Icy Control (3 page)

“Such as?” Rob found himself genuinely curious.

Sally placed the paper on the table and picked up her mug of tea. “Oh,” she said with a rueful smile. “Any number of things. One of the easier discussions would be on how this could be a classic symbolism of the eternal power struggle between man and woman. Who ultimately is in control? The man who can use his physical strength? The woman and her sexual wiles? The one with greater intelligence? Or stubbornness? Or how about the one who loves the other more? And that’s a simple way of looking at it.”

Rob nodded, understanding her point and seeing there was far more beneath the surface than he’d even first assumed. He picked up his mug and finished his cooling tea. After placing the empty cup on the coffee table, he turned to fully face Sally again.

“But there has to be more than just vibrant discussion to this piece,” he insisted. “People have been willing to kill over it. The front of the National Gallery is in ruins because these men wanted it so badly. They didn’t go to all this trouble because they wanted to have possession of the piece for a critical discussion.”

“Well, I have heard odd things about this painting, certainly. But nothing I’d care to write in a report for your superiors, Bobby. I already have a reputation for being strangely eccentric.”

Rob reached out his hand, took Sal’s and lightly squeezed her fingers. “We can start in confidence, Sal. I’ll let you know if I need to use something. It’s just us here.”

“Always the charmer, aren’t you, Bobby? Very well. Ever since the Gallery started showing it, I’ve heard all sorts of outlandish tales. Everything from the unbelievable to the mundane. One of the rumors I heard was that the elixir of life has been described within the number of strokes—that’s always a kook’s favorite fall back rumor. I’ve also heard there’s a Rosetta stone style secret code key. I dismissed that story because there’s no hint as to what it unlocks or how to decrypt the key itself. Personally, I’m of the opinion people want these sorts of items—paintings or otherwise—because it’s there and they can take it.”

“The greed of owning because you can.” Rob nodded. He’d met many people like that in his time with the Agency. “Do you put any faith at all in these stories you’ve heard about?”

Sal studied him silently for a minute, her eyes seeming large in her petite face.

“Some of my friends who are more…shall we say, on the fringes of respectability, like to endlessly quote Horatio when these kinds of stories crop up around something. There are more things in Heaven and Earth… You know a part of me truly believes that. If you search deeply enough into something ordinary or commonplace, there can always be meanings hidden within meanings. If we take that to an extreme level say, you can believe quite honestly that something such as a leaf falling in your path is the world telling you to do something. Or if you’re out for a drive and a shaft of sunlight falls on the road turning to your right, then that’s the way you’re
meant
to go.”

“We’ve both always believed in fate, destiny.”

“Yes, and we both have leanings toward believing in conspiracy theories.” Sally grinned. “We’re both prone to get carried away after a bottle of wine. In the past we’ve had some amazing, convoluted conversations that border on the paranoid. Anyone overhearing us would think we’re extreme nutcases.”

Rob laughed, knowing this and enjoying how they could discuss such things freely between themselves. Their long-standing friendship and the spark of what could potentially be between them spurred them both on to always one-up each other in those situations, and the addition of some wine and the cozy intimacy between them didn’t hurt, either.

Sally got a faintly sad look to her. Rob sobered, about to ask what she’d thought of, but she beat him to the punch.

“I’ve never really understood, Bobby, how you could know some of the stranger aspects to my personality and not think I’m weird. Is it because we’ve known each other since our teens?”

He was surprised, unsure where this had sprung from.

“No, not at all. Sal, you’re a fantastic woman, and I admire you greatly. We’re both a little different. Neither of us think in what passes for ‘normal’, linear ways. But that’s what makes us both so successful, don’t you think? I enjoy the whimsy in so many of your paintings, at how you can find something we all take for granted and then add some magic, life and wonder into it. That’s a talent so few people can lay claim to. I’m positive it’s a big part of why so many people love your work.”

“And your work?” she prodded. Her eyes sparkled.

Rob knew her well enough to know it wasn’t from pleasure at his compliments, though she accepted them graciously. He knew if he brushed her prompting off, she’d wax lyrical. Saving her the trouble, he replied.

“Looking at things from a different perspective often means I piece the puzzle together to create an alternate picture. I might catch something others would overlook or take for granted, or see a glimmer of non-rational thought. It’s often small things like this that start the knot of a problem unraveling. I’ll certainly never be as popular as you, but El and I certainly have a reputation within the Agency. My boss’ wife, by the way, is a huge fan of yours. I’ve been requested to give Waldron a heads up when your next showing will be.”

“Nice try, Stevens,” Sally teased him, lightly tapping his shoulder. “Changing the subject even as smoothly as you managed won’t alter my mind or sway me in any way. But just so you won’t get into trouble with your boss, my showing will be in about six to eight weeks, depending on how quickly I can finish up these last few pieces. I’ll try and let you know as soon as I’ve confirmed the dates. Back to you, though, and our strange way of looking at the world.”

“It’s not strange, as such,” he protested. “You certainly have nothing to be ashamed of. Anyone who says a derogative thing to you, I’ll have strong words with. You’re perfect in every way and I’ll gladly break the bones of anyone who makes you feel otherwise.”

The thought of Sal hurt, doubting or questioning herself made every protective instinct roar within him. Tired as he was, he didn’t think to mask or soften the intensity of his passionate feelings. Only as Sal gasped did he realize he might have unwittingly shown too much. Quickly, he forced himself to calm down, to suppress the love that burned inside his heart and had for so long.

“No,” she insisted vehemently and grabbed his hand again. “Bobby, for once lose that rigid control you have over yourself. How long have you been hiding that from me?”

Rob forced himself to catch her gaze and it stole his breath. Her eyes blazed with green fire. For a moment he thought he was dreaming, or imagining the depth of feeling raging within her. She shifted closer to him, her hand resting on his shoulder as she leaned into his body.

“The truth, Bobby. I won’t shatter. I’m just not brave enough to admit it first,” she insisted in a soft whisper.

It was as if she couldn’t believe it, but for the first time ever, Rob was positive she
wanted
to believe he felt so passionately about her.

Rob tried to read more in her eyes, but now he doubted himself. He could swear he saw love and longing in her searing gaze. But still a part of him feared exposure and ruining the comfort and familiarity that had been between them for so long. He knew should he come clean and she didn’t return the depths of his emotions, it would alter their friendship, the companionable way they were together. Should that happen, he’d never fully recover.

“Bobby,” she whispered.

A frown appeared and he could feel uncertainty radiate from her. Her soft, delicate skin flushed and she pulled back. He’d thought for a moment she would kiss him, the way she almost touched him, the tilt of her head.

The idea that his doubts had made him a coward rankled. He didn’t want to lose the best chance he’d ever had at securing her fidelity had his heart pounding. He reached up, cupped her soft jaw and halted her back-peddling.

“I’ve wanted you since that day in high school when we kissed just before the Christmas break. You were wearing a multi-colored scarf you’d knitted and had a bit of paint smeared on your cheek from art class. You’d been worried about how so many of the girls had let themselves be caught by the boys under the mistletoe in the common room and didn’t want to be the only one unkissed.”

“You remember that?” she said, shocked.

He smiled gently. “There’s very little I don’t remember when it comes to you, Sal. I didn’t quite love you back then, but I knew I loved you when you studied for that year in Paris. I couldn’t have missed an arm or my leg more had I lost it. Only the fact you wrote weekly letters to me made it bearable.”

Sally scooted closer and sat in his lap. He loved the comfortable fit of her, the way her body seemed curved perfectly to make him lose his mind. Rob wrapped his arms around her, drawing her to him. She rested her head on his shoulder.

“I never told a soul,” she said, her words vibrating along his chest, “but I was so homesick I often felt physically ill. I loved that gap year. I learned more about myself, my dreams and goals and free-handed sketching in those twelve months than I have in the twelve years since. Lots of the styles and people I met influence my paintings, but oh…I missed London, my home, my friends. And you, Bobby. I was so mad when you didn’t write back for those first few months, and then when you finally broke down and started corresponding with me it was like I could breathe again. I still missed home, but like you said, it was bearable then.”

Rob pressed a finger under her chin and tilted her head back.

“I’ve still got those letters and every postcard you’ve ever sent me from your shorter trips,” he confessed.

When she nodded, murmured, “Me too” he knew his fate was sealed.

No one else would ever fill this place in his life or heart—no one except his Sal.

Bending forward, he then pressed his lips to hers, kissing her tenderly.

The last of his icy control melted in the heat they generated. Years of cravings, pent-up desire and longing rushed through him. This was not the fiery passion of new love, nor the flash-flame of a lusty fling. This was the slow, true burn of a well-banked, firmly founded love that would never alter course or fade away.

Without moving his lips, Rob slid his arms around her and lifted her to his chest. He stood up. From long years of visits and familiarity, he slowly carried his love up the curving stairs and into her tiny bedroom.

Chapter Two

Rob lay Sally down on her bed and crouched above her while he kicked off his shoes then pulled off his shirt and socks. Her eyes wide, she watched him, her pupils dilated so far that only the thinnest rim of green shined through. Breathing hard, he wanted nothing more than to strip her naked and ravish every inch of her body as he had longed to do, dreamt of for far too long.

Neither of them were virgins, both had a few relationships in their past, but in this moment, Rob felt as eager as that seventeen-year-old boy he’d once been. The last time they’d almost made love he’d been so young, clumsy. He wasn’t that boy anymore—far from it. He drew in a deep, shuddering breath and forced some of his control back into place.

Cupping both hands around her jaw, he then let his fingers stroke the smooth stretch of her cheeks and neck. Rob kissed her slowly once more.

“I want this to be perfect,” he murmured. He only pulled back only far enough to talk, grazing his lips over her mouth when he formed the words. “I’ve fantasized about this so often I need to make it good for you and not rush.”

“Bobby, you’re not the only one here with years of pent-up need. I can see how you’ve cared for me, how protective a friend you are. You just never showed me the true depth to your feelings, so I always hid my love for you. I’m just as hungry as you for this.”

“I never wanted to drag you into the darkness. I try and fix the ugliness around us all. I try and get some justice in this crazy world. You’re so different to everything I face at work. We’re opposites in so many ways.”

“Robert Stevens,” Sally choked on her laughter.

He thought there might be mild outrage in her tone, but his brain wasn’t as sharp as usual.

“I’m not some sweet little virgin princess who’ll be bruised from sleeping on a pea or has waited meekly in her castle for Prince Charming to come along and rescue her. I won’t insult your intelligence and bullshit you into thinking I’m some hardened, sassy wise-arse, but I certainly won’t shatter and break because someone swears in my direction. I’m not going to be terrorized by you being you. You’re a protector, a guardian. The darkness doesn’t stain you, Bobby. It’s not a part of you. That’s what you fight against. How can you not see that?”

He was stunned by the way she saw him and his work. And the vehemence with which she insisted she wasn’t some blushing ingénue—which despite the strength of her words, he still believed—rendered him speechless for a moment. Rob gently tugged her long-sleeved top off instead of responding. Removing her shoes and socks, he then skimmed her jeans and cotton knickers down her legs. Laying her bare on the bed, he finally let his gaze devour her hungrily. Every decadent inch of her.

He quickly divested himself of his pants then his boxers. He started to tug the duvet and blankets down from the bed.

“No.” Sally laid her hand on his, stopping him. “Unless you think you’ll get cold, I don’t want to hide under the covers. I want everything. I want to see every line of that muscled body of yours and watch the way your eyes speak to me. This is our only first time, and I don’t want to wonder later. I want it all in my memory, so I can remember what it looks like when you make love with me.”

Rob could only gape at her for a moment, not because of what she’d said, but because he’d never thought anyone, let alone Sal, would want to watch his every move. Her gorgeous green gaze did seem to literally drink him in with those clever artist’s eyes. He flushed, somewhat embarrassed now, knowing she’d very likely make sketches later. It was her nature, to recapture special moments. He’d just never thought far enough to think he’d become one.