Surrender in Silk (8 page)

Foolish fantasies, she told herself. She should know better.

She walked toward the airline counter. There was a long line. She got in place and set her leather bag on the ground. As usual, she traveled light.

She should just let go of the past. But it had been seven years, and she hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind. There had been something about him, a link she couldn’t shake. Maybe she was an idiot for not letting it go.

Forget the maybe—she
was
an idiot.

When she reached the counter, she smiled at the attendant. “I don’t have a reservation but I’d like to buy a ticket.”

“Where to?” the young woman asked.

Jamie paused. San Francisco. Home. She opened her mouth. “Denver,” she said, then swore silently. Denver was a couple of hours from the cabin. Zach’s cabin. She would
be crazy to go there. He’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in her or being with her. What was she thinking?

“We have a flight leaving in about forty minutes,” the clerk said. “There are a few seats available. First-class or coach?”

“First-class,” Jamie said, and pulled out a credit card. The agency paid her well, and she didn’t have many needs. After the morning she’d been through and what she was about to face, she deserved a little self-indulgence.

Ticket in hand, she went through security, then headed for the gate. By the time she arrived, they were beginning to board. Jamie stowed her small bag in the overhead compartment, then found her seat. She settled into the wide, leather-covered cushions and leaned against the window.

She was making a huge mistake. Zach was going to stay with the agency until he died. She had decided to get out. They had nothing in common. He’d lost his humanity years before, and she wanted to find hers again. He had nothing to offer her, so why was she going to the one place where she knew he would show up?

“You’re a fool,” she murmured, then refused the wine the flight attendant offered. She just wanted to sleep. At least there she could escape the confusion of her life.

Jamie parked the rented Bronco in front of the cabin and stepped out into the crisp spring afternoon. She could feel the difference in the air from being at a higher elevation. But instead of feeling winded, she felt invigorated.

She turned in a circle, taking in the tall trees and deep blue sky. Last time she’d been at the cabin, it had been fall.

Everything had been readying for winter. Leaves had littered the ground with a blanket of brown and gray. Now the trees budded. Brilliant green leaves shimmered in the sunlight. Birds chirped. New life struggled to come forth.

Snow covered the ground, but the guy at the rental-car
agency had said they were close to done with snowstorms for the season. Jamie continued to turn, stopping only when she faced the cabin.

The small house looked exactly as she remembered. Compact, well made, welcoming. Even after all this time. She smiled slightly and hoped Zach would be as friendly when he arrived. The doctor had said he would be in the hospital three weeks. Jamie doubted he would stay that long. Zach didn’t like being confined. She figured she had at least a week to prepare herself for his arrival. A week to decide what she was going to say when he asked what the hell she was doing here. Not that she hadn’t asked herself the same question a hundred times already.

“What
are
you doing here?” she said aloud as she moved to the rear of the Bronco and opened the back. She didn’t have an answer yet.

She grabbed a couple of grocery bags and headed toward the front door. There was a small knot in the door frame, just below waist level. She pressed it twice, and it popped open, exposing a compartment just large enough for a key.

After unlocking the door, she stepped inside. The cabin was cold and musty from being closed up. She wondered how long it had been since Zach had visited the place. She would like to think that her presence that week had somehow affected him so he found it difficult to return here, but she would also like to think a lot of other things that weren’t necessarily true.

In the living room, an overstuffed sofa sat in front of a fireplace. End tables stood on either side, stacked high with books. Zach liked to read when he was at the cabin. A table and four chairs filled the far end of the room, next to a doorway that led to the kitchen.

The place had been built in the forties, and Zach had never bothered remodeling. Jamie actually liked the old-fashioned stove unit and creamy tile. The refrigerator was new since her last visit. She put her groceries on the counter and checked
out the bedrooms. The first one was the largest. It shared the fireplace, and the heat, with the living room. Jamie glanced around, pretending not to notice she was avoiding looking at the bed. But she couldn’t stare at a dresser lamp forever. Instead, she allowed her gaze to rest on the king-size mattress she and Zach had shared.

She leaned against the door frame and closed her eyes. Was it possible that time they’d spent together had meant nothing to him? Could they really not have connected emotionally? She didn’t want to believe that. He had to have felt something. At least that was her hope.

He wasn’t the only man in her life. There had been others. Once she’d discovered the pleasures available to her, she’d stopped saying no when someone who interested her asked. But it wasn’t the same, and eventually she’d given up trying to duplicate the experience of one magical week. None of the other men had made her feel what he did.

Zach was the last person she’d felt close to—heart and soul close to. He was the only person she’d cared about outside of her family. Maybe it wasn’t logical, but she couldn’t help thinking if he’d shown her the way in, he could also show her the way out. He was her only hope of returning to the ordinary world.

She left the large bedroom and checked out the smaller one next door. There was a single bed, a three-drawer dresser and a small, gas, room heater. Perfect.

After bringing in the rest of the groceries, Jamie put the food away, then made herself some coffee. While she heated water for instant, she picked up a woman’s magazine that she’d bought at the grocery store. She flipped through the glossy pages, staring at the ads. The models were so perfect and feminine. She studied their luminous skin, then touched her cheek. Seven years of living in the shadows hadn’t left her a whole lot of time for skin care.

The articles made her uneasy. “Six Ways to Be a Better
Lover”; “Fruit Acids—Are You Getting Hooked?”; “ Shape Up for Summer Diet and Exercise Plan”; “Lose Ten Pounds by Memorial Day.”

After being a jock through high school and college, then joining the agency, she’d never really had the time or inclination to do the female thing. She put down the magazine and picked up the cosmetics she’d bought. There’d been so many colors and types. She didn’t know if she’d purchased the right things.

Jamie stared at the jars and tubes, then dropped them back in the plastic bag. She couldn’t deal with them right now. She also didn’t want to think about the clothes she’d bought. Feminine things. A skirt and blouse. Something millions of women wore every day. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d put on anything but pants.

But she was going to learn. After seven years of living for her job, she wanted to know how the rest of the world survived. She wanted to be normal. The only problem was, she might be too late.

The water began to boil. She poured the steamy liquid into a cup, then stirred in the instant coffee. She drank it black because it was easier. Somehow making fresh coffee for just one person seemed foolish.

She walked out to the front porch and sat on the old swing. She remembered nights spent in Zach’s arms on this swing. She closed her eyes and let the memories come. When they flooded her being, she absorbed the pain. There was nothing to do but remember and wait for him to arrive. The waiting was going to be easy. Waiting was what she did best.

T
he morning of her tenth day at the cabin dawned crisp and clear. Jamie pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders as she sat on the porch swing and watched the sky lighten from light gray to pale blue.

It had been another sleepless night. One more occupational hazard. Assignments usually required her to be up and moving after midnight. While the rest of the world slowed down, those in the shadows came to life. Unfortunately years of living on a different schedule had played havoc with her body clock.

She tried to get to sleep at a reasonable hour, only to wake up sometime after midnight to face the ghosts of the past. She would spend the lonely hours before dawn pacing or thinking or trying not to think, then she catnapped in the late morning or early afternoon.

But this morning she didn’t feel like returning to bed. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. As Zach had instructed after that first assignment in the Central American jungle,
she’d learned to pay attention to her premonitions. She knew something was going to happen today. What she didn’t know was if that something was going to be good or bad.

She rose to her feet and walked inside. After picking up the few items she’d left scattered around the living room, she made her bed, showered and put on clean jeans and a sweatshirt. For the first time since she’d arrived ten days before, she used the coffee maker instead of settling for instant. Then she checked supplies. With two people eating, they had enough to last about four weeks. They would be fine, even if the man at the car-rental agency had been wrong and there was a late-season snowstorm.

When everything was prepared, Jamie took a mug of freshly brewed coffee onto the porch. She curled up in a corner of the swing, facing the two-mile-long driveway that led to the main highway and settled in to wait.

She knew how to slow her breathing and still the pounding of her heart. She knew how to flex and stretch her muscles so they wouldn’t cramp. She could hide in brush for ten hours, then be up and running without even a twitch to slow her down. She knew how to stay alert for days.

She sat in the morning sunshine for nearly two hours. Her coffee was long gone, but she didn’t bother with a second cup. Instead, she watched and listened. Then she heard it. The slow whine of a truck climbing the steep driveway. The engine strained against the incline, the vehicle bounced through potholes and over rocks and still it moved closer. Despite her calming breaths and relaxation techniques, her body tensed.

Zach had come home.

Jamie uncurled herself from her position and walked to the edge of the porch. Even as she told herself everything was going to be fine, her heart pounded in her chest. She could feel her palms sweating. She would rather face an army of enemy soldiers than explain to Zach why she was here, but it
was already too late for retreat. The truck slowly came into view.

She stared straight ahead. The sunlight reflected off the windshield, so she couldn’t see who was inside. Then the truck moved into shadow. The driver was unfamiliar—Zach must have hired him in town. She turned her attention to the passenger, who had already seen her. Their gazes locked. Nothing registered on his face, not surprise, not anger, certainly not a welcoming smile.

She hid her apprehension behind a mask of her own. As the driver stopped the truck, Jamie stepped off the porch. The older man, maybe in his midfifties, got out and retrieved two duffel bags from the truck bed, then tossed them on the ground.

“Morning,” he said, and gave her a quick nod.

“Good morning.” Jamie smiled.

Her smile faded as Zach stepped out of the cab. He moved slowly, like an old man. The thick down jacket couldn’t conceal his thinness or the way he had to hang on to the truck door to keep his balance. He reached back inside, fumbled with something, then seemed to steady. Jamie’s breath caught in her throat when she realized he was using a cane.

It made sense. His bruises went down to the bone. He was still recovering. But seeing such a proud man broken in body, if not in spirit, tore her heart out. She wanted to go to him and hold him close. She wanted to comfort him and promise she would make it all right. But she did none of those things. Zach was like a wounded wild animal. He would lash out at anyone who tried to get too close. Especially her.

“You all right?” the driver asked.

Zach took a lurching step and nodded. “Thanks, Charlie.”

“No problem.”

The older man got back into his truck and started the engine. Seconds later he’d turned around and headed for the
highway. When the sound of the engine had faded, she and Zach were alone.

He took another step, then cursed when his left leg buckled. Before she could move toward him, he found his balance and straightened. Then he glared at her. “Why aren’t you on assignment?”

“I quit the agency.”

She studied his dark eyes and grim mouth. He didn’t even flicker a lash. She might as well have told him it was clear and sunny today.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his tone surly.

They were standing maybe fifteen feet apart. Birds chirped in the trees. The sun beat down. Yet nothing about this moment was real to her. Why was she here? Hadn’t she been asking herself the same question for the past ten days? She still didn’t have a great answer.

She was here because she wanted to find balance. She wanted to know if the past was real. Why had Zach been the only man to make her feel those things? She wanted to know if he’d been right when he’d told her there was no going back. There was a way in; there had to be a way out. Zach had taught her everything else; surely he could teach her that.

But he wouldn’t understand any of those statements, so in the end she settled for another kind of truth. An easy truth. “I wanted to make sure you were going to be all right. I didn’t risk my life in the desert to save your sorry butt just to have you collapse and die up here.”

He stared at her. “You expect me to believe that?” he asked.

“I can’t help what you believe. I’m surprised they let you out of the hospital so soon.”

“They didn’t have a choice.”

She could imagine that scene. No doubt the doctor had
thrown her hands in the air and told Zach if he wanted to kill himself, she couldn’t stop him.

“You always had more guts than sense when it came to taking care of yourself,” she said, and walked toward him. As she reached for his duffel bags, his neutral expression turned to a glare.

“I don’t need your help. I don’t know what you’re doing here, Jamie, but whatever it is, I don’t want any part of it.”

His words stung. She looked from him to his bags, nodded once, then returned to the porch. If he wanted to do it himself, let him. He took one tentative step, then another. After a minute or so, he was moving at a speed close to a slow walk. It was painful to watch him. As she turned away to go inside, she heard a thunk, followed by a low curse. She spun back.

He’d slipped on a patch of wet ground. Zach sprawled on his belly in the dirt. She moved toward him. He pushed up into a sitting position.

“I told you to get the hell out of my life,” he growled. “You were supposed to be a quick study, but you’re having trouble understanding me. I don’t want you here.”

Dark hair hung nearly to his eyes. Lines of pain bracketed his mouth. Yet he would rather die of exposure than let her help him. All the old feelings of inadequacy returned.

She glanced at her rented four-wheel-drive vehicle. It would be easy enough to grab her stuff and leave. Her apartment was waiting in San Francisco.

“I don’t need this,” she muttered, and walked inside.

She headed for her bedroom, then paused halfway across the living room. No. She’d come here for a purpose. Zach was trying to scare her off because…well, she wasn’t sure why. Seven years ago, he’d been the one to dump her. If anyone had a right to be angry, she did. What was he so furious about?

Now it was her turn to swear. He needed her. Physically he couldn’t take care of himself. And like it or not, she needed him.

Jamie paced inside for nearly thirty minutes. She glanced out the window, but Zach hadn’t moved. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. She went out and walked toward him.

“Dammit, woman, can’t you understand what I’m saying? I don’t want you here. I don’t want your help.”

“Uh-huh.” She picked up the duffel bags and carried them inside.

When she returned for him, he really started in on her. An assortment of curses in an assortment of languages. She ignored them all and reached for his arms. Before she could get hold of him, he switched to Turkish and accused her of being the result of a union between a goatherder and his favorite charge.

Jamie stared at him for a second, then started to laugh. “A goatherder?” she asked. “Is that as original as you can get?”

He stared up at her. Something flickered in his dark eyes. A glint of humor and maybe something close to respect. She didn’t analyze it. Instead, she took courage where she could find it and figured she would wing it the rest of the time.

“I don’t know a lot of Turkish,” he said. “So it was either the goatherder or a snake charmer.”

She shuddered. “I still hate snakes.”

“I know.”

They both smiled, and the tension between them lessened. With a flash of insight, she realized this was what had been missing in her life. Pleasant human contact. Zach hadn’t had enough, either, she knew. The job might have its humorous moments, but for the most part it was intense and grim. Even their week together hadn’t allowed them to laugh. There had been too much passion.

That was the change she wanted to make. More laughter, like normal people had in their lives.

She stepped behind him and helped him to his feet. She was shocked at how much more weight he’d lost.

“Dammit, Zach, you haven’t been eating. How can you expect to get well?”

“You ever eat when you’re in the hospital?”

She thought about her brief stays for various injuries. “Not really.”

“I feel the same way about their food.”

It was their first civil verbal exchange in seven years. She told herself not to read too much into it, but she couldn’t help feeling relieved. Zach could make her stay pleasant or he could turn it into several weeks of hell. She hoped he chose the former.

She bent down and grabbed the cane, then looped his right arm over her shoulders and wrapped her left around his waist. Moving in slow, steady steps, she helped him into the cabin.

Once there, she moved him toward the large bedroom. She’d already pulled down the covers.

Zach sat heavily on the mattress and glared at her. “I want you out of here.”

So much for civil exchanges. Guess he wanted to make her as miserable as possible. Two could play that game. After all, she’d had a great teacher. “Yeah, right. You’re in no condition to take care of yourself.”

“I don’t need you or anyone.”

“Probably not, but you’re stuck with me.” She knelt on the floor and pulled off his boots.

“You’re just like every other woman. Butting in where you’re not wanted.”

She ignored the sting his words produced. How ironic that he thought she was just like other women. She
wasn’t
like them, but she was doing her best to learn what they already knew. She wanted to understand what it was like to feel pretty, or take pride in preparing a meal, or keeping a house.
Maybe she would get brave enough to consider having a child.

She shook her head. A child wasn’t likely. She wouldn’t trust herself to have one on her own. What did she know about being maternal? And no man had ever wanted her enough to commit.

She set the boots in the closet, then turned back to Zach. He was staring at her. She wished she could think of something witty to say, but her mind was blank. She could only stare at his handsome face and wish things had been different. If only he’d welcomed her back into his life. They could have healed together, him on the outside, her on the inside. Instead, they were to be adversaries.

She was about to concede defeat when something flickered to life in his eyes. Just as it had outside. She wasn’t sure if it was longing, or maybe pain. A need for connection. He blinked, and the emotions were gone. But she’d seen them.

“Sorry, Zach, you can complain all you want, but I’m staying.” She moved toward the door and paused there. “You should be grateful I’m willing to look after you. No one else wants to, and you would never have made it on your own.”

“I like being alone. I’m perfectly capable of surviving without help.”

He might like being alone, but she’d grown tired of the solitude. “You can whine all you want,” she said. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

“Then I’ll take your car and leave myself.”

She smiled. “No problem. First you have to find the strength to get to my car. I don’t suppose that’s going to happen today.”

He curled his hands into fists. “Dammit, Jamie, I won’t put up with this.”

“What are you going to do about it? Try to beat me at arm wrestling? Face it, Zach, you don’t have a choice. You need watching, and I’m the only one here. It doesn’t have to be
awful, you know. We could try to be friends.” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to make you some lunch. Don’t go anywhere.”

Unintelligible curses followed her out of the room. Oddly his temper lightened her spirits. If he had the energy to resent her, he had the energy to heal.

Once in the kitchen, she opened a can of soup and poured it into a pot. After putting the butane flame on low, she grabbed a crescent wrench from the toolbox by the back door. Then she pulled a large green trash bag out of the box in the pantry and headed outside.

Ten minutes later, she wrapped the Bronco battery in plastic and set it into a shallow hole in the ground. She covered it up, then smoothed leaves in place. When she stepped back to survey her handiwork, she was pleased. No one would know that she’d buried something here. She glanced at the vehicle as she walked back to the house. Zach might want to leave, but he wasn’t going anywhere without her knowing about it first.