More Than Friends (The Warriors) (18 page)

Despite his long–held fantasies about a life together, Brett refused to lie to himself about the consequences of revealing the truth about their relationship to Leah. The minutes passed, and he steadily lost hope that they might find their way back to each other in a lasting and meaningful way.

Leah spent the next twenty–four hours trying to come to grips with Brett’s stunning revelations about their shared past, her escalating worry about the threat to their son by terrorists, and the additional stress of recalling portions of the time she and Brett had spent together in Washington, D.C. In addition, she grappled with the reality that she’d loved him enough to have his child without the benefit of marriage.

She withdrew, emotionally and physically, keeping to her side of the bedroom whenever he was in their room. She sat in front of the fireplace when he left her to her own devices with the cautionary comment that she wasn’t to answer the door under any circumstances.

Leah felt grateful that Brett didn’t seem inclined to initiate conversation, but she also grew increasingly unsure of herself around him. With her uncertainty came embarrassment that she’d thrown herself at him. Not once, but several times.

She remembered her intense love for him, not just the highly charged sensuality of the passion they’d shared. Her dreams contained such erotic and arousing images that she wakened during the night to find herself drenched in perspiration and her body tightly coiled with desire that she knew only Brett could assuage.

As hard as she tried, though, Leah failed to recall any of her emotions during their years apart. Had she continued to love him? Or had she become bitter enough to turn her back on him, thus deliberately depriving him of a place in his son’s life? If she’d done the latter, Leah wondered how she’d rationalized such behavior in her own mind. No matter how hurt or angry she’d been, she hated the possibility that she’d robbed her child of his father.

Mired in her conflicted thoughts, Leah remained silent and aloof even after Brett informed her shortly before dawn the next morning that they needed to move on to another location. She cooperated, dressing and packing hurriedly, willing, despite the strain between them, to defer to his knowledge of the best way to handle the threat posed by the agents of the terrorist faction tracking them.

Brett stopped at yet another rental–car agency to exchange their vehicle for a replacement several hours following their departure from the Seaside Lodge. Leah exited the car, eager for temporary respite from the boredom of being a passenger and staring at the scenery.

Despite his protest that he didn’t want her exposed to any possible danger, she reminded Brett that they were both vulnerable. He persisted in trying to tuck her back into the passenger seat. She grew adamant, refusing to cooperate. "We’re in this together, so stop trying to baby me. I hate it!"

Brett ground his jaws together. Leah watched the emotions that flashed across his face, feelings that were so diverse, they startled her, but he quickly controlled himself. He jerked a nod in her direction, glanced around the parking lot, scanning the area with long–standing practice, and then started to step away.

Leah stopped him by placing her hand on his arm, her tone subdued when she said, "I just want to stretch my legs. I’ll be careful, and I won’t wander off. I promise."

He searched her face, worry in his eyes, but he still nodded reluctantly and turned toward the rental agency clerk, who was headed straight for them. Brett signed the appropriate paperwork and asked the young man to bring the car around. He accepted Leah’s help in unloading and then reloading their luggage, but he insisted on handling the heavier pieces.

Although it took her several hours, Leah finally realized that she had to be more patient with herself when dealing with the emotional confusion she felt and the avalanche of memories that had begun to flood her mind again. The rational side of her personality asserted itself, cautioning that it would take time to sort through all of the information her overloaded brain and emotions were trying to process. As a result, she made a concerted effort to relax as the afternoon unfolded.

Leah turned her attention to Brett, who seemed to grow more tense and wary despite the expression of outward calm on his face. She closely watched him as they continued north on less traveled back roads that led out of Oregon and into rural Washington State. Each time he glanced at her, she had the impression that he was still restraining himself by the sheer force of his will.

Restraining himself from doing or saying what? she wondered.

By the time they checked into adjoining rooms at a bed–and–breakfast in rural Washington late in the day, Leah had begun to sense the emotional vulnerability that Brett kept hidden behind an enigmatic mask that he repeatedly donned—a mask that rarely slipped out of place. She suspected that he used it as a tool in his work, not just as a means of protecting his feelings when he feared being hurt or rejected.

Standing in the doorway that separated their bedrooms that evening and watching him unpack, Leah remembered his comment about the cost of his lie when he’d told her that he hadn’t loved her enough to marry her. He’d wanted to protect her from the jeopardy of sharing her life with a man who was exposed to constant danger. She didn’t doubt either comment now, but she still viewed his withdrawal from her six years earlier as a statement that he simply hadn’t loved her enough to find a way to make a life together. Neither had he credited her with the ability to be an equal partner, thus denying her the choice of standing at his side and facing together whatever challenges life offered. Had she been so spineless a creature that he’d viewed her as a weak link—perhaps even an unwanted burden—in his high–risk world?

Leah also began to grasp the emotional isolation inherent in his work, not just his anxiety that he might endanger innocent lives if he allowed himself to forge normal relationships. Thanks to her complex feelings for Brett, she already knew that the act of loving put people at risk. In his case, however, loving anyone carried with it the added risk of acts of revenge and lethal threats from his enemies. The gravity of that burden shook Leah as nothing else could.

Doubt surface yet again in her mind. She’d become acutely sensitive to his response to her as a woman during their time together, and she still felt bewildered and frustrated by his rejection. She knew he wanted her. She’d sensed and felt his desire, and she knew his feelings for her went far beyond the physical.

She wondered now if he was denying his desire in order to protect them both from an entanglement that had no future, or if he’d persuaded himself that he was simply protecting her for the sake of their son. Filled with uncertainty, Leah sighed as she leaned against the doorframe, unwittingly drawing Brett’s attention.

He looked up from his open suitcase. "Don’t you feel well?"

"Your world is a living hell, isn’t it?"

He appeared momentarily startled by her question, but he quickly concealed his reaction. "Sometimes," he conceded, surprising her with his candor. "Not always, though."

"I don’t know how you cope with the isolation."

He shrugged and glanced down at the sweater he’d pulled out of his luggage. He gave it a blank look before setting it aside. "It’s my job, Leah. There are a lot of people like me who work for the government, so I don’t consider myself unique." Changing the subject, he asked, "How about some supper? There’s a buffet downstairs, or we can ask to have something sent up."

"I’m not hungry."

"Leah, you need to eat."

She shook her head and turned away. She already knew that the kind of nourishment she needed wasn’t available to her. She wanted Brett to put his arms around her and hold her. She realized that intimacy with him wouldn’t solve the crisis they faced, but she still craved the full force of his passion. She longed to experience, just for a little while, the sense of completeness she knew she would find in his arms.

Leah didn’t bother to close her bedroom door. Brett would just open it again. As she removed her nightgown from her overnight bag, she wondered if he would ever risk allowing her to breach the walls surrounding his heart.

She gripped her nightgown when she heard his footsteps as he followed her into her room. Her nails dug into the silk fabric until she consciously forced herself to relax.

"I’ll have something sent up to the room. Soup and sandwiches, that sort of thing."

Leah’s shoulders slumped, but she managed the effort required to cross the room. "Whatever you want."

Brett stood in the open doorway long after she closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. He finally spoke, his voice rich with despair when he said, "I want
you
, Leah. I want you so badly my soul aches."

** ** **

Only half asleep, Brett opened his eyes and reached for his weapon when he heard a floorboard creak a few feet from his bed. Poised to roll onto the floor, he froze when he saw Leah step into a puddle of moonlight and then pause. He drew back his arm as tension tightened every muscle in his powerful body.

He listened to the sound of her shallow breathing, and her obvious anxiety shredded his resistance to her. "Can’t you sleep?"

"No."

He barely heard her for the faintness of her voice. "Would you like to talk?"

"I remember us. I remember the way we were. I feel as if I’m standing under a waterfall of memories." Despite the semi–darkness of the room, she looked straight at him. She held her hands in front of her, her fingers tangled together, her body rigid with tension. "Was it so easy for you to walk away from what we had?"

He swore, the word harsh enough to make Leah flinch. "It was the toughest thing I’ve ever done, but I know I made the right decision. Unfortunately what I’ve always feared might happen, has happened. You and Matthew are vulnerable because of me." He momentarily wished for a drink, a habit he’d long since abandoned.

"I want you, Brett."

He pulled himself up against the headboard of the bed, his gaze intent, his senses alert to the slightest hesitation on her part. "Are you sure?"

"I’m not sure of anything. All I know is that I want a night with you, but I keep wondering if you’ll turn away from me again. I need to know the answer, Brett. I need to know if I’m just an obligation, or if you want me as much as I want you."

Too stunned to speak, he simply stared at her. He wondered if she understood what she was saying, what she was offering him. As far as he was concerned, she’d just thrown him an emotional lifeline.

She took another step forward. "Do you… want me?"

He stopped denying himself in that instant. He no longer possessed the fortitude or the strength to be honorable. Lifting the sheet away from his naked body, he shoved it aside. His desire evident, he articulated his need in a voice resonant with the raw emotions coursing through him. "I want you more than I want to breathe, Leah."

Sighing softly, she discarded her nightgown as she took the final steps to his bed. "Tonight belongs to us. No obligations, no commitments, and no promises to each other that won’t be kept. Agreed?"

His heart absorbed the wound and kept on beating, and he took responsibility for her need to qualify the terms under which she was willing to express her desire. Leah paused at the side of the bed, exquisite in her nakedness, but also fragile emotionally. Brett sensed that she would not touch him until he answered her.

"Agreed," he finally said.

He watched her then through narrowed eyes that had turned black with need, waiting for her to continue at her own pace. Because he loved her, Brett told himself that he could handle the truth as she viewed it. His conscience called him a liar, but he knew that beggars had little to bargain with, so he said nothing more.

"Tomorrow we’ll face reality," she whispered as she knelt at his side and smoothed her fingertips over his sensual lips, strong chin, and then down across his broad chest. "You’ll go back to hunting terrorists and revolutionaries, and I’ll return to the task of rebuilding my life. Until then, I want to forget that the world even exists."

"It’s more than I expected," he admitted, hungry for her but still saddened by her need to establish conditions, but realistic enough to accept her terms because he knew he had no other choice. He remained immobile, although his insides burned and throbbed for the intimacy he craved with her. "Leah, I still love…"

She shook her head. Her long golden hair rippled over her shoulders and down her back. "No! Don’t tell me you love me. I don’t want you to lie, however unintentionally. I just want you to make the world go away for a little while."

She leaned forward, kept him from speaking when she covered his lips with her own, and slowly trailed her fingers through the thick, coarse hair that covered his muscular chest and flat belly. She bathed him with the fire of her desire, her tongue like a darting point of flame as she repeatedly dipped into the wet heat of his mouth. Meanwhile, her fingertips danced over his flesh with purposeful intent.

Despite the restraint required, Brett gave her the freedom to explore, to reacquaint herself with a body she had once known as well as her own. He gripped the bedding beneath his hands as he savored her intoxicating taste and the feel of her fingertips traveling like hot wands up and down his chest and across his thighs. The muscles of his body bunched and jumped beneath her evocative touch.

Leah sucked his tongue into her mouth and worried the tip of it with her teeth. Brett shuddered, a low groan catching in his throat. He watched her through half–closed eyes when she drew back and peered at him, a crooked little smile lifting the edges of her mouth. Shock rocked him when she lifted his hand to her lips and pressed tender kisses to the tip of each finger before scorching his palm with an open–mouthed kiss that sent fire streaking into his soul.

His head fell back and he closed his eyes, shattered by her gentleness, stunned by her sensuality. No woman in his experience had ever loved him with her tender intensity. No woman had ever satisfied his soul
and
his body. No woman but Leah had ever possessed his heart. No other woman ever would.