Eye of the Storm (19 page)

Simone closed her eyes, giving herself over to sensation, letting go of reality in favor of dreams. This was what she wanted. This feeling, this moment. Now.

The kiss deepened as he ran his hands over her shoulders and back, settling for a moment to cup her rear and then sliding upward again so that his fingers encircled her breasts, his thumbs creating a heat that went beyond normal physics, morphing instead into something that straddled the physical and spiritual.

New lovers might have the joy of discovery, the pure sensation of chemical combustion. But lovers who knew every inch of each other had something more—a connection that couldn't easily be severed. Not by angry words, perhaps not even by lies and deception. But as she had the thought, it faded in the wake of the pleasure rising inside her.

Pleasure—and desire.

She knew what lay ahead of her, and wanted gratification now. As if reading her mind, Reece pulled her T-shirt over her head, baring her breasts. It had always been a joke between them that she had never worn a bra. She'd sworn that it was because she really didn't need one. He'd sworn that it had been her way of letting him know how very much she wanted him.

He'd been right.

His thumb found the taut bud of her nipple, the circling friction ratcheting the tightening wire of desire that coursed through her. She reached for the hem of his shirt, wanting nothing more than to feel his skin against hers. For a moment, they broke apart, his eyes asking questions that both of them were afraid to voice, but she shook her head.

This was not the time for words.

Slowly, teasing him with the fire in her eyes, she slipped the black T-shirt up and over his head, the cool breeze brushing against the hair on his chest. For one beat more they stared into each other's eyes, and then he was kissing her again, their bodies pressed together, moving against each other, teasing, probing, exploring, the momentum driving them backward until she felt the callused bark of an aspen digging into her back, the pricking pain a counterpoint to the ecstasy of his touch.

There was a fury to his lovemaking, almost as if he was afraid she would disappear, that the connection between them would shatter in the cold of the night. Her hands found the zipper of his pants, wanting to hold him, to feel the pulse of his penis in her hand.

As if with a life of its own, it sprang free of its denim confines and she circled its strength with her fingers, kneading and stroking as he moved again to kiss her lips. The taste of him was as heady as wine and she drank him in, wishing there were a way to capture this moment forever, knowing in her heart how fleeting this kind of joy could be.

As if he understood her sense of urgency, he deepened his kiss, taking possession of more than just her lips. Their tongues moved in rhythm, building to a crescendo that fanned the flames building inside her. With a moan, she pressed against him, her hand moving up and down the long hard length of him, signaling with her touch all that she wanted to do to him.

With a groan, he swung her into his arms, and then laid her on a bank of pine needles, using their discarded shirts as a blanket. For one moment she was alone in her pine-scented bed and then he was there, his weight comfortable upon her. A remembered pleasure.

With moans of need and frustration, they managed to remove the rest of their clothing, both of them wanting nothing between them, as if with one physical act, they could remove all that happened. All the lies, half lies and omissions.

Kissing her again, his hand slid across the soft skin of her belly and reflexively she breathed in, moving her legs to open for him. His fingers slid into the moisture there, stroking the tiny bit of skin that seemed at the moment to be the center of her soul. Flicking back and forth in a motion designed for both pleasure and pain, she writhed beneath him. Wanting more, needing more.

Wanting him.

His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, trailing tiny kisses along her collarbone, the act sending gooseflesh dancing along her already sensitized nerves. He grazed in the hollow between her breasts, kissing first one and then the other, slowly circling each nipple with his tongue as if savoring the flavor.

Her body cried out for more, and she pushed him downward, seeking release.

It had been so damn long.

He paused at her belly, sinking his tongue into the indentation there, stroking, laving, hinting at things to come. Then finally, finally, he slid lower, his tongue teasing as he traced lines along her inner thigh. She opened her knees as if welcoming him home, and his mouth found her pulsing flesh, sucking deeply as her body lurched off the pine needles, sensation robbing her of all control.

His fingers slid inside her, moving in and out, following the rhythm of his tongue. Faster and faster, until she couldn't feel anything except the exquisitely building tension, the urge for release taking her beyond all rational thought.

And then in an instant she slid over the edge—free-falling through slivers of light, her eyelids shuddering in time with the contractions that racked through her. He waited then, sliding forward to cover her body, letting her fly free for minutes, hours, seconds—and then just before she landed, he was inside her, taking her up again, each thrust pumping new life, new blood through her veins.

Higher and higher they flew, his body becoming part of hers. Their movement together as essential as breathing—each stroke giving life.

His hands tightened on her shoulders, and the familiar planes of his face came into focus, his dark eyes connecting with hers, completing the circle, and together they crashed through velvet and starlight into the sun.

Then softly, slowly, they sank back to earth. The heady smell of their lovemaking mixed with the scent of the pines and, for the first time in a long time, Simone felt at peace. She knew in her heart it couldn't last, that the peace, like everything else about their relationship, was a figment of her imagination. But just for the moment, she desperately wanted to believe in forever.

REECE AWOKE to the prickle of pine needles against his back and something sharp poking into his hip. The air had turned cold, the copse of trees providing little shelter against the damp of the night. Simone shivered in her sleep, still nestled into his side, one leg thrown across his hips in the possessive manner that had always provoked equal amounts of pleasure and amusement.

Of course he'd always thought of himself as the protector, and her attempt to dominate in sleep had always made him laugh. Now, in light of all that he had learned about her past, the gesture took on a slightly different perspective. One he wasn't sure he was ready to embrace. There had simply been too much information to process so quickly, everything he thought he knew about his wife suddenly called into question.

It was as if he'd awoken to find himself living someone else's life. And he wasn't at all sure that he was pleased at the prospect.

Their lovemaking had been, if anything, better than ever, and yet he knew that no amount of physical contact could erase the barriers they'd built between them. The honest truth was that he didn't know the woman he'd just made love to.

The thought was both frightening and infuriating. Along with about a hundred other emotions he couldn't put a name to.

The problem was that he'd built his entire life on quantifying things. He'd made his career on an ability to read people. To see the truths they were hiding, and to cut through all the bullshit. And yet, in the single most important area of his life, he'd failed completely. He'd looked into Simone's eyes and seen nothing but what she wanted him to see.

What
he'd
wanted to see.

God, he'd screwed up when it mattered most, overlooked what he now realized were glaring signs in favor of the sweet smell of her hair, and the whisper-soft silk of her skin. Like all men, he'd succumbed to his baser side, despite a lifetime of depending on internal radar.

And yet, that was oversimplifying as well. Simone was, in part, the very things he'd been in love with. She was funny and intelligent and whimsical and endearingly devoted. She laughed at his jokes, understood his fears and even knew when he needed to find solace in the comfort of her arms.

The truth was, he'd never really done that for her. She'd never seemed to need him like that. Maybe it was the fact that she hadn't wanted to reveal herself. Or maybe she hadn't thought he'd want to listen. He'd been so caught up in the idea of their perfect family—he and Simone and Martin.

When he'd come back to take care of Martin, he'd worked so hard to make a life for his brother, to somehow fill the void that had been left in the wake of his parents' deaths. But even with all his efforts, there had always been something missing. And when he'd met Simone, he'd seen more than just a soul mate: he'd seen completion for him and for Martin.

Maybe it had been unfair to thrust all of that on her. But she'd been so damn good at it. Loving him and Martin with a ferocity that had made them both feel whole again. But somewhere along the way, he'd forgotten about Simone's needs.

She'd given him so much, and what the hell had he ever given her except a roof over her head and a cocoon against the outside world? A part of him recognized that maybe that was all she'd wanted. But another part knew she deserved a hell of a lot more.

He'd seen her there with Tate. Open and sharing. Maybe not in a sexual way. But in a more important, all-trusting kind of way.

He wanted that kind of intimacy. Wanted it with Simone, damn it. But she hadn't been able to be honest with him, instead hiding behind a facade. There was a part of her that she'd locked away and kept from him at all costs.

If a client had done something like that, he'd have dropped them. If a defendant had pulled that kind of routine, he'd have buried them. So how the hell was he supposed to just forgive and forget? He blew out a sigh, and stroked the soft curls of her hair. Even in the pale moonlight he could see the wash of red.

The color suited her somehow, the new cut making her seem at once softer and yet more defined. With the disguise, everything about her had changed externally. But she was still the same. Red hair or blond, she was the woman he'd married. And maybe that was the lesson to be learned.

Maybe everyone had secrets—some never discovered, others brought to light at the most inopportune times. The point being that most people wore masks. It was an accepted methodology for wending one's way through the intricacies of social interaction. Husband, son, brother, attorney. They were all roles. Each of them highlighting different facets of a person's psyche.

Simone's deception had in some ways been no different from anyone else's. Except that she'd deceived
him
.

He tightened his hold on her, pulling her even closer beside him. In the end it was always personal, wasn't it? A perceived slight painful whether it was intended or not. And yet in that moment, wasn't he at fault, too? Hadn't he, perhaps, expected too much?

It was too damn much to consider in the cold Montana night.

What he needed now was to quit analyzing and accept what he had.

All he'd wanted since they'd separated was to find a way for them to come back together. A way to undo the hurt, to erase the angry words. To go back to before the time when everything had started to unravel. Maybe he'd been looking at it wrong, trying to fix what couldn't be repaired. Maybe instead he needed to find a way to start again. To build on a new reality.

Easily said. Not so easily done. Once a chasm had opened, it was not a simple matter to close it again. Nor was it easy to bridge the gap. If for no other reason than because it was so damned difficult to let someone else in.

He shook his head at the esoteric nature of his thoughts. Maybe it took someone trying to kill him to make him let go of his selfish nature long enough to see the two of them as a couple, and not just Simone as an extension of himself.

All he knew for certain was that he'd be willing to die if it kept her safe, and now that they'd found each other again, even if only for a moment, he wasn't ready to let her go.

*****

SUNLIGHT FILTERED through the trees and Reece pulled his blanket closer, trying to remember why exactly he'd chosen to camp without benefit of sleeping bag or tent. Smothering a yawn, he opened his eyes, reality returning with a rush.

Last night.

Simone.

He rolled over only to find her place empty, his clothes neatly folded where she had been sleeping. There was sentiment in the fact that she'd brought him a blanket, but also a message in the fact that she was gone.

He wasn't sure at the moment that he was up to reading something into either act. Better to just move forward. What was it his mother had always said? Baby steps?

He'd never really thought there was merit in the idea. But then he'd never walked through such an emotional minefield before. Maybe his mother had been right.

Pushing aside the blanket, he stood and stretched, then quickly donned his clothes. From the slant of the sun through the trees, he guessed it was still early. Maybe just after sunrise. He grabbed the blanket and threw it over his shoulder, serape style. Unless he missed his guess, everyone would already be up and preparing for the flight to D.C..

Tate had arranged things so that they would be able to move quickly and hopefully avoid whoever was tracking them. So far there hadn't been any sign of him in Missoula. But things weren't always as they appeared, and Reece had learned a long time ago not to take anything for granted.

He walked out of the trees and into the parking lot of the roadside inn, the activity around their newest car evidence that he was right about it being time to move. Tate looked up from the trunk of the car as Reece approached, his expression carefully neutral.

"You see anything out there?" Either Tate wasn't aware he'd spent the night in the woods, or he was simply avoiding discussing it.

"No." Reece shook his head, rubbing a hand over what was left of his hair. "It's quiet. Only sound besides the brook is the occasional rumble of a truck moving down the highway."

"I checked a couple times last night, too, and didn't see anything but the local wildlife." This time there was definitely a hint of innuendo, but Reece wasn't about to rise to the bait.

"So we about ready here?" He nodded toward their ragtag assortment of Wal-Mart purchases—the sum total of their luggage.

"Yeah." Tate slammed down the trunk. "Simone is trying to reach Marguerite. Give her a heads-up that we're coming. And the kid's still working on the computer."

Reece hadn't thought of Martin as a kid in about four years, so the word seemed almost funny. Especially in light of the fact that Martin was the one who'd provided most of the intel they'd managed to accumulate so far.

"What about the transport? We still good to go there?" Reece studied the other man, trying to figure out what it was that felt wrong about him. Probably just his connection with Simone and the fact that he knew her in a way that Reece couldn't The idea was galling, but hardly a reason for distrust.

"Everything's fine." Tate looked down at his wrist- watch. "Pilot should be there waiting for us now."

"All right, why don't I round up Simone, and you get Martin." He could see his ex standing near the front office, gesturing into her cell phone.

Tate paused for a moment, looking like he wanted to argue, and then shrugged instead, heading for the screen door of the cottage.

Reece strode across the parking lot, trying to find the right words. He hadn't spoken to her since last night. And based on her absence this morning, he wasn't exactly sure what his reception was going to be.

Sunlight streamed through a towering blue spruce that shaded the cottage serving as the motor court's office. A tiny brook trickled past the entrance, down the hill toward the line of cabins making up the rest of the motel. There was a dilapidated kitsch to the place that reminded Reece of a family trip to Colorado. Martin, in fact, had fallen into a stream very similar to this one.

He crossed the little bridge and headed off to the right toward the bright orange of the poppy bed where Simone was still talking. She waved her arm, then nodded once and snapped the cell phone closed, turned and almost collided with Reece as he stopped in front of her.

"Sorry," she said, stepping back a pace, the distance intentional. "I didn't see you coming."

Considering it was a wide-open space with only the spruce to break it up, Reece had his doubts, but having been married to the woman for almost six years he was more than aware of when it was wise to hold his tongue. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you. I just wanted to let you know that we're ready to go."

"I was talking to Marguerite," she said, the sentence only adding to the building awkwardness between them.

"She going to help us?" he asked, wishing he could turn the clock back to last night.

"Yeah. She's going to work on arranging a way for us to get into Langley and Maurice's office. If anyone can do it, she can."

They turned to walk toward the car, where Tate and Martin were loading the last bits of their gear. "About last night..." It wasn't the best of openings, but the longer they went without talking about it, the harder it was going to be to broach the subject. He stopped, putting a hand on Simone's arm to impede her progress.

She swung around to face him, releasing a breath. "There's nothing to talk about. You were angry. I was angry. Tension is unbelievable right now." She shrugged off his hand.

"Simone, I'm not Tate. And what we had last night wasn't about comfort."

"No." She shook her head, her new red curls dancing with the motion. "It wasn't. But it wasn't real, either. Nothing has changed, Reece. At least nothing important." There was the barest trace of regret in her voice, or maybe he just wanted to hear it

"Well maybe
I
want it to change." The words came out of their own volition, but surprisingly, he didn't regret them.

"You're forgetting that I lied to you. That our whole marriage was based on a fabrication."

"You said yourself that not all of it was lies."

"Yes, but as you were so quick to point out the part that counts was. Look, Tate made me realize last night that I've got to take charge of my life and quit apologizing for what I can't change. I am who I am. And face it, Reece, you don't know me."

"Maybe I don't know everything. But I do know the part of you that matters most. Last night was proof of that. We are connected, Simone. Whether you like it or not. Hell, whether I like it or not. And until we accept that fact, we're never going to be able to move forward. Together or apart." The minute the words were out he recognized the truth of them.

"Listen, I really don't think now is a good time to sit down and delve into our feelings." She started to walk away, but he easily kept pace with her.

"I'm not proposing anything of the sort. I'm not exactly a touchy-feely kind of guy, you know? But I am cognizant enough to recognize that a door has been reopened, and I'm not about to just slam it shut again. We have unfinished business between us, Simone. And you might want to ignore it. But I'm not going to let that happen. Not this time."