Morgan's Wife (32 page)

"I got the envelope back," Jim said simply, slowly approaching Pepper. Despite the mannish Forest Service uniform she had to wear, he thought she looked incredibly feminine. Her dark hair was longer now, touching her shoulders and falling in soft folds around her face. He saw the shock, the denial, in her eyes. Was she glad to see him? He wasn't sure. He'd risked everything by coming to visit. An impending avalanche of fear was poised over his desire for her. Time hadn't dulled his need of her. Like a knife twisting hotly through his lower body, he hungered to kiss her soft mouth, to again slide his hand around the small, firm breast that fit so wonderfully in his palm.

Halting, he lifted the poinsettias. "I decided that what we had to talk about should be said in person, not via a long-distance phone call. Here, these are for you," he murmured. "It's Christmas, and I wanted to bring you something…." Holding the potted plant toward her, he wondered if Pepper was going to take it or not. Her face was devoid of color. Her cheeks, ordinarily pink, looked wan. As he eased out of the shadows, he saw stress around her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there before. Anger flashed in her eyes—toward him. Was the mission the reason for her gaunt appearance and the stress plainly etched in her lovely features?

He held the poinsettias between them.
Please, take them. Take them.
Inwardly, Jim believed that by accepting his small gift Pepper would also at some level be accepting him—even if it was a tentative truce. Rapidly
chang
ing
emotions flashed through her eyes as she slowly looked down at the flowers and then up at him.

"Christmas—" Pepper choked. She felt justified rage. Jim loved Laura. So what was he doing here? "That's
right,
it's Christmastime, isn't it?" The poinsettias were large and healthy looking, the flowers bright red among the green foliage. They were beautiful.

"As a holiday, it's kind of hard to forget," he teased huskily. Were those tears in her eyes? The anger in them came and went along with a flash of desire—aimed directly at him. Jim's heart squeezed at the anguish in Pepper's eyes as she wavered, not sure if she should accept the flowers. Her gaze snapped back to his, her eyes wide and incredibly blue, the pupils large and black, belying the gamut of emotions she was feeling.

Jim stood patiently, knowing full well that Pepper could tell him to do an about-face and walk out of her life—forever. The thought was devastating, and every fiber of his being yearned to step forward, set the flowers aside and take Pepper into his arms, kissing her until she melted like hot butter, silkily permeating his body and soul.

Pepper wavered. "I—I just can't believe you're here." Her voice came out tinged with indignation, but her heart cried out for him, for his wildly sensual kisses, the unbridled passion they'd shared on the island.

"I can't, either."

She saw the irony in his eyes and heard it in his voice. It hurt to blurt out the question, but it had to be asked. "Why—why are you here?"

"I couldn't not be here," Jim
answered honestly. A little of the anger in her eyes became banked and he saw the desire again, for just a fleeting moment, before distrust replaced it.
She still thinks I love Laura.
The realization was devastating. He lifted the poinsettias a little higher. "Please take these. There are no strings attached, Pepper."

"I don't believe it," she rattled defensively. Oh, why did she ache for him like this? Need
him
so much? She couldn't even think of entering a romantic triangle. It was Jim and Laura, not she and Jim. Loneliness was better than heart-shattering pain.

Jim squelched his impatience. Pepper was right; there were strings attached to his gift of flowers. His lower body ached for relief—ached to love her fully.
Wildly.
With absolute abandon.
As he stood, watching her distrust of him grow, Jim knew Pepper was above all a natural woman. She brought out every primal feeling and need he
possessed
. Right now, he felt more animal than human, longing to obey the impulse to claim her, make her his. The desire ate away at his considerable control like acid. Clearing his throat, he rasped, "The only thing attached to this gift is a dinner invitation." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth, either.

"Dinner?
That's all?" Pepper hated the waspish sound of her voice and saw the effect it had on Jim. Hurt showed briefly in his eyes before he covered it up with false cheer.

"That's it.
Dinner."
He urged her silently to take the flowers. If only she would give him a chance….

Robotlike
, Pepper reached out and took the plant. The pot was large, and the colorful petals brushed her jaw and shoulders. "This is heavy!"

"I know."

Nervously, voice wispy and strained, Pepper suggested, "Let's take them to my office?"

Jim gestured toward the lighted area.
"After you."
He saw that the venetian blinds had been pulled to give her some privacy from the rest of the facility. Her personal space was small and cramped, typical of a government-run office, he thought. Several dark green, metal filing cabinets stood at one end. Even her desk was a military-issue gray metal. Opposite it, against the other end wall, was a twin-size bed stalked with several fluffy pillows and covered by an old but much-loved quilt. Jim studied the bed darkly. Pepper probably used it during the summer, when fires were frequent. He could imagine her falling exhausted onto it for a quick nap between fire calls, inundated by the demands on her time in her responsible position as team leader.

The bed appeared startlingly feminine in the confines of the otherwise stark office. The very real desire to reach out, take her hand and pull her over to that bed and love her was nearly Jim's undoing. No one would come into the facility at this time of night, he thought. And the blinds had been drawn for privacy. All he had to do was shut the door, turn out the light and—
Savagely
he squelched his imaginings. Somehow he had to get control over his emotions. Jim noticed a small group of photos on the wall next to her desk and walked toward them, eager to discover who Pepper was—all of her facets, not just those he'd seen on the mission.

The fluorescent lights were harsh. Pepper nervously placed the plant on top of one of the file cabinets and rubbed her damp hands down the thighs of her trousers. She turned around to face Jim. He had a slight frown on his broad forehead as he studied her bed at the other end of the office. The lightning-bolt realization that all she had to do was take a few steps, reach out and tug him toward the bed shot through her. She could love him until her bruised and aching heart and lonely soul were satisfied. The idea nearly unstrung her and she gasped internally at her unbidden thoughts. Curling her fingers reflexively against her palms, she throttled the desire to reach out toward Jim. How wonderful he looked! Pepper stifled the urge to simply walk forward and throw
herself
into his arms. His presence was overwhelming to her heightened senses.

"You've got a real government cubbyhole here," Jim said, moving toward her desk and taking a quick, perusing look at the framed photos on the wall. One of them was of Pepper with her family. She stood next to a man who, Jim decided, was probably her brother,
Cam
. They looked very much alike. The proud, older woman at the end was as tall as Pepper. No question this was her mother—and no question that Pepper took after her strongly. Her dark-haired, tall and heavily muscled father stood at the other end of the group. It looked like a happy family. Jim's mouth pulled into a gentle smile.

"Nice family picture." He straightened and turned toward her. Trying to quell his own nervousness, he realized his voice was strained. Hell, he was scared to death. It was a kind of fear he'd never experienced before—not even in combat. It was the fear of being told to leave Pepper's life—once and for all.

Pepper managed a one-shouldered shrug. "Thanks."

"Going home for Christmas?" Jim didn't know where to start. Something warned him he couldn't be totally honest about his reasons for being here with her—yet.

"Uh…yes.
Home.
For Christmas.
Sure…" Pepper's throat ached with tension, and she battled her tears. She stood helplessly, unsure what to do with her hands. Finally, she crossed her arms over her breasts. The words begged to be asked:
Why was Jim really here?
Too much of a coward to press the issue, she cast about for another topic.

"How's Laura doing?"

Jim pushed his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.
Small talk.
He wanted to do away with it. He wanted to get to the bottom line. The bed behind him beckoned. His imagination was running away with him. Pepper belonged in his arms. Her mouth belonged on his. Compressing his lips, he said, "Surviving. Right now, she's hidden at a condominium that only a few people know about." He shrugged. "The fewer who
know,
the less chance of slipping up and letting the bad guys find her."

"I see. Yes, that's a good idea."

Jim looked around, desperate. "Susannah Killian, her cousin, is staying with her and helping her with her baby daughter, Katherine. Right now, Laura's mainly trying to recover. She's under the care of a great woman therapist who has plenty of rape-counseling experience." He shrugged, his voice becoming hoarse. "I guess it's the best we can all do for her, right now. I wish we could do more, but healing has to take place from within."

Pepper heard the frayed emotions in Jim's deepening voice and saw the distraught look in his eyes. There was no denying he was suffering for Laura, for her pain. "Rape is murder," Pepper whispered. "My homeopathic-doctor friend, Michaela Ryan, was raped when she was in her early twenties, back at medical school. Even now I see how it affects her. She's lost a piece of herself as a human being, as a woman, and I don't think she'll ever get it back."

Jim scuffed his hiking boot against the drab gray concrete of her office floor and frowned, looking down at it. "Yeah…that's what I was afraid of…."

"Michaela survives okay," Pepper murmured. "I guess…."

Looking up into her grave features, he murmured, "That's what Laura's doing right now—surviving. She's hanging on to hope." He shrugged and added, "At least we've got a lead on Jason."

"Really?"
Hope rose in Pepper's heart, and she saw a ruddy flush appear on Jim's cheeks. "You found him, didn't you?"

"
Sorta
."

"You're too humble."

He grinned sheepishly. "Maybe…"

His smile flowed through her, hot and claiming. It was the first time she'd seen Jim smile like that—a little-boy, embarrassed smile that endeared him to her and momentarily washed away her anger, even as it increased her need of him. "Tell me how it happened."

He took his hands out of his pockets and unzipped his coat, suddenly very warm. But this heat had nothing to do with the temperature inside the facility—it was from being close to Pepper. Did she have any idea how powerfully she affected him? Wrestling with those thoughts, Jim tried to keep the small talk on track. He knew it was a good way for them to adjust to being in each other's presence again. "I worked closely with the CIA on this one, and we got Interpol help, too. Actually, Killian made a lot of the deductions."

Pepper knew Jim well enough to realize he was acting like any good leader—giving his subordinates the lion's share of the praise. "So where is Jason?"

"
Maui
,
Hawaii
, we think. It's not confirmed yet, but all the indications are there."

Pepper gawked.
"
Maui
?"

"Yes." Jim shrugged. "It threw me, too, until I contacted the FBI and we started interfacing directly with Interpol." His voice deepened. "Damned if we didn't find out that Garcia flew from Nevis to his
other
home, on
Maui
. The bastard escaped the
Nevis
police after we res cued Laura, and went there. It blew me away that Garcia possibly had two of the
Trayherns
."

"Do you think Morgan's there, too?"

"I don't know. There are two
merc
teams coming in right now. One had his partner die on him, and the other's partner suffered a heart attack. The upshot is
,
Jake is teaming an ex-Israeli army officer named
Sabra
Jacobs with an ex-marine helicopter pilot, Craig Talbot."