forgot where we are and the situation we're in. That's not like me at all.”

He grinned. The all-male part of him loved knowing he could blow her mind with mere kisses. Just wait until he got her in his bed. He'd send her into nuclear meltdown. “That little confession makes me feel like the luckiest guy alive.”

“I can feel you grinning. I'm such a doofus.”

“I'm not laughing at you, baby. And you're anything but a doofus.” He rubbed the taut, quivering muscles in her back, pleased when she relaxed. “For a civilian operating under incredibly stressful circumstances, you're doing great.”

“I jeopardized your safety.” She sounded near tears. “I'm sorry. I never want to hurt you. In any way.”

“Hey, now.” He tipped up her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. “Don't be so hard on yourself. You didn't do anything wrong, and you didn't hurt me. I wouldn't have let things get out of hand.” Close, but he'd pulled out of the firing line in time.

Barely.

“I had this romanticized view of you…a valiant knight in shining armor. I didn't want to face the gritty truth, the blood, the violence, the death.” She swallowed so hard it looked like it hurt. “But this job is what you're meant to do.” She sighed. “I'm just not sure I can handle the day-to-day reality of it.”

“That's your choice to make.” And he prayed she would choose him.

“Yes.” She gulped again. “Con, even if I find the courage to stay with you, it might not be the right choice. You might regret being with me if I can't support you the way I should.”

So, they'd circled around to that again. Fear of abandonment was nipping at her heels. “You think even if you choose to stay, I'm going to suddenly decide you're not the woman I think you are? And walk out on you, like your father?” When she flinched, he gathered her close and kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her warm, succulent lips. “When are you going to get it through your head that I know you, inside and out? That nothing you say or do will ever make me leave you?”

She sat up and folded her arms protectively across her body. “I wish I had your strength instead of being weak. I wish I could be an asset to you, instead of a liability.”

The storm of shame in her gaze ripped out his heart. He'd been in the echoing, ultra-modern apartment she'd been moved to from her childhood home. She'd grown up with everything anyone could want. Everything but emotional support. Physical affection. Unconditional love. He was going to make that up to her. If it took until he was a hundred and she was ninety-five. “Come here.” He sat up and tugged her close. “You've helped me numerous times tonight. You thought up the fire alarm. How to hang up the signal sheet. And alerted me to the criminal-stopping properties of acetic acid. You are not a weakling, or a liability.”

Tears ran down her face. “I can't help thinking about my dad. I don't know what drove him, or why, but he spent his entire life trying to slay dragons. He was strong and brave, but in the end, it killed his marriage. Killed our family. Killed
him.
If he wasn't strong enough or brave enough to slay the dragon, how can I possibly be?”

“That might be the problem. You're a pacifist, darlin'. Maybe you shouldn't be trying to slay the dragon, but trying to figure out what it says when it roars. Come to terms with it.”

“An approach I never considered.” She frowned. “For a woman who doesn't believe in violence, I've been spending an awful lot of time trying to figure out how to assassinate an integral part of me. Talk about self-destructive.”

“Don't be afraid to look deep inside and see what's there. Maybe you need to discover what you're made of and accept the woman you really are. Make peace with yourself.”

“I'm a coward, that's who I am. I've been quaking in terror since this whole thing started. I wish I had your confidence.”

He wished she did, too. He abhorred seeing her tortured by anxiety. Hated her self-doubt. Hurt at seeing her second-guess every thought, every action. She'd been so smothered, she didn't trust her instincts. “You think I haven't been scared?”

“You don't seem afraid.”

“Only a fool wouldn't be scared. I know what kind of odds
we're up against. But I can't help anyone if I allow feelings to overrule logic. I've been trained to contain my emotions. You haven't. You have a lot more courage than you realize.”

“How can you say that?”

“Courage is not lack of fear, Bailey. It's the ability to act in spite of it. You've been right beside me, pulling your weight through this entire ordeal. Believe me, you have courage.”

“I'm not so sure.”

“By the time we get out of here, you will be. We'll know each other more deeply than we ever thought possible. Who we are, what we are. As individuals and a couple.”

“Maybe in the most horrible circumstances possible.”

“You keep projecting the worst-case scenario, don't you?” He grabbed her hand and enfolded her small, cold fingers in his. “Okay. Let's drag out your biggest fear and stare it in the face. If one of us, or God forbid, both of us don't make it out of here, the survivors can cling to the knowledge that we did our damnedest. We fought the good fight. To the bitter end.”

“What if I can't fight the good fight?” Her lips quivered and she pressed them together. “My worst fear is that I'll let you down. I'll fail. And you will die because of my shortcomings.”

He squeezed her hand. “That is
not
going to happen.”

“It could.” Her face crumpled. “Because I'm not exactly a kick-ass kind of woman. I'm short on qualities like power and confidence and assertiveness.”

Dammit.
Con forced down the lump in his throat. She hadn't been abandoned only by her father, but her mother as well. Dr. Ellen Chambers had provided every material necessity, every social grace and educational opportunity. But what her daughter needed most, she'd been unable to give. She'd retreated into her own pain and left Bailey to struggle through the emotional minefield alone.

His father's death had given him and his family up-close-and-personal acquaintance with the crippling effects of sudden loss. The paralyzing properties of grief. They'd all slam danced with survivor's guilt. But they'd clung together. Navigated the murky waters as a team, throwing each other a lifeline when one of them sank under waves of despair.

He shook his head. Dr. Chambers had coped the best she could. He shouldn't blame, shouldn't judge. But when he saw the consequences to Bailey, he couldn't help but feel resentment and anger. “No, you aren't a kick-ass woman. You never had to be.” He smiled at her terminology. “You got your point across without it. But you never know what you're made of until you're tested. Adversity is bringing out your true character.”

She paled in the lantern light. “How can you possibly love me?” She snatched her hand away, scrambled up and out of the tent.

“Whoa! Wait a minute.” He surged to his feet and followed her into the dark store. A painted full moon and luminescent stars overhead cast a faint shine, allowing him to see her standing rigid beside a grove of artificial trees. His senses scanned the area. The mall was deathly quiet, no signs of pursuers.

He strode to her, but she kept her back to him, her fists clenched. He rested his hands on her shoulders. “That wasn't criticism. I'm trying to help you see what I see.”

Her shoulders hitched. “You need a powerful woman by your side. Like my mom. A powerful woman never lets anyone get the better of her.”

“Which isn't always an asset.” He stroked her tangled curls. “You've got something a lot more valuable than power. You walk into that burn ward every week with a spring in your step and a smile on your face.”

She turned, her eyes wounded and wary. “That's no big deal.”

“It's a very big deal. For two hours, you bring hope and laughter to those scarred, hurting, sometimes dying kids and make their lives better, make them forget their pain. You give them the rare and valuable gift of your very best. Do you know how much inner fortitude that takes?”

“It never seemed all that remarkable to me.”

“Which is why you've got guts up the wazoo, baby.”

She tugged on a water-dewed fir branch next to her. Droplets scattered across the carpet, the soft plops loud in the heavy silence. “I've never thought of giving to others as a strength.”

“Well, it is. I don't have that kind of strength. I could never do what you do with those kids. It would hurt so much, I'd hold
part of myself back from them. But you're not afraid to offer everything in your heart. To give until it hurts.” He moved closer and cupped her face in his hands. She was shaking. “You wear mercy on your sweet face every hour of every day. For everyone but yourself. Cut yourself a break, darlin'.”

“Well, when you put it that way…” She worried her lower lip between her teeth. “I guess I am stronger than I thought.”

“You are. You refused to let your mother subjugate you, mold you into the image she wanted. Alone, you grew from a sheltered, broken-hearted teenager into a remarkable woman with a hell of a lot to offer. To me and the world.”

Her breath caught, and her trembling increased with the force of her realization. “Oh, Con. You're right. Young and naive as I was, I fought for and won my independence. I was determined to carve out my own life, and I did.” She stared up at him, hope glistening in her gaze. “I guess I need to recognize and have confidence in my abilities, huh?”

“You're smart and open-minded enough to admit your mistakes and learn from them.” He brushed his thumbs over the smooth, baby-fine skin of her cheekbones. “Easy enough to take that conviction and turn it into confidence.”