My Spy (30 page)

“That was supposed to be a compliment. You were overwhelming. And that red lace.” He shook his head. “I'd ask you to frame it, except then you couldn't wear it.” He tried to stand up and winced. “My leg's paralyzed.”

Annie shot forward. “Sam!”

“Only temporary. You grabbed me with your hand when you—”

“Why didn't you say anything?”

“At that particular moment I wasn't feeling any pain,” he said dryly.

Frowning, Annie reached for his leg. “Let me take a look. You might have done some real damage.”

Sam hauled her back down beside him. “Relax, Doc.”

“But—”

“I'm okay.” He brushed his fingers through her hair. “Actually, I'm damned fine.”

“In that case, I'd better get dressed.” She looked around for her clothes. “Someone might come in.”

“The door's locked,” he pointed out.

Words backed up in her throat. She wanted to tell him how perfect it had been to touch him and how she wanted to do it again, right now. But there was something guarded in his face that hadn't been there before and suddenly she was very conscious of her nakedness and his hand on her hip.

“You're shivering,” he said.

“Am I? It must be the cold.”

Gently, he turned her face toward his. “Talk to me, Annie.”

She couldn't. All the bravado had fled, and now she felt like an awkward teenager. “Talk about—what?”

“About us, for a start.”

His focused stare was beginning to irritate her. “You want a performance critique, McKade? If so, you're out of luck. I was a little distracted just now.”

“Who needs a critique? We both know what happened.”

Annie crossed her arms. “You mean in addition to reasonably good sex?”

“It went way beyond good,” Sam said harshly. “I'd say we burned away the whole top of the chart.”

Annie figured he'd know more about that than she would. Her experience prior to Sam had been singularly underwhelming. She wondered where the conversation was headed and why he was so distant.

“Okay, it was excellent sex. I'd say we got to fifteen on a scale of ten. Not that I was counting.” Shivering, she clutched at her nearest item of clothing. Unfortunately, that happened to be the red lace panties.

“I'm getting dressed,” she said firmly, refusing to dwindle into postcoital dithering.

He watched her wriggle into the lace, his eyes dark and intent. “Why are you rushing?”

“Being found naked in the yoga room with one of my clients isn't at the top of my wish list.” She dispensed with her bra and tugged on her dress, stuffing the bra in her pocket.

“Ever done that before?” Sam asked quietly.

Annie spun around. “Is that what
this
is about? Are you asking for a report on my sexual history? If so, you can go jump off the Big Sur Bridge.”

“All I want is one little part of your history,” Sam said.

“And that's supposed to make me feel better? I've got news for you—”

“Annie, I know.”

“Know
what
? That I kissed Walter Hendrickson behind the soccer field when I was seven and he was nine. That I had my first date when I was fifteen and three-quarters. He took me to the Artichoke Festival and my father drove us home. As you can guess, not much happened with my father in the front seat. Then about a year later I—”

Muttering, Sam caught her hand and pulled her down onto his lap. He winced slightly as he settled her onto his good leg. “Not that. Not about Walter Hendrickson or the artichokes. About
us.
I know what happened between us this summer, Annie.
I remember.
”

A
NNIE
FELT
THE
BLOOD
LEAVE
HER
FACE.
SHE
STARED
AT HIM
helplessly. “
Us?
You and me?”

Sam nodded, his eyes unreadable.

“How?” she whispered.

“The last two nights I've had flashes. I put them down as incredibly explicit fantasies, something I've had a lot of since I came here. Then yesterday, when you kissed me, I started to think they were more than a product of my fevered imagination.” His hand tightened on her arm. “When we made love—”

“Had sex,” Annie corrected tensely.

For several moments he didn't speak. “Whatever you want to call it. When it happened, when I felt you take me inside you, it triggered a whole flood of memories.”

“I see.” Annie was sweating. “So you remember … everything?”

“Close enough.” His jaw tightened. “Why, Annie? Why didn't you tell me we'd been lovers?”

Bad,
Annie thought.

Worse than bad.

He was right to be angry, of course. Not telling him about their past was a form of betrayal, even if it hadn't been her choice.

“Exactly how much do you remember?”

“Enough. Or are you the one who wants a performance critique?” His tone was harsh.

With good reason. If the roles were switched, she'd be pummeling him right now, not talking. “I wanted to tell you, Sam.”

“All it took was three words. ‘We were lovers.’ ”

Annie stared down at the dark tangle of their clothes. “They told me not to.”

“They?”

“The people in Washington who set this up. Izzy and I weren't supposed to give you any details. They wanted you to focus on your recovery, not the emotional entanglements of your past.”

He was silent for long moments. “What about you? What did
you
want, Annie?”

“I wanted the best for you. I still do,” she said quietly. “No matter how it hurt you—or me.”

He turned away with a muffled curse. “I want to believe you. I hate being handled. I hate being lied to.” He glared out the window. “Most of all, I hate knowing what was new and special to me was old hat to you.”

“Not old hat. When you were here, it was like a dream. Then you left and I—” She stopped, crossing her arms and shivering.

“You said you hated good-byes. You made it sound like a game that day. Just wave at me from the beach, that's all you wanted.”

Not a game.

Simply a way of salvaging her torn pride, Annie thought.

“But it wasn't a game, was it?” His eyes narrowed. “I hurt you. I can see it now.” He drew her fingers through his. “You've hidden it all this time, haven't you?”

Annie stared at their locked hands. She'd thought her life was rudderless and without meaning. Every morning she wondered how she'd face the pain of his leaving.

She'd told no one about that, not even Taylor. They had made no promises, no plans, no vows of love eternal. They'd both been realistic and practical, or so it had seemed at the time. Yet Annie had never forgotten his face, his hands. His laugh.

“How bad was it, Annie?”

“No big deal. I managed.”

“You just picked up and went on.”

“That's right.”

His thumb brushed her face. “Then why this?” His voice was rough with emotion as he traced a tear down her damp cheek. “You're crying, Annie.”

“Don't think it means anything. Good sex always leaves me weepy.”

“Great sex,” he corrected. “And I was the first man you'd been with in four years. I remember
that
conversation perfectly.”

Heat flashed into her face. “I never said—”

“Yeah, you did.” He cradled her face gently. “You were sitting on the deck, dressed in my T-shirt and not a lot else, as I recall.”

Annie shut her eyes. She didn't want to remember the brush of the wind and the feel of his hands. She wasn't going to cry about the past. “What if I did say it? I could have been lying.”

He traced her lower lip with his thumb, making Annie shiver. “First I walk out and leave you flat. Then the Navy in its infinite wisdom sends me right back here to you for fixing up, and you do it. Beautifully. Without a word of protest.” He drew a harsh breath. “You're something else, Annie O'Toole.”

“You weren't complaining ten minutes ago.”

“I'm not complaining now.” He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed the curve of her palm. “I'm trying to think of some way I can repay you for what I put you through.”

“There's no need.”

“Maybe I'll decide about that.”

Annie's heart took a jerky little sidestep as he found the hem of her skirt.

“Did I ever tell you my favorite fantasy? It involves women who wear red lace.”

There was a sensual scrape to his voice that made Annie way too warm. They couldn't do this again. She wasn't cut out to be reckless and outrageous. She had to say no right now, before he
fogged her brain again. As the professional here, it was her job to take charge, to set boundaries and—

She leaned against him. His fingers drifted up her thigh and Annie swallowed hard as her brain started to fog.

Someone tapped on the shuttered window behind them. With a yelp, she shot out of Sam's arms and saw a shadowed figure standing outside the glass door.

Sam stayed low, just out of view. “It looks like one of your staff.”

“Reynaldo,” Annie said after a moment. “You shouldn't be here.” She looked down. “You
definitely
shouldn't be here naked.”

“I'm working on that part.” Clothing rustled frantically. “Give me a second.”

He dragged on his pants while she fumbled with her dress. “Go out through the changing rooms.” Annie pointed. “Use the door at the end of the hall. It will lock automatically behind you.”

Sam's eyes narrowed. “What about you? I don't want you wandering around here alone. Izzy told me that lunatic lawyer came to harass you again.”

“Tucker Marsh left five hours ago. Two maintenance men escorted him to his car and watched him drive away.”

“Too bad,” Sam grumbled. “I'd still like to kick his ugly—”

“I smell testosterone,” Annie muttered. “I think I can manage to talk to Reynaldo without risking life or limb.”

Sam kissed her shoulder. “Call Izzy as soon as you finish,” he said tightly. “He'll walk back with you.”

“Sam, I don't need—” Annie saw the flare of worry in his eyes and gave up arguing. “Okay, I will. Promise. Now I have to go.”

He squeezed her hand, then released her, staying out of sight behind a stucco pillar as she opened the door.

Her maintenance foreman was pacing outside. “Are you
safe? One of the guests called about banging noises by the whirlpool. Then I looked through the window and saw something moving in here.” He peered into the darkness behind Annie. “Why didn't you turn on the lights?”

“Why?” Annie cleared her throat.
Think, think.
“Because I…I knew I wouldn't be long and I wanted to save electricity.”
Feeble, Annie, incredibly feeble.

Reynaldo peered some more. “There was no one else here?”

“Not a soul.” As she closed the door, Annie moved in front of Reynaldo, blocking his view of the room. She saw Sam vanish down the back corridor. “Everyone must be inside because of the storm.”

“Not everyone.” Reynaldo sounded upset.

“Is it Tucker Marsh?”

The old man rubbed his neck. “It would be better if I show you.”

Annie fought a premonition of doom. “Tell me.”

Looking uncomfortable, he gestured down the hill. “A window was broken in your office. Everything was thrown to the floor. Papers, files, shelves.
Dio mio.
”

Annie froze. “Was anyone hurt? Megan?”

“No one. Just these things of yours.”

She drew a sharp breath, all too aware of the likely culprit. “Things can be replaced.” She searched in her pocket for her keys and turned to lock the door.

As she did, Annie saw the dark shape in the middle of the floor.

Sam's wallet.

He must have kicked it there when they—

She took a breath, focusing her tangled thoughts. She had to get the wallet. Sam's safety was at stake. “I'll be along in a second, Reynaldo. I remember something I left inside.”

“Then I will wait for you,” he said firmly, flashing a light through the door as she opened it.

Annie definitely didn't want him to wait and see her picking up a man's wallet. “You can start ahead. I'll be done in a moment.”

His eyes narrowed. “If you are longer than that, I will come back for you.”

Annie watched him stride toward the main offices. When he reached the sidewalk, she opened the door and raced for the fallen wallet, gripping it with a sigh of relief.

Behind her, wind gusted through the room, heavy with rain. Annie heard a click, and then the wind stopped.

“Reynaldo?” Frowning, she turned. “I said—”

But it was Tucker Marsh standing behind her, carefully locking the door.

A
NNIE
STOOD
UP
SLOWLY.
“T
HIS
ISN'T
A
JOKE.
”

There was an ugly smile on Marsh's face. “It isn't?” He reached out, drawing the curtain.

Annie's heart began to pound. “Unlock the door now.”

His smile grew uglier. “There's no need to go yet.”

“Have you heard
anything
I said?” As she spoke, Annie slid Sam's wallet down into her pocket.

“Every word.” Still smiling, Marsh swept her scarf off the window seat. She realized it must have fallen when she and Sam—

Don't think about that.

“Now I know who trashed my office.”

“That would be breaking and entering. Maybe even a felony.” He tried to sound shocked. “I could be disbarred.”

Annie's heart was pounding. “Get out of my way, Marsh.”

“Not just yet.” He studied her thoughtfully. “I've got plans for tonight.” He pulled her scarf gently through his fingers. “First we're going to have a little talk.”
Snap.
“Then we're going to find a nice, private spot.” Another
snap.
“We'll get comfortable.”
Snap-snap.

“No.” Annie's heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest.

“I'm afraid so. Then you're going be very nice to me.”
Snap-snap-snap.

Annie swallowed hard. “Why would I do that?” She kept her voice cool.

“Because I want you to.”
Snap.